bron

sometimes i write | multifandom | requests open!

[crackmuffins]

hello!! my name is bron and i go by she/her pronouns

you may catch me posting a little bit of my writing here and there! find me at crackmuffins on AO3 for the occasional post there as well hehe :3 one day i might create a masterlist for all my writings so stay tuned for that

im honestly just here for fun! my account is pretty much a lot of reblogs and the different fandoms im in, so it's pretty chill here. my dms are always open, and so are my requests!

xoxo bron

[chimielie]

k(nyan)ma

summary: Cat Hybrid!Kenma x Reader. your cat is, like, kind of weird. you guess you love him, though.

word count: 3.3k :3

cw: hybrid au, tax fraud, hairballs, stupid tweet pulls for laughs. reader has an older brother. reader and kenma's relationship is not exactly romantic but it could be read as heading in that direction. very very faint implied jealousy. kenma is kind of garfield

a/n: i just made SOME BULLSHITTTT

Kenma hates Mondays.

You know that he does because he’s lived with you for two long years now and every Monday, he’s done this to you, and your brother before that, and probably did this to whoever he lived with before that. You don’t know much about Kenma’s family except that when you asked him, “Uh, do you not, like, want to live literally anywhere else?” He made a face at you that radiated an aura so evil you never asked him about his life before your brother again.

Despite small slip-ups like these, you mostly get along. Again, this excludes Mondays, a day of the week that used to be just mostly annoying and are now nearly as evil to you as they are to him.

As usual, you wake up with a mouth full of fur and one of Kenma’s legs splayed across your chest, because the direction in which a person should lay in bed doesn’t matter to that godless bastard at all. This is normal and you don’t even think about it as you stare at the ceiling, the pressure on your chest tightening as you try to squeeze in a breath between the beeps of your alarm.

Finally, you roll over to shut it off, trying to move out from under Kenma’s leg in what turns out to be a fatal mistake.

He makes a hissing noise and somehow, before your groggy morning-brain can think to defend its meat suit, he contracts his entire body like a spring so that he’s wrapped around your shoulders, one of his knees shoved in your armpit, his long hair covering your face, his nails digging little pricks into your skin where he clutches at you. You can smell his morning breath. This is a fate worse than dying.

You try and fail to shake him off. You try and fail to stand up and are only rewarded by a funny twinge in your back because no part of you weighed down by him is actually strong enough to lift him up.

“Fat cat,” you say bitterly.

“Stupid human,” says Kenma, his morning voice rough. On any other day it’s almost like he’s speaking in a purr, but today it’s more like a growl. “What kind of idiot gets out of bed on a Monday?”

Kenma, of course, is your cat-human hybrid, which is exactly like having a cat except you really can understand him, not like all the other cat owners who say they know what their pet is saying. He was actually your irresponsible older brother’s cat, first, but then your irresponsible older brother did something classically him and had to leave the country to evade the tax collectors, so you made a deal with him that you’d take the cat in exchange for not having to deal with any of the other things that might have subjected you to.

Sometimes he forces you to video call him from whatever city he’s staying in (you don’t want to know, for plausible deniability purposes) just to show him Kenma, doing whatever Kenma does. Usually this is playing games on the PS5 and saying horrible things over the headset in his sweet, mellow voice, or sleeping on your couch using his Switch as a pillow. All things considered, he's pretty low-maintenance.

"I have to get out of bed to buy you your special kidney food," you say, standing up to scrub out your bowl. Kenma, who is still eating breakfast at the leisurely pace of the unemployed and ungrateful, lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, a single piece of chocolate cereal falling to the floor. He stares at you with his mouth open like that until you walk over and pinch it up with a paper towel in hand.

"If you walk out that door today I'm going to puke on the welcome mat so you step in it when you come back," he says.

The joys of Mondays.

"It's not like I want to," you say. "It's a necessity of life."

"I could provide for us," he says, his ears laying flat on his head.

"What, with birds?" You snort. "You're not even an outdoor cat. You couldn't catch prey if you tried."

"No, with my investment income," he says. You put your face in your hands and groan.

"Who even taught you about finance," you say. "Was it my worthless older brother? Anything he told you to do, do the opposite of that."

"I have a master's degree in business administration," Kenma deadpans.

