#and i’m definitely someone who appreciates having alone time but i do actually like socialising and connecting with ppl

[hightowres]

why do i feel like there’s some sort of veil between me and the rest of the world

[luvnami]

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 (here) | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - Second part to ‘Ocean’! Hope you enjoy it :> Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife​ @amjustagirl​ @aliteama​

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares, Relationship Issues (lack of communication), Overthinking/Anxious Thoughts, I criticise Nanami’s choice of clothing

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -  Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He  (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of  what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made  it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time. 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5k

Nanami decides to enter university and get a degree. He casts a life of sorcery behind and turns a blind eye to curses that peer at him curiously on the street. When you text him and ask about how life is in the city of Tokyo, he replies that it would be much better if you were here with him. You choose to ignore the meaning between the lines and tell him that he’ll do great in university; you’re sure of it!

Truth be told, his parents are more than glad to fund Nanami’s ventures and encourage him to do so. As a result, he finds himself engulfed by the world of rigorous studying. Lectures and tutorials drain his time from morning to evening, not to forget project meetings and whatever the hell ‘socialising’ means.

But campus life is invigorating. He wakes up to the smell of coffee and his roommate singing a foreign song with a catchy tune and has time to enjoy a lovely breakfast before he heads off for morning classes. Everything is done in his own time. No one rushes him to save the lives of innocent civilians, nor does the weariness of a day’s fight linger in his bones.

Quietly, gently. That is how Nanami’s time in university goes by. Writing essays on analysing market trends or a project on that sociology elective module he chose is nothing too tricky, especially when one compares it to sorcery. 

He learns to relax, unwinding in the golden hours of the evening with a Murakami paperback and a steaming cup of coffee by his side. Nanami meets new people — people who have never heard what a curse is (though he does find his witchy neighbour intriguing), people who have families at the furthest ends of the earth. Their companionship is refreshing.

You, meanwhile, earn a nice sum from working at Jujutsu Tech. You don’t work directly with curses (something which Nanami is thankful for) and enjoy your time surrounded by nature, treating the younger students with a smile and warm cup of tea. 

You and Nanami decide to move into an apartment where the commute is halfway between both schools. It’s a nice change of pace, really. You wake up next to each other in the blinding morning light, still entangled in the cheap (and slightly scratchy) duvet you got on sale. Nanami presses a kiss between your brows. You smile, your hand warm on his skin. 

“Good morning, Ken,” you croak as the sunlight frames your face.

You lean forward and place your head against his chest. Nanami’s hand strokes your shoulder lovingly as the both of you make small talk on the day’s events, then laughing when he makes a cheesy (and slightly indecent) joke about what he enjoys eating for breakfast. Your heart soars in your chest, catching the upwind and slicing through the clouds. It feels like heaven.

But the sea does not always remain calm and peaceful. Its tides rise and fall with the waxing and waning of the moon, and waves can come crashing down on boats that dare sail through its treacherous waters. 

Nanami buries the constant nightmares of Haibara under his pillow, waking up in the middle of the night with your arms around his waist. He pretends he does not see the curses that linger in the corner of his lecture theatre, nor the ones that stare back in the bathrooms. Nanami slips a pair of spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. His fellow classmates call him intelligent, quiet, but kind. 

He wants to believe that, too.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami joins a hedge fund company after graduation. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Ken?” you ask over the table.

The restaurant you had booked for dinner boasts of its month-long waitlists and seasonal menus. You poke at the raw fish that sits on your plate, Nanami holding a glass of amber liquid. He watches its colour swirl under the dim light.

“The pay is good. We’ll be comfortable.”

“I don’t care about money, Ken. I’d rather you do something less stressful and be happier.”

“Let me try it out for a year or so. That can’t hurt, right?”

He smiles, you smile. 

Your hand slips into his comfortably over the table, and your eyes meet in silent understanding. You squeeze his hand.

The company changes Nanami. Some things are obvious — the way he now parts and combs his hair back with wax, the pressed suits that line your shared wardrobe, the work phone that buzzes with notifications every minute of the day. Others are more… subtle. He comes home later and later each night, occasionally staying over in the office. His alcohol consumption increases. You spend the weekends alone. 

It’s gotten to the point where you’re lucky if you eat dinner with him once a week. You’re busy with your own work, too, but you assume that Nanami would be able to come home on at least the weekends. Your mind begins to drift.

Is there a colleague who wears a skirt too short, a manager who touches his shoulder a second too long? It’s been at least four years since you and Nanami had gotten together, and you still don’t know his stance on marriage or children yet. Does he love you, or does he love his job more? 

You fall into a pit of doubt and despair. Perhaps you should have been a lesser burden on Nanami. He spent so many hours taking care of you back then, wearing himself thin between missions, that the idea of him getting tired of being a caregiver to someone who didn’t remember him at all was… possible; reality, even?

There’s nothing original about you, either. Your handwriting is the same as a girl you’ll never remember from middle school, the way you text influenced by the students you work with. Maybe you laugh too loud. Or you’re too fat, too skinny, too quiet, too noisy, too blunt, too shy, too clumsy. So what made him love you? Or was he just in love with a previous version of you that you weren’t now?

It feels like you’re staring into a mirror when you try to remember who you used to be with childhood journals and photographs. The same face, the same body, memories that don’t make sense and a head that has become a blank canvas. A parent’s child, a teacher’s student. Unable to reach past the glass.

You don’t know who you are anymore with how you’ve changed to please Nanami — a person of personalities that switches in the blink of an eye. So why does he still keep you in his rented heart that’s full of other tenants, and under the contact name ‘Dear ♡’? You place the button in a drawer amongst a mess of spare keys, bits of tissue paper and promotional pamphlets. 

It’s tiring. Nanami’s head is in the clouds as you share a parfait, and you ask him, “Kento, do you really love me?”.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Of course I do.”

The eyebags that are on his face have been there since two weeks ago. Nanami can’t remember when the last time was when he got a proper night of sleep, and currently, he’s thinking about the new client that-

“Kento,” you interrupt. “You’re exhausted.”

You point your spoon at him for extra emphasis, the tip of it having a dollop of whipped cream. 

“Pointing your utensils around is bad manners.”

“Never knew you cared about table manners.”

“Well, now I do.”

You lick the spoon clean and eye Nanami. He returns a tired stare before his gaze falls to the side and he lets out a sigh. He almost wishes that you would stop bothering him about this and let him go back home. There are so many emails he needs to send, and he can’t sit still without checking the stock market every hour or so. 

“Do you want to break up?”

The words come easier than expected.

“Huh?! What makes you say that?”

“You seem like you want to.”

“You can’t just assume things like-”

The girls sitting by the next table fall quiet. Nanami thinks that they’re eavesdropping on your conversation; you think so too. You glance quickly at them and they pretend nothing had ever happened, hiding their looks of surprise as they shove spoonfuls of dessert into their mouths.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

You sound irritated. Nanami pays with his card, grabbing his things as you step outside of the cafe first. 

“Slow down,” he mumbles and pockets his wallet. 

You whip around.

“You can’t just assume things like that, Kento.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

Staring at him, your eyes seem glazed over. Tired, maybe. Tearing up, maybe. Maybe, maybe. Many maybes. Nanami doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s been going on with you, actually. You seem distant, out of reach when you’re lying in the same bed as him. Is it the money; is he making enough to make you happy?

Nanami reaches out and tries to hold your hand (when was the last time he had done that?) when his phone buzzes. He retracts his hand and reaches for his back pocket, but you grab his wrist. He looks at you.

“What are you doing? Let go.”

Irritation laces his voice. 

“Don’t answer that.”

“Are you crazy? It’s from work. I have to.”

“Work this, work that! You spent the last year basically married to your office and the one time we get to go out together, you want to work?”

Your voice is sharp, slicing Nanami’s hazy conscience. He watches as it pools at his feet, a gust of fresh air tickling his skin. He relaxes his wrist and you pull your hand away. Passersby glance at you briefly before continuing their daily commute, not bothering to give you a second glance.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” Nanami replies. 

The both of you stand in the street, suddenly feeling as if you’ve drifted away from one other unknowingly. Like a boat in the ocean, Nanami rocks with the waves that splash gently on his hull. Everything is blue and vast around him. He can’t see the land. 

Nanami thinks about that girl at the bakery. The way she always cried out ‘Come back soon!’ every time he left as if he wouldn’t return a second time. And then he thinks about the clients he serves, all outfits and jewellery that easily cost half his salary. They shove money into his hands, expecting even more in return without a word of thanks. 

“Hey,” Nanami says. 

He reaches out across the waters and grasps your hand in his. You look up, eyes brimming with tears. He swipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb. Understanding washes over him and he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Nanami whispers sincerely.

