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snackhobi · 4 years

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pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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johnconstantinesdick · 4 years

Note

Elaborate on your Aizawa is a Shimura theory?

Okay okay before we begin I need to preface this by saying this is a fun au idea I came up with that turned into a crack theory after I realized how many things fit... weirdly well. The best image to have in your head right now is the conspiracy board meme.

That being said, let’s go.

[[MORE]]

The first time I considered this was after seeing this heartbreaking art by @/trevowashere. After having my heart crushed, I went to my notes and jotted down something along the lines of “AU where Aizawa is Nana’s grandson instead of Shigaraki and AFO lives in fear of ever facing this man who can erase quirks and whose grandmother he killed” and that somehow morphed into me having a couple of fic scenes written out where Aizawa is Hana and Tenko’s older brother and so things don’t go completely to shit.

And then I started to think about it seriously, and I had to stop for a minute because Aizawa actually looks like he could be a part of that family. Nana, Hana, and Tenko are all shown to have dark hair, all of them presumably black because Nana’s is. Tenko has red eyes post-quirk (still not 100% sure if he has them pre-quirk bc if decay made his hair lose pigment it’s not a stretch to say it made his eyes lose pigment as well, and plenty of Albino people have red or pink eyes), and Aizawa has red eyes while is quirk is activated.

Aizawa also has black eyes when his quirk is dormant, and Nana has grey eyes—someone with more experience in genetics can tell me if these two things are related in any way, but my color-focused brain says they’re similar.

Consider, also, that we haven’t seen, like, anything on Aizawa’s family, (tune in at 7 pm est next week for my “Aizawa and Monoma are related to AFO” crack conspiracy theory rant) even in Vigilantes, where he’s still in school and it would totally make sense to see them. It seems like Horikoshi goes out of his way to not even mention them, in fact, leading many fans to speculate that Aizawa has a neglectful family at the least. Maybe this is for a reason? SHOW US AIZAWA’S FAMILY YOU COWARD.

Moving on, Aizawa’s hero costume is very similar in structure and color to Nana’s—this could be a deliberate parallel because they’re both teachers and okay wait fuck is this another death flag for Aizawa??? FUCK!!

...Okay I needed a minute to process that and I’m manically typing this right now so it’s not getting edited out, you’ll all just have to live with this knowledge. Anyway, costume similarities!! Y’all will have to deal with some costume talk because as a cosplayer I am physically incapable of not doing that.

Nana’s costume is fairly simple—a plain black bodysuit, a white cape held on with a gold chain, bright yellow gloves, a red belt-skirt-cape-thing held up by a gold buckle, and white boots.

Aizawa’s costume is also simple but in a lazier way. He wears a baggy black jumpsuit, his white-gray capture scarf, yellow goggles, a gray utility belt, and black boots. When he uses Erasure, his eyes glow red.

While Nana’s costume is brighter on the whole, both of them share the same basic color palette (mostly—Aizawa’s scarf is usually colored gray, but it does seem white in some artwork) and structure. Bodysuit=jumpsuit, cape=capture weapon, belt-cape-thing=utility belt, boots=boots, and all that’s left over is their respective bright yellow accessories (gloves and goggles). Nana’s costume is meant to emulate a more classic superhero, while Aizawa’s is meant to be more on the vigilante side, but they share many similar components.

I haven’t eaten yet and this is starting to get even MORE ridiculous oh my god.

Anyway. Uhh I’m going to just point out that many people have talked about the physical and quirk similarities of Eri and Aizawa AND ALSO of Eri and Shigaraki. Thinking along that line, Erasure and Decay aren’t actually that dissimilar. (And If you go by the theory that Tenko was actually Quirkless and AFO gave him Decay, then there’s no need to justify quirk similarities anyway.) I don’t believe we know at this point what Hana or any of the other Shimura family members had as a quirk, so I can’t draw any comparisons there.

And that brings us to the thing that made me go “Oh shit this is even more plausible” and that’s Nana’s quirk being revealed!! It allows her to levitate, with no indication that it’s telekinesis as far as I’ve heard (not caught up on the manga so do let me know if it’s been talked about more in depth).

This actually makes me pretty happy because I’ve seen people call Aizawa’s secondary quirk thing telekinesis, but that doesn’t sit quite right with me because it just seems to make his capture weapon and hair levitate with no indication that he can control their movement like he would be able to if it was actually telekinesis.

So if Aizawa is related to Nana in some way, that totally explains why his hair and capture scarf float when he activated erasure! Because he would have inherited that part of his quirk from her!

And that’s why I lost my shit internally when I heard what her quirk was, because that just adds to the pile of similarities these two have (I’m not even getting into some stuff about their teacher parallels because I’m hungry and I want to go eat now) and at this point it seems like Horikoshi is deliberately throwing in parallels as a narrative tool or he accidentally made it plausible that they’re related in some way. (I don’t think he’s actually intending for my conspiracy theory to be canon, because we already have so many “secretly related to” plotlines going on here that this would seem like overkill.)

If you’ve read to the end of this mess (I’m sorry) please join in on making seemingly-ridiculous theories that actually have some substance to them if you look a bit closer!! It’s very fun, 10/10 would recommend.

And now, as a closing statement, feel free to imagine the heartbreak if All Might had to look at Aizawa every day while struggling not to see his dead mentor. Thank you. I’m going to go consume food now.

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no my hero academia #shimura nana #aizawa shouta #bnha theory #aizawa is a shimura theory #is this what you wanted anon #is it #eli rambles #ask #anon #long post

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writersrealmbts · 4 years

Text

BC,LL: Little Words

Description: Yoongi’s kitten is growing, and he’s couldn’t be happier--even if Taehyung thinks he could. Sanctuary Series: Big Changes, Little Life story.

Warnings: N/A.

Posted: 01/20/2020

Tags: Yoongi, Hybrid!Yoongi, Dad!Yoongi

Fluffy fluff with a hint of angst: 2,204 words

A/N: It’s been ten months since I updated this. Exactly ten months. Now, I know you guys are going to skip over this, but I want to say that I don’t think Yoongi will ever have a love interest. Not while Euny is little, maybe when she’s a teenager or something. So, I’m going to say that this series is complete, with the caveat of requests or something. If you have objections to Yoongi not having a love interest, come discuss it with me!

Yoongi lifted the blanket. “Boo!”

She jumped, and grinned, giggling happily.

He let the blanket drop over her again and snatched it up. “Boo!”

She squealed and made grabby hands as she giggled.

He scooped her up, tilting her so he could blow a raspberry on her adorably chubby tummy.

Eunyeong squealed in delight, playfully batting at his ears.

He laughed and then cuddled her, play-biting on her ears and drawing out more giggles and even a playful little growl that meant nothing as she squirmed in delight in his hold.

She descended into purrs soon enough, nuzzling his jaw and eyes droopy with happiness and sleepiness.

He lay her down in her crib with a soft purr, draping the blankets over her as her eyes shut and her sleepy purrs slowed.

“Teach me your magic,” Taehyung whispered from the doorway. “Or is the magic that she loves you better.”

“I’m her father,” Yoongi said, trying not to preen at how happy he felt at being able to put her down for a nap more easily than Tae or their occasional babysitter.

“I wouldn’t have expected her to fall asleep after getting riled up like that.” Taehyung flicked the light off with his tail as they headed out into the living room, carefully closing the door so that they could talk without waking her. “How was her appointment?”

“Doctor said she’s at a healthy weight and they’re happy with her progress,” He purred, letting himself ride the high of such a good report. “They still want us to keep her on the formula mixed with oatmeal, but we’re clear to feed her mostly solid foods.”

Taehyung grinned. “That’s great, hyung. She’s growing so fast.”

“The only thing they’re worried about is her talking level. She’s still a little behind there,” Yoongi said, cleaning up some of the toys and blankets from playing with Euny. “But we already knew that.”

“That’s why we’re reading to her more, right?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi moved into the kitchen, effectively sorting the dishes and stacking them next to the sink. He filled the sink and turned to grab a dishcloth, only to find Taehyung holding one with a stubborn look.

“I’ll wash, hyung, it’s only fair. I was gone this morning.” He stepped around Yoongi and started washing immediately. “I sold a few paintings, hyung.”

“Really? That’s great, Tae,” The elder purred, patting Taehyung on the back. “Your older or your newer?”

“Older, the ones I did in school. I’ve got the pictures and prints for my portfolio, don’t worry,” Taehyung reassured Yoongi’s next concerns with a grin. “The gallery said I could come back and sell again next time.”

Yoongi just grinned back, ruffling the monkey’s hair.

“Appa.” Euny’s voice came from the monitor and both of them paused, listening carefully.

“Appa!” She called again, louder this time.

Yoongi sighed. “She’s already awake?”

“Did we turn on the white-noise-machine?”

Yoongi groaned, and then headed back in to look at his pouty baby.

Her tail was sort of flicking back and forth in agitation.

He went over. “What’s wrong, princess?”

Her ears swiveled every which way and then flattened and she hissed, but not at him, just as a demonstration to him that something was wrong and she couldn’t explain what.

But he knew Tae was right just by the way her ears had swiveled around. He hummed thoughtfully and turned on the machine, then twisted the key on the music box that Seokjin had given her for her birthday. She loved it to pieces and it played one of the songs Yoongi had written for Eunyeong—a lullaby that he had Jungkook record a couple days after Taehyung returned from Europe, but that was currently only circulated around his family members—and it had a cute little kitten inside it that was frolicking in stardust.

Her purr was immediate after hearing the first note of the music box. “Appa.”

He purred in response, then quietly hummed the song along with the music box, scooping her up again and lovingly nuzzling her.

She drifted off more slowly, still not quite asleep when he lay her in her crib, but quickly dropping off as he backed away.

Taehyung glared at him when he returned. “No fair at all.”

Yoongi just shrugged. “You have to take into account that I also understand her kitten behavior better, Tae.”

“Yeah, yeah. So it was the white-noise machine?”

“Yup.”

“Did she really hiss at you?”

“Not at me, just as a general statement, really.” He shrugged. “She hissed at the lack of sound. She’s never hissed at me.”

“Lucky,” Tae huffed. “She’s all giggles and purrs for you and her crying doesn’t last nearly as long as it does for me, or Bethany.”

“Speaking of Bethany, did you really go on a date with her?”

“Oh…um…maybe?”

Yoongi groaned. “I need to find a new babysitter, don’t I?”

“Sorry, hyung.”

“You better find me a new one,” He warned, a slight growl to his tone. “I liked her and Ariel recommended her.”

“If you get the promotion they keep dangling in front of you, then we can move back closer to home and the others can help.”

“I told you, it was just thrown out as something that may or may not happen next year. They’re still constructing offices that way and I’m one of several candidates, not to mention the only hybrid candidate. My company is pretty good about equal opportunity, but the chances are still slim to none. Neither of us should get our hopes up. Now, you’re going to be the one talking to Jimin for three hours to talk to Ariel for ten minutes.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Taehyung protested, grinning.

“It is a bad thing, Taehyung,” Yoongi growled a little more.

The monkey ducked his head, tail finding and wrapping around Yoongi’s wrist. “I’m sorry, hyung. Really.”

“It took Eunyeong all of the two weeks you were gone to warm up to Bethany, and even then she still cried when either of us left her for another month. Just because she was a baby when she was abandoned doesn’t mean she doesn’t still have abandonment issues,” Yoongi said firmly. “Maybe a human baby wouldn’t, but Euny isn’t human. She’s a hybrid.”

Taehyung’s head was hanging. “I know. I really am sorry, hyung. I’ll take care of it.”

Yoongi sighed, but patted Taehyung on the back, ending that conversation. He knew the younger man didn’t mean to cause trouble. He’d always been a little impulsive, but he cared for Eunyeong strongly and would do his best to replace their current babysitter—if need be.

“Did she already tell you she wouldn’t be back?”

