#so i have the information and i understand what it means

[moonstruckme]

hiiii mae if you’re up for it would you pretty please write spencer and intern reader when she gets hurt? holding her hand while she gets patched up or comforting her when she’s concussed or something of the like. i love your writing so much xoxoxo

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, concussion, vague mention of a murder case but it's really just background

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 946 words

“Look this way, please.” 

When you don’t move, Spencer gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “Hey. Can you look over there?” 

You turn your face from Spencer’s jacket, and the paramedic gives you a kind smile. She knows you weren’t ignoring her; you only hadn’t been paying attention. “Follow my finger,” she tells you. 

Spencer watches as you do, her pen light gliding over your bloody face. There are tear tracks diluting the red. 

Staying with witnesses is supposed to be a safe part of the job. That’s why Hotch assigned it to you. But when Morgan walked the handcuffed unsub through the station, one victim’s husband lost it completely, and when you got into his warpath he shoved you so hard Spencer heard your head knock against the precinct’s tile floor. Blood puddled around your left temple before anyone could even make it to you. 

You started crying nearly as soon as you woke up. It was more than understandable, given the blood all around you and the confusion you must have been feeling after a head injury like that, but what scared the team was when you wouldn’t stop. JJ tried talking to you, even Morgan softened his teasing and offered you a hug, but to everyone’s surprise all you wanted was Spencer. You calmed some once he sat down in front of you. Tears still dribbled from your chin, but you didn’t seem quite so distraught, and you let the paramedics look at you so long as Spencer stayed. Eventually he wound up in the back of an ambulance, an arm around your shoulders while you sniffled miserably into his windbreaker and a paramedic applied butterfly bandages to the cut on your head. 

Your eyes water as the paramedic clicks off her pen light and begins asking you questions. It takes a few moments for your gaze to settle on her. 

“It’s…it’s Wednesday.” You turn to Spencer. “Is it Wednesday?” 

His heart throbs at the vulnerability in your tone. “Focus on her,” he says, softening the directive with a stroke of his thumb over your shoulder. 

You turn back to the paramedic, answering her questions with varying degrees of uncertainty. Your fingers curl in the material of Spencer’s jacket. He has the urge to tuck your head underneath his chin. 

The paramedic informs you (or informs Spencer, really, you’re not paying much attention) that they’re going to take you to the hospital for a CT scan. They’ll let him ride there with you if he wants to. Spencer says yes without a thought. 

While she goes to pack up her supplies, he takes your fingers and unbunches them, warming your palm between his. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks you. 

You make a soft, stymied sound, bringing the unhurt side of your head to Spencer’s shoulder for a rest. “I don’t like this.” 

Spencer doesn’t need to ask which part you mean. He imagines none of it is pleasant. The light and sound of an ambulance in general has to be torment for your head. 

“Try closing your eyes,” he suggests. 

“I’m worried that will make me dizzier.” 

“Do you feel sick?” 

“Not really.” 

“Just try. It helped last time.” 

You sigh but do. You turn your head so your forehead is pressing into the bump of his shoulder, and Spencer reaches up to stop you before you can get close to rubbing against the bandages keeping your cut closed. 

Your voice is a watery consistency. “I really don’t feel right.” 

Spencer feels a painful tug in his middle. “I know. I’m sure it’s scary, but it won’t be forever. We’re going to the hospital, and the doctors are going to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I just don’t like this.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Spencer?” 

“Hm?” 

“I really feel like I messed things up.” 

He has to remind himself not to move. In his surprise, his instinct is to pull back, to search your face for answers, but you’re pointed where he can’t see you with your voice trailing down his arm. 

“You didn’t. What makes you think that?” 

“It just…it feels like…” 

The words take a while to come. Spencer forces himself to set aside his curiosity. 

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to think about that right now. Just rest. You didn’t mess anything up.” 

“It feels like I’m…” you forge on, determined. “I’m always either not helping or in the way.” 

Again, Spencer’s first thought is to ask what you mean by that. But he doesn’t want to force you to overexercise your injured brain, so he tries to go along without elaboration. He fills in the gaps. 

“You’ve never been in the way,” he assures you, meaning it. “And you help us a lot. We wouldn’t be nearly as efficient without you, especially on this last case.” 

“I’m just an intern.” 

“Exactly. So it’s even more impressive how valuable you’ve been to our team.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments. Spencer starts rubbing slow circles into your shoulder with his thumb. Your forehead warms his arm through the jacket. 

“Thank you for staying with me. You’re always so nice.” 

“It’s no problem. I like hanging out with you.” 

“I don’t feel very well.” 

“Are your eyes still closed?” 

A pause. “Were they supposed to be closed?” 

Spencer smiles at the top of your head. Even confused as you are, there’s a familiar note of inquisitiveness to your tone. Like all you ever really want is to be sure you’re doing the right thing. Spencer is warmed that you trust him to tell you what that is. 

“Try closing them.” 

“Oh. This is better, thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.”

[revcleo]

Something which I also think would be useful for people to understand is that they have to strategise their speech.

Right wing people know this, because they speak differently among themselves than they do on social media and such because they want to appear reasonable in their use of dog whistles and such, that make people who know what they're talking about either seem crazy or unable to remove their schostastic terrorism or such.

But what I think a lot of left wing people think is that being correct and on the good side of history etc means that people will always agree with them, or be evil. Never mind that there's the stereotype of leftist infighting, a lot of people seem to be either ashamed of their past and less informed behaviour, or copy the behaviour of their favourite posters (who are usually irony poisoned and sarcastic at the least, and angry warriors of truth otherwise).

The things you've got to do when you come across someone who you disagree with is first think: What do I want out of this encounter?

Do you want to change how anyone thinks?

This can be no, if you just want to let off steam or shout at people, instead think "Is this the right person to shout at?" Will you make yourself look like an idiot?

Shouting at someone can be fine, like shouting is used to either get people in line or get people to fuck off.

Shouting works when it's either someone you largely agree with who is doing something fucked up and you go "what the fuck?" and talk to them, but mass shouting when it's someone you largely agree with does not work in that way. I've never seen a lot of people shouting at someone who they agree with 99% on things, ending up productive. It just creates divides and ends up as a form of harassment.

If you want to shout at someone for catharsis, the best way to do this is to do a sort of preaching to the choir about something fucked up you've seen, or shouting at an in person protest.

Since this is also an option for if you don't want to change someone's mind, if you find someone so entrenched and fucked up in their beliefs that they are unlikely to change, so long as you aren't going to repost their beliefs to shout at them, then shouting at them can be a way to let off steam. It won't do anything else, and may make you more angry, but it's an option.

But what if you want to change someone's mind?

First like, who are you talking to? Let's put them in a few groups:

Fellow leftist, problematic liberal, typical conservative, outright fascist

Starting from the fascist: You will not be able to change their mind and make them realise the folly of their ways.

They can change their own minds, but arguing with them will not do that. It's a special job to deradicalise fascists. The best things you can do are either:

A. bait them into saying something which they can be reported for/look into their blogs to see if they have anything reportable

B. block them, spreading their hate speech just to debunk it is still spreading their hate speech, you can debunk things without sharing the original

C. humiliate them. What you do is you need to make them look stupid by baiting them into showing their ass while you just show calm facts and logic. They often rely on appearing to be the sensible and calm one to appeal to people who are less fascist than they are, because they are irritating and cherry-pick facts it can be easy to get angry, so if you get too pissed off to do this then just block them.

Now on the typical conservative, sometimes they can be the fascist sort, where they're too deep in whatever hole, and you can just treat them as above, but if you learn to tell the difference between people who are just out to waste your time and people who are actually curious and have just picked up fucked up information (such as the example above) then if you just take your time and target your speech to align with some of their preconcieved ideas, you may be able to get them to doubt themselves on something.

You will not be able to make them suddenly a leftist, you also will probably not be able to make them even centrist, but pushing seeds of doubt is fine. Just don't spend too long, and make sure you're definitely able to tell if someone has curiousity or not. People who lack curiosity are often time wasters and will not care at all about what you're saying.

It can also be useful to get a bunch of responses to their thought terminating clichés and channel your inner MCU or something, such as "I thought the left was supposed to be tolerant" "you're confusing tolerant with a doormat/no that's the liberals/of what? assholes?"

With problematic liberals, they may be generally nice people who just say something a bit fucked up, or might just not know about something. Like let's say there's a link you post with saying "White people should read this." and they respond defensively with "Why do I need to read that?" the wrong response would be "Are you some sort of racist or something?" which is starting a fight. Whether they're a racist or not, they are less likely to engage with the information. Instead it's possible to just answer the question, which might be something like "It might be some interesting information you've never thought of before, which can help you treat other people better."

Some people can just be very annoying, feel free to block whoever whenever, and sometimes the way people brains work are different, so you can't figure out what each other means, feel free to say "Sorry, this is just frustrating and I don't think we're going to resolve anything." but someone not being as left as you doesn't mean they are inherently going to go rightwards. You can help them on a journey by giving them suggestions and telling them facts that they might not know.

Saying things like "just fucking google it" really doesn't work nowadays especially, since google is so full of shit. So having a bunch of useful bookmarks might be an idea if you want to try and convince people who are almost leftists to give it a go, rather than telling them to fuck off.

Liberals are much more appreciative of a bit of truth and facts and maybe a podcast recommendation than many leftists think. There's even many liberals who you might talk to when you are out and about IRL, you can convince them of things like sensible nuclear policy and how more bike lanes are good for everyone.

With fellow leftists, there are many different but similar sorts of arguments. Maybe someone is having a bad day and is fighty, maybe someone is just an asshole who loves to pick fights, maybe you have the same thing but from different angles and just need to work out where it is, maybe someone is just frustrated with the way how they feel powerless and has found one thing they can shout about which is unfortunately wrong but makes them feel good about themselves.

You gotta see where people are coming from on things, sometimes you just gotta block people, not that they're even bad, but just like you know fundamentally you're going to find some of the ways they think to be really irritating, or some of their comparatively harmless jokes just piss you off and it's not worth fighting about.

With leftists, sometimes taking the argument on head on is not the best way to go about things, the best thing to do is try and find where the argument comes from. Check in with your comrades, see how they're doing. Try and keep things in plain language if jargon seems to obfuscate your meanings, and try and rephrase things and see if the other person is willing to also rephrase things. Try and reach a stage where you both understand the other person's argument. Maybe you can reconcile?

Also maybe the other person just doesn't know about some information you have as well? Try keeping things cheerful. If someone really is a dickhead then you can just block them.

And one thing I've gotta say with all of this:

If you don't feel up to it, then don't do it, but don't make it worse. If you don't want to talk to someone, then don't. Also don't take this as tone policing, if someone demands politeness when they've not given it, they can fuck off.

Might I give some advice:

Not everyone has (or needs to have) the energy to thoughtfully respond to republicans on the Internet. You do not have to do that.

But some people do, and can. And I think we gotta let them.