That night, he calls Gojo when you’re safely tucked into bed. Nanami tries to ignore how the older sorcerer cackles at him and hangs up once the call is presumably over on his end. He slips under the covers as you turn over in your sleep, resting against his chest. Nanami kisses your brow. 

He gets his first night of good sleep in a long, long time. 

☆*: .｡.

Nanami falls back into the rhythm of sorcery. He trains for a good month until he gets his stamina and strength back, obtaining a new weapon from the school for his missions. Gojo seems oddly delighted to see him return, laughing when Nanami’s out of breath from a workout.

“Ken,” you say, wrinkling your nose when he steps out of your shared bedroom. “You’re going to work in that?” 

Nanami adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, staring at you. 

“Is this not appropriate?”

You observe him from head to toe. The leopard print tie, blue shirt and tan suit — you resist the urge to tell him he’s so close to looking like a pimp. Out of all the lovely suits that Nanami has, he chooses to wear this one?

“It’s a bit bright, that’s all,” you laugh. 

“I thought I would go with something eccentric. You don’t get to wear this at the office,” he remarks, striding over to the kitchen to grab your packed lunches. 

You remain quiet and fiddle with a loose thread on your own suit jacket. 

“Something the matter?”

“Oh! Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

It’s more convenient now since the both of you work at the same place. Nanami drives to Jujutsu Tech every morning and picks you up in the evenings as well. He detests how Gojo makes fun of him for it, calling him a ‘lovely husband’. It makes your cheeks warm, and you duck your head before Nanami can ask you anything about it.

Peace reigns true for a few months. The morning routine is a nice change of pace compared to Nanami’s previous job. You’re able to spend more time together, even to the point of going grocery shopping or watching a movie with takeout on Friday nights.

Nanami relaxes only a little. Compared to office work, this is probably just as bad. First of all, he has to see Gojo almost every day and have him talk his ear off. Secondly, he returns to being the balance between life and death for civilians once more. It’s not a task he enjoys. However, he harbours that the thanks he receives and the lives he saves are a good enough exchange. 

Years come and go, as do students of Jujutsu Tech. Nanami sees more dead sorcerers and exorcises more curses. You quietly type away at a laptop, filing their deaths and completing any tasks you’re given from the higher-ups. It seems that life has slowed down once more and you return to a monotonous pace. 

You wonder if your relationship with Nanami will progress any further. It’s been close to nine years and yet… nothing has developed beyond living together or the odd weekend date. That’s not to say that you don’t love Nanami. You do, honestly. He treats you well and listens to your occasional nagging to put his stacks of books away, but you want something more. You crave the thought of getting married, to be lawfully his and maybe start a family. But, contrary to belief, Nanami isn’t opposed to it when you bring the topic up over dinner one night.

“Marriage?” 

His chopsticks pick off a portion of grilled salmon and he brings it to his mouth with some rice. He chews, swallowing.

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been together for so long, you know? So it kind of seems natural for us to do so.”

Your gut twists nervously. The steam from your miso soup rises silently in the air, wisps of white smeared out at the edges. 

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

“Sure, let’s get married.” Nanami says.

You have to physically close your mouth and your eyes are widened in shock. Your heartbeat accelerates that much faster.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, were you serious when you asked me that question?”

Heat rises to your face. 

“As you said, we’ve been together and living under the same roof for quite some time. Marriage seems like a plausible idea.”

“Then let’s-!”

“But I have one condition.”

Momentarily, your heart wavers. Nanami finishes the last drop of miso soup in his bowl and balances his chopsticks on top of the porcelain. As usual, his plate and bowls are scraped clean. 

“I’ll only get married after I stop being a sorcerer.”

Your face twists in confusion as you try to understand where Nanami is coming from. You don’t get it — didn’t being a sorcerer mean that Nanami faced death everyday and that he should be taking advantage of what time he has left? But, of course, you don’t mean to curse him into an early grave like that. Except… Except that your face visibly falls and Nanami takes notice of it.

“I’d rather not have my life entangled with curses more than it should be. Once we both earn enough money and have a nice savings account, we can retire and go do whatever we want. Besides, I’ll invest. It’ll be more than enough.”

You remain silent and stare at your half-finished dinner. Nanami reaches over the table and takes your hand in his. 

“Can you give me some more time, please?”

You don’t reply. 

☆*: .｡.

“Did you hear about the new first years?”

“Mm. The one who died, right?”

“Gojo wants me to mentor him for a while.”

Nanami’s hands are positioned on the steering perfectly. His palms guide the car carefully through the steep roads that climb up to Jujutsu Tech. You flip through a checklist of things you need to do for the day.

“Will you be heading out of school?”

“Probably. There’s a scene I need to check out.”

“Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course. You too, don’t forget to have your lunch again.”

Nanami pulls into the parking lot of the school. Leaning over the clutch, he presses a kiss to your hairline. You gently peck his jaw.

“See you tonight. I might not be able to pick you up, so get Nitta to drive you.”

“See you, Ken.”

Nanami watches as you open the car door and step out. You turn back, giving him a wave and smile through the window. He returns the gesture. Once you’re out of sight, Nanami pulls out his phone as he sits in the car. He thumbs through his emails and his Adam’s apple bobs as soon as he sees the confirmation sent to him. A loose sigh worms its way out of his chest. He pushes the door open and steps out. 

The rest of the day is spent teaching Itadori Yuuji about the sanctity of being young and simpleminded. Sorcery isn’t child’s play — especially when there are lives involved. He watches as Itadori’s face crumbles at the mention of the transfigured humans. He wants to comfort him, place a hand on his shoulder and tell him that it isn’t his fault.  

They have a quick debrief of the situation with Ijichi before parting ways. Nanami shoulders his burden once more, watching as the car pulls away in the direction of Yoshino’s home. 

As night falls, Nitta drives you home. She’s chatty, serious about her job and does it well. You smile when she gushes about how lovely Nanami must be at home, and, oh! Do tell him to lighten up at work. 

You thank her when she drops you off. As you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex, you make a routine stop by the mailboxes. Junk, bills and… a box? You flip it over to see who it’s addressed to; perhaps Nanami had ordered something online. However, your name is printed neatly across the label.

The first thing you do when you get home is to open the box. It’s small, probably not more than a hand’s breadth in length. Your pen knife slices through the tape cleanly and when you push aside the flaps, you spot two velvet boxes sitting in a mess of paper filler. Your fingers tremble when you pull one of them out and open it. 

A silver ring sits in the furrow of a cushion with Nanami’s name on the inside. Your heart skips a beat and you reach into the cardboard to pull out the second ring box. This one is a little larger, with your name engraved on the interior side of the band. It must be Nanami’s, then.

It’s already well past 6p.m. as you dial his number with your lower lip between your teeth. You pace around the house, bouncing on the balls of your feet. What were these meant to be? Promise rings? Engagement rings? You hadn’t dared to slip the one with Nanami’s name engraved onto your finger just yet.

“Hello?” 

Nanami’s breathing is laboured. Your heart falls and you stop in the middle of your living room, staring ahead at nothing.

“Ken? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… just a little hurt. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve called Ijichi to pick me up, don’t-”

“So it is serious, then!” you cry out in horror. 

“No, no. I said I’m fine. Look, did you receive the rings yet?”

“I did, but that’s not the point now. Are you safe?”

“I-”

You hear Nanami’s phone clatter to the ground and the thump of his body on the floor. 

“Kento?” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply. 

☆*: .｡.

You’re seated on the floor of your shared home, an oversized pajama shirt stolen from Nanami’s closet swallowing you. Sunlight pours in through an open window at two in the afternoon and the quiet hum of vehicles outside can be vaguely heard.

Clip, clip, clip.

One hand holds a nail clipper, while the other cradles Nanami’s fingers gently. The blond watches you absentmindedly while you trim his nails. He had insisted he was perfectly capable of doing them on his own, but the glare you gave him made Nanami sink back into the sofa. 

He was hurt after a fight with Mahito — the wound on his side made him grimace whenever he stood up, and Nanami found himself relying on you more than he wished to. Thankfully, he had passed out from blood loss and pain but nothing too devastating had happened. That didn’t change how concerned you were about him, though. You try to forget how you had hailed a taxi just to rush back to Jujutsu Tech to see Nanami lying in the sickbay with a blood drenched shirt. 

Nanami thinks it’s childish. When was the last time someone had clipped his nails for him? Was it his mother? A warm breeze wrings itself through the window. You run the pad of your finger over the cut edge, feeling for any sharp portions. 

Nanami stares at the top of your head. Your fingers feel uncharacteristically soft against his own calloused ones — wielding a weapon in battle wore his palms down at the end of the day. He doesn’t particularly want to admit he likes it.

Nanami is a man of truth. He hates lying, and definitely doesn’t tolerate beating around the bush. But if he spoke as he thought, told you everything he felt about you as often as it came like the wind, how would you react? He clutches his heart in the aching hand of a budding teenager, the fears of facing a cruel world fresh in his mind. 