“No, but I’m assuming right now. I need to call her about Wednesday night, so we’ll see what happens. If she refuses, then I’ll ask our family for Wednesday and you’ll have to get to work finding a replacement.” They both had important things on Wednesday night—Taehyung at a gallery, and Yoongi at a work gala he didn’t want to go to but needed to if he wanted to stay in consideration for the promotion.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his brother in confusion.

Taehyng was focused on whatever dish he was washing. “It’s just…one of the reasons we got a babysitter was so that we could both do things. So you could go on dates…even if I’m not available….”

Yoongi internally cringed, but outwardly just started messing with his own hair.

“I mean, when was the last time you’ve gone on a date?” Taehyung asked, obviously concerned.

Yoongi shrugged. “Remember that orange tabby?”

Taehyung made a choked sound. “Before you moved here?! Two years ago?!”

Yoongi shrugged again.

“Hyung, you need to get out more!” Taehyung looked very concerned, almost panicked. “It’s not healthy!”

“And it is healthy to have a different date everyone night?” Yoongi snapped back, frowning and folding his arms. “I’m not suffering, Tae.”

“You don’t honestly want to do it alone your whole life,” Taehyung replied.

Yoongi hardened. “Do what alone?”

Tae froze, eyes widening.

“Do what alone, Taehyung? Raise Eunyeong?” He asked again, glaring at his brother.

Taehyung’s gaze dropped to the dishes again.

Yoongi huffed in frustration. “My priority is making sure Eunyeong grows up happy and healthy. I don’t need a significant other to make sure she has everything she needs. Would it maybe be easier? Maybe. And yes, I wonder if she would be better off in the future having a mom in her life, but that’s not a good reason to enter into a relationship.” Not to mention he didn’t feel the need to be in a relationship. “If you feel like I’m holding you back in any way, you’re free to move out.”

Taehyung’s gaze snapped back up to look at Yoongi in true panic and regret. “I didn’t mean that, hyung! I just…I don’t want you to get lonely.”

“I’m not,” Yoongi replied gently, satisfied that Taehyung understood him. “I’m not lonely. If I do get lonely, you’ll probably be one of the first to know. But dating…right now, I’m not interested. I have everything I wanted—well, other than living close to the rest of our family. But I have my own place, a job I love, a nice roommate, and my daughter. I never thought I would be this happy. I know I’m not a mom, but I’m doing the best that I can and I haven’t hesitated to ask for help, have I?”

Taehyung shook his head, drying his hands and coming over to latch onto Yoongi.

Yoongi sighed and patted his back. “I know you mean well, Tae. And if someone comes along that I’m interested in, then I’ll freak out and probably lose my chance with them and come home and cuddle with Eunyeong talking about how I don’t need anyone.”

Tae let out a little monkey laugh at that, tail wrapping around Yoongi’s waist and knocking them over onto the couch.

“Yah!” Yoongi protested loudly.

Tae just laughed and stayed attached to Yoongi, forcing him into cuddling.

Yoongi protested for a while longer, then just resigned himself to it after a while, especially since his insomniac brother was fast asleep.

A nap didn’t sound too bad.

A little giggle came from the baby monitor.

Tae woke up just enough for Yoongi to escape and get the little kitten.

Yoongi carried her back out to the couch, letting Tae cuddle back up to him.

Euny curled on his chest, giggling as she made little kitten noises with her stuffed animal.

He moved it for her, creating more little giggles and a purr, and felt a warm sense of satisfaction. He read to her, speaking lowly and catching the way she just stared at his face in awe. Maybe understanding, maybe just listening to his low voice as he read.

“Appa,” She murmured, eyes looking heavy.

“Yes, princess?” He asked lowly, glancing to make sure Tae was still asleep.

“‘Ove oo,” She slurred with a mewl. She let out a little kitty sound that said she loved him.

He returned the cat-like affection, then shifted so they were cuddled up more comfortably. “I love you too, Eunyeong.”

“Wuv Taetae too,” She slurred, reaching over and patting Taehyung’s head.

His tail languidly wrapped around her ankle.

Yoongi kissed her chubby little cheek. “He loves you too, princess.”

She wiggled up and kissed him. “Appa.”

He purred softly, brushing her hair from her face and pressing kisses all over her face and getting more giggles and wiggled.

“No, appa!” She squealed as he playfully mouthed her kitten ears, giggling and wriggling to try and escape.

He grinned and laughed, ducking so she could get back at him. He slid them onto the floor, laying on his stomach while she crawled over him and tried to catch his tail-tip (which he let her do because she was moving so well and he was so proud of his baby, he could withstand her little bites on his tail).

He got distracted by his phone for a moment while she was playing with his tail. He grinned and nudged Taehyung awake. “Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung looked at him blearily.

“Jin said that she’s having twins,” He said, amusement putting a little bit of a cat noise in his voice.

Taehyung started laughing. “Of course she is.”

“One boy and one girl,” He added, shaking his head and pulling Euny away from the corner of the coffee table.

Euny went to Tae, holding her arms out. “Up peas.”

He complied and scooped her up, still laughing about Emma’s situation. “They going to be okay?”

“Yeah, Hobi is moving back in with them to help out with the triplets.”

They both got quiet after a bit while Euny babbled to her stuffed bunny.

“Okay, you really need to get that promotion so we can move closer to home.”

“Yup.”

“Yup yup!” Euny chirped, giggling and grinning at both of them.

Taehyung melted and started cooing over her and tickling her.

Yoongi watched with satisfaction, feeling complete.

Previous Part. Next Part.

Masterlist. Sanctuary Series Masterpost.

Tagging: @ephemeral-mindset @young-yellkie @alex--awesome--22 @bryvada @missmoxxiesworld @knjhe (Taglist)

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thestarlightsymphony · 4 years

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Do you by chance have like anything written or something like that for the character traits/personalities of everyone on the BeBop? You just write them all so accurately and I'd love to just study off you and I hope there would some way for you to share your knowledge, if not I completely understand. I've been writing my own fic and honestly it's like baby shit when compared to your accuracy!!

heart eyes motherfucker

You Have No Idea What That Means To Me Holy Shit. I would love to share my knowledge! But also, I will say: Every person’s interpretation of this crew will (and should!) be a little different! Something I identify in them may not be what you see or jive with, so take my words as one interpretation and not Bebop Gospel, as it were ;)

Um??? Where do I start?? Well.... an easy one is I’ve rewatched Cowboy Bebop about a thousand times at this point and I’ve Taken Notes. Physical movements, identified particular wordings, focused on their actions and reactions to each other. I reference specific scenes a lot in Spike’s nightmares and internal exploration bc I really wanted to draw on the source material and have it be a literal Part of the story. I’d also really recommend looking up Session XX if you haven’t already; a hefty amount of Faye’s growth came from analyzing her sessions, but also seeing where she falls at the End of Cowboy Bebop vs. where she is during Session XX (which is arguably halfway through the show).

Next, and I’m fighting the instinct to be embarrassed by this, but I did a personality analysis using the Enneagram (kinda like the myers briggs but with fewer, more articulate options imo). My roommate’s hella into it and we’ve spent Hours talking about their personalities and lemme just say holy Shit I am convinced of several things:

Spike is an 8 wing 7 (impulsive, control-oriented, deflects, speaks with his actions, passionate, has a hard time being vulnerable especially emotionally, craves autonomy).

Faye is a 7 wing 8 (spontaneous, material, pleasure oriented/ indulgent, avoids negative feelings, self-reliant, craves independence).

They compliment each other. But they also have a high potential of clashing. I don’t use the enneagram as like a “this is the only inspiration for scenes i get” but it HAS helped me when i’ve been like “fuck how WOULD they respond? what makes the most logical sense?”

Bonus: Jet’s a 1 and Ed’s a 3 (i think). Ed’s harder to pin down bc she’s a kid, and I haven’t done as much exploring with them, but I think I’m still pretty good on those lines.

The hardest part of writing Bebop past Real Folk Blues is that the majority of the content we have for them is a lot of the growth happens at the Very End of the series. I’ve struggled with Faye bc most of her life we see on screen is about Running, and Keeping Moving and being so fucking mad that she has no past; when she finally remembers that past, it’s lost its weight, and then when she realizes she has a home, THAT gets broken, too. The last shots we have of Faye, she’s crying, heartbroken and angry and (in my interpretation) hella confused. I’ve struggled with Spike bc in the end, it’s hard to fathom what he’d be like after losing two of the largest reasons for being alive. In those last scenes with Jet and Faye, is he numb? Decisive? Did he already die with Julia, or is he genuinely just going to end it with Vicious and then see where/ if the world turns afterwards?

Who’s to say, either way?

You, the writer. A lot of my stuff has been written on instinct, with a goal in mind. The closer I got to the characters, the further the goal got, bc I realized in order to write the characters, you have to respect them. Which is a weird way to say it, but like.... It’s the best way I can describe it. You have to accept their faults and strengths; stubbornness is cute to play with, but it can also be an incredible source of conflict. Oh sidebar, every single fucking memory of the Bebop is stubborn. Opinion or fact? Yes.

I could go on for days. I definitely should, maybe I’ll make character analysis posts if people are interested, idk ;)

Most importantly though (and this is gonna be just straight up writing advice): don’t be so hard on yourself. Blah blah blah, you’re your own worst critic, I’m sure you’ve heard that before, but it’s so true.

Those first fifteen chapters or so, I’ve reread through for details and to get a hold one where I want to go, and I BIG cringe at them. I had no sense of timelines and my heart just wanted them to Get the Damn Together Already, but once I got a better sense of who they were, the rhythm and motion of their push and pull became so much more natural and something I’m more proud of.

You’ll get better at writing the more you write. I just spent the past two months of my life working on this project, and I’m fucking Excited to keep going. How?? How did this happen??? I just wanted Spike and Faye to make out?!?!

Listen. Listen well. Trust your instincts. If something feels off but you still want to explore an idea, don’t dump the whole chapter, just put it to the side and write again. I’ve written multiple chapters that way: I started writing, it felt off, so I KEPT the chapter, but I reworked the order, or took lines and mashed them in a way that changed the meaning. Writing is a process.

Second, write what you want to write. What you want to read. I’d defo recommend reading a bunch of different fics, see how other writers interpret the characters and such, but don’t let them (or me!) influence solely how you write the crew. Find your own voice in this world. Rewatch Bebop and take directly from the source material if you have to; break it down and ask the question “why did they use that Exact word? Why did they make That choice?” and then answer it in a way that feels honest to You.

Hope any of this helps! (P.S. if you are so inclined, dm the the title of your fic and i’ll try to take a gander!)

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cultofbeatles · 5 years

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hello! i saw you mention in a post that you could give beatles book recommendations all day long, and i was wondering whether you'd share some? i've been wanting to read some more in-depth ones but i want to make sure it's accurate and generally well-done since there's so many places to start.

hey! I will list a few of the ones I like and enjoyed, and will give a brief summary of what it’s mainly about.

The Beatles by Hunter Davies is literally a beginners 101 for the beatles. it’s amazing. I honestly wish it was the first beatles book I read bc it’s so easily written and less confusing than some of the others. the thing about this book is that it revolves more on the personal lives of each beatles instead of the music. so if you’re looking to understand more about their individual lives, then I say this is a good book to start with. but if you’re here for music thoughts then it might not be the best pick. honestly though, anything by hunter Davies is reliable.

The Beatles Lyrics by hunter Davies is the book for people wanting to learn about the music. it picks apart lyrics and give details/information before. davies does a good job on making things understandable. the thing is, if I can remember correctly, it doesn’t focus on all songs. just a few of the main songs. and it is mainly about the lyrics. so if you’re looking for a book about the process or instruments behind the songs, then this isn’t the greatest option. still a good read though, and I enjoyed it a lot.