An example:

I have a former teacher, I'll call her Grace, who is an incredibly kind woman in her 70s. Devout catholic, had voted for various parties over the years, but has been pretty strictly democrat over the past 15-20 because that aligns with her values of kindness and service.

She shared a post about the pope's recent letter and expressed that she agreed with his concerns about how trump is treating immigrants. A friend of hers commented a long paragraph basically saying "dear Grace I care for you but I don't understand how you can be a Christian and a democrat. Blah blah abortion blah blah gender blah blah drugs."

Grace replied "I'm very busy right now but I am going to respond to you soon with my thoughts". When she did it was an incredibly generous, rational monologue that connected with this person's humanity, their shared religious values, and made a beautiful case for why she supports who she does. I didn't agree with a good half of what she said as I am not a Christian, but the result was an expression of values that I think put her on the side of justice and compassion.

The person replied and thanked her and said she had a lot to think about. It was probably the best case scenario for a Facebook politics conversation

You know what came very close to ruining it? A bunch of (mostly younger) people piling on with "fuck you you racist maga pos" and "no one has to explain anything to you, go to hell" etc etc. Even after Grace wrote that she intended to reply herself.

I watched this republican respond to all the easy, quick insults by saying "this is why I don't think any democrats can be Christian, this is how you all speak to me." If Grace hadn't put so much work into writing her response in a way that was tailored to fit this person, I would not be surprised if that person left Facebook doubly certain that Christian nationalism is the way to go.

I'm not saying we can't cuss out jackasses. I'm not saying everyone needs to respond to bad faith arguments like Grace did or use their time like she did.

But this was on Grace's Facebook page, and interrupted the work she already volunteered to do. Just so these individuals could feel like they "did something" and got a shot off at an enemy.

I think that's selfish and childish and unproductive. They could have said anything they wanted in their own space, but they made grace's job harder for no fuckin reason. And then "loved" her reply and said "that was beautiful Grace, thank you for sharing your thoughts"

Like... Buddies. Pals. If someone volunteers to scrub the toilet fucking let them.

[sayusims]

Jinshi and Maomao relationship detail

At first, when watching The Apothecary Diaries, I didn't really want Jinshi and Maomao to be together. I mean, I wanted them to be, but since Jinshi was obviously so much more in love than Maomao, I did not think that it would seriously work out. However, I’ve changed my mind. As I haven’t actually read the light novels yet, some of the information I’m going to use is based on what others have said, and I can’t really confirm 100% if it is true, but since these are discussed somewhat in the community, I feel like they are.

My top reason for thinking they are good together is the fact that they pay extra attention to and look at each other more than others. In Jinshi’s case, he is known for being immensely pretty, but because this is the only thing people look at when it comes to him, it causes him to have an inferiority complex about all of the other skills that he does possess. It also does not help that he is surrounded by anomalies of people who have super strength or are insanely smart, so he feels hopelessly average in comparison. Because of this, when he met Maomao, he thought that she would be the same—someone captivated by his beauty who does not see the real him—but it was the complete opposite. His beauty does not hold worth to her. While she obviously finds him attractive and is probably still attracted to his physical body, his worth to her comes almost solely from his personality. The times in the anime that we see best that she is VERY slowly falling in love are times when she mentions him behaving differently or behaving more like himself instead of the persona he puts on daily. She does find Jinshi annoying a lot, but she likes it when he is more youthful and less eunuch-like.

When it comes to Maomao, I remember that in an episode of the anime, Maomao mentioned how she knows she is hard to read. While Jinshi cannot read her, he still tries. Jinshi never backs down or gets put off when he doesn’t understand her apparent logic; he mostly just trusts her and her judgment. He is incredibly patient with her and honestly does not try to rush things (it is KILLING ME). He is extremely worried about her well-being and making the choice that she wants, not what he wants. It is like when he dismissed her from her job in the first part of season 1. He dismissed her even though he had the power to obviously just not do it but also to just kind of make her work even if she thought it was miserable in the rear palace, because I fear that’s what at least half of the men back then would have done. But even though at this time he had a rabid crush on her and knew he was going to be miserable like he was with his toys when he was younger, he did it since he thought that was what she wanted. Another thing Jinshi notices a lot is her injuries. After, I assume, the third time of someone noticing someone else constantly getting hurt but still either waiting to get help or just not getting it at all, most people would give up. Most people would not jump off a wall and carry them bridal style to the infirmary the sixth time, but Jinshi still did, and he did it with urgency. Every time she gets hurt now, he is always panicking and doing the most he can to help, even if it's most times him just screaming. He never gets tired of her and always wants to be around her at almost every moment.

I want to get the manga volumes and the light novel so badly, but I literally have a 50-bullet-point to-read list that just keeps growing because I’ve been stuck on Crime and Punishment for the last two months. But if anyone has some show ideas (they don't have to be anime) that I can yap about and make my brain work overtime, that would be very helpful.

[makeitmingi]

Nothing To Prove

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yeosang x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Girlfriend!Reader, Boyfriend!Yeosang, cameo of other Ateez members as Yeosang's friends.

Summary: In a laidback relationship, you and Yeosang do worry that you're taking the other person for granted. So the two of you decide to take matters into your own hands, individually and without the other person knowing. Although in actuality, you are both worthy of each other's love.

Word count: 4.6K

Story warning(s): Y/n has some body image issues, both of them have doubts and question themselves.

You love your relationship with Yeosang. It was unlike the other relationships you've ever had before. Both you and Yeosang were laid back, never really needing to go out of your way to please the other person before. It was special to you, it felt like home, Yeosang was the person you could find peace with.

"Ah, done for the day." You stretched your arms over your head, stretching out your stiff neck. You pushed yourself away from your desk and checked your phone.

'I'm done at work. See you at home. - (y/n)'

'Alright. Stay safe on your way back, I'll see you back home. Shall I order some dinner so you don't have to cook? - Yeosang'

'I'll only agree this time because I'm actually craving fried chicken. - (y/n)'

'Well, maybe I was not planning on buying chicken this time. But if you insist... - Yeosang'

You chuckled and tucked your phone into your pocket, proceeding to pack the rest of your things up. You saw some of your colleagues at the lift lobby.

"So, (y/n). Any plans tonight? It's friday!" Your friends asked.

"I don't think so. My boyfriend ended work early so we're going to do have delivery for dinner tonight." You smiled.

"Wait, your boyfriend ended work early but he didn't come pick you up? He just went home on his own?" One of your colleagues asked. The slight suspicion in her tone made you feel a little defensive. But you nodded your head.

"Why does he need to pick me? I'm perfectly fine going home on my own. He should rest since he ended early." You blinked. You and Yeosang always just met at home after work.

"It's friday! Shouldn't you guys be going out for dinner or at least a date of some sort?" She questioned.

"Don't you know? (y/n) and her boyfriend are super laid back. You would think they're just friends." Your other colleague giggled.

"I know, our (y/n) here is too independent. You know guys like to be depended on, feel like the hero... To serve their girlfriends." One of your colleagues patted your shoulder.

"Yeah, ask him to pick you up some time!" They encouraged.

"Maybe..." You added with a nod. You didn't give them a moment to criticise further, the moment the lift doors opened, you were gone.

Your relationship with Yeosang is fine, you didn't need anyone commenting on it, telling you what you should and shouldn't do. If there was an issue, Yeosang would tell you, right?

No, he wouldn't. Yeosang was too kind and loving, he could never tell you anything bad. Every flaw that you knew you had, Yeosang never pointed them out instead he found the positive in them, he was the sweetest person ever. As you sat on the train, you let out a sigh, wondering just how much you were lacking compared to him.

"Sangie, I'm home." You announced your arrival, removing your shoes at the little entranceway of your shared apartment with Yeosang.

"Oh, (y/n)'s back from work." Yeosang informed Yunho, who he was currently online gaming with.

"Shouldn't you go greet her?" Yunho asked.

"I will, hang on. Let's finish this." Yeosang said to his friend over the headset. Seeing you shuffle past him, Yeosang sent you a smile and pointed to the headset.

"You should finish the game, don't leave Yunho hanging. I'll go shower first. Hi, Yunho!" You giggled.

"Hi, (y/n)! Dude, you have such a chill girlfriend. Most girls would freak that their partner didn't turn the game off." Yunho chuckled.

"Why? I mean, (y/n) understands that I was in the middle of something..." Yeosang asked but his question was never answered because they got distracted by an enemy raiding them.

"I've set dinner up." Yeosang informed when you stepped out, fresh from your shower.

"Your game with Yunho is done?" You asked, heading to the fridge for a drink.

"Yeah, we won so we called it a night. Umm, you were... okay with me gaming just now right? You're not angry?" Yeosang turned to you, speaking slowly. You blinked in confusion, not knowing what his question really meant.

"Of course I was, it's your hobby. Why would I be angry? You started the game before I came home anyway. It's your free time, you can do whatever you want." You laughed.

"Thank you. It's nothing. Welcome home, I hope you had a good day at work." Yeosang hugged you.

"I'm just glad this tiring week is over. How about you? Did you have a good day?" You asked back as you sat at your dining table.

"It was productive. Maybe we shouldn't go for the gym session if you're tired? We can stay in." Yeosang suggested, handing you a plate while you handed him the cutlery.

"No, no! It's fine, Sangie. There's no need to cancel. Exercise can be a stress reliever." You shook your head.

"Are you sure? We can do something else if you'd like." He offered.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm looking forward to it." You giggled, taking a bite of fried chicken. Honestly, you did want to cancel to work out. But Yeosang liked it and you didn't want him to cancel because of you.

"(y/n), are you alright? Did something happen at work?" Yeosang frowned a little. One thing your relationship, it made Yeosang more observant, especially when it came to you. The way you pushed your food around, something was obviously wrong and it pained him that you didn't tell him.

"I'm fine! Really, just tired. I feel a little low on energy but I think I need rest, just juggling too many projects right now. Don't worry." You reached over to squeeze his hand.

"You know I'm always here to listen." He reminded, moving his hand so he could laced fingers with you.

"I know." You hummed.

After dinner, you and Yeosang cleared up together, even if he insisted that he could do it and that you should rest. Once that was done, you excused yourself and went to send out some work emails.

"Here. It's caffeine free so it should prepare your brain for bed." Yeosang placed the cup of hot tea beside your laptop.

"It smells good." You took the cup in your hands. Yeosang took the space beside you on the ground.

"This looks like a lot of work for a friday night." He said, glancing over the contents of the reports you were trying to compile together. You nodded with a soft sigh.

"Sorry, I know this isn't exactly the most exciting friday night." You turned to him.

"Don't sweat it, you have enough to worry about. I'm happy just being right here with you." He put his arm around you. You kissed his cheek and leaned your head on his shoulder. Yeosang kissed the top of your head, he wished he could take some stress off you.

"Alright, I'm done. This is all the preparation I need for the contract signing on Monday." You closed your laptop and pushed it aside. You and Yeosang leaned back against the couch.