Being a sorcerer means facing death on a daily basis, especially with the increase in curses with modern times. It doesn’t help that with both of you on the field, it means double the chances. Sorcerers never die without regrets.

Nanami wishes he could love you more, let you explore each crevice of his heart without fear of leaving you; being left behind one day. He doesn’t want to curse you if he dies. He doesn’t want to become a burden to you any more than he should be. 

Clip, clip, clip.

“Is it too short?” 

You glance up briefly at Nanami and brush the hair out of your eyes. He stares down at his fingers and feels them over with his thumb. He shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

You nod and move on to his next hand. You’re systematical about it — trimming off most of the grown parts in three portions, then a couple tinier clips to finish the job off. A nail file sits on the ground beside you, the tiles of the floor cool against your bare legs.

“Hey, Ken?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard that there’s a new bakery opposite that popular department store. I was thinking of going to take a look later. Do you want me to get anything for you?”

“Nothing too sweet would be nice.”

“Okay.”

The living room falls back into a comfortable silence.

Clip, clip, clip.

☆*: .｡.

It takes a few more weeks before Nanami is cleared by Ieri to return to regular sorcery work. He tries to rest in the downtime he has, he really does — but the itch to get up and finish Mahito off has him restless. 

At this, Gojo sends Nanami and you off to Hamamatsu on another curse investigation for a change of scenery. Gojo doesn’t want to admit it, but he had mumbled to you something about taking care of Nanami’s mental health. Maybe the beach would help? You told him he sounded like a doctor from the 20th century. You’re not one to refuse a free trip outside of Tokyo, though, so you and Nanami pack your luggage and troop off to Hamamatsu on the Shinkansen. 

“Thank you.”

Nanami’s fingers curl around the ice cream cone handed to him, the sun scorching his back. It’s too hot for this; for anything, really. He makes a mental note to give Gojo a good stare of disapproval once he returns to school. 

Why did the mission have to be on the warmest day of the year? With how the heatwave makes perspiration trickle down your back, though, the dangers of facing a possible special grade curse is the least of your worries right now.

“It’s so hot!” 

You eagerly lap at the soft serve, savouring the cold, sweet treat. Nanami wanted to take a photo of the ice cream, but- oh well, you’ve begun eating, and the horrendous heat would have probably melted it before he found a good angle, anyways. 

Protected by the shade of a shopping district, Nanami and you had agreed to find refuge for a few hours — the curse could wait till the sun began to set. Besides, it would be more likely to turn up after dark. 

“How does yours taste, Ken?” you ask and peer over at his cone.

He had gotten a cookies and cream flavoured one, despite how you egged him on to try out the local eel flavour. Nanami was not going to ruin his taste buds just like that, thank you very much.

“It’s alright,” he says, licking traces of ice cream off of his lips. “Could do with a little more cookie.”

“Wanna try mine?” 

You stick your cone into Nanami’s face. He’s greeted with your half-eaten soft serve, where your tongue has made a path of its own against the original swirl. He eyes you carefully and you offer the cone to him once more.

“That’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, Ken! We’ve kissed before, sharing saliva on ice cream is nothing compared to that.”

Heat rushes to his face, though Nanami assumes a composed facade. He blames it on the weather without hesitation. Not wanting you to tease him anymore, he leans forward and nips a tiny portion of your ice cream off of the tip. 

“Yummy, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“Want to try mine too?” 

The words leave his lips on reflex. Nanami wonders when he’s begun letting you try his food — when he used to be so adamant that no one could even touch its container or look in its direction (thanks to Gojo’s greedy fingers). You nod excitedly and lick off of a portion. 

“It’s good!” 

What was the first time he had said it to you? Over oden in the winter; over those disgustingly sweet slurpees you insisted on from 7 11? All those small moments that had built up culminated in Nanami’s affection and understanding towards you. The way in which you offer him a bite of your food without expecting anything in return; is that what love is like? 

“You’ve got some ice cream on your face,” Nanami says.

You instinctively use your tongue and try to clean it off. “Did I get it?”

Nanami shakes his head. “It’s on this side,” he replies, pointing a spot on his own face.

You try again, to no avail. Nanami sighs.

“What would you do without me?” he asks monotonously, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it off.

You stand there, frozen for a second when he leans in. His promise ring is cold against your cheek.

“Kento?” you whisper. 

Under the light of the shining sun, he presses his lips to yours, shielding you from warm rays and the glances of passersby with his back. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as you taste cookies and cream, your eyes fluttering shut instinctively. 

Nanami isn’t a fan of public affection. God forbid Gojo see him kissing you, really. But as he leans back and watches your half-lidded eyes stare up at him, he asks himself if you’ve ever received his own sort of love in return. 

A relationship’s all about give and take; but has he given as much as he should have? Has Nanami loved you in a way that matters? Life is a fleeting concept to all sorcerers. Should he die and leave you behind, Nanami wonders if he would pass without any regrets. Did he do enough when he tugged the covers over your shoulders when you fell asleep on the sofa, was there more he could have done even after buying you that watch you had eyeballed for the past few months?

There’s that sort of incompetence that curls up in his chest on sleepless nights, even with you tucked into his side. It makes his head spin and his heart fall into a bottomless pit. With all the eyes of juniors and students that look up to him, Nanami can’t help but wonder if he’s truly as good as everyone thinks he is. Being a sorcerer holds little problem. But what about a lover, a husband?

He couldn’t save Haibara, so how dare he think about…

“Kento,” you swallow. “Ken?”

Nanami snaps out of his daze. “Huh?”

“I dropped my ice cream,” you whisper. 

He swivels his head and spots your cone face down on the sidewalk. His own cone drips down his hand, the melting liquid staining the sleeve of his suit. For once, Nanami’s mind runs blank. 

“Kento? Are you okay?” you ask gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs. 

“Mm?”

Nanami’s careful to avoid the pool of melting ice cream as he steps closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Your breath hitches as his cologne invade your senses.

“I love you. Let’s get married.”

[ikindamissbeingphysical]

Your Costume Would Look Better on my Bedroom Floor - RIVUSA fic

Read on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29331153

Riven hooks up with a masked girl at a Halloween party and is determined to find her again.

But his feelings are torn, when Musa, his newest-specialism partner, starts acting weird.

The music's so loud that she can't hear herself think.

And what a blessing that is. The strobe lights flash neon; reflected off of shiny, sweating bodies and the shadows cast are hues of amber and red and Musa could get lost in the blur of those lights and the pounding beat of the music and visions of Halloween masks. Skeletons slide past her, girls with impressive (read: petrifying) make up, fairies with fangs, and even specialists with werewolf ears.

She isn't sure quite how it happened, but a group of girls she isn't particularly close to, from her English class, had begged her to be their ninth muse.

"Your name is Musa!" Daisy, the water (not earth, not earth) fairy had said, leaning against the back of the chair and giving Musa her biggest puppy-dog eyes. "And we totally like, need a ninth muse. Please!"

The other girls had all nodded vigorously. Musa had inwardly cursed her inability to pack away her things faster and high-tail it out of the class as soon as the bell had rung, cursed herself for letting them corner her like this. And even though she hadn't wanted to, she could read the wholesomeness radiating off of them like enormous waves. It was only an earnest desire to have fun. Daisy had prattled on about the group photo opportunities, how she even had Musa's costume all lined up, when Musa had lifted her hand to silence the babbling.

"Alright," she said, to their elation and surprise, "fine." And then she'd put her headphones on and done her best to forget about it.

She'd wondered for a while, briefly, if the Suite had wanted some sort of group costume. It wasn't Stella's thing, really, to coordinate outfits with other people, and as the end of October rolled around, Sky and Bloom had begun the hunt for couples costumes and Musa had supported each suggestion whole-heartedly; eager to avoid any awkwardness.

Stella's at this party too, somewhere. Dressed in some intense haute-couture, and Terra too, as a bat? Musa isn't sure, and she wasn't about to ask. Aisha would show, for an hour or less, before rushing back to the dorm to study for the Elementals final on Tuesday. Sky and Bloom were on the dance floor, and Musa allowed herself a moment to bask in their respective bliss.

It had been a good night so far, to her surprise.

Daisy and her classic-fanatics had helped her into costume, and there had been pre-drinks (fruity cocktails that were worryingly easy to drink) and a lot of photos.

Musa had to admit, they looked good. The nine of them, in their silks and their satins, and the intricate, embroidered masks that sat on the bridge of Musa's nose and fanned her eyes with fine, delicate lace detail.

"You'll be Euterpe," Daisy had said, with perfect pronunciation, as she helped Musa into the lilac and purple swathes of silk that cinched in tight at the waist. "The muse of Music. Since you're always listening to it!"

"Funny." Musa grinned, only a little forced, before she'd turned to the mirror and blended out her eyeshadow.