"Sure you do," you pat him between the ears, flattening his hair and watching his tail puff up. "I'm gonna go get dressed."

Many Mondays ago, you learned to select your clothing for the day ahead of time and lock it in the bathroom while you showered lest your horrible creature shred up your outfit in the meantime. Despite this precaution, you emerge this morning to find that the oven is in the process of preheating and all of your left shoes are being piled hastily onto a baking sheet.

"Oh," Kenma says, looking at you with dead eyes. "Aren't you going to dry your hair first?"

You shake your head at him, spraying drops of water everywhere. He yowls and tears down the hallway, abandoning his nefarious plans. You sigh and make a mental note to switch to dialed, cat-proof appliances within the week.

Eventually, you make it to work, fully dressed and hair styled appropriately, breathing a deep sigh of relief as you sit in your desk chair. This is your favorite part of the week, if anyone were to ask. You're finally free of the terror that animal exerts over your life, your house, your left shoes.

You bask in the feeling for about five seconds before turning on your phone to check your home-cam app. Kenma, as he does every Monday, is wandering from room to room, calling your name in a forlorn voice as though you're simply hiding from him and not at your stupid job that pays for his stupid Steam account.

"Hey," says Kuroo, your most bothersome coworker on the clock and your good friend off it. "Lev has been asking if Kenma wants to come over again sometime. We could do a little house party."

Lev is Kuroo's dog-boy, a lanky puppy who never learned volume control in possession of gorgeous blue fur and several show trophies. He is Kenma's self-professed worst nightmare. This is mostly because Kuroo used to cat-sit for you often, before Lev moved in or however normal people with normal relatives acquire hybrids, and Kenma had a special fondness for him.

When Kenma first moved in with you, he had been incredibly shy. You, having little to no hybrid or regular cat experience, had called Kuroo in tears, knowing that he liked cats from all the times HR had met with him regarding his inappropriate usage of cat GIFs in workplace communications. Kenma had emerged from where he had crammed himself into the corner of your closet within about five minutes of Kuroo just sitting there, pretending not to see him, and then crawled into his lap.

You had just died of shock and tried to offer him the care of the cat instead, but for some reason he had refused. Eventually Kenma had warmed up to you, mostly after you resorted to the most desperate measures of all time and bought something called pheromone perfume, but Kuroo was still his favorite of the lesser species.

"I'll have to ask him," you say. "He's going to some sort of convention this weekend. I don't remember what it's called."

"Are you not chaperoning him?" Kuroo asks.

"What is this, the 50s?" You laugh. "He's a private person, you know, and he never gets up to anything that crazy. Gosh, I really can't remember what the con is called. Hold on."

You type "convetnion this wkeendk" in your search bar. Mercifully, the Internet Gods understand what you're trying to say and return:

VidCon

VidCon this weekend

Kenma Kozume panel VidCon

"Oh, yeah," you say. "I think he wants to meet some YouTubers or something."

"You're really not on any social media, huh," says Kuroo, with a kind of amazed look on his face.

"No, I have FaceBook," you say defensively, "'cause my mom is always bothering me about liking her posts."

"Do you ever, um. This might be indelicate, but have you ever looked at Kenma's income? Does he do his own taxes? I always have to log Lev's show income."

"He's a hybrid," you swap back to your Excel sheet, "he doesn't have to pay taxes. How much could he be making off those videos, like, twenty yen a year because of the ads?" Then you start thinking about how many ads there are on the Internet these days, which is part of why you stopped looking at social media at all in protest, and then you start thinking about how probably the whole system needs to be burned down and start over.

For some reason, Kuroo has to steady himself on your desk, his head dropped low like he's feeling a deep sense of despair or maybe exasperation.

You get home and step in Kenma's hairball right away, but as soon as you enter the living room to bitch at him about it, he gets so happy to see you he starts shaking all over. You sit down behind him while he games, cooing in his ear and petting his hair, and he leans into you, purring so hard its broken up on its way out of his chest, and you think fuzzily that he's a perfect kitty who's never done anything wrong in his whole life.