"Good work today and this week." Yeosang rubbed your arm.

"You too." You closed your eyes, just enjoying the warmth and security that Yeosang brought you.

"This tea is very good." You complimented, sipping the last bit of it. Yeosang was very into vitamins, herbal remedies and homeopathic medicine at times.

"That's good. I still can't appreciate tea but I'm glad you can." He chuckled. You nodded and brought the empty cup to the kitchen.

"Come, let's go to bed." From behind you, Yeosang suddenly lifted you up, making you squeal in shock. The both of you laughed as Yeosang carried you all the way to your bedroom.

"Don't worry, I won't drop you. I work out a lot, you weigh nothing to me." He teased by trying to toss you lightly in the air.

"Okay! Okay! I get it! Now, please put me down! We have to brush our teeth." You shrieked amidst your laughter.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot about that. I was going to put you to bed already." Yeosang set you down on your side of the bed. You got up and held hands with him, going to the bathroom. You squeezed tooth paste onto Yeosang's toothbrush before your own. Standing side by side, you brushed your teeth together.

"Ah, I forgot to buy a new toner." Yeosang said, realising he threw away the empty bottle of his toner this morning. You opened the cupboard and got him a new one.

"I noticed it finishing a couple days ago and bought a new one for whenever you finished the old one." You explained.

"Thankfully you're prepared." Yeosang opened the bottle to start his skincare routine, as did you.

"There." He finished. You wordlessly reached up the brush away the stray hairs that covered the birthmark by his eye. Yeosang turned to meet your eyes, slightly confused by your action.

"It's pretty, I love it." You tip toed a little to kiss his birthmark.

"Only you think it's pretty." Yeosang joked, slinging his arm around your waist as you finished your routine.

"Well, it is. And I don't think, I know." You smiled. Now, with the night time routine done, Yeosang could finally put you to bed. He pulled the blanket back so you could crawl in.

You scooted closer to him once he got settled in bed and he put his arm around you, making sure you were comfortable. Like earlier in the living room, there was a peaceful silence that settled over the two of you. This happened a lot and Yeosang liked it.

He loved hearing you talk and how animated you were but he also loved the shared silences with you. You both didn't need to talk to fill the space. This was enough.

"You should try to sleep." Yeosang said, looking down and realising that at some point, you did already fall asleep.

"Good night." He whispered, carefully leaning to turn the nightstand lights off and falling asleep.

When Yeosang woke up, he thought you would be asleep beside him like every weekend. You usually liked to sleep in a bit while he bought you breakfast from the nearby cafe since he doesn't cook.

"(y/n)?" Yeosang left the room to find you in the kitchen, putting an egg white scramble on a plate.

"Morning." You smiled when you saw him. There was a coffee on the counter next to his pre-workout shake.

"You made breakfast?" Yeosang blinked.

"Yeah, I woke up earlier than I expected so I made breakfast, we have enough food in the fridge anyway. I haven't really had time to do as much cooking with me working longer house." You said.

"You're busy with work, it's fine that you don't cook." Yeosang reached over to hold your hand.

"I know but I miss it... Anyway, that's your coffee, pre workout and egg white scramble with wholewheat toast. I made some boiled eggs if you want more protein. if not we can leave those in the fridge and eat it another time." You got him cutlery. Yeosang took the plate and cutlery to the dining table.

"Aren't you eating?" He asked, patting your chair.

"Yeah, I made oatmeal with strawberries. Was craving something sweet." You said, grabbing to a bowl to put your oatmeal in. Yeosang didn't even sit yet, instead waiting by the stove for you.

"You can start eating first. It'll take about 5 more minutes." You turned to him, stirring the oatmeal.

"I can wait 5 minutes." He placed a hand on your head. Yeosang felt bad that he didn't wake up earlier to get your usual breakfast.

But he didn't know that you woke up earlier because you felt bad that he was always waking up earlier to get you breakfast. He rarely got a chance to sleep in.

"Done." You poured the oatmeal into your bowl and sprinkled the cut up strawberries on top.

"Alright, let's have breakfast." You both sat down to eat.

"I was thinking if we should go out for dinner tonight. San recommended this new pasta bar place and I know you like pasta." Yeosang suggested.

"Sure, that sounds good. It's been a while since we've gone out for dinner." You smiled excitedly with nodding, you just loved spending time with Yeosang. After breakfast was finished, Yeosang helped you with clearing up.

"I have to go pack my gym bag. It's a mess." Yeosang sighed and sat on the ground where his duffle bag was.

"Oh! I forgot, I got something for you." Yeosang suddenly stood up. You sat up from where you were laying down on the bed, you tucked the bookmark at the page you stopped.

"Here you go." He came back into the bedroom with a big paper bag.

"Sangie, what's with the sudden present?" You blinked in confusion but opened it. You saw a new duffle bag, matching Yeosang's.

"So you can have your own gym bag to carry what you need. Like girl things..." Yeosang explained. It was a lilac colour compared to Yeosang's black one.

"Thank you, it's pretty." You smiled and hugged him.

"You're welcome. I hope you like the colour, I thought it was the prettiest one they had." He wrapped his arms around you.

Usually Yeosang helped you carry your gym things but maybe you shouldn't burden him either carrying your things anymore. You can carry your own stuff.

"I'll use it right now." You giggled and packed what you needed for the gym inside while he got back to packing his own things. Yeosang was clearing his bag when his hand touched plastic. He picked it up and looked at it, remembering what it was. It was a doberman keychain he had actually bought for you.

"Thank you. Have a nice day." The worker wished, passing the small bag with the keychain over.

"Thanks, you too." Yeosang smiled, content that he bought something for you. He always insisted he was a doberman so he thought this would remind you of him.

"Come on, let me buy you something. These keychains are cute." He heard a couple right by the store entrance.

"They're too cute. I'm not a child." The girlfriend clicked her tongue.

"But you always like cute things like these. Didn't you ask me for couple items? We can get these." The boyfriend insisted, turning the rack around to browse.

"Yeah that was months ago. I don't want my friends to think I'm childish if I put these on my keys." The girlfriend sighed.

"Alright, we'll look for something else." With that, the couple left the store.

"Childish?" Yeosang looked down at the doberman keychain in his hand. It wasn't a cheesy couple keychain but just one that he bought for you. When he saw it, he did think you would like it, which is why he bought it, but now, he was unsure.

"I'll get her something else then." With a soft sigh, he dropped the keychain into his bag and continued on his way to the gym for his workout session.

That was 3 weeks ago, he had completely forgotten about buying this for you. He wasn't disappointed about the 'waste of money' but he was disappointed in not thinking further on what you would like.

"Yeosang?" You called.

"Huh?" Yeosang quickly tucked the small item into his pants pocket and turning to you.

"I was calling you. Are you okay?" You asked worriedly. He smiled and nodded his head, refolding his spare clothes and putting them into his duffle bag.

"I wanted to ask you if its okay for me to borrow your shirt to wear over my work out clothes." You requested.

"Of course! Take whatever you need." Yeosang nodded. He liked seeing you wear his clothes, it gave him a sense of pride.

"Thanks." You kissed his cheek and went to change. Yeosang took the keychain bag out and sighed softly, he opened his drawer and put the keychain inside. Maybe he should just throw it away. When you came out from the bathroom, he closed the cupboard. As expected, you looked nice in his oversized shirt.

"Hmm?" You tilted your head when he was staring.

"N-Nothing, you're pretty." He coughed, turning away to hide the blush on his cheeks, obviously not expecting himself to just blurt out his thoughts like that.

"Really?" You felt your own cheeks heat up, not used to such compliments from him.

"Of course, you're always pretty." Yeosang said, still not looking at you. You smiled softly and threw your arms around his neck.

"I'll change and we'll go." Yeosang kissed your cheek and went to the bathroom with his workout clothes. While he got ready, you filled up both your water bottles and some post workout snacks.

"What shoes are you wearing?" He asked from the shoe closet by the front door.

"The black asics? My ankles hurt so much when I wore the Nikes last time. I shouldn't wear them for a work out anymore." You said.

"Here." Yeosang suddenly bent down next to you, lifting your foot. You held onto the counter to support yourself, confused at to what he was doing.

"You should wear ankle guards then. Even if they do not hurt right now." He explained, carefully securing the ankle guard into place for you. When he was done with one foot, he gently lifted up the other foot to do the same as he did before.

"Thank you." You said softly.

"Shall I called the physiotherapist to see if it is anything serious?" Yeosang frowned with concern.

"I'm fine, really. It's just the lack of ankle support from the shoes plus I was running a lot that day to do cardio. If it hurts, I'll go see a doctor." You assured him.

"Alright. You have to tell me if it still hurts." He said seriously. You hummed and went to wear your shoes with him beside you.

"Do you want me to help you carry that?" Yeosang asked as you both left your apartment complex to go to the gym.

"No need, I'd rather you free up your hand." You giggled. Yeosang tilted his head, a little confused as to what you meant until you reached out to hold his hand.

"Oh, I see what you mean." He nodded slowly, understanding what your intentions were.

You were not the biggest fan of exercising or going to gym but seeing how much Yeosang loved it, you started this routine too. Plus, it gave you another way to spend more time with him. It made you happy when you saw how happy he was when you suggested starting the go to the gym with him.

"I'm gonna put my bag in the locker room." You split ways with him after you both entered the gym since the female and male sections were separated.

"That pretty guy is back at the gym." A girl giggled.

"Wow, he's so pretty but also muscular and built. I wouldn't even dare talk to him, he's too perfect." Her friend replied.

"Hey, you came in with that cute guy earlier, right? Is he your brother?" You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to see the two girls standing there.

"Umm, no... He's my boyfriend." You gulped slightly. When they heard your reply, they seemed to be in disbelief.

"Right, well. Your boyfriend's very good looking. You're very lucky." One of the girls said.

"Yeah, lucky..." Her friend giggled, almost mocking you before they left. You let out a long sigh and went out to the main gym area to see Yeosang there, waiting for you.

"Hey, you took a while. Did something happen? Is it your ankles?" Yeosang came over to you. You shook your head with a small smile, assuring him that nothing happened. He felt like he was prying too much so Yeosang took your word for it and didn't question further.

"I'm gonna work on the weights." You changed the subject.

"Alright, make sure you warm up properly. Let me know if you need help, I'll be right there." He pointed.

"Okay." You bumped fists with him and broke apart to do your own workouts. You appreciated that Yeosang always made sure you could see him and he would come check on you.

"She's fine." Yeosang said to himself, making sure he could see you in the mirror. He didn't want you to injure yourself further.

"It's so nice of you to be watching your girlfriend." Someone spoke. Yeosang momentarily looked away from you to see a girl beside him.

"Excuse me?" Yeosang was confused.

"Could you help me with this?" The girl smiled, gesturing to the barbells. The last person that used it must have left the weights on and didn't put them back.