It's not that she doesn't like Daisy. Daisy’s fine. Nice. Perfectly average. It’s just Musa keeps to herself. Her mother had always called her an introvert, or rather: someone who re-charged in the dark with music, before the battery was high-enough to go out and socialise again. Some people require more energy: the girls in her Suite are a moderate amount, but Daisy and the English Lit gang? They require a lot of power. They can be draining.

They're all out on the dance-floor now, though, leaving her alone, and Musa sips her strawberry daiquiri and basks into the mind-numbingly, paradoxically loud, peace of the crowd.

"As hot as you look in that costume," comes a slow, sultry drawl, "I'm sure you'd look much better out of it."

Musa's smiling, it's a reflex to smile now, whenever she hears Riven's voice. She doesn't like to think about the ramifications of that too much, so she turns and grins up at him, content to enjoy the night without over-analysing the feelings that have been simmering just under her skin for a while now.

Riven's...well, she's glad for the low-light, because she can feel the burn in her cheeks. Some sort of pirate, maybe? But he's shirtless, with that broad, wiry definition she's grown use to seeing from their Specialism training together, and there's a dark trail of hair leading into his black leather pants. He's got a leather waistcoat on too, over his bare torso, and an eye-patch flipped up onto his forehead, a red bandana tied around his neck and his hair all mussed in that way she knows takes him at least twenty minutes in the mornings.

He towers over her, a drink in hand, and an appreciative gleam in his eyes. She leans against the pillar and sips her strawberry potion. "How many times have you used that one tonight?"

"Only half a dozen," he shrugs, one hand toying with the silk train of her dress. The fabric is so light, it glides through his fingertips and she can feel the heat of his hands on her thighs.

"Wow. Way to make a girl feel special."

He chuckles, and his breath fans over her ear and she shivers all over. "Is that what you want, baby?" He asks, pushing in closer, and she sets her drink down before she spills it. "You wanna feel special? I can arrange that."

She wonders if he's drunk, or feeling bolder than usual in the dark- she certainly is- and she almost can't contain her joy that he likes her back. It spills out of her, and he smiles in bemusement.

They've flirted before, in class, or well- something like flirting. Something like banter, but with softer edges, and secret smiles and inside jokes, but he's so well-guarded, Musa can never quite get a fix on his emotions.

She can now though, she can read the desire and it's not at all hidden, and she feels brave and confident so-

She stretches onto her tiptoes (screw Daisy and these short-ass sandals) and bites the bullet and kisses him.

He moans in surprise, and she hears his own drink being set down, before his hands are in her hair, mindful of her mask, moving gently through the beads and jewellery, skimming down her body to her waist and then his mouth is on her jaw, and Musa leans her head back, granting him all the access he wants, as she clings to his shoulders.

It’s perfect. It’s body-tingling, it’s everything she let herself think it would be on all those lonely nights when he was just letters on her phone, shining in the darkness.

"I've wanted this for so long," she admits, elated, and Riven hums in surprise, pulling away a little.

His lips are raw, and she runs the pad of her thumb over them. She did that. He nips at her finger, and she laughs.

"Really?" He asks, curious but not displeased, as he leans in for another kiss, "do we share a class or something?"

She laughs, before she realises he's being serious. It takes her a long, awful moment, before it all clicks.

Riven doesn't know it's her.

Riven doesn't recognise her.

It's like she's been shoved into the Alfea-River, cold and sobering and awful (no matter how much Aisha sings it's praises) and Musa stumbles out of Riven's embrace, heart-pounding, stomach dropping.

"Hey," Riven frowns, reaching for her arm, "what's wrong-"

"I-" She can't believe it. For a wild moment, she'd thought- allowed herself to think that Riven wanted- "I have to go." is what comes out, before she turns and bolts into the crowd. She runs into people, gets a few elbows in the ribs, her dress snags on a door handle and she hopes Daisy isn't mad- before she finally gets outside.

She gulps in the night air, feels the prickle of tears on her cheeks and wipes them away harshly, laughing at her own ludicrousness. What was she thinking?

She rips off the mask, and a loud, embarrassing sob tears from her throat. She looks over the empty-parking lot, can still hear, mostly muted now, the music inside. The drop from cloud nine to here is giving her whiplash.

"Musa!" Comes Terra's concerned yelp, and Musa jumps. She's not used to being taken off-guard, not when she can feel people before they sneak up on her. Especially Terra. And now great, she's crying, and she hates crying in front of people. Terra bundles over, wrapped up in a thick winter coat. Was she leaving the party early? "What's happened! Are you okay?"

Musa tries to play it off, she doesn't like being the centre of attention. "Yeah, no- I'm- long night. A bit fried."

Terra nods: understanding. "I'll bet. Me too. Let's go back to the Suite. I can make us some hot-chocolate. We can watch a movie?"

"That actually sounds really nice." Musa whispers, letting Terra guide her away. Terra's a comforting mix of worry and a fissure of pleasure. Musa assumes the latter is because they're finally spending some time together. Terra's all about roommate bonding, and Musa supposes she hasn't always been the most accommodating. It’s a good distraction, to focus on how she’ll make more of an effort with Terra.

Later, once they're both in Terra's bed, drinking hot chocolate (which is really, rather painfully sweet for Musa's taste, but she drinks it anyway) and watching Garfield Goes to London, the events of earlier seem sort of like a nightmare.

She drifts off, her head finds Terra's shoulder, and Terra is warm, and smells like apple-body wash, and she falls asleep, hoping that when she wakes up, it won't have been real. It'll be the morning of October 31st, and none of will have ever happened.

The sun rises on November 1st.

Riven tosses his shoe at it, but it remains stubbornly in the sky. Mocking him. It's then he realises how cold it is. And then, a little dimly, he notices that he's outside. Dazed, aching, and evidently he slept in the now dew-damp grass. And that the rather ugly looking cloud frowning down at him is-

“Morning, Silva.” Riven mutters, trying to block out the light. His voice sounds as rough as he feels. He gets to his feet, wobbling, and Silva steadies him and brushes some of the dead grass off his shoulders.

“This is the way to behave?" Silva berates, but he doesn't sound too angry, so Riven drowns it out. "This is the kind of example my two best Specialists are setting? I expect this from you, Riven, but Sky? How disappointing.”

Sky? Oh, that's right. Riven has a murky memory of the two of them searching for the grounds for- shit. More memories trickle back to him. The lovely lady in lavender, with thighs he's desperate to get his hands on, and who'd had a crush on him for ages. How she's disappeared and he didn't have her name, her number, her instagram, only a description of her costume. Sky had been eager to help, more than a little drunk, with Bloom on his arm. Riven wonders where Bloom is, before deciding he doesn't really care that much.

“Saul, it wasn’t, I’m sorry.” Sky stammers, as Riven turns and heads back to school.

It's still excruciatingly early for a Sunday morning, as he staggers back to his room and into the shower. The hot water cascades over him, sinks deep into his bones and soothes. I've wanted this for so long the mystery-girl whispers, and she's achingly familiar, tantalising, lighting up a spark inside him that doesn't burn often. Fuck, she was hot. He's not sure what happened, but he's pretty sure it isn't how the night was meant to have ended.

When he gets out of the shower, Sky is sitting on his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Got a good tongue-lashing?" Riven asks, pulling on a shirt.

Sky groans. "There was more alcohol in that punch than I thought." His phone buzzes, and he smiles at it, and Riven rolls his eyes.

"I take it your girlfriend got back."

"Yeah, she- oh wait." Sky's eyes light up, "did we find your girl?" Riven shakes his head and Sky slumps with disappointment. "Oh, maybe Bloom knows. What was she dressed as again?"

"I don't know, a goddess or a princess something? It was purple."

Sky types into his phone and Riven chugs half his bottle of water and contemplates bullying one of the first-years into bringing him a stack of pancakes from the cafeteria.

"She can't remember anything." Sky says apologetically, sliding his phone into his pocket. "We think someone spiked the punch."

"Right." Riven sighs, and honestly, of course someone spiked the punch. He knows at least five different people who tossed vodka shots into it throughout the night. He may have been one of them. "I need food."

He's almost out the door when Sky's voice drifts after him. "You're still gonna look for her right? You said she was your soulmate!"

Jesus. He's way too soft a drunk. "Forget I said that." Riven demands, even though it's futile, because Sky likes to collect all the soft, little vulnerable parts of people and treasure it about them forever. "But yes, I'm still gonna find her. At the very least, it's a damn good lay."

Sky jogs after him down the hall, stumbling into a member of the cleaning-staff and haphazardly picking up the mop. "And at the most: you'll fall in love. Imagine it, Riven." He slings an arm over Riven's shoulder. "You: in love. It's hard to picture, right?"

"Keep dreaming, mate."