The weekend comes and goes. You feel oddly empty while he's out of town, having completed all your bucket list items the very first day he was gone. You took a bath without him clawing at the door and insisting you were drowning, you wore all black without getting fur on it, you ate sushi and looked at the TV the whole time without having to guard it like a mother bird with its eggs. For some reason, you can't sleep very well during those days, so as soon as he gets home from the airport, you pass out almost immediately and wake up disoriented and breathless from being strangled by an orange tail. Ah, you think, everything is right again.

EMERGENCY?!!!1!?!, you receive mid-meeting some months later. You jump and bash your knee into the table, causing the financial analysis presenters to look at you funny. You try to pretend your phone isn't glowing obnoxiously brightly from your lap and smile weakly.

"Ah, there's an emergency at home," you say. "I may have to duck out for the rest of the day."

The other messages you receive on the way home are no less concerning.

something wrong, Kenma texts you. im so scared pls come home soon

i'm coming, you promise him. are you safe?

for now, he responds. Your heart clenches and you ask the rideshare driver if he can step on it. He shoots you a look like, this isn't GTA, but when you start crying in his backseat he really does get you home three minutes faster. You tip him forty percent.

"Kenma!" You call as soon as you open the door. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm here," you hear a pathetic whimper from the kitchen. "Thank God, I thought I was gonna die alone—"

You rush into the kitchen, holding the broom you keep in the entryway aloft, just in case you need a weapon of some kind. Kenma is, thankfully, safe and sound, although clearly terrified, sitting on your kitchen counter curled into a ball so that he fits under the wall-mounted cabinets.

"I stayed here to keep an eye on it," he says and your heart melts at the bravery on his face. You'd kill for this baby, this sweet boy with no way to protect himself from the cruel world. "It's evil, it's so evil."

The smoke detector chirps. Kenma just about jumps out of his skin, knocking his head into the cabinet and possibly causing the dishes inside to move and at least one to break against the inside of the door. His tail spikes up.

You sigh deeply.

"Kenma," you say. "Is it just that the smoke alarm is out of battery?"

"It's evil," he says vehemently.

You, callous and cruel human that you are, don't pull out a chair to replace the battery until after you've sent off an email to your boss that you'll be back at work within the hour.

On the weekends, Kenma usually falls back asleep after he confirms that you aren't abandoning him to "work" at your "job" for the day. He generally remains comatose until like 1 in the afternoon, when you eat lunch and he wanders out to see if there's anything worth stealing off your plate.

"You have your own, you know," you say drily as he winds his tail around your arm and widens his golden eyes to look as cute as possible. "I made you a bowl."

"I don't want that one," he pouts. "I want this one."

You are a sucker and a chump, so you pinch a bite between your chopsticks and give it to him right away.

"Yummy," he says, half-closing his eyes. You kiss his round cheek and he lets you, which is basically a glowing expression of affection from him. "Can we go to the park and see Hinata today?"

"Sure," you say. "The weather's getting nicer, but it's a bit windy. Can I do your hair?"

"You're so forward," he says, blushing, but he lets you brush it out from the black roots to the golden tips and twist it into a neat bun that won't get in his face. He bites you lightly, which you assume is your due payment for the torture of doing his hair, and then you go to the park.

Hinata and Kageyama are two hybrids who are, without fail, at the park every weekend, except when they're at the Olympics. Instead of playing fetch, they play volleyball, and sometimes Kenma plays with them, displaying an athleticism you don't understand how he retains lounging in your house eating nutritionless slop all day.

Today, Hinata plays while Kageyama sits on the sidelines and complains.

"They said I have a 'lower body injury,' and have to go to a 'physical therapist,'" he grumbles, making air quotes. His claws are huge, never retracted like Kenma's, although he does file them nicely into clean points. Today they're painted midnight blue, a little bit sparkly if you look closely enough. "What am I gonna go to therapy for? So I can pay money for them to tell me I'm gay? To find out I'm gay and in the closet? To help me discover that deep down I'm a gay ass homosexual man? Pass. Miss me with that shit. I'm straight. I am straight."

Hinata jumps up, his compression shirt riding up over his abdomen, and Kageyama makes a noise like a literal cat call. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Uh, yeah, man," you say. "Cool. Cool. How much do they pay you to play with balls?"