The Beatles: The Biography by Bob Spitz is a long ass book. and was the first beatles book I read. this book has so much information so much so that it can be quite boring at times lol. but it does make you feel like you’re living the moment with them. this is another book that focuses on the personal lives of the beatles, but it also takes about the songs as well. it’s a little bit harder of a read than hunter davies version (at least from my memory of it). also takes some time at the end to talk about their solo careers/deaths, which the hunter davies book doesn’t really do that.

Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years by Mark Lewisohn is a book that focuses on the first few years of the group. tbh I only read this book one time (mainly bc I knew everything it was stating from reading previous books lol), so my memory on it isn’t great. but I will list it bc others liked it and it’s reliable.

Shout! The Beatles in their Generation by Philip Norman is a good book. there’s no direct input from any beatles, so it’s all just research and testimonies from other people around them at the time. still, it’s a good read and definitely fascinating. I love hearing the stories of other peoples who were surrounded by the beatles aswell.

The Beatles Anthology by The Beatles is as reliable as it gets lmao. though it is a big ass book. like..a big ass motherfucking book. that is a long read. but it has so many details to it. and I bought the dvd set with it, so hearing the audio was a plus. it’s by the beatles themselves and it’s interesting to hear their thoughts on stuff. will take up all the space on your book shelf though lmao.

All the Songs: The Story behind Every Beatles Release by Jean-Michel Guesdon and Philippe Margotin is amazing! I’m rereading it right now actually. it talks about every beatles song ever. even their covers. it lists the process it took in making it, the instruments used, how long it took to record it, etc. it’s a big book, but you hardly even realize it while reading bc it’s so cool. I love it so much. it also has little fun facts at the bottom which I think is super cute lol.

The John Lennon Letters by John Lennon, Hunter Davies is a book that’s more heartwarming than super super informational. I like it a lot. john has always fascinated me. basically it’s just a book complied of letters, photos, postcards, etc of all things from john. it goes into details about some. and if I’m recalling correctly it has some stories from other people in there as well. I like how at the beginning there’s some drawings and stuff from when he was a kid. super sweet.

Imagine John Yoko by Yoko Ono is a book I actually like. it basically only talks about the imagine album. which that’s the reason I like it since that’s my favorite john album. it has new pictures in it and stories from the people who contributed on it. nice quotes from john and just a sweet book for an amazing album. it is by yoko though, so if you don’t like her idk how reliable you’ll take it as.

john by Cynthia Lennon is another good book. it’s been a while since I’ve read it though. it’s basically john’s first wife talking about him. nothing really to do with the bealtes too much but still a good read if you want to learn more about john.

Photograph by Ringo Starr is one I’m listing bc it’s fun to have. it’s just a book of ringo’s photos that he’s taken over the time. it’s a heartwarming thing to look at.

I’m gonna be honest and admit that I haven’t read much about paul, ringo, or george (dont tell him pls, I know I’m a bad stan). it’s been a while since I read a book about a solo beatle. I mainly read books about them as a group. but when I first got into the Beatles, being the psychology major that I was, I wanted to learn more about John and how he acted. so that’s why I have read more books about him as a solo beatle than the others.

here’s just a few to start off with. honestly anything by hunter Davies, Mark Lewisohn, and rob sheffield is reliable in my opinion. I don’t really trust any of the books that focus on Lennon-mccartney just because from my experience they all seem a little biased. but I also haven’t read much of them, I just stick to 4/4 books.

hope this helped some! if you give any of the books a read let me know!

#asks #book recommendations #peripetual #nice asks #the beatles #the beatles books #paul also has a book that he wrote but I couldn't remember the name tbh #but I'm assuming it's good #I'm sorry I just couldn't really get into any other solo book other than john

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brilliantfantasticgeronimo · 4 years

Text

ive been struggling to be more open about my life over here... beyond the sporadic gifsets of things im watching i cant really say ive shared much. but like, i cant keep on avoiding the mortifying ordeal of being known forever (also so much is going through my head all the time and i dont got anyone irl to vent so i gotta do it somewhere, even if it’s 2 the void) so here’s some life updates:

ive got a bunch of unfinished art i owe ppl so that’s what i’ve been trying to get through this past month....

...without much success, usually i come home so tired from school + work i cant be bothered to draw. this is the main thing im working hard about fixing rn. i have doodled more and have done some studies (haven’t posted them tho because i don’t feel great about them ugh)

one thing i’ve decided to try to see if it helps is regular exercise (in the form of solo capoeira training and trail running) + biphasic sleep schedule. in theory both of these things will give me the energy needed to draw...

after / meanwhile tho, the fancomic project that ive been cooking for about a year-ish is still, at least, slowly progressing... i haven't posted anything about it (tho i have talked to some ppl about it privately ) but i might have to bc i know it’s only a matter of time before someone else does this idea, and i will be v pissed if that happens after i have spent so much creative energy on it lol

im currently on a research + outlining step of said project... these are the books i’m plowing through, to give you a little idea of the (ridiculously bitting-more-than-she-can-chew) scope of the story sklajdksad)

national/regional/international politics are exhausting and draining as always (more than usual?) and tbh im sort of... actively tuning out of them atm. im trying to focus on “the big picture” so that means less time and mental energy for keeping track of whatever new apocalyptic headline crops up on the news. literally all my time reading, reflecting and studying is going toward collapse(tm) related literature and focused more on deep global issues and it is quite a lot of stuff to study, reflect and read,

(am i using all that as an excuse to not deal w/ the immediate surrounding? that might be part of it, perhaps... this is the only workable solution i have found that doesn’t involve weekly emotional breakdowns tho)

on that note, ive been using the ashes ashes podcast as a guideline for those studies. it’s great stuff and i highly recommend. the guys in charge of it are really nice, and the scope+breath of their research is impeccable. i’ve been telling everyone i meet about it bc it really has been a game-changer of a resouerce.

have felt very depressed at times for various reasons. some new, some not so new... not much to say in that area. v loneliness. much sad. whatevs

university and work were kicking my ass a couple weeks ago, but im getting them under control now (...i think). im getting a kind of ~synergy going too where im using knowledge learned in one place and applying it somewhere else

(like im learning sketchup for design class, but im hoping to later use it for making assets for the graphic designs at work. and the visual + communications stuff i have had to research for work is helping with both uni and my personal projects...)

arrowverse rewatch however is kicking my ass. and im only rlly watching supergirl + flash + batwoman ! but god. it’s literally.... endless... episodes.... if i have to hear another character say “no more secrets!” again im gonna flip

my enthusiasm for crisis and stuff is making me soldier on tho. (as is my hyperfixation w/ supercorp that has even managed to lure a fellow nerd coworker into it lmao)

while on the topic of tv: i *am* keeping up with the last season of the good place... i haven’t felt the need to talk much about it tho bc i mostly just discuss it with one of my cousins (who is also watching ) and we got our own like little after-show routine where we discuss theories and stuff :)

im watching hdm when it repeats on hbo latam. it’s nice to watch on hd for once rather than crummy 120p streaming sites...

havent sat down to watch 7 worlds 1 planet fully yet but i did watch the first 10 minutes of ep 1: antarctic and predictably cried

#anyway thanks @anyone who reads this and my mutuals in general lol #u are all troppers #personal #edit: incomplete ideas and typos

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alo-piss-trancy · 5 years

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Hello, you have been identified as An Awesome Writer™! Congrats, you rock! So that all of your readers can shower you with some extra love today, please tell us your favorite five (or as many as you want) stories of yours and why you like them and then send this to another five fic authors you think deserve this title! ❤

Gee, I wonder who this could be from? c; (Thank you so much I love you!)

Okay so I’m doing seven because as you all know from my zillion ships and characters I’ve written for/screamed about, I’m incapable of picking a specific favourite lmao. But it’s still less than half my fics so it’s fine. Also none of these are ranked, I enjoyed them all equally tbh. (Forgive my lack of heart emojis RIP, I’m on desktop for this one)The Troubles Rain Can Bring (Pers/ona 5) : Of course I have to bring this one up, since it’s the one I consider my first legit omo fic (Jade was my first foray, but since it’s unfinished and I picked a dead fandom specifically so I had less chances of getting mean comments, I consider it more of a practice run). This was my first time writing for a very active and current fandom, so it was really intimidating, but I was also really excited to participate in creating for a game I was so passionate about! Also that fic was just a total labour of self-indulgence and love (excuse for fluff with my otp? combining all my fav tropes? Gratuitous Akira Suffering? Including the others for fun towards the end? I was in hog heaven!) While I definitely can find parts where I could improve the writing now, I still love it for all of the effort I put into it, and I got such a lovely response that made me feel really welcome on ao3, the omo tag on tumblr, and in the p/5 fandom! It’s kind of nostalgic for me, even if it was only written like a year and a half ago, haha.All Bottled Up (Dang/anRonpa: THH) : I’m just really proud of this fic, and I had so much fun writing it! I think it’s probably one of the few fics I’ve written that was a completely smooth ride of inspiration and fun from start to finish, without any hitches in the writing process or me getting bogged down with other projects. Seriously I think I hammered the entire thing out in like a week or two lmao. I love Naegiri so much, and the idea was a treat to work with even if it’s some of the most cliché omo scenarios, it was just a nice relaxing bit of indulgence! Also I got to dig into Kirigiri’s character, which I didn’t get to do in my other fic of her (since that one was so short and oddly styled). My favourite bit was probably getting to mess with the drawbacks of her gloves/hand injuries, and of course those fluffy bits with Naegi! Getting Your Feet Wet (Pers/ona 5) : This one, hoo boy. Definitely one of my longest fics, and while at the time when I posted it I kind of hated half the stuff in it (just because I had been nitpicking it for so long lmao), now that time has gone by I can genuinely say I love it and it’s probably one I’m proudest of. Not only was it my first full dive into snut (and I’d like to think it isn’t too shabby), but I got to work with a rarepair that I’ve been intrigued by, with two of my fav npcs from the game! So fun times all around! It was great to imagine how Sae might have changed and opened up since the game’s ending, and what Tae could do to help draw her out of that strict shell while still making her feel secure and comfortable. Also I got to include pet/p.lay which is something I’d been dying to write since I started that account, so bonus points for that! And I got a way better response than I was expecting, so that was nice!A Sinking Ship (Pers/ona 5) : ((Okay I swear I still plan to update the other half of this one someday soon, I literally have the draft halfway done I just haven’t been able to get it finished to the level I want.)) Anyways, I have a soft spot for this one because 1. It’s Makoto, and you all know how much I adore her, 2. I finally got to write some legit palace battling and shenanigans, which I really enjoyed and want to include more of in future projects, 3. I literally put so much detail into this one, from the setting descriptions to the dialogue and going out of my way to include the entire team interacting with her instead of just one or two chars, and I’m giving myself a fat pat on the back for that. And then throwing in actual anxiety and plot issues instead of just making her desperate for the sake of it, which may have been ambitious (hence why it’s kind of on a cliffhanger right now while I finish the comfort half), but I really just wanted her to have one of my best fics possible because Makoto deserves the best (of the worst suffering oops sorry bby). Also did I mention The Shumako Bridal Carry scene? That was absolutely necessary to include okay? Also there’s gonna be quality Shumako bonding in the second chapter so I’m biased to love this in advance. Basically I love this one specifically because it’s my own self-indulgent bullshit, which is kind of every fic I write but this is definitely one of The Most Indulgent. I also consider this one my very best omo fic in terms of the actual omo writing/content, even if it’s long AF, because at least you’re getting desperation and wetting for pretty much the entire thing, even when other stuff’s going on around it. So yeah I guess if you don’t mind a cliffhanger ending (for now) and have a decent knowledge of p/5, this is the one I recommend reading!Conundrums Lead to Collapse (Doc/tor Who - 13th Doc/tor) : I really liked writing this one because of the whump, actually. I rarely have excuses to injure characters for Even Worse Omo Suffering/Comfort, so the fact that I could write based on a canon injury was the perfect excuse! Also I’m just weak for the 13th Doctor so I’m always down for omo of her, but it was also a fun excuse to explore her character. We hadn’t gotten to see her angry or broken down at the time it aired, so I enjoyed getting to play around with how things affect her when she does finally lose the positive attitude and confidence, and bringing a character as powerful (and semi immortal I guess) as The Doctor to the floor was just a fun exercise. Also it’s kind of hard to find whump fics focused on female characters that don’t involve a certain kind of violence (or just female whump in general actually), so I just really enjoyed using all of the fandom tropes I’ve read over the years in those fics to create something for those of us who wanted it the other way around! I would also like to say this one gave me the excuse for Found Family Coddling, everyone comforts and helps her towards the end which is perfect for my fluff-craving heart after all of the angst.Holding More than Cards (Ka/kegurui Compulsive Gambler) : Oh boy, I’ll be honest the reason I love this is purely because it’s pretty much the only fic for this pairing that I’ve found for my tastes and I had to make it myself dang it (They basically had a whole two episodes where Midari creamed herself for Yumeko and they had that scene where they held each other’s faces staring into their eyes, HOW is no one jumping on this ship??? There’s literally 5 fics total on ao3 I’m not joking). I really enjoyed getting to dig into Midari’s characterization for this one, especially since I had such a tiny bit of canon to go off of and had to set it after the anime’s s1 developments. I got to write Yumeko being a dom and dropping her cheerful attitude too, which was really satisfying. Also while this doesn’t have full on snut in it, it was the closest I’d come at the time, so that was an interesting challenge. This was a rare chance to indulge in unhealthy ships too (bc literally every ship in that show is unhealthy on some level lmao) so that was entertaining to try and navigate.Capture the Fly with Nectar Sweet (The Ch/illing Adventures of Sabrin/a) : I just posted this one recently but I’m adding it anyways, because I had an absolute blast working on it. It’s so starkly different from anything I usually write, because you all know I love close friendships and found family and all that quality fluff and caring. But instead this one was me staring at my laptop thinking of how I want to tell this character to go to hell, except that would be pointless because that’s literally where she came from. I really got to stretch my wings outside my comfort zone and dig around in the dark, manipulative side for a while, and it was so much fun to study one of my favourite villains (anti-hero? she’s such a mysterious mess idk how to classify her) and her relationship with Sabrina. I also got to attempt writing desperation from the outsider’s perspective instead of the victim’s, and while I feel like I definitely still have room to improve with that, it was a nice break from the way I usually write my omo fics. I also got to shift around my writing style for this one, using words like ‘betwixt’ (which I love but never get to use lol) and using a bunch of metaphors and similes to showcase how Madam views Sabrina. This is probably the fic that makes it obvious that Language Arts was my favourite subject in school and that I’m Extra when it comes to predator/prey comparisons lmao. (Note: Please read the tags on this one, the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat warning applies here.)