"It'd suit you, I bet." Sky continues, ever the optimist, "maybe it'll tone down your dickish tendencies by 30%. Maybe even 40."

The arm over his shoulder turns less into a friendly gesture and more into a drunk man desperately needing support, so Riven clutches Sky tighter and helps him down the stairs, wondering when he got such an idiot for a best friend.

The cafeteria's fairly empty, Riven would expect nothing less for this hour, so he dumps Sky unceremoniously at one of the many vacant tables, and flashes his most shit-eating grin at the lunch lady who hands him a plate full of pancakes so reluctantly, he'd almost think she'd rather have handed him a terminal illness.

He turns, ready to re-join Sky and hatch a game plan for finding his mystery girl, when his eyes lock onto a figure in the corner of the room.

It's Musa. As soon as he realises it, he's already on his way over. He's drawn to her, he's always been drawn to her. It had been easy, at first, to shrug it off as attraction. He's hot, she's hot, it's basic physics. But they've been sparring partners for two Semesters now, and though he'll never admit it, he likes her company. Likes the easy banter and the way they fit together. If he ever let himself think about it more deeply, he knows he'd stumble onto how compatible they are. How everything seems just a touch brighter when she smiles at him.

"Well, you look radiant this morning." He says, dumping his plate onto her table with a clatter and watching her wince.

Her hair's a mess, her make-up dried, and her eyes red. He chuckles at how bedraggled a figure she makes, normally so pristine and put-together. It's a fun contrast.

She looks up at him, annoyed, before something strange flickers over her face. It startles him, whatever it is, she looks- ashamed?

"Ut-oh," he sing-songs, folding up one of his pancakes and sliding the whole thing into his mouth. "Regretting last night's decisions, are we? Where'd you end up? Let me guess: Terra talked you into her weed-brownies and she fucked up the batch. Baked, I don't know, fucking clovers instead of weed into the batter."

It earns him a tiny little smile on the corner of her mouth, and his whole body curves closer to her in response. "Don't even. I want to forget it. Forget everything about it."

She takes a long gulp of her drink and he notices it's black coffee. Not very Musa. She likes that disgusting earl grey shit the school doesn't stock very often. When she's forced to have coffee, it's so milky that she might as well not bother. Something's off. He examines her a little more closely, and, not for the first time, envies her powers. To see what was going on in her head, to see her emotions instead of sitting across the table and guessing at them, would be extremely useful right now.

She reaches across the table and steals one of his pancakes, and she looks so pitiful that he lets her, and she tears it up like a bird before she eats it. "What about you?" She asks, not meeting his eyes, "how was your night?"

For some reason, he doesn't want to tell her about the mystery-girl and his new quest to find her. It feels...wrong, to brag about some conquest. It shouldn't. It's not like they're- they're just friends. Barely. "No complaints," he says instead, and he hates this a little bit, that they're both being so evasive.

So, he gives her shin a good kick under the table.

"Ow! Riven!" She scowls, whacking his arm.

He grins at her. "Muscle spasm."

She huffs out a fond laugh, when anyone else would have stormed away from him. "Oh, really? You're getting muscle spasms now? Good to know, so I can kick your ass in training this week."

"You wish." He hums, ripping the next pancake in half and offering the larger piece to her. She takes it and eats it, and when the maple syrup dribbles down her hand, she licks it up from her wrist to her thumb, with a rose-pink tongue that Riven can't look away from. He thinks, vaguely, that she's asked him a question, because she's looking at him with expectant eyes, but there's still glossy, shiny maple on her lips and he thinks it would probably taste a lot better on her. "Huh?"

"I said, I think Sky's going to throw-up."

He follows her gaze to where Sky is leaning over the table, looking particularly green.

Riven shrugs, going for another pancake. "Probably. He's a light-weight."

"Shouldn't you tend to him? Best friend duties?"

"Oh," Riven hums, smacking his lips together, "is that why all of yours are here with us?"

Musa frowns down at her coffee. "They wanted to come with me, but...it's so loud sometimes, you know? Sometimes I just need this. Peace." She closes her eyes, breathes in deeply, and Riven is arrested by the sight of her.

By the time he regains control of his vocal abilities, her eyes are open, ringed just a little with purple, and she's beautiful. "Does that mean I count as peace?" He teases, just a little flattered.

"Please," she scoffs, "your emotions are not quiet. You're as loud as Terra-"

"Fuck you, take that back."

"-but it's different."

Riven leans closer on the stool; curious. She doesn't often talk about her powers with him, and he knows why. He'd been pretty blunt when they were first paired up, practically threatened to ruin her life if she'd so much as peeked into his head. He knows now that her control still isn't great, and that she tries, and that most of the time, she doesn't want to know what anyone's feeling, not when it drowns out her own emotions.

Prompted by his look, she struggles to find the words. "Terra is...it's like a room of people all yelling my name. They each want something different, they each crave something, and it's just not a fun situation, really."

That sounds about right. He can't imagine any situation being fun with Terra. "And what about me?"

"You-" she meets his eyes, and quickly looks away again, and he's so fucking intrigued by her. What is this? She's never been like this before, he's never been like this before. It's too soft, too intimate for them. But it's a quiet, empty Sunday morning, when she looks at her black, black coffee and says: "You sound sort of like a rainforest. It's lots of sounds: a growling jaguar, beetles scuttling up wet bark, gorilla's moving through trees, the creak of branches, storms, rain, it's...it's a harmony. Each sound is a different emotion, but they come together, like an orchestra. It's..." Her cheeks flame red, and he can tell she wants him to look away from her, but he can't. "It's peaceful." She admits, finally.

Riven opens his mouth but nothing comes out. It's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about him. He feels raw, cut to the bone and exposed like a deep paper cut. The air seems to sting around him, and he can't believe that it's Musa, Musa, that associates him with something that isn't bad.

"So. Yeah." She says, awkwardly, toying with her empty coffee cup. "I feel really stupid, by the way, so feel free to even the playing field."

"Don't feel stupid." He whispers, and his voice must sound different because her eyes snap up to meet his. His hand is across the table, and he's not sure how it got there or what he planned on doing with her. Her fingers thrum against her cup in response. Neither one of them moves. "I uh-, that's...I picture you sometimes. Like, obviously I don't know what you're feeling, but sometimes when you're talking or we're fighting, I get these images of you, like landscapes." What the fuck is he doing, why is he speaking, why doesn't he shut up- "like a white-sand beach, or an over-grown field of harebells."

Riven can feel his heart thumping in his chest, and Musa is staring at him, and their fingers are inching, slowly, towards each other and then-

Sky vomits. Loudly.

Musa jumps up. "Oh my god!" She cries, rushing over to him. Riven scrambles after her, as Sky coughs up the rest of it. "I'll get him some water."  Musa says, running to the lunch lady.

Riven pats Sky's back, and Sky looks up at him, still a little green around the edges. "Oh hey! You should definitely ask Musa if she saw your mystery girl last night." He says hoarsely. Still definitely drunk, then.

"Shut the fuck up and don't say anything about that to her." Riven hisses, as Musa returns with a plastic cup of water. She looks between them curiously, and Riven gives Sky a warning glare, but all Sky does is vomit some more, and then reach for the water with a pained smile. "I'm gonna take him back to the dorm." Riven mutters, and Musa nods.

"Sure, uh, feel better Sky. I'll see you in class, Riven."

"Bye Musa! Say hi to Bloom for me!" Sky bellows, and Riven regrets, just a little, spiking the punch.

"Dressing to impress." Stella observes, spotting Musa through her hand mirror as Musa walks into the classroom on Monday morning.

Stella's been bitchier than usual to all the girls in the Suite. Musa is nearly one hundred percent sure that things with her mom are worse than usual, so she's given Stella a lot of leeway. Her patience is reaching it's limit, though. Especially because she is dressing to impress. They share this class with the Specialists: History of Magic, and as she'd pulled on the thigh-high socks and fussed over her space-buns for slightly longer than usual, she maybe, sort of, a little, had a certain Specialist in mind. And Musa does not like being called out.

"I'm surprised you even noticed my outfit," Musa says, voice just a little mean, "considering the fact you spend almost all your time looking at yourself in the mirror."

"Hm." Stella cocks her head, "can you read how I feel about that joke? Or should I tell you?"

Definitely a mom-thing.

"Watch it, princess." Riven calls, catching Musa's attention from one of the desk's near the back. He kick out the chair beside him for Musa, who ducks her head to hide her smile, as she goes over to join him.

Stella rolls her eyes. "You fighting Musa's battles now for her?" She asks, as Musa shrugs off her backpack and takes out her pencil case.

"Musa starts her own fights," Riven grins, grabbing the leg of Musa's seat and dragging it closer to his own. Their thighs touch. Musa's breath hitches, and she looks up at him, but he's still looking at Stella; a challenge in his voice. "But I sure like to finish them. Wanna tussle, blondie?"