Thankfully, both of you are saved from this line of conversation by the appearance of Lev and Kuroo. Lev is wrapped in a giant coat that swallows his skinny frame and Kuroo wearing a hat that seems pretty useless given that his spiky hair keeps it from actually covering any of his, you know, skin.

Hinata and Kenma cease their scrimmage to come say hello. Well, Hinata says hello, bouncing around like the grass is a trampoline. Kenma doesn't say anything when he sees them, but he does blink, very slowly, his golden eyes huge, when Kuroo waves at him. You cross your arms.

"Weren't you playing a game," you say sourly.

"I'm gonna take a break," Kenma says. "Can we sit for a bit?"

He must be colder than you thought, because despite the nice ESSENTIALS: FEAR OF GOD hoodie he brought along, he sits directly on top of you, putting his arms around your neck and smushing your face into his.

"Uh," you say, muffled.

"Good," he says, mostly to himself. "Lev, don't touch me. Ew! Your tongue is wet!"

You pass the afternoon like this. Kenma eventually evacuates your lap, lured to Kuroo's side because he wants to discuss something about "venture capital" and "shareholder value," aka more terms your cat will use to torture you. However, Lev takes this opportunity to bound over, dolphin diving onto the grass in front of you, smearing dirt all over his outfit and then resting his cheek on your leg.

He singsongs your name.

"Please will you come play," he says. "Look, I found a ball you can throw me!"

The ball has dog teeth marks in it. You squint and try to see if Lev has regular, human-looking teeth or canine-style canines, because you kind of really don't want to touch a ball he's drooled on.

Before you can really get a good look, you hear a loud hiss and look up to see your cat looming over you menacingly, a shadow across his face that makes Lev jump up and dart behind Kuroo's back, his neck bared submissively.

"Kenma!" You say, poking him hard in the arm. "Watch your language!"

"Sorry," he says, the shadow dropping from his face. "Will you watch me hunt squirrels now?"

"Sure," you say, "but if you actually catch one I'm not touching that shit."

He doesn't, but he comes alarmingly close. Only your startled shout pulls him away from the kill, looking back at you instead of his prey and letting it slip away.

"This is why you can't provide for our family," you say jokingly when he returns to you. The others have begun to trickle away to eat dinner in their own homes, the sun getting low in the sky.

Kenma stares blankly at you.

"I make almost thirty million yen a year," he says. You laugh. "No, like, actually."

"Right," you say, scratching the back of his neck with your nails lovingly. He purrs for a second, his eyes fluttering shut, before he seems to remember where he is, his body drawing up tight. "Doing what?"

"Day trading, at first," he shrugs. "With the YouTube money. But I didn't like any of my options for money management apps, once I got really good at it, so I coded my own and I guess it kind of took off, a little. Speaking of, I have to go to a photoshoot for Forbes 30 Under 30 next Tuesday. Can you drive me? I don't like cars."

You drop your head onto his shoulder.

"Why do you live in my house, then?" You whine, digging your nails into the scruff of his neck. He makes a noise you've never heard before and goes sort of limp against you, the two of you holding each other up by your body weight alone. "Why do I buy all your stupid video games and kibble?"

"I like your house," he says. "It has you in it. And I funnel all my business through your brother so I don't have to pay as much in taxes. Didn't you wonder why you stopped having to pay rent and the house is in your name now?"

"I hate you," you say. "Don't tell me any more. And I'm not quitting my job to stay with you on Mondays."

"I'll get you someday," he says quietly. You roll your eyes and stand there in the cold for a little while longer, enjoying the contrast of his body heat and pretending you won't eventually give in to your spoiled cat.

[https-milo]

MR. IGN !

m. list

pt 1

IN WHICH... Y/N gets a Nintendo Switch for her birthday and goes to Kemna Kozume for gaming tutorials instead of the internet

*when the contact is tetsuro, it's kenma talking to kuroo

kenkenma replied to your story: you spent half of it buried in my shoulder

ynexclamationpoint: okay and :,)

ynexclamationpoint: you make a good shield

kenkenma: thanks?

ynexclamationpoint: youre welcome <3

ynexclamationpoint: thank you for protecting me

kenkenma: uhm anytime ynexclamationpoint reacted "🐈"

© https-milo. please do not repost, steal, copy, or modify my works!

[levihanmyotp]

THISSS THIS IS WHAT I LOVE!!!