"Sure." Yeosang nodded and helped her remove the weights, putting them back at their respective place on the shelves.

"Thank you so much for your help, I can take it from here." The girl smiled, sending Yeosang a flirtatious wave. They didn't realise that you were watching the whole time. The girl was so fit, much fitter than you. Her exposed stomach revealed how toned she was while Yeosang's oversized shirt covered your body.

"Hey, do you need help?" A guy came over, making you tear your eyes away from Yeosang. Judging by his uniform, you knew that he worked here.

"No, I'm good. Thanks." You gave him a friendly smile.

"Sure, sure. Actually, when you lift the weights, your back should be like this or you'll strain it." He demonstrated.

"Oh, that's great advice. Thank you, maybe that's why my back has been hurting after weight days." You chuckled. The male laughed and gave you a thumbs up.

"You're welcome, if you need anymore help, I'll be around." He gestured.

Yeosang watched the man talk to you, he could sort of grasp what the male was telling you. And he knew all that. Yeosang frowned slightly, he should have been the one the teach it to you.

"Woah." As you were moving stations, you tripped over the mat corner and down you went.

"(y/n)!" Yeosang dropped what he was doing and ran over to you.

"Are you okay?" The man from earlier rushed over. But Yeosang was too worried about you, he ignored the man and held your hand, watching your face crumple with pain. You didn't need to tell him, Yeosang already knew what was wrong.

"Let's get you to the doctor." Yeosang slipped his arms under you to lift you up.

"No, Sangie. It's fine... I'll be fine..." You protested.

"No, you're not fine. We're going to the doctor now." Yeosang went to retrieve his bag and he got one of the female staff to get your bag. He called a cab to bring you to the doctor.

Throughout the doctor's trip, Yeosang was eerily silent. It wasn't he usual silence, he had a frown on his face, showing his displeasure.

"Easy." Yeosang carried you into the house, carefully setting you down on the couch.

"Here, you have to elevate your leg." He grabbed one of dining chairs and placed a cushion on it. You winced as you placed your bandaged ankle on top of the cushion.

"Do you need anything? You should eat before taking your painkillers because they're quite strong." Yeosang stroked your head.

"Sure." You nodded glumly. He retrieved a protein bar for you, bringing you your waterbottle and meds too.

"I'm sorry I interrupted our workout. We barely just started before I fell and hurt myself." You said, looking down at your lap. You genuinely felt so bad and it made you feel worse. Firstly, you were so embarrassed that you fell. Secondly, Yeosang had to stop your workout. Lastly, you wouldn't make your dinner date.

"(y/n), it's just a workout. It's not important to me, you and your safety is more impotant to me." He rubbed your shoulder. Yeosang stood up and grabbed a blanket for you.

"I-" You felt so overwhelmed you just burst out into tears, shocking Yeosang.

"What's wrong? Does your ankle hurt? Should I call the doctor? Tell me what you need, please." He begged desperately.

"Yeosang, please hug me." You cried.

"Oh!" You were in Yeosang's arms in just a split second. He hugged you tightly, his hand resting on the back your head as you cried into his neck. He hushed you softly, comforting you.

"Please don't cry, (y/n)." Yeosang's heart hurt, he wanted to protect you but it seemed like he was failing.

"I keep doing everything wrong. I can't do anything right." You cried.

"What? What are you talking about? What are you saying?" Yeosang was now confused as to what you were talking about. You pulled away and wiped your tears.

"You do so much for me and always put me first so I've been trying to do more for you too, I don't want you to think I'm using you or taking advantage of you. I don't want you to get tired of me or-" You were interrupted when Yeosang grasped your chin to kiss you.

"Silly girl. Where did you get that idea? I've never once thought any of that and I'll never get tired of you." He wiped your tear away.

"I'm not like most girlfriends." You shook your head.

"That's what I love about you. I don't need you to be like anyone else." He hugged you, rubbing your back. Yeosang had no idea you thought that way.

"And here I thought you were getting tired of me doing things for you. I've been trying to be a more dependable boyfriend." He said.

"You are dependable, Sangie. And I'm not tired of you, I love when you do things for me." You giggled.

"I'm not the best boyfriend out there. I can be a little slow and don't grasp things quickly so I want to prove that I am worthy somehow." Yeosang explained.

"There's nothing to prove. You are worthy. And you're wrong, you are the best boyfriend out there." You shook your head.

"We're worthy of each other, okay? Let's not doubt that." He caressed your cheek.

"Okay." You leaned in to give him another kiss. Yeosang smiled and stood up, going to the bedroom. You were puzzled as he came out holding something in his hand. He chuckled and sat back down, putting something in your palm.

"Oh my, it's adorable! Is this supposed to be you?" Your eyes lit up as you held the little doberman keychain.

"Yeah... I saw it the other day and bought it for you. You know, to remind you of me." Yeosang smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I love it! Thank you. Can you give me my keys, please? I want to add it now." You requested.

"Sure." He went to your bag to get them for you. You fiddled with the keyring but managed to add the keychain to your keys.

"It's adorable." You looked at it, jingling your keys.

"I'm glad you like it." He smile softly, reaching over to stroke your head. You giggled and held your keys in your lap as you leaned over to rest your head against his chest.

~

Masterlist

[zooophagous]

PLEASE say more about your cultural understanding of tattoos if/when you feel up to it; your perspective on it is really interesting!

I can only really speak from my own perspective on it as a fairly recent initiate into tattooing, but the way tattoos have been viewed in the past (even the very recent past) had changed very quickly with new technology.

Finer lines become possible, and greater variety of colors, so the necessity of sticking to thick lines and heavy black with few color options is no longer the case. Improved technology means more styles become possible to tattoo in, and as such instead of the restrictions of the media informing the tattoo, tattoos are now available in a wide variety of art styles and the art world and overall cultural zeitgeist now heavily influence tattoos instead of tattoos by necessity having their own set style guides and language.

This means more mass appeal, you can do almost whatever you want art wise now and many tattooers are fine artists in their own right. So now we have more and more women and young professionals into it and not just bikers, gang members or sailors as the stereotypes used to hold.

So now tattoos are trendy for everyone, as the nation slowly but surely sheds its puritanical leanings. But now that tattooing is no longer an underground art form and is largely regulated and legalized, a new underground form of it lives on.

Thanks to online buy-anything sorts of sites like Amazon, Temu and Wish, it's easier than ever for the garage, apartment or party to host impromptu tattoos. And because it is often very difficult to get someone to agree to teach you how to tattoo, almost all of these people are self taught and receive instructions via youtube.

So why then, if you can get anything you want as a tattoo, would people still go for these dubiously sanitary pieces by untrained artists?

Part of it is related to why tattoos may have existed in the first place- they denote your culture, your people, who you belong to. For a lot of the apartment tattoo getters, they're allowing their friends or family members to practice on them as a sign of love and trust.

Part of it is cost. Cheap things always have a market, even if they're not good.

But part of it I think is nihilism. That is, a sense that you have no future, nothing to live for and therefore nothing to lose. Many young people cannot envision themselves in old age and many of them tell you they'll likely die young. So why not, then, get the bad tattoo? The tattoo is temporary because life is temporary. We lead such short desperate lives that refusing a tattoo because of some imagined professional setting you might be in seems as asinine as thinking one day you might be a billionaire. It's just as unattainable.

Throw in a little postmodernism, a little dadaism and you have the perfect storm for the rise of ignorant style tattoos. They're not good, but that's largely the point. They don't have to be. In fact the ugliness is largely the point of this art form. Much like how Duchamp's Fountain was never meant to be a beautiful piece of sculpture but rather a biting satire, ignorant style tattoos become the response to the former underground artform of tattooing going mainstream and suddenly costing thousands and thousands of dollars, and people showing off wealth with perfectly technically done sleeves.

It's for obvious reasons a very divisive style of tattooing, and now even legitimate shops are turning out things that look "bad on purpose" but are technically well applied when examined closely. Personally I think most of them are ugly as shit but what the Hell do I know I'm just some bitch.

[sleepynoons]

jing yuan x gn!reader, 18+, not beta read

cw: yandere jing yuan (kinda unavoidable since this is a yakuza au), mentions of bodily injury and harm, ever so slight sexual tension

notes: i wanted to write smth wayyyy filthier with this au, so maybe... i'll follow up on this drabble with a pt 2.... hrm...

for a yakuza – and an oyabun, no less –, the man sitting in front of you is quite nonchalant. it's probably from his decades of experience and the trust he has in his men to properly protect him, but most wouldn't be able to discern either of those things by the way he looks. but you know that beneath his lackadaisical expression and his relaxed posture, there's a danger that you'll never fully be able to imagine or grasp the full extent of.

you didn't intend to put yourself in this position. you have no interest in interacting with gangs or yakuzas anymore, and you have a stronger distaste for exploitative schemes and bloodied money. it's quite ironic, actually. you were only trying to protect a little boy from a leering stranger in black, and somehow, you've ended up in the headquarters of a massive organized crime syndicate.

even worse, you've wound up receiving the thanks of jing yuan, an ex-member of a chinese triad who decided to employ his skills in japan. you've heard the rumors back when you were much younger. he can break necks with his bare hands, hold grudges until they're settled (permanently), and mask all of his cruel and sinister manners with closed eyes and a content smile.

you think you've learned your lesson. mind your own damn business, or else fate will find a way to drag you back into this hellhole!

not that you can say your thoughts out loud. instead, you take a sip of tea and keep your head bowed otherwise.

"you still haven't told me what you'd like in exchange," jing yuan muses. it seems he's trained his voice as well, with the way he speaks so gently yet so precisely. you're sure he's capable of pulling out classified information and dangerous secrets with that easy, seductive tone of his.

you're not sure how to refer to him, so you make do with something formal, something distant. "sir, i appreciate the offer, but again, i didn't save that child for something in return."

"i understand, but i'd like to give you a token of my gratitude anyway."

you've had this back-and-forth four times now. coupled with the silence in between your responses, you estimate that you've been kneeling in this tatami room for at least half an hour now.

this time, though, even if you don't want to notice it, you see jing yuan roll back his shoulders as if he's stretching, and immediately, the two guards standing beside the door pace over to remove the floor table separating the two of you. you expect the guards to return after they place the table elsewhere, but they never do.

it's just you and the oyabun, and you regret not wishing to be left alone as soon as jing yuan asked you the first time for what it is that you desired. you internally sigh, taking the last sip of your tea before the porcelain cup is emptied.

even though it's been a while since you've found yourself in a situation like this, you're grateful that your instincts and prior experience are kicking in. you're not frazzled, nor are you concerned. while it's possible that jing yuan is masterfully concealing his killing intent, you doubt he'd dispose of you when you saved his adoptive son. that means you might as well ask for something random and inconsequential so that this situation can quickly come to its end.

"fine, sir, since you're kindly insisting. how about a set of tea ware? the ones you have out are quite beautiful."