Stella looks over the two of them for a moment longer before turning away. "Whatever." She mutters, dismissively.

Riven looks down at her then, a lot closer than Musa expected, and smelling of cologne. Does he normally wear cologne to class? She doesn't know. But he fills her head with pleased, protective, content and she likes that he's in such a good mood. "She's not wrong, though," he murmurs, tweaking one of her space-buns, "this is a big improvement from the train-wreck you were on Sunday."

"Gee, thanks, Riven."

"You're welcome."

The teacher walks in then, so Musa has to flip him the bird under the table, and Riven laughs too loudly and has to turn it into a cough when Dowling glowers at him.

To Musa's relief, the lesson is...normal. As normal as it is for the two of them to sit beside each other in History of Magic, which isn't really. She normally sits beside Stella, and meets Riven's eye every few minutes, as he purposely disrupts the class, or cracks a joke, and then he seems to find her, relishing in everyone's good-humour but seeking her out all the same, as if to check he's made her smile too.

Or maybe she's reading too much into it. He's forgotten the kiss, that much is totally clear. It probably happens to him all the time, kissing unknown girls under flashing lights. After she left, he probably found a new conquest.

She tries not to let it get her down. It's not as if he's dating anyone, not that it would- not that it would matter.

But then she remembers yesterday morning. Remember's him leaning in, his emotions a swirl of brutal honesty as he said she was a field of overgrown harebells.

She hadn't even known he knew what harebells were, but then again, why wouldn't he? She has a vague memory of him as a first-year, hiding in the Green House most lunch times, smuggling potted plants back into his dorm room. She knows if she told anyone (which she wouldn't, not ever, not without his express consent) how soft, and sweet and brutally deep he can be, no one would believe her because he hides it, buries it deep under everything else, and for some reason, he shows it to her.

"What?" He whispers to her, and she turns, pulling from her musings to see him leaning in, an eyebrow arched.

Musa looks at him quizzically, before he taps the edge of her notebook.

Oh fuck. She's written his name. Riven stares accusingly up at her from the top corner of her page.

Thinking on her feet, she scribbles some more:

wanna have lunch today?

He reads it, and he nods, but still looks a little bemused, so she keeps writing:

in the woods. past the barrier.

"Ah," he whispers, nodding, and she feels relief bubble up inside her. "Sure. I'll meet you at 2."

"Riven," Dowling calls, and Musa jerks her head up. "Something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

Riven pretends to think. "Not that I can think of." He says, "you go on."

Musa can't help her smile, and Dowling catches it. Disapproval wafts off of her, and Musa cringes away from it.

"Ignore her." Riven mutters, uncapping his pen, "crazy old bat."

Then he writes Musa in the top left corner of his notebook, and she knows he caught her, but when she sees his smile, her mortification fades away. She likes her name in his handwriting. How he loops it, how the M's tail drifts into the u.

She pushes her own notebook towards him. "Write it again," she whispers.

"Kinky." But he obliges her, and writes Musa, you should wear those socks more often. His eyes flicker to her legs and she rests her chin on her hands.

"I knew you'd like them."

His hand reaches under the table, toys with the end of her socks on her thigh. "You were thinking of me then you put them on?" He asks, voice low, and she doesn't mean to dip into his head but the arousal is strong and sweet and addictive.

Triumph lights up her mental periphery, and Musa looks around to see Stella's eyes on them, a smirk on her lips.

"Shit." Musa whispers, pulling her legs away, turning from Riven entirely, heart pounding. She can feel his disappointment, but she forces herself to focus on her notes. It could be worse, she tries to reason, Stella's a great secret-keeper, when she's not pissed off. And besides, what's the secret? Sure, she and Riven flirt, it's harmless, it's nothing, it's-

"You're in love with him." Stella says, accosting her after class, as Musa looks desperately for an escape route.

"What? No-"

"It's not fun, is it? Having someone know your feelings?"

Musa sighs and takes a breath. "Look, Stell, it's really nothing. Please."

Stella looks over her, pursing her lips thoughtfully. Finally, she relaxes. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Musa. I'm not a total bitch."

"I don't think you're a bitch." Musa says honestly, "I think you can be bitchy, when you have a bad day, but I know you're going through your own stuff. Everyone has their shit."

"You sound like him." Stella shudders, looping their arms together and leading them down the halls like they're best friends again. And really, with Stella, they might be. The girl doesn't hold a grudge. "But I like it: the two of you. You really were dressing to impress. Have you made a move?"

"No- look, I-" she doesn't know where to begin, or how to explain, and Stella's eyes are really blue and piercing and a little frightening.

"Stone circle." Stella says, steering them to their next lesson. "Perfect. We'll partner up, our powers don't need too much guidance, and you can tell me everything. Finally. I feel like you never have any good gossip, when really, you should have the best considering your power."

"I don't really wanna talk about it, Stella-"

"Tough." Stella sings, navigating the cobblestones outside in her heels with enviable grace, "you're getting my help, whether you want it or not."

Musa thinks of the notebook tucked tenderly into her bag, of Riven writing her name, and he way he'd pulled her chair closer to his. The way she'd flushed hot all over at such an easy show of strength.

"Maybe I do need your help." She mutters, and Stella squeaks so loudly that two magpies leap out of trees into the sky with fright.

Riven's scanning instagram account after instagram account, looking for any girl in the school that bears a passing resemblance to the one he kissed on Halloween. A lot of them posted photos of themselves in costume, so it's easy to cross them off the list. But it's not really working. He can't quite get a fix on the features the girl had. The shape of her lips or her nose are a blur to him. He shuts off his phone in frustration and Sky pauses in his never-ending quest to do as many push-ups as possible.

"No luck?" He guesses and Riven clicks his tongue. "Maybe she doesn't go to our school."

He's considered that. "She said she'd liked me for a while."

"Maybe she's from some sort of facility? She's clearly not well."

Riven tosses a pillow at Sky, but it lacks heat.

Sky gets to his feet and reaches for a protein bar. "Maybe we should just accept that she's gone? You and Musa seem to have a pretty good thing going."

"Musa?"

"Don't play." Sky rolls his eyes, "I'm not blind. Also, you left me alone at a lunch table to puke my guts out while you made moon-eyes at her."

"I think the alcohol has seriously affected your recall abilities."

Sky shoves him a little, before joining him on the bed. "She's nice, she likes you, you like her. I'm not seeing the problem?"

Oh brilliant, they're doing this. A conversation about feelings. "We're friends." Riven says carefully, because Sky talks to Bloom and the last thing Riven needs is for Musa to hear some hacked, Chinese-whispers version of this. "We're good friends, and I don't know if there's anything more to it than that. We flirt, but..."

"You're a flirt." Sky nods, understanding. "You don't know if it's real?"

"Exactly."

"Well, do you want it to be?"

"Jesus, Sky, what are you, Freud?"

"Seems like a straight forward question."

"Well, of course." Riven erupts, getting to his feet and pacing the length of the room and back. "Of course, I'd like it to be real, why wouldn't I? She's the only person at this school that understands me. She's gorgeous, she makes me laugh, she-"

"Oh shit."

Riven turns to look at Sky, who's looking at him like he's grown two heads. "What?" He asks, feeling self-conscious, and Sky back-pedals.

"Nothing, I just- you...you love her. It sounds like. Like maybe you love her, a little."

Riven remembers his stomach tightening when she'd taken the seat beside him in History. Of the way he always seems to seek her out, how each buzz of his phone might be a notification from her.

Love is a far-fetched notion. But he likes her. A lot. Too much, sometimes. He always feels one breath way from over-playing his hand, from revealing his deck, and he just doesn't know if his flush is enough to get him through to the next round. He doesn't know if he can risk going all in. Doesn't know if he'll survive it.

"You've got to tell her, dude," Sky murmurs, and Riven nods.

He decides he'll do it in Specialism, but words fail him when he sees her on their training mat, hair in two high pig-tails, grinning at him in the morning sun. "Ready to get your ass-kicked?" She calls, as he drops down his bag beside her and joins her in their warm-up stretches.

"In your dreams." He says, wondering how they got here. Marvelling at the fact she's here, in their spot, on their mat, waiting for him with that smile. Wondering when and how and why she stuck by him when all he ever tried to do was shove her away. "Musa," he begins, watching as she fumbles with her laces. He knocks her fingers out of the way and laces them for her himself, the way he does every week. She emits a little pulse of gratitude and it wraps around him like an embrace. "You're getting better at that." He hums.

"It's pretty great," she beams, proud of the advances in her magic. She's been struggling for some time, but more and more often lately, she's able to communicate like that and Riven's rewarded by little pulses of smugness, playful, pleasure as she projects them at him in lieu of a response.

He wants to feel other emotions from her. He wants to know what want will feel like, knocking him to his core, knowing that she could show him if she wanted him, when she wanted him- "Musa," he tries again, when Dane's shadow falls over them both.