(finally kenma's not some uwu shy cat boy that goes 🥺 all the time)

ts so peak thank you goat

[kunaiiikittennn]

[+..••] failure to compute ノk. kozume

⚠︎ warnings; fluff, teasing, mildly suggestive content

» "plank until failure video when?"

that's the question you brazenly sent thinking kenma would never see it, lost in the blur of his twitch chat, unfortunately, he did.

yours wasn't the first comment of that nature by any means. hundreds of flirty, even downright salacious things had been said throughout the hours long stream event. things of the like that kenma usually avoided calling attention to. he knew he was sought after, desired—something that still settled uneasily in his chest. unfamiliar and unfathomable.

why him?

he's just a lanky, loser who happens to be quite good at entertaining an audience of thousands. something his high school self would shudder at the mere thought of being that seen. that many eyes watching his every move, taking screenshots and posting them to twitter to fawn over.

it didn't make sense.

but the sharp-eyed gamer caught onto that one, in the mix of thousands of other fans vying for his attention. narrowing his eyes to heavily lidded slits, staring into the camera as if he were peering directly into your soul through the lens.

his low, husky voice, rough from hours of talking, reads your comment aloud. shame lights your face on fire, squealing like a panicked schoolgirl whilst hiding behind your hands—peeking through the gaps with bated breath.

"for free? nah, it'll cost ya."

the chat spirals into a frenzy—donations flying in as a means to bribe the streamer— much like your own heart, beating sharply against your ribcage.

you're almost certain that kenma hasn't connected the dots. that the girl in his computer science class is a viewer. your username wasn't obvious, knowing better than to use your own name. rather it's based on a niche interest of yours, not easily identifiable.

one in a million chance of being discovered.

the screen of your laptop goes dim, proof that you haven't written a single word in the last ten minutes. with a sigh you save the document, praying that later you'll find the strength to finish it before midnight tonight.

(newsflash: it never got completed.)

a break is in order.

you sink further into your pillows, scrolling on twitch aimlessly in the search to watch something, leads you to stumble across kenma's channel—newly made that day—as he fumbled with his camera, the lights in his game room too harsh and washing him out. turning him into a highly reflective ghost. his voice comes out scratchy and loud through your earbuds causing you to yank them out to save your eardrums from permanent damage.

his rising panic wasn't a laughing matter.

to him.

to the fellow classmate whose day had been the embodiment of taking one beating after another, it was just the remedy you hadn't known you needed.

tears welling in your eyes as you clutch desperately at your stomach, laughter gone utterly silent as you gulp down breaths between fits.

kenma still hasn't figured out why his cam was glitching out.

like the kind, caring individual you are, you offer a solution.

it was a one off.

a chance that it may be the issue he was facing, you didn't think it would actually work.

but the genuine relief and joy on his face afterwards had you hooked. in the spur of the moment you hit subscribe, a fleeting gesture of your faith in him to go far. though you didn't truly believe you'd tune in again next time.

(how very wrong you were.)

and there weren't many people watching that first stream, a handful of people.

what you didn't count on was being memorable. for making a lasting impression.

just one person in the crowd, is what you thought.

you were banking on that fact.

clips from that stream went viral. fangirls and fanboys alike losing their minds over the potential.

imagine the chaos that would ensue if kenma went through with it? the world might implode from pure, unhinged horniness levels.

you scroll the threads, giggling to yourself, sharing a few of the links to a couple of friends—online friends, other fans of kodzuken met through a discord server.

on campus you'd never dare breathe a word of this.

your friends here wouldn't get it. to them he's just a guy, not even an athletic one at that.

in their opinion there's plenty of better options, in frat houses, clubs, or best yet, on the sports teams.

"ew, you watch that guy?"

the moment those words register you're shifting, whipping around, ready to defend kenma against the slander, "sounds like jealousy. mad that he's making a name for himself unlike—"

you turn fully to meet this strangers eyes when your mouth dries up, his eyebrow lifts, a curious tilt to his head waiting for you to continue berating him.

"unlike?" kenma urges, resting his chin on his wrist as you flounder.

you swear he wasn't there a moment ago.