I actually don’t know who else to send this to that I haven’t already, since like half the omo tag has vanished and I’m blanking on usernames, so if any of y'all are reading this post and you write fics: consider this me asking you to do it so I can hear about your fics! :D

#bear gets a letter #omorashi #fandomo #fictomo #ao3fic #might as well tag that since I have all the links here lmao

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franeridart · 6 years

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Wow Hi I can't spell for shit but I was wondering if you could draw some more KamiSero? Your art style is really beautiful and there are not much KamiSero art >•

Awww thank you!!! And in the future I might, yeah! Right now I’m a bit swamped by the zine things and using the time I take away from it to draw low effort stuff or my main ships so I can’t promise it’ll happen soon, but I still like the ship lots so !!! might happen!!

Anon said:Hey thanks for that last art I know you're probably just staying on model and it doesn't really mean anything but it felt really good to see a character with my body type for once so thank you

Anon the pleasure was all mine! Miruko’s body type is beautiful to look at and a pleasure to draw, and if my indulging myself could make you happy then that makes it even better spent time!!

Anon said:I love you. That is all. Carry on.

Thank you!! I love you too!!!!!

Anon said:that drawing of hawks blessed me and my children and the children of my children, i feel the salvation in my bones, i've been purified

I dunno which one specifically you’re talking about, but thank you!!!! ;^;

Anon said:I just wanna say I love Baku I’m goods! Peace

Hell yeah anon love that boy!! Smother him in love!!!! Give him all the affection his heart can take and then more!!!!!

Anon said:This is from the anon asking about todoraka and iideku fusions, I just got far enough to find them, sorry for bothering you earlier!

Not a bother at all, don’t worry about it!!! And thank you for liking my designs enough to ask about them!!!!

Anon said:Hey!! I love your art so so so much and i was wondering if you could get in some mina and bakugo friendship content bc they're just,,, so underrated as friends and I love them

Ahhhhhhh the Baku // Mina friendship debate, nice, hadn’t been around on this blog for a while - you know, the reason why there isn’t much content and their friendship is somewhat underrated (unless we’re talking about full squad content, there’s a lot of baku and mina there) is that, going only by canon, they... aren’t friends. Of course Mina’s part of the squad, but she is more in virtue of the fact that she’s besties with Kaminari and Sero and has her backstory relationship with Kirishima, than because she has had any significant interactions with Bakugou (a bit like Jirou’s a member of the squad through Sero and Kaminari and Bakugou even if she’s got no relationship with Kirishima at all, all in all) - I, personally, like to think they could be great friends, you know? But if we’re talking canon I can count the times they interacted on the fingers of one hand (the only serious one being during the sports fest, which Mina herself commented as Bakugou picking her only cause of her acid being a good strategy against Todoroki’s ice)

I know this is sort of a digression from your question, but, as you obviously noticed since you sent me this question, lately whenever I have focused on Bakugou’s friendships in my drawings Mina hasn’t been there, and people have been more or less aggressively pointing it out to me, like I was doing a disservice to a canon friendship by not portraying it - when in truth the relationship in question has nearly no canon basis at all. So I just wanna say, from the bottom of my heart and honestly, I’m sorry if my liking to delve into and focus on Bakugou’s canon friendships makes you sad, but if the focus of a drawing or a set of drawings is supposed to be Bakugou and the relationships Horikoshi gifted him, then Mina’s most probably not gonna be there (for now, I’m still hoping Hori will add her to his growing list of canon friends soon *crosses fingers*)

Either way this has nearly nothing to do with your question and it wasn’t even really directed at you specifically, I just used the chance to address something that was bothering me a bit - THAT SAID! I do have something I mean to draw that’s gonna be focused on Bakugou and include Mina! It might not be exactly what you’re looking for, but I hope you’ll like it anyway, at least a tiny little bit! ;^;

Anon said:I loved your Have a Nice day comic. It really gave me a nice day. It’s totally cute I can imagine them living together and sing this every morning Love your art xoxoxo

Ahhhh thank you so much!!!! I’m super glad you liked it!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Bro I just wanted to thank you! Becuase of your amazing art on boku no hero academia. It got me intrested in checking it out. And let me tell you, I love this show sooo much,even if its getting really intense right now. So its all thanks to you that I even started watching it.Its even more amazing becuase I get to admire your stunning work base on it.Thank You!!!!! 💕💕💕💕

HECK I’m so glad you checked it out and ended up liking it!!!! I hope you’ll keep on enjoying it from now on too, anon!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Hey fran! I love your art style so much!! Will we ever see more of the Bakushima neighbor’s cat au?

I KEEP ON PROCRASTINATING ON THAT ONE!!! I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY!!!! It’s in the projects but I never!!! sit down!!!! to draw it!!!!! So I wanna say yes, because that’s the plan! But when I’m being honest I’m not so sure anon orz

Anon said:Okay but like.... hawks is hot right?? Its not just me??

Given the reaction the whole fandom has had to him, I’m pretty sure it’s not just you anon hahaha

Anon said:AAAAAA I BOUGHT A STICKER FROM YOUR REDBUBBLE ACCOUNT AND IT ARRIVED TODAY AND I LOVE IT!!!!!!

I’M SUPER GLAD TO HEAR THAT!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BUYING!!!!!!!

Anon said:Could you possibly draw more of the Deku + Kirishima fusion?

I... dunno? If I ever feel in the mood to play around with that AU again? But to be honest if I were to draw something that isn’t just a design for it it’s probably... not gonna be about kiri and deku of all people............ so I can’t promise anything, sorry!

Anon said:Hi! I know you haven’t really touched the fusions au in a while but please consider: miritama fusion

I have considered it! It’s the first one I’m gonna draw if I’ll ever feel like going back on the fusions!

Anon said:Let kirishima touch the butty

I’m 100% sure Bakugou lets him touch anything he wants, but if you want depictions of that this blog is not the right place to ask, anon hahaha

Anon said:First off, you draw the greatest art/headcanons for KiriBaku I've ever seen! Secondly, I found it funny since Bakugou is almost exactly like his mom, and since she got with Bakugou's dad by aggressively hitting on him, what if there was a scenario where Bakugou did that to Kirishima? Idk, I just thought it would be funny.

I actually have a couple of comics based on that concept!! Somewhere... in my bakushima tag............ I’ll def draw more on the same line in the future, tho!

Anon said:I know you posted your batteryacid (kamimina) picture a while ago but I just saw it and I'm sobbing I love it!

YO that makes me super happy, thank you!!!! I love that ship so much, it’s nice to know you liked the little thing I drew for it!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:hi, i just binge watched bnha for the first time and now that i understand all your comics i fucking love them, i'm in love, i love bakugou, i love them all, i love your art

And I love YOU to be hecking honest!!!! Thank you for loving my boy, anon!!!!

Anon said:i just want kirishima to meet bakugou’s family one time in the show and his mother is probably gonna wanna make him her second son and bakugous LOSING IT

I DO hope that’s gonna happen in the manga canon sooner or later, but meanwhile Kirishima met Mitsuki in one of the novels! She’d been taken hostage by a villain, and Bakugou yelled at her for it, and she yelled right back at him like she wasn’t in the hands of a villain right then, and Kirishima said “as expected from Bakugou’s mom” and Bakugou said “don’t admire her!” or something on that line - I’d give you a link if I knew how I tagged it when I reblogged it, but I’m sure if you dig a bit around you can find it! Maybe on @aitaikimochi‘s blog, they translated a lot of kiribaku novel moments!

Anon said:im supposing that you do, but why do you think you like bakugou so much? personally i just like the angry scowl-y but fluffy characters haha and really hes so!! cute!!! and cool!!! really!!!!! hes so good at so many things but he sucks so badly ay feelings its so!! endearing!!!! apart from this i meant to praise you and your work but i ended up screaming about bakugou hahaha. i love him too muchasgshdjl

Oh heck anon, you really don’t wanna get into this, if I started talking about why I love Bakugou as much as I do I’d probably end up saying a 10k worth of words hah I love everything about him, everything he is and everything he has the potential to be, everything he’s changed about himself and every step he’s taken along the way to be who he is right now. I love his personality and I love how strong he is, I love how hard he works, I love how angry he is and how honest and direct and genuine in everything he does he is. I love the way he interacts with people, I love his expressions SO MUCH, I love his habit of speaking in hyperboles and I love how he’s a fast thinker and how he has to go back and walk through every step he skipped when he explains things to people. I love that he presents himself as a genius when actually he just pours everything he has in being the best at everything he tries doing, I love that he’s autocritical and that he cares and that he admits when he’s wrong and that he cries, I love the fact that he cries a lot. I love that he’s set on his path and that he takes everything life throws at him and keeps walking head up and square shoulders, and also I love his eyes and his hero costume and the fact that he wants to be intimidating and yells DIE at inanimate objects and enjoys hiking in his spare time and that he calls people nerd like he isn’t one himself I just. Love him. So damn much.

Anon said:Franeriiiiii~ I see that you're trying new techniques on your arts! Very nice, I enjoy watching you come up with new clothing and whatnot. I also see that the painting is a bit different, more detailed. Just dropping by to let you know I see your efforts ❤ keep on exploring! Maybe you'll discover that you can do what you couldn't in the past. As always, have a good day and much love \0/

SOB thank you SO MUCH, anon!!!!!