Riven glowers up at him and Dane's smile wavers. "Uh, hey Riven. Hi Musa."

Musa offers a small wave, and Riven gets to his feet. "What."

"I just- Sky told me a few days ago about that girl you were looking for? I think it might actually be a friend of my sister's. She's a second year too: transferred a few months ago. She's really nice, her name is Lila."

Riven takes a deep breath and keeps his voice low. "That's great, Dane. Now get lost."

"Uh, o-okay, do you want me to text you her number?"

"Scram!" Riven growls, and Dane high-tails it, and when Riven turns around, Musa's face is different, and she's lacing up her other shoe on her own, so skilfully Riven suspects she never needed any help at all, and crap.

"You've met someone," Musa says, smile tight, tone light hearted. "That's great."

Riven looks at her. "Is it?"

"Well, sure it is," she laughs, "you didn't say. When did you guys meet?"

He wants to rip his hair out in frustration. Does she not care? Is this all a front? Does she want him to find someone else because she can read all his emotions and the fact that he's in fucking love with her is creeping her out? Is she jealous? "On Halloween, actually."

Her eyes flash to him and away again. Her voice sounds heart-broken when she says. "Oh."

He can't bear the sound of it. He reaches for her wrist, staring at her as if he could peer into that brain of hers and get just a glimpse at whatever's going on. "I was looking for her, but I'm not anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because she's not you."

Musa's breath hitches, and Riven's hand on her wrist gentles, and her fingers touch his arm. "Riven..."

"Do you? Even a bit?" He asks wretchedly, trying to brace himself for her disgust. For her to pull away. Or maybe she'd do it gently, full of kind words and understanding, and honestly he's not sure which he hates more. But he won't lash out. Not at her.

She laughs, a little watery, and she moves so their fingers are twined together. "I've liked you for ages, Riven," she admits, and his heart swells, when-

It all fucking slots into place.

"Jesus." He groans, pulling her hand to his and kissing it. "It was fucking you, on Halloween, wasn't it? I should've guessed." He's such a moron. Of course it was her, who else could it be? Who else could hold even a candle to what he feels for her?

Musa's eyes are owlish. "What do you mean?"

"You're the goddess. The purple one."

Her cheeks flame and she ducks her head. "You remember that?"

"I just told you I was looking for her!"

"For me?!" She squeaks, "I thought you'd hooked up with someone afterwards-"

He pulls her in for a hug and wraps his arms tight around her. Smells her hair and feels almost giddy. "You thought I didn't want you." He breathes, the thought unfathomable. Does she not know? Does she not know the depth of his desire for her?

"Well, I don't know," she says mulishly, her voice muffled into his chest. Her arms are looped around his neck, and she fits into him: small and perfect. "I wasn't sure if it was more than flirting."

"It was. It is." He promises, and they pull apart, and he feels shy, suddenly, under her shining eyes. "Show me." He pleads quietly, "project it."

She worries her bottom lip with her teeth, but nods. "Alright, but if I turn this entire class into an orgy, that's on you."

When the love wraps around him, it isn't a pulse of emotion. It doesn't feel like finger-tips tracing over his skin, like her joy does, it feels like something else. Like warmth. Like turning your face into a shining sun, or putting your frozen-hands above a fireplace. It's heady and endless and perfect.

"Ow," Musa pants, and the warmth disappears, and she's standing in front of him, rubbing her temples. "Did that work?"

He steps forward and kisses her, leaning down, emoting as much love as he can, hoping she can feel it in her mind, or from their kiss, hoping that she knows, finally, that he's been waiting for her just as long as she's been waiting for him. Maybe longer.

"Oh," she murmurs, pleased-as-punch, when they pull apart. And he laughs.

"Yeah. Oh." He brushes her hair out of her face, "what does it feel like? My love?"

He's not sure what he expects her to say. Something about a beautiful rainforest, or perhaps a landscape. Maybe something like what he felt from her: a warm, life-giving heat.

But instead, she leans up to kiss him again and she says:

"It feels like you."

[blueaura]

Don’t Get Caught

A/N: Hey everyone, hope y’all are doing well. I wrote this little fic one-shot thingy for @crashdevlin​‘s 3k review challenge. I got prompt #13. Big congratulations to Cassie for hitting 3k followers! Hope Dean somewhat likes this fic.

Summary: Sam and Dean are hunters, but what if Y/N doesn’t want to be one?

Word count : 2.9k

“What’s for dinner tonight? If you say burgers again, I will tell Sam and then you’ll have to little with the ‘eat healthy’ lecture again.” You walked into the kitchen, peering over Dean’s shoulder to look at what he was making. “As much as I love your burgers, we’ve had them four days in a row and if I see another one today, I’m gonna actually throw up.”

“I liked it better when you didn’t snark back. Now it’s like living with teenage Sam all over again. Teenagers are the fucking worst,” Dean lightly quipped back giving you a look that confirmed he was just teasing. “And it’s chicken pasta tonight, you little monster. I can switch things up every once in a while.”

“You liked me better when I was too scared to offend you in case you threw me out?” you deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow at Dean. He gave you a look. He clearly didn’t appreciate your humour regarding your rough start with them.

You met Sam and Dean on a hunt. They were appalled that a 15-year-old was hunting alone and basically forced their way into your life. Dean, specially, refused to leave you alone, no matter how many times you pushed him away. Your parents had been hunters and not the most affectionate people, so when pushing the Winchesters away had failed and they had successfully wormed their way into your heart, you were so scared that the first real family you had was going to abandon you if you weren’t enough, you didn’t dare place a toe out of the imaginary line you had created for yourself. It took a long time for them to get you to open up to them and come out of your shell. You never knew why they chose you. From what you knew, they had met other hunter kids before but for some reason, instead of pawning you off to the first responsible adult who could keep you safe, they welcomed you into their life and their home. Your home, you reminded yourself.

“Pasta sounds great. You’re gonna make me fat with all your cooking you know. I’ll have to start running with Sam. I hate running with Sam,” you whined, changing the subject before Dean could start reprimanding you.

“Everybody hates running with Sam,” Dean said, letting go of your previous comment. “And you’re healthy, which is all that matters. I don’t want you thinking about getting fat, you do enough exercise to balance out your eating habits.”

You rolled your eyes. For a guy who claimed to hate ‘chick-flick’ moments, Dean Winchester sure initiated a whole lot of them. Dean lightly clipped you in the back of your head when he saw you shrugging of his words of wisdom. You could see he was gearing up for another lecture. He was such a dad.

“Where’s Sam anyway?”

Dean clearly knew what you were doing but he let you have your moment of victory anyway. If he had learned anything in the past 2 years with you, it was to pick his battles. So, he let it go. For now.

Sam came back in time for dinner. It was one of Dean’s new rules. If you were not on a case, dinner was family time and everyone had to eat at the table. Sam agreed. While Dean acted more like a dad than Sam, the younger Winchester was just as bad. You remembered when Sam accidentally found the pack of condoms in your room. You winced at the memory. There had been a lot of yelling, followed by an awkward conversation about being safe. It was traumatic for all parties involved and you both mutually decided not to tell Dean. If Sam overreacted, you definitely never wanted to see Dean’s reaction.

Being scared of Dean’s reaction was one of the main reasons why you didn’t tell him about the play you were taking part in for school. Yes, you had to go to school. Apparently, high school was important. While you hated school and people in general, you fell in love with theatre. Signing up for drama club had been a blessing for you. Pretending to be someone else and telling stories and being on stage was the only thing that got you through worrying about the brothers when they were out on hunts. But you knew you had to be a hunter. It was the family business after all. So, you never told Sam or Dean what you were doing.

You knew they were getting suspicious. The practices for the play were getting more intense and you could only use the excuse of having detention or staying back to study in the library so many times. For one, they knew that after five consecutive detentions, the school called the parents or guardians, and B – they knew how much you hated school. Just the fact that you were staying a minute more than you had to was a big red flag, specially when you had a perfectly good library at the bunker.

You still had to think of an excuse about going out at night on the final day. While the dress rehearsal was in the afternoon, the actual production was late in the evening and you knew there was no way you could sneak out of the bunker.

While you were pacing in your room trying to think of ideas, the brothers were contemplating your recent behaviour in the kitchen while they did the dishes.

“I don’t know man; she’s been shifty all week. I’m starting to get the feeling she wants us out of the bunker. She keeps bringing up every possible lead for a case. When was the last time Y/N purposely looked for a potential hunt? She hates being left alone. Something’s going on.”

Sam knew Dean was right. This was unusual behaviour for you. Even when you were mad at them, you never hid things. Coupled with all your lame-ass excuses for staying back at school, Sam had a feeling Dean was onto something.

“You don’t think something’s off at school, do you?”