"un—" you close your mouth, tongue tied.

the silence stretches, deafening in comparison to your pounding heartbeat. or maybe it's just the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

"must really like him," he muses, gaze fixed on your phone where the incriminating evidence resides. twitter feed filled with nothing but him.

the speed in which you flip your phone face down is impressive if nothing else.

"not really," you lie, or attempt to. "i just happened upon..."

the click of his tongue disrupts your poorly fabricated misleading.

kenma leans in closer to whisper in your ear, breath ghosting through the loose strands of hair. mirth and a dastardly amount of smugness shine in his eyes, lips curled into a knowing smirk,

"you are still interested in that planking video, right?"

emi's notes: not proofread, chopped this up in an hour in pure spite.

☒ next chapter →

© kunaiiikittennn 2026 — all rights reserved.

[isa-not-ysa]

gods i love nightowl and quest sm but they could NEVER compare to how weak these two make me

[rieamena]

hugo tokyo override. thats it. thats the post.

[november113135]

[haselnootlatte]

toasty!!! 🍞 🌹

[itwilra]

oh to be 13 again reading fanfiction till the sun came up 😞😞

[xfallenintoanabyssx]

I enjoy Jesper’s sense of humor as much as anyone, but one of my biggest pet peeves in the SoC fandom is the tendency to treat him as unintelligent. Canonically, Jesper is a child prodigy who joined a prestigious university at fifteen. He is stated to be as intellectually gifted as Wylan, who himself was educated by tutors trained at that same institution. The difference between them is not ability, but trajectory.

I’ve also always hated how Jesper’s addiction is so often mocked. In many ways, I feel it actually mirrors Wylan’s dyslexia; both being traits that others use to dismiss their intelligence or worth. The difference is that the narrative and the reader are explicitly encouraged to recognize that Wylan’s dyslexia is not a reflection of his capability. Whereas Jesper is rarely afforded the same courtesy. His addiction is framed as a personal failing rather than as a response to trauma and systemic oppression.

Where Wylan’s struggles are clearly meant to be seen not as a personal failing but rather the fault of an abusive parent and an unjust society that refuses to accommodate, Jesper’s are too often treated as self-inflicted despite emerging from a world that punishes Grisha for the simple act of existing.

Jesper does not suppress his powers because he wants to, but because revealing them would mean surrendering his future to forces beyond his control: conscription, persecution, or death. Within this framework, it becomes clear that Jesper’s addiction is neither a personal flaw nor a sign of stupidity, but a desperate attempt at survival, born from fear and the impossibility of being allowed to exist safely as himself.

[vtsumi]

I should draw pinups ups

[vilecemetery]

leigh bardugo has massively edited and rewritten the six of crows books and no one has noticed

or has for some reason decided not to mention it at all or let anyone else know.

I just found out something insane today. in the new dregs editions that came out for the 10th anniversary, leigh bardugo has removed any and all mention of the crows being teenagers, cut out whole sentences and completely changed quotes that are classic and very well known by fans of the six of crows duology. she’s replaced any mention of words like ‘children’ ‘boy’ ‘girl’ and ‘kids’ with ‘man’ ‘woman’ ‘grown’ etc

this is concerning, bewildering and just feels wrong for so many reasons. but besides the obvious —which is that the six protagonists of the duology being young is essential to many aspects of the plot, seeing as their world weariness and competence is a result of their experiences as children and survivors who are victims of their environment—besides even that, editing a piece of literature that’s been published and on shelves for 10 years is objectively not a good idea at all, and doesn’t at all take into account the new contexts and connotations the new wording brings.

above is an example of the original scene we know verses the new version. lots of it has changed, namely their ages, but the sentence at the end in matthas' pov doesn't even sound like him at all. her writing quality has declined noticeably and she sounds like she wrote that sentence in a rush. it makes no sense, and it's not something matthias, who knows practically nothing about the barrel, would be thinking.

and not to mention the famous line 'brekker's eyes were ancient, but he couldn't be any older then matthias' — cut out of the book completely. I do wonder what impact, effect and influence these changes will have on new readers.

this is another example. such a classic line and they cut it completely.