Anon said:Hey Fran, how are you? I was wondering if you have any tips on how to know where to place the shadows in a drawing? I'm still a beginner and this is the hardest part for me... And I love your art very much!! You're amazing, thank you for sharing your talent with us!

God, I would love to give you a hand there but to be fair I have zero clue what I’m doing when shading, anon ;-; I go a lot about it following more gut feeling and what looks right, than any actual tecnique (which probably shows to people who have a deeper understanding of it than I do orz) the best I can tell you to do is to try to draw from real life, but really this is such a hard question for me to answer when I myself need to work more on it ;^; I’m so sorry!

Anon said:Bakushima alternative ship name: POPROCKS

A GREAT NAME I’m nearly sure I read a fic called that once!

Anon said:I just wanted to thank you for sharing your amazing work for us. You literaly made my day

AHHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

Anon said:I just finished going through your kiribaku tag and I honestly don't know if I'm feeling fulfilled for all of it or empty because I just saw all of it daNG YOUR STYLE JUST FUCKING FITs KIRIBAKU SO MUCH I REALLY LOVE YOUR KRBK CONTENT AND THE KIDS FUUUUUUUKCKCKCKK. I'm really, really looking forward for more of your art but for now I gotta go through all your other content as well. Ps. Have I mentioned that I fucking love how you draw feet?????

OH MAN that’s such a nice thing to hear, that my style fits them!!! My style changed so much since I started drawing them that they probably influenced it to begin with, but I’m happy you like how it looks on them nonetheless!!! thank you so so much for the kind words and for taking the time to go through the whole tag!!!

Anon said:Hi! I’m an artist and i’ve been trying to draw boy teens for a while now but i cant seem to make them have muscles without making them look like sorta adults. Any tips? I like how you draw them

I dunno how qualified I am to answer this question since I’m still playing around with my style trying to work that out, but most of what I keep an eye out for are proportions and also how round I make the traits, I guess? The rounder the younger, as far as my art style goes - I also make the eyes bigger the younger my character is supposed to be, but that probably only works if you don’t mind your style not being all that realistic hahaha

Anon said:I want to go through and the like every single one of your posts but I feel like that's a little bit excessive. Since I can't do that, I would like to tell you how amazing you are and how even when I'm having a bad day your art always makes me smile. I hope you're having a lovely day!

Thank you so so much for this ask, anon!!!!!! I hope you’re having a wonderful day/week/month too!!!

Anon said:New hawk boy lookin like a snack.

I would lie if I said the first thing I thought when I read this ask was “I guess we’re talking chicken wings”, tbh

Anon said:Fran, I love your sketch of Yuuto!! :3 Do you ship anyone from yowapeda?

Thank you!!! And I guess I ship more or less anything with a vague canon basis? Which is, like, a whole damn lot of things thank you Watanabe for your gay biking children - I’m not particularly invested into anything at the moment, tho!

Anon said:Whenever I'm having a shitty day, I come back to your blog and scroll through it, the way you draw krbk is really sweet and gives me the warmth I need when I feel down. Thank you for sharing your beautiful art, you're amazing.

Sob thank you so much, oh my god! This is such a nice ask to get, I’m glad I can help you feel a lil bit better, anon ;^;

Anon said:Fran your iida is real real cute and I'm love

THANK YOU! I think he’s way less square than he’s supposed to be... I’m working on that lol

Anon said:KIRI'S PINEAPPLE HAIR??? SAVED ME. MY HEART IS SAVED. SOUL?? SAVED. LIFE??? SAVED.

I’M SO HAPPY YOU LIKED THAT!!!!!

Anon said:that drawing of hawks ended my life oh my goddddd he's bEAUTIFUL

Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Tbh I thought of Hawk teaching Tokoyami how to fly with his quirk like a bird would, but birds just fricken shove their kids out of the nest.

At this point I wouldn’t even put that past Hawks, t b h

Anon said:I love all your art and I only recently discovered all of your old kirikamibaku stuff and was wondering if you'd consider drawing it again?

YEP! Not in the near future tho, as explained in the answer to the first ask up here!

Anon said:For your fusion au do you have any of the dances figured out yet?

Only the KiriBaku one, which is just hand holding - the AU was never meant to be more than just the designs tho, so I can’t say I spent too long on this sorta things!

Anon said:Your art is so nice and beautiful that you could probably draw any two characters together and say it's a ship and I would just accept it without question like "You right omg how have I not noticed this befORE IT'S GENIUS" and it could literally even be two rocks. Not even characters. Just rocks. Bless you

THANK YOU this is!!!!!!!! such a cool feeling omg so much power to have.......... I’m gonna need to use it wisely (I say, but the first thing I thought when I read the two rocks thing was “I did draw Kiri and Tetsu in the past!” so I guess wise isn’t a thing I am at all lol)

Anon said:I’m sure you get asked this a lot but is it okay if I post some art of yours on amino? (With credits to you of course)

Nope, sorry! I don’t allow reposts with or without credit, please don’t repost my stuff - if you really wanna share you can just drop a link to the original post~

Anon said:Can I repost your art in my Instagram page with credit please ?

Anon said:Can i repost your art with credit ?

Again, sorry but I’d prefer it if you did not do that!

Anon said:Hello! Opinions on iida x deku x todoroki? I love ur art sm and ur latest thing(which inspired this ask haha) hope ur having a nice day!

Love it!!! It’s one of my main ot3s in bnha!!!! And thank you!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Can you draw more Bakugo with glasses?? I love my goth/jock/nerd son. (I also love your art btw :'D💕)

Thank you!!! And I can! And most probably will!!! Can’t say how soon that’s gonna be, tho!

Anon said:was the art of bakugou doing kirishima's hand pose/stance based off of the official card game or was that a super happy coincidence? :'D

Seeing as I posted the comic weeks before the card came out, I’d say it was a coincidence haha that said! In the card Bakugou isn’t actually doing Kiri’s pose! He’s doing his own, which is adorably similar to Kirishima’s - one closed hand against an open palm as he lats out an explosion, you see him take the stance as he gets ready to fight now and again in the manga and anime!

Anon said:Psst, you got that Bakukamikiri?

Sadly, not at the moment :( as I said, maybe in the future~

Anon said:I love your art more than anything and your Kiribaku keeps me alive, especially now it's finals week. Also your Kaminari is a beautiful boy who deserves all my love. I have to ask for more of him. I love you omg!!!! Please never stop drawing! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

More Kaminari is coming your way! Definitely! Since I draw him a lot all things considered and you therefor you don’t really need to ask to see more of him haha

#fran answers #used my free day which i gave to myself as an undeserved gift to answer some asks finally #so many!!! why do i always do this #i might have missed a couple #im sure i did miss a couple #i have vague recollection of reading asks i did not answer in here #HMMMMM #sorry if it was your ask pls feel free to send it again if i missed it!#anonymous

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sturmxundxdrang · 5 years

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so this has been something i’ve done for both 2016 and 2017 (unfortunately can’t find that one), so yeah, a little recap of my year. under read more bc nobody’s interested in a long ass text lol

So since I can’t find my 2017 post, I’m gonna go from the 2016 and see what I have accomplished from the things I wanted for 2017:

To finally start learning German properly: in 2017 I went to German classes. They did help me a lot, but I had to quit for financial reasons and because I felt like it was slow.

Learn how to play guitar and piano: I did go looking for piano classes, but couldn’t go through with them. More on that below.

Finish my ‘wall collage’: I almost got to finish it! It was actually on my wardrobe’s door, and it was almost complete, but I had to take it down this year when I got a new wardrobe. Fortunately, I had glued the drawings to a sheet of paper, so I still have it.

Finish writing and editing as many books as I can: I did write a lot, I have over 200 poems just from 2017, but I, unfortunately, didn’t do much editing or finished books, haha.

Watch at least 100 of the movies from my list: I feel like I focused a lot more on TV shows, so that is a no.

Start exercising more: This went as a complete fail, up until November haha.

Do more things by myself: definitely yes, I’ve been growing a lot.

Get a car: I learned that driving stresses me out, but my parents switched to a different car to make it easier for me to drive, so I’m good with that.

Other things from 2017:

In 2016 I found both witchcraft and Hellenic Polytheism, and I started practicing, but being an ex-Christian, I didn’t talk about it. Out of fear of judgment, out of fear of being wrong and deciding to stop it, a lot of other things. But 2017 was the year I started trusting it more, and the way I felt welcome in this religion, and by my gods, was so warm, that in 2017 I was sure that this was exactly what I was supposed to do.

I also completed 5 years sober. March 18 was not only my birthday, but also the day I marked 5 years being Straight Edge, something I looked up to achieve ever since I began, back when I was 14 years old and looking up to CM Punk. Back then all I knew was that it was going to be better for me, and inspired by one of my heroes, I claimed. Now I understand the depth of my choice, and how much it helped me as a person. I thank CM Punk for showing me this lifestyle, but I also thank my 14 years old self, that, despite being very young and immature, made a very important choice.

So, now, we enter 2018. Right from the beginning of January, it was a roller coaster. I ended one of my longest friendships, with a person that had been my best friend since 2011. I'm not getting much into it, because it has ended and there is no use bringing it up, but although it was hard to think about going on without somebody that was very important to me at the time, it ended up being the best choice, and proved itself to be a big improvement to my life. All I have to say is that after the end, I was able to see how toxic it was and that moving on felt like a weight off of my shoulders.

I think things started well on New Years Eve. We had a small party, only me, my parents and two of our family friends. It was fun, we all talked, laughed, played Just Dance. But a bit before midnight, I put Mehr - Rammstein, to play. It’s one of my favorite songs, and the bridge is my favorite part. It played right when it hit midnight, and we toasted to the New Years Eve right when Till yells ‘Mehr!’. I think that was me starting the year with the right mindset.

My first poem of 2018 was a contrast to everything I used to write. All those 200 poems from 2017? Most about heartache, suffering, about pain. But 2018 started with me writing about true love, about softness and being happy. And gods, was I happy in 2018. I didn’t write much this year, because my writing comes more from pain and as a coping mechanism. I’m slowly learning how to write when I’m happy too, I’ll get there soon.

If you’ve known me for a while, then you know birthdays were really not my thing. It was usually a day I’d be very depressed, I don’t like getting old, I was too stressed about thinking that another year went by, it was all sorts of bad. One time my mom gave me a surprise birthday party because my ex best friend posted a message on my Facebook wall and talked about knowing I hated my birthdays. Mom invited my friends (a group of about 6-7 people at the time), only 2 showed up. But this year, man, it was different. I had plans to go to the Zoo and then to the Botanic Garden to have a picnic. So we invited a family friend (one that was there during the New Year’s party), and we went. We had a fantastic day together, and then came back to a family BBQ, that was equally as good. It was the first birthday in a LONG time where I felt truly happy.

This part is probably one of the most important, I’d say. I can’t tell when exactly it was, but I know it was around my birthday’s time, but someone set up a Rammstein Discord Server. I joined it, not expecting much, because I’m always inactive in groups like that. But you, see, this person became a very important part of my life, because not long after that, there were her, me, and a few more people joking about setting up a Rammstein cover band. And what started out as only a joke, became one of the most important things for me this year: Roter Himmel. Stephanie, Leah, Karla and I. RH’s first year was a roller coaster too. Members that came and went, some that I wish weren’t even there in the first place, but life is like that, and some that will be missed - yeah, Lily, you. But life happens, and that’s okay <3

This band gave me three amazing friends, that now I consider family, made me even closer to someone that was already one of my best friends, and that will ever be the Paulie to my Richard, as we say, and is giving me the opportunity to work on dreams I’ve had as a kid, and of course, to put my dream of moving to Berlin into an actual plan. I’ve started learning the guitar again because of them, something that I’ve wanted since I was literally 6, but that I put aside for so long. And because of them, I’ll be going to Berlin next year, to finally see the place that I hope to call home in the future. Roter Himmel is now probably one of the biggest part of my life, and I cannot wait to be playing our music in crappy bars in Berlin in a few years. To Steph, Karla and Lee: thank you. 2019 will be Roter Himmel’s year.