"of course."

you offer an appreciative bow and wiggle your toes, ready to get up.

but it seems jing yuan's not done. "anything else?"

you startle, but you know you must not show any weakness in front of a lethal predator. at best, from the outside, it seems like you're deep in thought.

you respond, "and maybe some tea packs along with it? otherwise, sir, i sincerely mean it when i say there isn't anything that i need or want."

jing yuan tilts his head. "i understand. however…"

the yakuza boss gets up, and you would follow along, except for the fact that he gives you the briefest of glances, enough to root you to your position. you watch as he pads over to you and sit downs next to you. the familiar prickle of heat at the back of your neck, along with the goosebumps that rake along the entirety of your arms, are clear indications of your alarm, and again, you wonder how terrifying jing yuan must be in violent encounters when he already exudes so much pressure just by lingering near you. somehow, even when you've been telling yourself to not to be tricked by his facade, your instincts have underestimated the yakuza leader, and you're suffering from the repercussions of your carelessness.

a warm finger settles underneath your chin, and you let jing yuan guide you until you're looking up at him. his eyes are sharp, glinting with a mischievous, ambrosial gold, and the black and red strokes of his chest tattoos, as if drawn by a large paintbrush instead of the needles and teeth of a machine, peek out from the flaps of his loosely tied kimono. he also hums, though it sounds more like a satisfied purr.

there's no use, you think. you can't win when it comes to mind games, and you most definitely cannot put up a physical fight.

"what do you want from me," you mutter with a shaky, wispy voice.

he purrs again. "i want you to answer my question."

"i said i didn't –"

"then i'll help you find what it is that you desire."

he places the pad of his thumb against your chin, holding your head in place, and leans close, so close that your lips are barely brushing against each other. at the same time, his other hand has enclosed itself around your wrist, and has pulled your arm up so that your palm is settled right over his heart, beating at a solid, steady pace, completely unperturbed, radiating a warmth that is unlike his lifestyle or nature.

you're not sure how much jing yuan knows about you – though it's probably more than you'd feel comfortable with –, but either way, his actions make you fume.

"don't act like you know who i am." you're seething, but because you cherish your life, you grit out those words as your teeth sink deeper into your bottom lip, to inhibit your lashing out. "if there's anything i desire, it has nothing to do with you."

"oh?"

you almost squint as his eyes flash with molten amber sparks, slight intrigue, and transparent amusement.

you figure you'd make yourself clear, right here, right now. and so, you growl, "you can't give me what i want. and you never will."

"i see."

you don't know how you make it home. all you can recall are staggered steps, an almost kiss, and several rude shoves to jing yuan's men.

–

two months pass, and neither jing yuan nor his men seek you out in any way. it doesn't seem like you're being targeted by anyone else from other organizations either. you're just relieved that you can resume your peaceful life.

on one unassuming saturday morning, when you're awoken by your doorbell, you rush over to find a deliveryman waiting outside for you. you open your front door cautiously.

"here's your package. can you sign this slip for confirmation?"

it doesn't seem like the man is a fraud. you also can't recall ordering anything as of late. you sign the slip anyway because it really does seem like the man is impatient to get to the next customer, and heave the box back inside to your living room.

you open it, as the exterior doesn't seem suspicious. but your body freezes when you see the contents: a set of teacups made out of fine china and several boxes of rose buds, dried chrysanthemums, and matcha powder. there's also a letter, signed legibly enough so that you can make out the sender's name.

you were never left alone in the first place.

[zsakuva]

I'm sure this has been asked, but I had found your stuff recently and absolutely love how the different characters are with each being just as charming as the next. My question is what is the thought/writing process? I am wanting to be better at defining my ocs and characters without falling into the same trope and behaviors the characters have exhibit. Obviously there are different methods for different people, but I'll like to know a little bit of the process for you. Do you have any tips to make the voices distinct and consistent through out a piece of writing?

Thank you!

For me, because I have a proclivity for world-building (meaning I am absolutely obsessed and must know the lore before I do anything), I like to understand the path a character has chosen. Their past experiences and upbringing have a dramatic impact on how they shape their own life, and that informs me of how a character acts, talks, and how they both see and react to the world around them.

I'll use Isaac Rhoades as a brief example (I wrote brief but this is not brief at all, my bad xD).

From the beginning, Isaac was written with a sealed heart and a cold personality. He's an articulate and smart man, a workaholic, but he lives in solitude.

I always ask myself how and why a character is who they are, and what decisions they made/experiences they've had to bring them to this point.

For Isaac, his background paints quite the picture:

Born to loving parents, and his grandfather is a successful private investigator — The early part of his childhood nurtured love and care. His mother in particular showed him what it meant to love unconditionally.

His parents are murdered because of his grandfather's choice — Isaac was taught that even the people you love can hurt you, and that nowhere is a safe space.

Learning under his grandfather — Because of his vast portfolio and cases, Isaac is taught more about the workings of the world, and how to stay cautious. There was no space for fun or games; his only objective was expanding his knowledge in many subjects that his grandfather deemed worthy.

Getting stabbed by the maid — This reinforced the thought of a perpetual threat and the need to stay vigilant. It instilled paranoia in him to trust no one.

University in England and Andrew — Here, he remembers the love of his childhood, but also the threat of losing someone else because of his own decisions, taught by his grandfather.

Learning the reason of his grandfather's decision — Isaac was taught that there is always more to one person, for better or worse, as taught by the maid. Due to this and what he's learnt thus far, Isaac decides to seclude himself so he's never forced to make that kind of choice.

Succeeding his grandfather — Being a private investigator opened his eyes to humanity's extremes: the lengths they would go for their own desires at the detriment of others, and the yearning others had to better the world. His work reminds him of his life experiences, and these beliefs constantly clash.

Isaac is distant and cold at first because his life taught him not to trust anyone—even the unassuming—and he doesn't want to let anyone in; they could either betray him, or he could lose them. And yet, despite that, his mother's teachings managed to peek through when he saw Pickle in the alley, alluding to his true nature. Through Isaac's story, his internal struggle begins to rear: desperately wanting to feel love again, but knowing the cost if he does give in and the inevitable choice he might have to make if he opens his heart again.

Isaac is articulate and smart because of his grandfather's teachings. One can assume he stayed in that house for the rest of his teenage years until he left for university, so the only person he really interacted with was his grandfather. Because of this, he's factual, precise, and seldom makes jokes because mostly every conversation had been connected to work in some form. Small talk is a waste of time, and he doesn't indulge others unless there's a reason for it. He's meticulous with when to speak and when to listen.

Isaac is a workaholic because that is what his life has been shaped to be, also likely influenced by his grandfather. He has money, but continues to work. Why? Perhaps it's because he'd be without purpose otherwise. Or is it because he feels it's his duty to continue in his grandfather's footsteps and find the one thing that matters in the ocean of bullshit?

All of this shapes who Isaac is. It wouldn't make sense for him to have the same disposition as Andrew. Though they are similar in ways (articulation, education, work addiction), they take different forms and stem from the unique experiences they've lived. Where Andrew can engage in small talk (he had a freer childhood, a rebellious and fun twin brother, and more public school education/social interactions), Isaac can't. And though they both carry the weight of their own regrets alone, Andrew chooses to live with what he has, but Isaac chooses to endlessly bear the weight of the world and live up to his grandfather's bravery.

SO. With that being said, a suggestion I can give is to constantly remind yourself who your character is with every decision they make. Is it true to them? Does it make sense for them? But remember, humans are also notoriously contradictive, and one is not the same as another. We experience and react to the same conditions in completely different ways; who you are and what you've been through can determine the outcome.

I hope this has helped in some form of way!

Again I apologise for this monstrous post have fun writing aaaaa-

[softness-and-shattering]

Most of my autistic friends expect that their friendships will one day out of the blue blow up in their face as people vent built-up frustrations about behaviours that annoyed others that was never ever communicated to them, and/or because of whats called "the double empathy problem" which describes one of the main ways allistic-autistic communication goes sideways. Ive been in social groups - discord type groups - where the autistics get kicked out because we are speaking plainly and askingd questions, and the mods or admin or other authority figures interpret these questions as deliberate insubordination and challenges to their authority, get "tired and fed up" with "the disrespect" and start kicking people. I have seen this happen in disability groups.

And its not all black and white. Like sometimes I can pick up on social cues because I have deliberately learned them, or learned them the hard way. I can even sometimes say one thing and mean another, but I dont often. I might pick up on one cue and totally miss another. Sometimes I just dont know why someone is saying something, theyre obviously implying something but I dont know what. This can get tricky when someone wants to indicate something without being able to be quoted about it, and sometimes I need to ask them to clarify and if theyre still dodgy I have to guess and hope I got it right.

And sometimes we're aware of unspoken rules but we dont recognise their authority over us because theyre bad or nonsensical. We tend to stick to rules if we understand them and they make sense. When theyre crap rules, I dont care how much money someone makes I will treat them the same as everyone else. I dont care how many high status cars someone has, we are equals.

Im getting off track - my point is that basically every autistic I know has ongoing trauma of friendships and social groups suddenly turning on them for no discernable reason and no warning and absolutely no previous indication that anything was wrong - sometimes after being explicitly told everything was ok the day before. This happens to us all the time. Its so damaging and so hurtful.

Personally I dont second guess as a general rule. I someone has a problem with me I trust they will tell me about it and we can problem solve and introspect. If Im not told, no matter what vibes Im picking up bc I dont know if the vibes are real or my own anxieties, I will act like nothing is wrong. If someone wants to blow up at me that has reflects zero on me and entirely on their inability to speak up about whatever was bothering them. Thats not a me problem. I cannot do anything with zero information.

Lemme induct you in an autistic way of bring and introduce you to a script you can use. Something like "hi friend, can I talk to you for a second about the meeting yesterday? [If Y continue, if N ask when you can talk to them about it.*] So I dont know if you noticed, but you spent the whole time tapping your fingernails on the table, and honestly the noise was distracting and mightve been irritating for some people. I just thought you should know bevause I dont think anyone else was going to bring it up with you. Could you please find a quieter way to stim/do what you need to/move in the ways you need to to concentrate. Ok thank you, no ones super upset just mildly irritated I think. I just figured someone should actually tell you"

Or even "hi. You spent the whole meeting earlier tapping on the table and it was pretty loud. Could you please find a way to be quieter in meetings, its just a bit distracting for some people? Awesome thank you".

Just be polite and straightforward, say what you want and what the problem is. Assume competence, sometimes we make deliberate choices against the status quo for important reasons not cluelessness. And give time for them to figure out an alternative, be undsrstanding if they cant. Just use your words, communicate clearly. It might feel a little confrontational but believe me its not as bad as bring dropped as a friend or fired out of nowhere. That sucks**

*Dont just say "can we talk", give a reason, otherwise they will likely spend the time between notification and meeting inventing every worse case scenario they can possibly think of. A couple words of context goes a long way.