the entire books are like this. inej saying kaz looking seventeen is changed to kaz looking like someone's apprentice. the boy of the barrel changed to man. criminal prodigy changed to just mastermind. inej described as a woman in place of a sixteen year old girl. wylan changed from boy to young man. full scenes cut. 'jesper is zemeni but don't hold it against him' changed to ‘don’t let him wax sentimental about it’ which sounds way worse then the original.

and I don't actually own the new copies of these books, my best friend was looking at them in a bookstore and that's when we first noticed all of the changes. so I truly have no idea what else could possibly be changed besides the things I noticed as I cannot look at them for reference - the crow's physical appearance, more of the plot, other famous scenes just being cut completely, etc. if nothing else has changed, then it’s still way too much and massively changes core aspects of the books. but I do wonder. if you own the dregs special editions, I suggest looking for similar differences. I might have to write examples to express how messed up the new connotations are.

leigh now implies that jesper, an adult black man, made the right choice by handing over his share from his job to his white father to keep for you, as he cannot control himself and isn't ready to receive his own funds, as he is a mindless gambler. this is extremely different to a reckless irresponsible teenager grieving his mother and making stupid mistakes, and then deciding to make better decisions in the future with help from his parent. I'm sure you can see without me spelling it out how awful, racist and problematic the new context of jesper being a grown man makes this situation sound.

another example is matthias' childhood centrally seeing him be groomed, manipulated and indoctrinated by a nazi coded witch hunting organisation that targets grisha, an oppressed community, with the intention of torturing, burning, hanging, raping and eradicating them from the world

matthias is just turning 18 when he meets nina. he has not yet done any of these terrible things himself. he is fresh out of training and still basically a child. his views are first challenged, and he eventually breaks out of the brainwashing and mental manipulation that has been taught and instilled in him with repetition. it's not an excuse, but it's more understandable. matthias, now a grown man apparently way older then 18, has no excuse for these bigoted views as he is way more mature, has way more experience, and would have had to have done these horrific things to grisha at some point.

it feels like some sort of fever dream that six of crows was edited and re published so that these famous teenage characters (who were first written so obviously— in dialogue, actions, pov, - as teenagers) and their criminal prodigy leader were made into poorly written adults. I can put into words how much this has deeply bothered and distressed me and many other readers I've spoken to.

it's such an odd choice and makes me think it was done to soften the backlash the shadow and bone adaption received from some fans for aging up the characters in the first place.

I cannot stress this enough- leigh bardugo would edit iconic lines and change core aspects of her characters that have been around for 10 years to justify a cancelled netflix adaption of these incredibly popular and well loved books. it's odd and uncomfortable.

now, these books mean the world to me, they have quite literally got me through physical, mental and emotional childhood abuse, suicide ideation and self harm, the everyday ableism and oppression, chronic pain and disability experience, severe depression and anxiety, absolute hopelessness, work and life, etc) but the sheer absurdity of this all just outmatches my distress that it happened. it feels like some sort of hallucination becasue it's lowkey just insane. she never even mentioned she was going to do something like this?

there is just no conceivable reason for leigh bardugo to have done this secretly and quietly other then to have stopped people negatively critiquing the show or some other deeply odd notion. and with all of these changes, the new books absolutely are not the 'dregs' editions— the heart of the dregs is the young blood, 'the kids like kaz who he had brought in a organised, who worked the hardest and took the worst jobs'

they are the bad netflix adaption editions. the sympathy for terrible adult cast editions. it's troubling, clearly not a well thought out decision, and deeply bizarre. tell me others agree.

[attabxy]

Just found this out and uuuuhhh-

[nocturniko]

damian wayne is far stronger than me if i was sent away from my mother to live with a bunch of annoying white people in new jersey usa of all places i wouldve done far worse than attempt to kill tim drake a few times

[90kon]

beloved piggyback ride scene from buy back the secrets by @vinelark who is AMAZING

[nagiishigh]

I was bored. And yall exam season is finally over so I can draw more yippieee

The audio is from @dyllikescomics on TikTok

[timdrakes-murdershack]

I think its funny that some people paint Jason and Tim as like mortal enemies when in the comics they act like this

Jason calls him "Timbers" and is like "yeah he's the only brother I can tolerate atm"

Like they genuinely respect each other. Don't get me wrong, I see the angst potential with these two, but also so much of their dynamic is just a typical sibling relationship.

[traf-graf]

get them out of my head