Law too, is a big part of my life. Not only because it’s something I really love, but because, of course, that’s what I’m studying. This was my third year, so now I have only 2 and a half before I’m finished. I also got my first job in the field. I’ve been working since I was 13, but moving to something new is scary. And me, having terrible anxiety, you can just imagine. But I got the job, and it turned out to be better than I was expecting: my boss is a great person, my coworkers are sweethearts, and despite it being kinda crazy in there, I’m enjoying being there, and getting to learn every day. More importantly, I’m dealing with my anxiety of talking to new people, or going new places, or y’know, just being with strangers. And, y’know, just working with what I’m studying & what I like gives me a sense of ‘you’re doing good’.

So, my religion. Like I said, I got started in 2016, improved in 2017, but 2018 has been the year where I really felt my religion. I’ve felt home ever since I got started, like this is what I’m supposed to be doing, like that feeling of coming home, and this year really showed me that, yes, I’m definitely where I’m supposed to be. I finally know what is like to experience a love so pure, that it can bring me to tears. I’ve always felt broken knowing Christianity wasn’t for me, always felt bad that I couldn’t feel what my mom felt for her God, for example. But now I do, now I understand that my mother’s God isn’t mine, and that this love I searched for was there, all my life, I just had to find it. I adore my gods, and I’m thankful for them all day, I’m grateful for them being in my life, I’m grateful for their love. That was also the highlight of my year: knowing they’re there for me.

This year was quite strange too, nothing is made of rose petals, of course. We had a terrible election in Brazil, and I fear for what will come after January 1st. I’m terrified for me, for my family, for my country. My 2 years old cat went missing weeks before my birthday, and still haven’t returned; I know he will tho. Some of the friendships I’ve thought would last me for life ended, or we got distant, but I know some things aren’t meant to last and I’m okay with that now. My grandma, just a few days before me writing this, almost died. She went through a very bad surgery, and I spent the night with my mom, aunt and uncle, at the hospital, praying she’d survive. She did, she’s doing better, she will get better, but that was probably the scariest experience I’ve had this entire year.

Also, I got one more cat. After Sonne went missing, I was awful. My dad found this tiny black kitten lost, and he brought it to me. Asche is probably the exact opposite of Sonne, who was this sassy little boy. Asche is a sweetheart, and is always in the same room as we are. Sonne will be back, I’m certain of that.

Back on friendships, I’m very thankful for the friends I made this year, for the ones that didn’t leave, and in special, my best friend of many years. We had a fall out due to my depression, but our friendship is back just how it used to be, and I’m very grateful for him for putting up with me and being there even when I’m a little shit lol. I’m grateful for Lily, and for how our friendship is strong as ever, for my bandmates, who are always there for me too, and for the friends that put up with me talking about Richard (and Ares @ Steph and Karla lol) all the damn time.

About the piano thing, my dad got a keyboard, somewhere between mid 2017 and the beginning of 2018 (I’m really bad with dates, so) and I managed to play the first part of Für Elise, and I know it’s fairly simple and easy, but I love Beethoven, and being able to play it within two days of my dad getting that keyboard made me very proud of myself. I ended up not practicing anymore, and my dad’s friend borrowed the keyboard from him.

2018 was definitely a year of growth for me, about learning, getting better, facing fears, about new beginnings and letting go of things that are not good for me. I cried a lot, but I was happy a lot. I consider it an amazing year, to be quite honest, and I know 2019 will be even better.

As I did for 2016, here are some things I want to accomplish in 2019:

I hope to have at least intermediate German. I’m almost there, but not yet.

I’ll focus on the guitar, and won’t let my frustration burn me out.

Exercise more and get a better sleep schedule.

Focus more on college, this last semester was very tough.

Do more things I usually wouldn’t, like going out to do something on my own, and hopefully being to drive by myself.

Read & write more, or at least more than I did in 2018.

Watch more movies, strike a few from my list.

Meet more people, go out more.

Be more organized.

Focus on my religion & study more, try to keep a consistent schedule and all that.

Find a hobby that will help me relax, something that I can do without pushing myself too much, because I frustrate myself a lot.

And yeah, those are a few I can remember right now, might add some more in the future. Hopefully, I strike all of those out by the time I’m writing my year review of 2019 haha. It’s gonna be a good year, I can feel that, man.

#vamp #fav #2018 #year recap #year review #bad days stuff

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moiraineswife · 6 years

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Autistic!Jasnah: Masterpost

Okaaay, so, as you might have guessed from the title, this post is a long list of reasons Jasnah Kholin is autistic af.

The short version: Jasnah is autistic because I, a Known Autism, say so. Have a nice day.

The long version (format): A long series of chronological quotes that all follow this pattern: Quote. *Insert ramble about why this is an Autistic Thing* *Possible and probable further ramble about why I’m emotional about that.

That’s literally it, people. Buckle up, I’ve picked through all three books (yes all three) to compose this post for y’all. It’s not going to be short.

To business:

The Way of Kings:

Jasnah glanced at Shallan, noting her, then returned to her conversation.

Introducing Jasnah ‘I don’t have time for social niceties I’m busy’ Kholin. From the first interaction she’s...Bad at interacting. Iconic.

“Then we shall do an evaluation. Answer truthfully and do not exaggerate, as I will soon discover your lies. Feign no false modesty, either. I haven’t the patience for a simperer.”

Jasnah is both blunt, direct, and honest in her speech as she is in her expectations from others. She doesn’t have the energy to deal with manipulation/lying/tarting up the truth to make it more socially acceptable bc she is a busy autistic lady with shit to do. (really, though, what she’s literally demanding here is the first rule of the autistic’s guide to easy conversation. Clear. Simple. To the point. To frills, no fuss.)

Jasnah didn’t argue further, and Shallan could see from her eyes that it was of no consequence to her if the king risked his life. The same apparently went for Shallan, for Jasnah didn’t order her away.

People do what people want to do and Jasnah doesn’t waste any time pretending she cares/that it matters to her for the sake of appearances. Again, this woman has a vendetta against typical social niceties and I love it.

“Now?” the king said, cradling his granddaughter. “But we are going to have a feast—”

“I appreciate the offer,” Jasnah said, “but I find myself with an abundance of everything but time.”

Do I need to point out the lack of social niceties again or are y’all sensing a pattern at this point? *King lovingly embraces his darling granddaughter that Jasnah just saved and orders a feast prepared in her honour* Jasnah: ‘Thanks but no I’m too busy to socialise.’

Jasnah was also a rationalist, a woman with the audacity to deny the existence of the Almighty himself based on her own reasoning. Jasnah would appreciate strength, but only if it was shaped by logic.

Jasnah feelings>>>>>>logic. This is a fairly common theme, of Jasnah being ruled less by emotions/sentiment/societal pressures/expectations and much more by logic/her own reasoning. She has her own way of looking at the world, her own rules for how it works, and she won’t be swayed by anyone else’s opinions on how she should feel/behave.

Jasnah turned to look out of the balcony into the dark space of the Veil. “I know what people say of me. I should hope that I am not as harsh as some say, though a woman could have far worse than a reputation for sternness. It can serve one well.”

Jasnah not being very self-aware in how people actually perceive her is also an autistic thing. Shallan notes several times that Jasnah is actually nowhere near as harsh/stern as she’s reputed to me, and, more importantly, she’s nowhere near as harsh/stern as she perceives herself to be. She also fails to note that Shallan actually enjoys the work/the challenge. This also implies that she takes what people say about her at face value and doesn’t have the necessary social skills to refute them.

Shallan tried to judge Jasnah’s mood, but the older woman’s emotions were impossible to read.

Again, this is a fairly common autistic trait. We struggle to read other people’s body language, but they often struggle to read ours as well. A part of this is probably Jasnah deliberately cultivating this kind of persona, but even so, she’s too unsure of how she comes across to have completely mastered this.

Jasnah carefully removed its contents, neatly lining up the brushes, pencils, pens, jar of lacquer, ink, and solvent. She placed the stacks of paper, the notebooks, and the finished pictures in a line.

Oh look, it’s one of the world’s biggest Autism Stereotypes (which I’m totally guilty of too): lining all the things up neatly, and making them Orderly.

At least with Jasnah one knew where one stood.

Jasnah of the straightforward, blunt honesty and ‘what you see is what you get’ strikes again.

When Jasnah was deeply immersed in one of her projects, she often ignored all else.

And here we see the Autistic Jasnah in her natural habitat: hyperfixating on her special interest.

The rest is under the cut for length!

Jasnah had elegant handwriting, of course—Jasnah rarely did anything without taking the time to perfect it.

Jasnah not doing anything unless it’s done Properly and Right according to her? Also Jasnah being indifferent towards things she hasn’t put any time into perfecting (such as drawing).

“I always forgive curiosity, Your Majesty,” Jasnah said. “It strikes me as one of the most genuine of emotions.”

Again, Jasnah encouraging/reacting positively to genuine/honest emotions because she doesn’t Understand the whole guile/lying/not being honest thing because honestly what is the point?

“Must someone, some unseen thing, declare what is right for it to be right? I believe that my own morality—which answers only to my heart—is more sure and true than the morality of those who do right only because they fear retribution.”

Honestly, just, this whole thing. For a start it’s a massive transgression of the Vorin social norms/expectations, especially for Jasnah as a prominent public figure as the sister to the king. For another it’s that internal rules thing again. Jasnah’s world operates according to Jasnah’s principles and Jasnah’s understanding of it, no-one else’s.

But Shallan had caught a handful of occasions, mostly when Jasnah had been distracted, and had apparently forgotten she wasn’t alone.

*Jasnah ignores social expectations so hard she literally forgets other people exist in the world* Also, again, the hyperfixation on special interest.

“And yet, those men are off the street. The people of this city are that much safer. The issue that Taravangian has been so worried about has been solved, and no more theatergoers will fall to those thugs. How many lives did I just save?”

“I know how many you just took,” Shallan said.

Jasnah has a habit of doing this, this very cold, calculated, logical and pragmatic way of seeing the world as well as morality. Shallan considers the lives taken, the emotional aspect of the moral dilemma, the horror of murder. Jasnah just sees it almost as statistics, as four lives taken to save many more. Shallan also focuses on the cold hard facts of ‘I know how many people you just killed’ while Jasnah is engaged in weighing up the probability of how many she just saved. (In theory, the thugs might never have attacked anyone again, so Jasnah might not have saved anyone by her actions, which I think is what Shallan is getting at here. But that’s just...A moot point as far as Jasnah is concerned)

This is also an example of her black and white thinking. There’s more net good in what she did than there is net bad. That’s where her questioning/reasoning stops because it makes sense to her. Shallan exists in the grey area, but I don’t think Jasnah even sees it in cases like this.

But it wasn’t the act itself so much as the cold callousness of it that bothered her.

This is an interesting one, and something I’ll talk about more a bit later, probably, but the way Jasnah comes across vs how she actually is. I totally get why Shallan views what she did as cold and callous, and in a way I suppose it was. It was fully planned and fully intentional. But I think for her it’s this kind of...separation between logic and sentiment. I think Jasnah feels very strongly and very deeply, but she doesn’t often display that to other people, and I also think she believes there’s a time and a place for that. Also, black and white thinking again. It comes off as cold to Shallan, but for Jasnah I think it feels more like common sense.

“You only needed to kill one of them.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jasnah said.

“Why? They would have been too frightened to do something like that again.”

“You don’t know that. I sincerely wanted those men gone. A careless barmaid walking home the wrong way cannot protect herself, but I can. And I will.”