** I came across a youtuber who, idk for sure if theyre autistic but they talk with an extremely flat effect (meaning, little tonal variance between words, not much expression in the voice, every word comes out more or less the same, "robotic"), which is an autistic trait. They mentioned in a video that they had a 'normal' job before youtube, until one day they found themself fired, given reason was their flat effect scared people and made them seem unfriendly and unhappy to be there and interacting. Sounded like it was completely out of the blue. Thats a job lost due to ableism though possibly no one involved sees it that way. Some people cant change how they speak or dont want to. Shouldnt have to. But at least mention it, see if the person is willing to adjust, and consider if it truly disqualifies them from being able to perform the job or is it just a little unusual.

I saw some snippet of a callout post for an autistic trans woman where they list social faux pas she committed, and I think we allistic people should all feel 100x more ashamed of not telling people in the moment how we feel about what they're doing. I think its extremely evil and cruel to not only lie to an autistic person and blame them for it but also to feel justified shaming them for your behavior. And it's currently the social norm to do that

[shatcey]

Chocolate-covered Rivals (Vivi's epilogue)

And finally Vivi's epilogue!!!! But… like I said.. it's not that much here.

At the very beginning, Vivi said…

It could be just jealousy, or the competitive part of him. He had to get it before anyone else did.

But at the end of the scene with Kate, she thought…

Kate talks about her feelings, emotions… love as if it were chocolate.

And if we assume that they're talking about the same thing (and developers like to do that). So it turned out… Victor said he wanted Kate to love him. Even if it meant stealing her from Harry. Does this mean that we should expect love rivalry in his route? I really hope so.

But… does Victor himself understand this? Maybe he was just talking about chocolate…

When Kate recalled this side of him

I remember another one. He's the manipulative bastard that we all love so much. And if he wants something, he won't stop until he gets it. He'll use all means possible. And so… his actions towards Kate…

...could just be an act to get her to talk.

And this line hints at it

No passion. There is no emotion behind it. He is absolutely calm and collected.

And he said it himself a little later…

But this part tells another story.

He strokes her cheek. It's like a subconscious reaction to her words. Appreciation…

Vivi is very good at controlling. Not only others, but also himself. He's really good at acting, pretending, and not showing how he really feels. But… even if he's sure he's ONLY doing it to get information out of Kate. He still can't completely hide his feelings for her.

I'm extremely biased towards characters who don't fully understand themselves, so maybe I see too much in this. Perhaps everything is simpler.

Maybe he does understands…

Well… we have a new event with Vivi on the JP server. I've already read it… and it's very interesting. It gives a lot of food for thought. Perhaps because I read it AFTER Line Campaign, I got such a strong impression. I hope someone will translate this event. In any case… as soon as I get my thoughts together, I'll tell you what I found there. Perhaps in the form of a summary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[snowflakes-and-cupcakes]

— this is what forever feels like x mathew barzal

chapter 1: to start something new

♡ word count: 2.8k ♡ contains: golden retriever Barzy being an insatiable flirt main ♡ prev ♡ next

As far as first days go, yours actually isn’t so bad.

Your new boss, Katy, is nice. She’s all smiles, not much older than you, and toes the line between professional and sporty in white sneakers and a relaxed navy blazer. The pleasant look on her face doesn’t completely hide the fact that she’s wary of a network hire, but you would be, too.

You feel woefully underqualified, having gone from managing the social media for an independent bookstore to freelancing once it got priced out of Manhattan rent to…this. You wouldn’t hire yourself, if you were her.

But you need the money and Hope got you this job, so you’re going to kill it. You have no other choice.

In short, you’re desperate.

So, you sit through the media team meeting in a conference room where all the chairs don’t fit around the table. There are so many people—writers like you, photographers, strategists, buyers—and you naturally gravitate to one of the extra chairs lining the wall because you feel so out of place.

But, you have to give it to yourself, the presentation from the department’s director makes sense. You’re following along, and you understand your part in it, so you take a breath.

This is going to be just fine. It’s only temporary.

“Since I forgot to give you a tour,” Katy announces with both hands on the half-wall of your cubicle, “we’re going on one now, and then we’ll meet your friend in physio for lunch before touring Northwell together.”

It’s all a lot to take in, but you manage. By the time you get to the ice center and Hope joins you, you’re on the edge of being overloaded with information, but you’re mostly sure you’re never going to have to be here, anyway. Your work is all in the background, all at the business offices—you’re not one of the social people who gets the team on camera—but it’s still nice to see where Hope works.

Honestly, though, you were kind of expecting more.

She’s one of several physios working for the team, but she shows you the space of the ice center gym that’s hers. Weights, soft mats, medicine balls—your eyes glaze over until someone brushes past you.

“Hey, sorry,” he says. He’s fast, you think, or maybe something about him makes your mind screech to a halt. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with a mess of dark hair that tapers down his neck. An Islanders-blue t-shirt stretches over his back, and black shorts stretch over his butt when he bends to pick something up off the ground.

He holds up his phone, grinning an ask-for-forgiveness-not-permission kind of smile. “Forgot this. Sorry, Hope.”

Oh. Oh. 

That’s just Mathew Barzal, casually bursting into your conversation. No big deal. You know hockey tangentially—Hope’s the bigger fan than you, but you’re from the island and therefore know the most-photographed players because you see them all. The. Time.—so it takes you a second to put the famous name to the handsome-but-shockingly-normal face in front of you.

It’s not so much the name, the fame, or even the physique that gives you pause when you look at him, but a sort of essence. The air around him snaps and jolts with life, but it’s easy and exciting like backyard fireworks on the Fourth of July. Even when he’s not the one speaking, his energy sizzles.

It’s warm. And…something unexpected, something you can’t quite name.

Oh, no?

His eyes are on you. “I’m Mat.”

Funny how he thinks he needs to introduce himself. No, not funny—it’s sweet. You tell him your name, and when you do, you swear you watch hazel eyes drift down, then back up, and his boyish smile grows a little bit wider.

“Are you new here? I mean—physio.” He laughs at himself, and then slows down, backs up, and starts over, all in his head. Slowly, with a grin that’s both self-deprecating and confident, he tries again, “Are you a new physiotherapist?”

He sounds so hopeful, almost like a puppy, that you hate to tell him no. “I’m a writer for social media. Very background stuff.”

Although you play that off like a joke, expecting him to laugh, something on his face dims. His smile turns polite instead of excited and he nods his head at you. “Yeah? Nice to meet you.”

He gestures again with his phone, wordlessly reminding everyone that he got what he wanted and he’ll be on his way. Hope and Katy each get a quick nod, but you? You get another glance that lingers and looks right through you, curious but also a little disappointed, like he hoped for more and doesn’t know how to handle not getting it.

Even after he leaves, you feel like something just happened—but you’re not sure what.

“We’re going out,” Hope tells you when the day is over and she’s walking you to her car, “and I’m paying for your drinks because it’s your first day at a new job, not…you know. Pity party’s over; now, we’re celebrating!”

You give her a look. “Thanks.”

Sarcasm aside, you really do mean it.

She takes you to the next town over (closer to the colleges, you recall, so the bars are trendier and cheaper) and you two wander down a Main Street-esque strip with two salons for every bagel shop, and two bagel shops for every bar. It’s blocks and blocks long, stretching as far as you can see while the sun sets. You two shove your hands in your coat pockets to keep them warm, walking arm-in-arm.

The snow on the sidewalks has been shoved aside and now remains partially melted, gathered in hills and valleys that back against the shops’ weathered brick and siding.Your nose stings, the tip frigid, but this is the kind of cold that’s not that bad when the wind isn’t gusting.

It’s just a normal, calm winter evening with a pale purple sky hinting spring is coming…eventually.

With Hope beside you, it feels a little like college again, and the joy you felt in those days returns with a nostalgic undertone. It’s more mature, but also more fond. You miss days like this with your best friend, but you’re grateful for this one.

“Now, if you’ll follow me down the murder alley,” she jokes, steering you down a narrow strip of pavement between two sets of buildings, “and trust me when I drag you through an unmarked door…”

Said door, painted purple and adorned only with a wreath made of brass-colored metal leaves and berries, opens up to reveal a narrow bar lit in dim amber. The ceiling lamps look like they were borrowed from an old movie, and they’re entwined with garlands of faux flowering vines. The bar itself reaches all the way to the back of the room, and the comfiest-looking padded stools dot their way down. A handful of booths populate the other wall, and the world’s tiniest stage crowds the back corner.

A few other people are already there, and no one looks up, lost in their own perfect world. The only sound is low conversation punctuated by laughter and shaking, swirling ice as the bartender makes drinks. No TVs, no recorded music, just something very real, very human, and very, very attractive to you right now.

Hope beams at you. “Speakeasy. That’s literally what it’s called—I think.”

“It doesn’t have a name,” the bartender, a woman with a high ponytail dyed pomegranate red informs you. “Call it what you like. I’m Delilah.”

You introduce yourself and ask for a drink as you sit down and Hope opens up a tab. After Delilah slides your drink in a vintage, purple-tinted glass in front of you, you turn back to Hope. “Is this new?”

She shrugs. “Things change so often around here; you know that. I don’t think any of our old college bars are still open.”

You dramatically sigh. “I miss Dizzy’s.”

“You most certainly do not,” Hope laughs. “Pretty sure that’s where that one freshman got all up on—”

She stops short and clears her throat. Your ex. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you quickly say, waving her off, but you still drown your frown in a long sip of your drink. It feels impossible to reminisce about college—the backdrop of some of your favorite memories—without his face clouding the scene. You started dating him, then a junior, halfway through freshman year.

Seven years. You gave that asshole seven years. He’s getting nothing more out of you.

You take another drink to that. “I can’t just not talk about him.”

Hope’s eyes are full of sympathy. “But it’s so fresh.”

“It was over before it was over.” You wrinkle your nose, not sure where that came from, but it feels right as soon as it leaves your mouth. “We may as well have been roommates by the end of it.”

Long before, even. If only you saw the signs as they were popping up in front of you instead of now, in hindsight.

“Hey!” 

You look up to see Delilah pointing in your direction, brow furrowed. “No hockey.”

You realize that Delilah isn’t pointing at you, but behind you—above you. You turn, and there are six familiar hockey players strolling in. Their eyes land on the combination of you and Hope and, recognizing her, they surround you like a small crowd.

It’s endearing, how they all move together like a little flock of ducks.

“Don’t worry about us, Delilah. No hockey,” Adam Pelech says over Hope’s head. “Just, uh, six…”

“Pals,” Bo Horvat finishes. He looks down at you and Hope, then wags a finger between you two, above your heads. “Eight, actually. Cancel their tabs and put whatever they’re drinking on Barzal’s card.”

“Delilah likes a more…gathering-spot kind of feel,” Hope supplies, leaning close to you. “No TVs. No sports. Nothing too modern except the health codes.”