Again, black and white thinking. (I’m also surprised this moment doesn’t generate more Discourse...Or maybe it does, I’ve just avoided it, either way) This is both a case for Jasnah not being able to predict people’s responses/behaviours, and also black and white thinking/internal rules at play. As far as she’s concerned those men are criminals. She has no assurances that they won’t hurt anyone else again. They’re already criminals, and there’s no chance for redemption or leeway, here. She’s made up her mind. They’re all criminals. They’re all dangerous. They all die.

Jasnah closed her eyes again, handing the brush toward Shallan. “Fifty strokes tonight, Shallan. It has been a fatiguing day.”

A)- routines the ‘tonight’ and the familiarity of this implies it’s something that happens every night. And the ‘fifty strokes’ is either another routine related thing, or an internal rule thing. Either way. Also this is probably a stim thing, since she’s using it to relax/de-stress.

Jasnah tapped her desktop with a fingernail.

Stimming.

“Brightness Jasnah does NOT like people entering her room. The maids have been told not to clean in there.” The king had promised that his maids were very carefully chosen, and there had never been issues of theft, but Jasnah still insisted that none enter her bedchamber.

Definitely, definitely, definitely an autistic thing. Issues with people entering Your Spaces or touching Your Things is a big autistic thing. (especially because the assurances about thieving don’t change her mind) Also the emphasis on not as in ‘this is a thing one absolutely does not do unless one wishes to die’.

“She’d believe me,” Shallan said. “She thinks she’s far more demanding than she is. Or…well, she is demanding. I just don’t mind as much as she thinks I do.”

Again, Jasnah taking what people say of her/how they say they perceive her at face value, and also lack of self-awareness in how people actually respond to her.

Jasnah regarded Shallan, face stiff, impassive. “I have been told that my tutelage is demanding, perhaps harsh. This is one reason why I often refuse to take wards.”

“I apologize for my weakness, Brightness,” Shallan said, looking down.

Jasnah seemed displeased. “I did not mean to suggest fault in you, child. I was attempting the opposite. Unfortunately I’m…unaccustomed to such behavior.”

Two things here: one, I’m like, 99% certain that Jasnah, who has been camped out at the hospital all this time waiting for Shallan to wake up is feeling anything but ‘impassive’ at this moment, in which case this is an example of her body language/facial expressions not matching up properly to her actual internal feelings, which is fairly common. And two: Jasnah’s apology being taken for a rebuttal and her obvious displeasure at it coming across that way when she literally intended the opposite (been there).

Also her general air of uncertainty/discomfort in this setting, which is one that’s obviously social/emotional. Also the fact that she pins her poor apology on lack of practice/familiarity with these kinds of interactions when, in theory, these kinds of things should come naturally to people. So like, lil bit of hinting/implication of scripting social things her, which I think her initial words reek of as well, as she’s said similar things before.

“You make it sound as if you were waiting out there.”

Jasnah didn’t reply.

“But your research!”

“Can be done in the hospital waiting chamber.” She hesitated. “It has been somewhat difficult for me to focus these last few days.”

“Jasnah! That’s quite nearly HUMAN of you!”

Again, a few things here, firstly that Jasnah is othered in a way by Shallan (and this isn’t the only time this happens, either) because of her lack of emotional response/social stuff. Secondly the fact that she’s clearly uncomfortable/struggles with this kind of conversation – the hesitation, the lack of responses are very much at odds with her usual composure and the way she has an answer for literally everything.

Words of Radiance:

She was all too glad to be leaving the stuffy room, which stank of too many perfumes mingling.

Prologue and we’ve already got Jasnah experiencing sensory issues in a crowded room with lots of perfume. What a way to kick things off.

“Many people consider that sort of thing enjoyable.”

“Many people, unfortunately, are idiots.”

Her father smiled. “Is it terribly difficult for you?” he asked softly. “Living with the rest of us, suffering our average wits and simple thoughts? Is it lonely to be so singular in your brilliance, Jasnah?”

A)- Jasnah obviously not enjoying social events/parties (she literally spends all of this one...contemplating the assassination she’s plotting. Like. Mood.)

B)- Gavilar’s comment is...Strangely sad, I think?? And perhaps a bit too on point. (This is very much just my reading of things but)...I don’t know. I see Jasnah trying to make a little quip/a joke here and it being misinterpreted because of her tone. And then, again, there’s that idea of othering that came up at the end of TWOK.

But I think the ‘is it lonely to be so singular in your brilliance?’ I think that....A huge part of that ‘brilliance’ comes from a mixture of Jasnah’s autistic traits: her special interest/her focus in them/her dedication to pursuing them...but also that sense of being other. Of not fitting in. The rest of “us” she doesn’t belong, she doesn’t fit.

And I think this idea of their ‘simple thoughts’ as opposed to Jasnah’s brilliant ones is a little like what we see with Renarin in Oathbringer, where Adolin explains that he isn’t trying to be lofty and brilliant, people sometimes just have difficulty following him. And I think this is what’s happening with Jasnah here (and in other places, she frequently talks about the difficulty she has in teaching, and how her methods are too intense and involved)

And also I think that....The saddest bit about this is that I think she was....Trying to joke here? Trying to fit in with those ordinary people, ‘the rest of us’, and just making a sarcastic joke on the back of her father’s comment about most people enjoying parties and she just sort of ‘well, most people are idiots aren’t they?’ And that’s what prompts this little moment here. So even when she’s trying to fit, and trying to belong, she’s still cast as the outcast, and misunderstood, and othered and it Hurts Me.

I, she thought, need to write this experience down.

She would do so, then analyze and consider. Later.

She literally topples into another world, effectively, and is just like ‘hm, I should make some notes on this and analyse them’. And. Yep. This is how she processes the world. By making sense of it, by treating everything according to Jasnah’s rules: it gets written down. It gets analysed. It gets understood. Bam.

Jasnah ignored the eyes of the sailors. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice men. Jasnah noticed everything and everyone. She simply didn’t seem to care, one way or another, how men perceived her.

Jasnah ‘I don’t have time for social expectations’ Kholin strikes again. Jasnah also just doesn’t care how anyone perceives her, social norms and expectations can go fuck themselves .

Jasnah grimaced at the thought. Shallan was always surprised to see visible emotion from her. Emotion was something relatable, something human—and Shallan’s mental image of Jasnah Kholin was of someone almost divine.

Again, the othering idea, as well as visible emotion being startling, as she’s typically so withdrawn/closed off/difficult to read. Yes friend, u guessed it, this is Peak Autism. Also the specific word in it being ‘relatable’ again marks that difference between Jasnah and...Everyone else. Again she’s different, again she doesn’t quite fit.

Jasnah relaxed visibly. “Yes, well, it did seem a workable solution. I had wondered, however, if you’d be offended.”

“Why on the winds would I be offended?”

“Because of the restriction of freedom implicit in a marriage,” Jasnah said.

Again, Jasnah misreading things/not being able to anticipate how people are going to react to different things. Also her view of marriage as ‘restricting’ says a lot about how she sees it/probably relationships in general.

Power is an illusion of perception.”

Shallan frowned.

“Don’t mistake me,” Jasnah continued. “Some kinds of power are real—power to command armies, power to Soulcast. These come into play far less often than you would think. On an individual basis, in most interactions, this thing we call power—authority—exists only as it is perceived.

“You say I have wealth. This is true, but you have also seen that I do not often use it. You say I have authority as the sister of a king. I do. And yet, the men of this ship would treat me exactly the same way if I were a beggar who had convinced them I was the sister to a king. In that case, my authority is not a real thing. It is mere vapors—an illusion. I can create that illusion for them, as can you.”

This right here is Jasnah explaining passing, without ever using the word ‘passing’. This is how Jasnah sees social interactions. They’re all illusions, they’re all, effectively, lies. They aren’t real to her. How people perceive others isn’t something that she can fit into her box of neat facts and logic. It’s this ever changing, insubstantial thing, ‘mere vapours’. And though she’s talking here about power and authority, the basic principle applies to literally every single social interaction ever. Aka: the secret behind how Jasnah Kholin (somehow) managed to convince ppl she’s allistic.

The orders of knights were a construct, just as all society is a construct, used by men to define and explain. Not every man who wields a spear is a soldier, and not every woman who makes bread is a baker. And yet weapons, or baking, become the hallmarks of certain professions.”

Actual footage of Jasnah Kholin going to war against social constructs and their flimsiness.

It was a picture of Jasnah, drawn by Shallan herself. Shallan had given it to the woman after being accepted as her ward. She’d assumed Jasnah had thrown it away—the woman had little fondness for visual arts, which she considered a frivolity.

Instead, she’d kept it here with her most precious things.

This is one of my favourite Underrated Jasnah Moments tbh because it says so much about her with such a simple gesture. We’ve established from the past book and a half that Jasnah is pretty bad when it comes to social interactions, and she’s even worse when it comes to displaying her emotions. But she’s not emotionless. She, personally, doesn’t see the value in visual arts, and hasn’t dedicated any time to it herself. Yet she keeps the gift that Shallan gives her. She understands how important this is to Shallan, and she quite literally treasures the art that Shallan gives her, and keeps it with her precious research/notes (and, like, Symbolism with her keeping her sentimental gifts and logic fuelled research in the same place/with the same level of importance/value, except one is hidden, and one is displayed)

And, like, Shall literally assumes Jasnah had just thrown away the picture?? And instead she’s got it kept safe with her most treasured possessions? Like??? The TL;DR version of this point is that Jasnah is horrendous at displaying her emotions/showing people how she feels about them/what they mean to her, but she feels things, goddammit. And now so am I.

What of this Sadeas? she thought, flipping to a page in the notebook. It listed him as conniving and dangerous, but noted that both he and his wife were sharp of wit. A man of intelligence might listen to Shallan’s arguments and understand them.

Aladar was listed as another highprince that Jasnah respected. Powerful, known for his brilliant political maneuvers. He was also fond of games of chance. Perhaps he would risk an expedition to find Urithiru, if Shallan highlighted the potential riches to be found.

Hatham was listed as a man of delicate politics and careful planning. Another potential ally. Jasnah didn’t think much of Thanadal, Bethab, or Sebarial. The first she called oily, the second a dullard, and the third outrageously rude.

She studied them and their motivations for some time.

Right. Now. Correct my autistic ass if I’m wrong, here, but I’m like 89% certain that ‘taking notes on the basic personalities/literally studying the people around you and making notes on the way they behave so you can actually understand them’ is not a typical allistic thing to do.

Shallan turned back toward him. That pride in his voice didn’t at all match what Jasnah had written of the man.

Jasnah can literally predict the oncoming apocalypse by the power of research, can she pin down some basic Facts about the people she’s observing around her? Nope. I wonder why.

“She wouldn’t let me be a mother to her, Dalinar,” Navani said, staring into the distance. “Do you know that? It was almost like . . . like once Jasnah climbed into adolescence, she no longer needed a mother. I would try to get close to her, and there was this coldness, like even being near me reminded her that she had once been a child. What happened to my little girl, so full of questions?”

Two things: one, this is probably (agonisingly) relating to whatever trauma Jasnah experienced as a child and I’ve got Painful Emotions about it. Secondly, Jasnah being very mature for her age/shucking Navani’s influence because it wasn’t what she thought she needed/wanted is, like, not exactly the most tactful/self-aware/socially conscious thing in the entire universe.

“You’re still human,” Shallan said, reaching across, putting her hand on Navani’s knee. “We can’t all be emotionless chunks of rock like Jasnah.”

Navani smiled. “She sometimes had the empathy of a corpse, didn’t she?”

Oh look, it’s canon low!empathy Jasnah: from the words of her own mother no less.

(Also, small note here, as a low!empathy autistic myself: I really love the way Jasnah is written because it complements my own understanding of empathy which is...Fairly complicated. Jasnah isn’t just like none and done here. It’s not that she just doesn’t feel empathy so she doesn’t care? She isn’t characterised as this brutal, unfeeling, robotic ice queen. There are a lot of nuances and complexities here as to how she relates to those around her and I love it.

She obviously loves her family very deeply, and is driven to protect and help them (in a very practical, logical way I might add. Which is typically how I relate to care/love as well. You want a shoulder to cry on? I’m going to sit there awkwardly, pat you on the head, and hope you stop soon. There’s a practical solution to your current problem? Heaven and earth will be moved to achieve it.) She keeps Shallan’s drawing, even treasures it. And I think that she obviously....Feels her lack of feeling (if that makes sense)

See: the hospital scene with Shallan where she attempts to apologise. She’s...Uncomfortable with the emotional aspect of things, and she’s completely wrong about Shallan’s intentions, and actually her actions as well. There’s a block there with the empathy...But that’s obviously something that doesn’t exactly...Sit right with her? She’s quite self-depreciating in that scene, actually, and it’s clear (to me, anyway) that there’s the sense of her being aware that there’s something...Missing. Something that...Doesn’t quite line up. Something that makes her different and stops her relating to people perhaps in the way that she wants to.

Anyway: don’t equate lack of empathy with lack of love: a novel by Brandon Sanderson. God bless. Intentional or not, this is one of the most relatable low!empathy characters I’ve ever read and I’m here for it.

“Chana knows, I wondered sometimes how I raised that child without strangling her. By age six, she was pointing out my logical fallacies as I tried to get her to go to bed on time.”

Shallan grinned. “I always just assumed she was born in her thirties.”

“Oh, she was. It just took thirty-some years for her body to catch up.” Navani smiled. “I won’t take this from you, but neither should I allow you to attempt a project so important on your own. I would be part. Figuring out the puzzles that captivated her . . . it will be like having her again. My little Jasnah, insufferable and wonderful.”

Again, a few things here: this concept of autistic children being far more mature/behaving like ‘little adults’ is actually pretty common. Also the puzzle-solving thing is just. Relatable.

Oathbringer

“Brightness?” Shallan said. “But … Shardblades aren’t fabrials. They’re spren, transformed by the bond.”

“As are fabrials, after a manner of speaking,” Jasnah said. “You do know how they’re made, don’t you?”

“Only vaguely,” Shallan said. This was how their reunion went? A lecture? Fitting.

Jasnah is believed dead for months on end, reunites with Shallan after who knows how long: immediately starts infodumping to her. Shallan:.......’Figured.’

People were always surprised to see emotion from Jasnah, but Dalinar considered that unfair. She did smile—she merely reserved the expression for when it was most genuine.

Jasnah back at it with the only bothering with emotions when they’re genuine. (Also Dalinar getting all indignant about people not understanding Jasnah/mischaracterising her is my favourite)

“They will try,” Jasnah said, “to define you by something you are not. Don’t let them. I can be a scholar, a woman, a historian, a Radiant. People will still try to classify me by the thing that makes me an outsider. They want, ironically, the thing I don’t do or believe to be the prime marker of my identity. I have always rejected that, and will continue to do so.”

Obviously she’s talking about her heresy here, but with a tiny smidge of tweaking it works well for her being autistic, too. She will always be a little bit different, always not fit, always be defined by being an outsider.

“In the face of such an atrocity, I would consider the sacrifice of one or more Heralds to be a small price.”

“Storms!” Kaladin said, standing up straight. “Have you no sympathy?”

“I have plenty, bridgeman. Fortunately, I temper it with logic. Perhaps you should consider acquiring some at a future date.”

Again on the feelings tempered by logic, thing. (Also Kaladin/Jasnah is interesting because they’re basically....polar opposites, and I enjoy the dynamic. But that’s for another day.)

“If you wish, Captain,” Jasnah snapped, “I can get you some mink kits to cuddle while the adults plan. None of us want to talk about this, but that does not make it any less inevitable.”

“I’d love that,” Kaladin responded. “In turn, I’ll get you some eels to cuddle. You’ll feel right at home.”

Jasnah, curiously, smiled.

Jasnah: approves of frank, honest comments. Even if they’re mildly insulting. As long as they’re genuine.

They didn’t talk tactics too specifically; that was a masculine art, and Dalinar would want his highprinces and generals to discuss the battlefields. Still, Shallan didn’t fail to notice the tactical terms Jasnah used now and then.

In things like this, Shallan had difficulty understanding the woman. In some ways, Jasnah seemed fiercely masculine. She studied whatever she pleased, and she talked tactics as easily as she talked poetry. She could be aggressive, even cold—Shallan had seen her straight-up execute thieves who had tried to rob her. Beyond that … well, it probably was best not to speculate on things with no meaning, but people did talk. Jasnah had turned down every suitor for her hand, including some very attractive and influential men. People wondered. Was she perhaps simply not interested?

All of this should have resulted in a person who was decidedly unfeminine. Yet Jasnah wore the finest makeup, and wore it well, with shadowed eyes and bright red lips. She kept her safehand covered, and preferred intricate and fetching styles of braids from her hairdresser. Her writings and her mind made her the very model of Vorin femininity.

Jasnah just not caring about social/cultural gender norms. Jasnah does what Jasnah wants. But also, gender roles, and tbh the entire concept of gender, is a social construct, it’s something a lot of autistic folks struggle with. (Also non-binary/agender!Jasnah just, as a fun little aside)

“Surely,” she said softly, “if Jasnah had known that I’d just confronted a deep insecurity of mine, she’d have shown some empathy. Right?”

“Jasnah?” Pattern asked. “I do not think you are paying attention, Shallan. She is not very empathetic.”

A)- Jasnah probably didn’t notice and B)- low!empathy Jasnah again.

Jasnah rubbed her temples. “Storms. This is why I never take wards.”

“Because they give you so much trouble.”

“Because I’m bad at it. I have scientific evidence of that fact, and you are but the latest experiment.” Jasnah shooed her away, rubbing her temples.

‘I have scientific evidence of the fact I’m not good at mentoring/teaching/with people in general’ actual quote from Jasnah herself. Also, just, the language here? The mentoring/taking of wards is an intimate social relationship in Vorin culture, but the way Jasnah speaks of it she uses words like ‘scientific evidence’ and ‘experiment’ which says a lot about how she views relationships in general tbh.

Also, I think her self-consciousness is something that’s interesting to note. This isn’t the first time she questions her teaching abilities/methods, in fact it’s one of her biggest and most obvious insecurities, it’s something that she’s very aware of. She knows she’s bad at this, and it bothers her.

“Ivory, you think all humans are unstable.”

“Not you,” he said, lifting his chin. “You are like a spren. You think by facts. You change not on simple whims. You are as you are.”

She gave him a flat stare.

“Mostly,” he added. “Mostly. But it is, Jasnah. Compared to other humans, you are practically a stone!”

[…]

“Jasnah?” Ivory asked. “Am I … in error?”

“I am not so much a stone as you think, Ivory. Sometimes I wish I were.”

And again with Jasnah being factual-based when it comes to her decisions ,and emotions based when it comes to her motivations. Jasnah Kholin feels things so deeply I will physically fight you over this matter. Also, given what we’ve seen, it definitely seems as though Ivory/Inkspren/Jasnah’s ideals are concerned with logic/reason/rightness, and that being a defining aspect of her/her order is interesting in the context of her being autistic.

Renarin still lurked at the far side of the room, mumbling to himself. Or perhaps to his spren? She absently read his lips.

Since, as far as we know, Jasnah isn’t deaf/hoh, the lip reading is something she acquired for other purposes. Probably as part of her paranoia/wish to protect her family, but it’d also probably help with auditory processing disorder. Which is basically where your ears hear words fine, but your brain scrambles them up and fails to make sense of them. Also a lot of autistic folks (self included) tend to watch people’s mouths instead of their eyes (bc eye contact Sucks) and I’m not saying I can lip-read, but if I could it’d definitely make life easier.

But when, before this, had she last heard him laugh?

“Maybe,” Navani said, “we should encourage him to take a break and go out with the bridgemen for the evening.”

“I’d rather keep him here,” Jasnah said, flipping through her pages. “His powers need additional study.”

Navani would talk to Renarin anyway and encourage him to go out more with the men. There was no arguing with Jasnah, any more than there was arguing with a boulder. You just stepped to the side and went around.

Jasnah being completely and utterly oblivious to the hidden agenda/undercurrent to Navani’s thoughts which is ‘Renarin is comfortable with the men/is enjoying himself with them, maybe we should encourage that?’ and just responds to her mother’s words and nothing else. The boulder analogy makes me laugh (but also recalls what Ivory said about her being ‘stone’ which is, again, a kind of othering, a setting apart of the ‘normal’ humans, based on how she emotes/deals with things/processes fact.

I’m sorry, Mother. I’ve been dealing with a lot of lesser ardents today. My didactic side might have inflated.”

“You have a didactic side? Dear, you hate teaching.”

“Which explains my mood, I should think. I—”

A lot of autistic folk find it difficult to teach people, largely because, if they explain something in a certain way, away in which they understand, they have trouble rephrasing it/altering it to make other people understand it as well. Can definitely, definitely see Jasnah struggling with this.

Jasnah preferred to work alone, which was odd, considering how good she was at getting people to do what she wanted.

This shocks me to my very core so it does.

Next to her, Jasnah stood with arms wrapped around herself, eyes red. Navani reached toward her, but Jasnah pulled away from the others and stalked off toward the palace proper.

Oh look, it’s touch!averse Jasnah. (she’s really not very touchy feely at all) Also Jasnah not knowing how to deal with her emotions/grief and withdrawing from people around her. Also I’m calling the arms wrapped around herself as a pressure stim. Fight me.

Jasnah met his eyes, chewing her lip as she’d always done as a child.

Jasnah having anxious!stims (that she probably forced herself to unlearn)

“Forget I asked,” Dalinar said, sharing a look with Navani and Jasnah. Navani smiled fondly at what was probably a huge social misstep, but he suspected Jasnah agreed with him. She’d probably have seized the banks and used them to fund the war.

Jasnah ‘fuck your social niceties, I have a war to win’ Kholin.

Suddenly they were young again. He was a trembling child, weeping on her shoulder for a father who didn’t seem to be able to feel love. Little Renarin, always so solemn. Always misunderstood, laughed at and condemned by people who said similar things about Jasnah behind her back.

Mm, who else was ‘solemn’ as a child? Maybe ‘correcting logical fallacies at age six’ ‘no longer needed a mother when she reached adolescence’ Jasnah. And, like, ‘people mock Renarin for his autistic traits...Jasnah is also mocked for having these exact same traits.’ It’s basically canon, people.

Jasnah fell to her knees, then pulled Renarin into an embrace. He broke down crying, like he had as a boy, burying his head in her shoulder.

Also, the fact that Renarin instinctively went to Jasnah for comfort, not Navani, who eagerly mothers literally everyone around her, or anyone else, he went to Jasnah ‘empathy of a corpse, made of literal stone’ Kholin for comfort and support tells me something. It tells me that these two had an understanding. That Jasnah understood Renarin, and that Renarin understood Jasnah, and that there perhaps a reason for that that has to do with their shared brain weirdness.

This is also the first time, as I recall, that Jasnah responds with physical affection. (And this doesn’t undermine what I said about her being touch!averse, she is, but a)- she initiates this contact and b)- it’s with someone she’s clearly comfortable with this level of contact)

Jasnah glanced over her shoulder at the gathering army. “And perhaps … this is one time when a lecture isn’t advisable. With all my complaints about not wanting wards, you’d think I would be able to resist instructing people at inopportune times. Keep moving.”

I have said it before and I will say it again, Jasnah infodumping to an exhausted Shallan in the middle of a fucking battlefield is the most autistic thing I have ever witnessed in my entire life.

These had always been right. Until today—until they had proclaimed that Jasnah Kholin’s love would fail.

And, to summarise it all neatly, Jasnah Kholin, empathy of a corpse, heart of a boulder, whose love in the end never failed her. *wipes tear* my beautiful autistic queen is good and full of love and feeling but just being really bad at showing it to people. We do not deserve her.

TL;DR: Jasnah is autistic af. It’s basically canon. Fight me.

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