“We hope,” Mat interjects. He slides up right behind you, hand on the bar on your left, blocking you in. There’s that sparkling energy again; here, though, in the dim lighting, it feels different. Less boyish, more…

Mat interrupts your thoughts by tapping his beer against your drink. Had you been distracted, staring at him for so long that you missed drinks being handed around? Oh, no. His eyes are full of playfulness, friendliness, and it’s all directed at you. “Happy first day, writer.”

You laugh. “Thanks, professional athlete.”

“So, tell me something about you,” he instantly replies, all smiles. “Make it something no one else knows.”

The look you give him makes him laugh. “Why?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Are we?”

“We will be…” He trails off, shifting closer as someone moves behind him on the way to the bathroom. Even when they’ve passed by, though, he doesn’t move away. “...after you tell me something about you no one else knows.”

“Okay,” you drag out the vowels. “My life is in shambles.”

“Aw, be serious.”

“I am!” You turn to him, drink now finished, and plant your hands on your knees. You have to arch a little just to look up at him, and that makes something stir in your chest. “I just moved back to the island after living in the city, which, hi, that’s a kick in the gut of my confidence—”

He glances over your shoulder, looking at Hope. “—and I feel like at least one person already knows that—”

“—but what no one else knows,” you pause, waiting until he raises a brow at you, “is that, when I don’t feel like trash about it, I kind of feel…free. Freer.”

Laughter bursts behind you, Delilah shouts something from across the room, but Mat’s eyes remain on you. It’s only been a couple of weeks, so you’re only just starting to put words to feelings you didn’t know existed. In the rubble of your life, you’re still able to find things that make you laugh and smile; things like quiet, hidden bars and weirdly electrifying looks from this hazel-eyed hockey player.

“Okay, that’s getting somewhere. You know I was fishing for something like, ‘I threw up in my mom’s handbag in the second grade,’ though, right?”

Your gaze flicks up just in time for him to take a long, pointed sip of beer, and you’re starting to realize this man is unserious, all dramatic flair and laughter. His throat bobs, and you have to tear your eyes away from it. “What does it say about me that I went for something deep, though?”

“Maybe it says something about me,” he tsks.

“What could it possibly say about you?”

He nudges your empty glass with his pinky. “That I bought you too many of these and didn’t even know it.”

“I only had one!”

“Really?” He laughs, and it carries throughout the room in a way that wraps around you, insulating you from everything else. He raises his left hand and waves to get Delilah’s attention, then holds up two fingers. “Can we get another when you have a second, D?”

When the second round comes, he sits down. “Best part of being back—besides me?”

He sure is a part of being back. You expected to hide in Hope’s apartment, scraping together every cent you could while looking for long-term work and a new place to stay. You did not expect new friends, new places, or anything but hustle and panic to emerge from all this while hiding from anything that reminds you of your past.

This is nice, you think. 

But instead of, well, that, you smile brightly and say in a single breath, “Off-menu cheese fries with chopped bacon and grilled onions at a diner at 2 A.M.”

He gives you a look. “Sorry, what?”

You nod emphatically. “Side of thousand island dressing.”

“Does it specifically have to be 2 A.M.?”

“I mean,” you shrug, “that’s usually when I finish my third or fourth cocktail, which is when the carb cravings hit.”

He rolls his lips beneath his teeth, then purses them, pretending to think, and you get the treat of watching his mouth move. “I’m more of a 2 A.M. pizza guy.”

“If we’re talking a full meal, it has to be Chinese.”

“Pizza’s not a meal; it’s a snack.”

You shake your head. “You clearly don’t believe in yourself.”

He laughs. Again, it soars through the room better than any music, high and clear. “I believe in myself.”

Maybe a little too much, your mind finishes as you watch a glint pass through his eyes. Something’s about to happen. You can feel it: anticipation, a sparkling, yearning feeling like holding your breath before jumping into the pool.

His next smile is lopsided, and he leans forward, weight on his elbow on the bar. His head tips toward you, a loose wave of hair falling over his forehead. Lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret, he ventures, “Think I can get a third cocktail in you so you can introduce me to— uh—”

You’re replying without needing to think about it. “Off-menu cheese fries with chopped bacon and grilled onions at a diner at—”

He checks the time on his phone. The slide of his eyes down, then back up to you is enticing in itself. “—8 P.M.?”

You shouldn’t.

Like, really, you shouldn’t. You’re less than a month after a breakup—and not just any breakup, but the kind that rips your heart out and runs it over with a garbage truck, then sets the remains on fire and throws them in the East River—and you’re not ready to risk your heart like that again.

What if you get attached? 

You’re not sure you remember what it feels like to be single. What if your heart latches onto the first guy that looks interested, and you faceplant in a sea of humiliation again? Garbage truck, flames, East River, etc.

But, maybe, saying yes to a random guy you just met is part of it. Maybe letting yourself laugh with a hot stranger over drinks and greasy fries is what it means to be single again, to let yourself learn to fly with the wings your ex preferred to keep clipped.

Something changes in you, quiet but resolute, and you forget why you were nervous in the first place. Just do it, you tell yourself. Be a little wild, have the kind of fun you missed out on.

“Okay,” you say as more laughter bursts behind you, but your world for this moment is only as large as the distance between you and Mat. A slow, hesitant smile spreads on your face. “Yeah, I’ll stay for another drink, and then I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

@barzygirl13 ♡ comment below or on the main post to be tagged please!

[amaelya]

SPOILER EPISODE 13

make yourself a cup of tea, you won't be disappointed.

We land a contract to plan a graduation party for the daughter of a prominent man. Amanda is in charge of the file with us because she went to the same prestigious school as the client. Amanda is super-stressed as the month goes by. During a burger outing, a fast-food manager recognizes Amanda, who is forced to confess that she worked there for 3 months because her father wanted to teach her about “real life” (at first she acts as if she doesn't know the fast-food employee).

But we learn the big lie, the drama, I mean, the TEA at the last Zoom meeting with the student's father, that after doing some research he's canceling the contract because he's discovered that Amanda didn't go to the prestigious school

((N.B.: Some locations and scenes may change depending on the character you'r lunch with. The moment of revelation took place in the meeting room instead of in the park for some!))

Indeed, he has discovered that Amanda is not on the list of students at the prestigious school. Everyone is shocked, and Devon explains that he was unaware of the lie and didn't check to see if what Amanda had put on her Personal Resume was true, preferring to trust.

The client, disappointed by this lack of seriousness, prefers not to work with us anymore and we lose the contract.

Amanda tearfully reveals to the whole team that she has never been rich. But she was rich for a while. Her parents worked for a big company, but her father made a bad choice and lost the company a lot of money. So he was fired, along with Amanda's mother. Amanda was 12 when this happened.

They had to move into a small flat and Amanda had to change schools to go to state school. She didn't know anyone and this sudden change of lifestyle was hard for her. She admits that she started to invent that she was still living the life of a princess, pretending to be rich and so on. The problem is that this lie is costing her a lot of money, as she can no longer tell the truth. So she says that she almost went into debt to pretend to lead the life she invented for herself. Ashamed of having done a public bachelor's degree, she also lied on her Personal Resume, pretending that she had been to this prestigious school.

Devon and Roy are particularly disappointed and upset. Amanda indicates that she will be resigning. Devon replies that if she wants to do that, he's fine with it.

If you follow Jason's lead, you will later learn from Jason that it was he who informed the client that Amanda had been lying about her past all along.

My personal opinion on this revelation: I have no real sympathy for Amanda. She tells us that it was when she was 12 that her luxury lifestyle changed after her parents lost their jobs. You're going to tell me that since she was 12 she hasn't been able to accept and mentally change the fact that she can no longer enjoy this lifestyle? If that had happened when she was 18 or 20, just before she started higher education, I'd understand better, knowing that her whole adolescence would have been spent in this luxury. But that's not the case here. She had +10 years to adapt and stop lying.

[kedreeva]

How did you learn what you know RE genetics? I’d love to play with plant genetics as a hobby, but I have no idea where to start learning the foundational information without doing a whole ass degree lol

Some of my knowledge comes from having a mother who was a lab manager for a research lab for my entire life- I knew the terms "het" and "homo" as biology terms when I was a VERY small child, before they ever applied to sexualities (which incidentally made it VERY easy to understand sexualities when I hit that age, and extremely easy to conclude "hm if I don't feel sexual attraction then that must be "a"sexual as "a" in science basically means "not"" and let me tell you I was pleased to discover I was correct in my hypothesis, but also completely ready to invent asexuality as a sexual identity as a 15 year old if I had to). Some of it came from biology classes in HS and college. A LOT of it came from talking to other people who were breeders and learning from them (and unfortunately, a lot of it came from looking stuff up to verify what they had told me, and finding out they were wrong).

If you are starting COMPLETELY from scratch with NO genetics knowledge whatsoever, don't feel like you have to take it all on at once. The first thing is to familiarize yourself with some of the more basic terminology used across all species- stuff like heterozygous, allele, chromosome, etc. I have a page with some of the basic terms I use for explaining genetics to peafowl folks (in HOPEFULLY very simple language, but if you get confused I would love to hear where/why, so I can try to finesse it a little more, since I WANT to be able to link that page to people who know nothing about genetics), but it definitely has some "peafowl" (bird) stuff mixed in. Still, once you have the terms in hand, you can easily look up the terms and read more about what they mean and how they relate to one another. EVERY time there's a term you don't know, look it up and read about it. I STILL learn new things by looking them up like this.

You'll also want to learn to use a punnett square eventually, if you're doing offspring determination based on parent genetics. I ALSO have a page on how to use them (at least to track autosomal mutations, but also one to track sex linked.... though that one is HEAVILY geared to peafowl, who have one Very Weird Sex-Linked Problem Gene Set that isn't usually a problem and required a weird solution to track)! As well as a page on how to use them to track multiple genes at once, but maybe save that one for later.

I am also happy to answer whatever questions I can if you run into something you can't find the answer to or don't understand the source material about, or if I don't know I can probably find out.

[cutieclangen]

for brackenpaw: 🎯🌲

for fawnstar: 🙀🍀

for the clan: 🗣️👑

for you: 💘❤️

love love love cutieclan....... your style lives up to the name!!

-boughclan-clangen

Brackenpaw Answers:

Fawnstar Answers:

Clan Answers:

🗣️ Which cat is the biggest gossip in the clan?

Absolutely Mousethorn and Beechbriar! I mean, just look at this picture of them from when they were apprentices. They're definitely talking smack about some cat :b

The catch is, Beechbriar takes her position as a mediator very seriously and would never spread around rumors or sensitive information, so she only talks gossip with Mousethorn, who is sworn to secrecy. Now.. if the gossip originates from Mousethorn and not Beechbriar... her other siblings and a few of her close friends will also hear about it!

👑 Your leader and deputy disappear into thin air, who takes over?

If both Fawnstar and Alderfur go poof, Sanddapple would step in to lead the Clan. He's one of the senior warriors and as Fawnstar's mate he already kinda has a position of power, and the rest of the Clan would support him wholeheartedly. Sandstar would then choose Haybrook as his deputy, another cat that is a well respected senior warrior with plenty of experience and a cool head.

For me: 💘 Any cats you ship? Any non-canon / crackship / oddball pairs?

I ship Stinkbutt and Stumpy! They only have platonic feelings for each other in game, but I think they would make a really cute couple :3 I also ship a bunch of future couples.. but I will not spoil any :3c

❤️ Which character does the audience seem to love that you weren’t expecting?

This one I already answered previously, but I'll also say I am surprised Stumpy has been getting a lot more love as well. I can understand it though with what he's been through lately!

Thank you so much for all the questions @boughclan-clangen you’re so cool <33 Answered from the ask game found here

[qianqiancandyjar]

Age Swap AU short & lore

So...I was thinking too much and this happened :P

Messy brainstorming below:

Randy is young and powerful as the First Ninja that he already defeated the Sorcerer for good, all on his own(Oh, Howard counts in a way, I guess. I mean no future ninja came to help him with this), but he got set up by the Sorceress, which is how he died. Then the later ninjas need to deal with the Sorceress. That will require more wits and schemes and such.

We all know in the canon, Randy went back to the past and inspired First Ninja to keep fighting and never lose hope(Even though he's the one who changed the timeline and triggered the chain events). So, in reverse, what will happen if the age swap AU has a similar episode?

>Randy defeated the Sorcerer and relaxed, unaware of the existence of the Sorceress. The Present Ninja, with some experiences of dealing with the Sorceress, came to warn him, but got frustrated, seeing Randy's casual attitude and low of guard.

In fact, even the Randy inside the Nomicon, doesn't know how he died. The Sorceress is a serious problem.

It's not like Randy can't be serious. He's just lying to himself to avoid getting too tense? However, to the later ninjas, Randy is probably a bad mentor, always cheering, laughing and using puns or catchphrase to write lessons. To Present Ninja, a conservative teenager who dislikes following trends, Randy's lessons aren't easy to understand. (It's kinda hilarious they still have generation gap in reverse🤣)

However, Randy died before he could even seal the Sorceress away. So, the Sorceress is free to create chaos anyway she wants. She disguised in a thousand ways for centuries, and no ninjas had found a way to outsmart her, not to mention defeat her.

The Nomicon, originally Randy's journal, was passed down to next, but has not much useful information. As a result, each ninja had to figure out a way on their own, before they got murdered by the Sorceress, one by one. The candidates will be targeted, the ninjas will be set up, so none of the ninjas have ever lasted for four years, until it's the Present Ninja's turn.

﹉

These are all I could think of so far. Still haven't thought of how the Sorceress killed Randy, but the idea is fun😂

[blorger]

Emergency meeting everyone

So, I was re-reading the polyjuice scene in CoS and, like, the information that Draco relays from Lucius is weird?

and

Going purely off this, it looks like Lucius doesn't know the real story; he told Draco, who he has no reason to lie to (Lucius could have just omitted the information if he didn't want him to know), that the perpetrator was expelled but, like, Hagrid is who was expelled and he is very much not the one who opened the chamber.

If Lucius knew that Hagrid was the student expelled for doing some light ethnic cleansing back in the day he wouldn't be treating him like garbage as he is wont to do so it appears he doesn't even know that much,.

In light of this revelation, the options we are left with are:

Lucius doesn't know shit and was just telling Draco unverified gossip (which means he also doesn't know Voldemort was the perpetrator and Hagrid the one framed for the events)

Lucius was fed half truths by Voldemort during the first war (but, like, to what end? So that Lucius wouldn't go looking for Voldemort's true identity? Did Voldemort implicate Hagrid again?)

Lucius got some information from older Death Eaters/his father but he doesn't know Hagrid is the one who was expelled (which also means he may not know it was Voldemort's doing)

Lucius knows the "official" truth of the chamber's first opening and doesn't understand why Hagrid is now a Dumbledore fanboy after a teenagerhood full of vigilantism

Lucius knows the whole unvarnished truth (from Voldemort? from his father?) and only told Draco the "official" truth for some weird reason

In almost all of these scenarios Lucius has no clue that he's the reason why the chamber was re-opened on account of his masterful diary switcharoo at Flourish and Blott's (and really, even if he knows it was Voldemort he still probably wouldn't be aware of what the diary really is in relation to the chamber), which means the whole thing makes even less sense than Dumbledore's theory at the end of the book.

I am confused.

help

[cripplecharacters]

Hello!

I'll talk about her being quadriplegic and how it might affect her design but leave the actual hairstyle ideas to other mods since I'm not Black (we don't have any Black quad mods at the moment).

"Moderately quadriplegic" is probably too vague to help you figure out what your character could or could not do. I personally haven't seen any quads describe themselves like this, it's much more common to say what level the spinal cord injury is on and potentially whether it's complete or not. "Moderately" could mean either an incomplete injury on any level, or a complete low-level injury (here it'd probably be the former since she's able to walk from my understanding?), which just doesn't really cut it. To go with the main topic of the character's hairstyle, if she's an incomplete C1 then she probably won't be able to move her hair out of her face - and if she's a complete C7, she probably would be able to.

As a general rule of thumb, C5 (or higher) results in less/no bicep function and thus limited/no ability to raise the arms to the person's head (there are obviously exceptions, especially at the lower levels). If she can't reach her hair, it will limit (realistic) design choices. You wouldn't want a hairstyle that requires you to tuck it behind the ear every time you look down if you needed to ask another person to do it for you. As for doing her hair by herself, unless her hands are really mildly impaired it's probably out of the question. You can look up tenodesis, it's the type of movement that quads will do in order to grab things. I never heard of someone braiding their hair like this (not saying it's impossible, I just haven't seen it).

Her level of injury could also affect her design in different ways; e.g. a present trach tube would indicate that she's a C4 (or higher) and complete and a tracheostomy scar would imply that she's probably complete on whatever level, while neither would signal that she's probably lower level and incomplete. It would be a cool detail if you're going for realism.

Since it's a children's book, talking about these specifics is probably too much (unless you're looking to specifically educate about quadriplegia/spinal cord injuries), but it's still something that will be helpful for you going forward. When doing research, a lot of the information that would answer your questions will probably be blocked behind the SCI levels and completeness, so it's good to have it figured out to be consistent.

As I mentioned earlier, "moderate quad" isn't really a description that's used much in my experience. If you want something that's more accurate but not too medicalized, you can try low level/high level quadriplegic and explain the difference. E.g., "[Name A] is a low level quadriplegic, so she can write and draw during art class with a special brace that helps her hold a pencil, just like her friend does. [Name B]'s older sister is a high level quadriplegic, and she needs her dad's help to eat breakfast before school. She uses a different type of wheelchair than [Name A] since she can't use her hands".

To actually go back to the hairstyles, you need to consider what kind of wheelchair she uses. If she has a headrest, she won't be able to have a ponytail in the back since it would be uncomfortable. Same for no hard materials like beads at the height of her wheelchair since a pressure sore on the back would be a nightmare.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Just adding a little bit extra about hairstyles,

(and editing slightly to add: i’m mixed and i don’t speak for all or even a lot of the black experience just a small part of it but definitely not the non-mixed experience)

Like Sasza said, it depends on what kind of wheelchair she uses and her needs in general.

Like mentioned above, beaded hairstyles are common for Black little girls to wear, but if she has a headrest she probably wouldn't have beads or clips at a length where they would put pressure on her head or back with a headrest or backrest because it would cause pressure sores, which you definitely do not want, ans especially not on your head. This could include something like bantu knots; she could have them wherever it doesn't touch her headrest, but again, not in the back of her head.

It also depends on how much she can use her hands and arms. For example, I've had long knotless braids (like waist length), and I have full use of my hands. I've had to tie them back in a ponytail or half ponytail a lot, because they can get in my face often. If she doesn't have the ability to move her hair out of her face when braids obscure her vision, this could get really annoying very very fast! Her braids would probably not be that long, because she is a child and you usually don't put in braiding hair on kids and mostly use their natural hair, but I wanted to put that example just for the practical part of having very movable braided hair it can get in your face way more than unbraided hair. It's heavier and thicker than just a standard hair strand.

Also, most 5 and 6 year olds, abled or disabled, don't do their own hair past a ponytail. It's totally okay for her parents to do her hair, and it makes sense. It also opens up the avenue of maybe she can have cornrows, twists, or braids. If she has a headrest, maybe her hairstyle has the bulkiest part to the sides or top, like afro puffs or side ponytails or space buns or bubble braids (which are very very cute in my opinion), or hairstyles with something like zig-zag parts. I am not a parent (or a child!), but I do see a lot of braided hairstyles and little puffs among the little kids I work with. She could also just have her hair natural and loose, and put something in like headbands or large clips that wouldn't interfere with her mobility or with backrests/headrests if she needed one.

Hope this helps,

mod sparrow

Hi!

I have a couple of Black friends who use power chairs, though they are not quadriplegic. They have to be mindful of hairstyles that would be uncomfortable with headrests (as Sasza mentioned). One of them wears braids, an afro puff, or straightens her hair and wears it down. She gets help styling her hair. The other keeps their hair very short and natural because that's easiest for them to maintain.

Mod Rock

Hi! Your blog is really really cool and an awesome source of information with so much context and detail! I really love your approach of like "don't not do it; research, learn, and do it well"!

So Idk if this is a reasonable question or not but I thought it would be better to ask than not to: So I'm endeavoring to write a kids picture book and in it there's a little girl who's Black with a physical disability, probably moderately quadriplegic, and I was wondering about what kind of hairstyles might be realistic for her to potentially have?

Like I know she could technically have anything that a real person could have, but like I don't want to just pick something out for the character just based on how *I* think somethings looks without having a context I don't have yet if that makes sense?

She's about 5 or 6 and she's able to use her hands but she'll have spasticity in them and be using adaptive equipment, and she can move but she'll be in a wheelchair most of the time, so Idk how that might factor into how she/her parents might kind of style her hair?

(it won't really come up in the story since it's about her first day of school, but like more from a design standpoint)

Also idk if this matters to add but I wouldn't be personally doing the art, I'd probably try and connect with someone to illustrate, but I would like to try and have some pretty concrete descriptions for them to work with when the time comes.

Thanks so much, you're so awesome!!!!

That's a good way to summarize my mentality, and I appreciate you catching that! I do get frustrated when people approach writing people different than them as "well is it yes or no" when that's not what it is. It's "put effort into it or leave it alone". Because many things can be done! We can be in any story! It just has to be done with...wait for it... INTENT!

As for your question, she's an industrious child because I was not doing my own hair at 5 and 6 lol. That's a young age for hair. Maybe a ponytail or afro puff at best. I think it would be okay if you allowed her parents to do her hair, which does lead back to her being able to have any style that she might like. Maybe something with less barrettes and such, since they might fall out and she may struggle to put them back in.

So my suggestion would be to look up hairstyles little Black girls, and go through your options and pick one!