Sam knew all about peer pressure. He also knew Y/N was extremely strong willed but so was he and he still got roped into smoking weed in college. Not that he thought Y/N would ever get into drugs, specially the heavy kind but there was always the niggling sensation at the back of his head going ‘what if?’.

“She would have told us if there was something bothering her,” Sam tried to sound confident but he could hear the uncertainty in her own voice.

Dean paused where he was drying the dishes, looked over at his brother and decided enough is enough.

“Here’s the thing – there’s trusting someone and just being plain stupid. Y/N is definitely hiding something and I’d rather she be mad at us for invading her privacy than regret not stepping in sooner. So, seeing how she desperately wants us out of the bunker next week, we’re going to go out of the bunker. Find a fake case Sammy, we’re going fake hunting.” Dean managed a nonchalant grin as he went back to his dishes. Sam contemplated for a moment and reluctantly agreed.

It was 2 days before the play and you still hadn’t figured out how to sneak out. You contemplated telling them you had a sleepover or a party to get to but they knew you well enough to know you didn’t get along with your classmates. If only you could dumb yourself down enough to socialise with them. You sighed and mindlessly browsed through the men of letters library.

“Hey kiddo, we found a hunt a couple of towns over. Looks like a simple salt n’ burn. You gonna be okay on your own for a couple of days?” Sam’s voice jerked you back to reality and when you registered what he was saying, you barely managed to keep yourself from squealing out loud.

Your giddiness must have been obvious as Sam and Dean shared one of those looks – the ones you hated – and asked you if you were alright.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. And yes, I’ll be good by myself. When are you guys leaving?”

If they had any second thoughts about their plan before, your answer just got rid of them. You were never this excited about a hunt and you always, always asked about every little detail.

“We’re probably gonna leave tonight, drive overnight to avoid the traffic. So, I for one am gonna catch some zee’s while I can. Unlike Disney princess hair over here, I won’t be getting sleep on the road.”

“You know that wouldn’t be a problem if you’d let me drive for a change!”

“Hell no, I ain’t listening to your classical crap.”

You shook your head at their antics as they walked away. Finally, things were going your way.

Things were not going your way. The brothers had left the previous evening (although they didn’t go far, but you didn’t have to know that). The day of the play had arrived and you were already nervous when you heard that the male lead was sick and his understudy had to step in. You hated him. He was one of those cocky high school boys who thought they were the shit. You had to reluctantly admit that at least the guy wasn’t the worst actor in the world. Although, if he kept hitting you with his cheesy pickup lines, you were going to stab him. Hard.

Dean and Sam spent the night at a motel before making their way back to the bunker after you’d left for school. After taking a quick shower and grabbing fresh clothes, the brothers took one of the more inconspicuous cars in the bunker basement and parked outside the school. They knew you would recognise the Impala immediately but you’d never really been interested in the other cars, much to Dean’s dismay.

“Never thought we’d be staking out Y/N,” Dean said wryly.

“Well, at least everything is normal for now. Maybe we were wrong and she’s just being a teenager you know.”

Dean doubted it but didn’t say anything. They waited for Y/N to come out when school finally ended but she never did. Sam even scoped out where the stoner kids were and she wasn’t there, much to his relief. Finally, Y/N came out 3 hours after school ended, looking extra tired but otherwise alright. The brothers shared a confused glance but sighed in relief. At least she wasn’t doing anything illegal.

You went straight home and fell asleep to recharge before your performance tonight. You got up in the evening, one hour before you had to be at school to calm your nerves.

Sam and Dean were confused. Y/N had done what she would normally do on any other day. Maybe she stayed in school for a longer time than usual but other than that, she didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.

Dean suddenly had a horrifying thought.

“Dude, if this whole thing is about a boy, I’m gonna actually kill her.”

Before Sam could reply, they saw Y/N leaving the bunker.

“It’s late. Where the hell is she going? And what the hell is she wearing?” Dean’s voice grew more incredulous with each question. “If she’s sneaking out to a party, I’m grounding her. I don’t care how old she is.”

They followed her without being seen. To the school? What the hell?

There was a lot of buzz at the school despite the late hour. Confused, the brothers got out of their car and followed Y/N inside, making sure to stay a few feet behind her.

“Is it just me or are there a lot of adults here?” Dean asked.

Then they saw the poster outside the hall Y/N had just entered. Rock Hills presents ‘West Side Story: the musical’. Sam stood there gaping at the poster and Dean had never been more confused in his life.

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know”

“Seriously. What the hell?”

“I don’t know!”

“Come on. Let’s go in,” Sam nudged his brother in the direction that the other parents were going.

The host said something about the show starting in 5 minutes but they ignored him and made their way backstage. They located Y/N quite easily. She was standing in a corner, mentally psyching herself. They made their way towards her and gently tapped her on the shoulder.

You were just minding your own business in the corner of the room before the show, going through the whole spiel of ‘why did I do this’ and ‘holy shit I’m gonna throw up’ when you felt a hand tap your shoulder. Startled, you jumped and turned around to glare at whoever disturbed you, when you froze. Sam and Dean were staring at you incredulously and had your legs been working you would probably have hightailed out of there.

“Fuck,” you softly exclaimed under your breath.

“Something you wanna share with the class kiddo?”

You couldn’t make out the exact emotion in Dean’s voice but it didn’t sound like anger. You held onto that and realised you had to be on stage in less than sixty seconds.

“Uhm, hold that thought,” was what you said instead. You went to peek through the curtain. Yep, 45 seconds.

“I love you! No time to explain – gotta go!”

With that you rushed on stage, more terrified than ever. That melted away once you started performing though. You forgot all about your worries for the duration of the play. You acted, sang and danced your heart out and when the thundering applause reached your ears and you saw the brothers in the audience cheering you on along with everyone else, you had a feeling it would be okay.

You were backstage again, taking off your stage make-up and gearing up to go face the music as it were. You were scared of the brother’s reaction and even you could tell you were procrastinating. Most of the other cast had left and it was time for you to leave too.

They were standing outside, leaning against a car. The first thing that stupidly came out of your mouth was – “Where’s baby?”

Dean laughed. A full belly laugh. You felt some of your anxiety leave your body.

The three of you looked at each other. Sam was the first one to make a move. He pulled you in for a tight hug, almost lifting your feet off the ground, kissing the top of your head.

“You were incredible, kiddo.”

You buried yourself into his chest as your eyes filled with tears of relief. Of acceptance.

“Thanks moose,” Your reply was muffled against his chest which moved with silent laughter at the nickname.

You finally pulled away from Sam when Dean cleared his throat. He looked at you blankly for a moment and dread filled your entire being.

“You ever pull something like this again, I will kick your ass.”

For a second you thought he was talking about the play and your heart dropped.

But then he pulled you into a hug too. You tensed, confused.

“Dammit kid, I don’t like being worried about you. Stop doing shit like this. Why the hell didn’t you just tell us you were taking part in this thing? You’re not nearly as good at the hiding thing as you think you are. I was terrified something shady was going on with you.”

Although he was almost yelling in your ear, you sagged against him as the tension seeped out of your body. This time you actually did start crying. Dean just hugged you tighter and Sam gently rubbed your back.

After a few minutes Dean pulled back a little and put both hands on either side of your head.

“You never have to hide anything from us. By now I like to think I know how your mind works and I can guarantee that I will never be mad at you if you want to pursue anything other than hunting. You’re not our kid because you’re a hunter Y/N/N. You’re family, regardless of your job. Clearly I’m not doing a very good job at this parenting thing if you don’t know that already.”

You furiously shook your head, hiding your face in his shirt again.

“You’re the best dad anyone could ask for. You both are.”

Your words were barely audible and your face was extremely red but the brothers still heard you and grinned at each other over your head.

“We love you too, kiddo.” Dean kissed your forehead and started walking towards the car, pulling you along.

“What do you say we get some ice cream and celebrate at the bunker? We could watch some movies, make some popcorn? You know what I’m in the mood for Sammy? West Side Story,” Dean grinned as you groaned into his shoulder.

The brothers continued to tease you as you walked to the car. You finally felt happy.

“But seriously guys, where is baby?”

[jupitermelichios]

As yet untitled sequel to Gotham Ghoul - Batman comics, Jason/Tim

Dick paced, and when that didn’t help calm him down, flipped over onto his hands and continued.

It was stupid to be nervous about Tim's visit, but the fact was that they hadn't really hung out since they got Tim back from the Iceberg the first time.

They'd been so close when Tim was younger, but after the Iceberg Tim had pulled back from everyone, stopped talking about anything other than the mission.

Dick had tried to reach out after Jack Drake was killed, but it was like Tim had forgotten everything Dick had taught him about letting himself be loved, and Dick had let himself be pushed away. He’ll take the guilt for that to his grave.

But Jason is helping, getting through to Tim in a way no one else has managed since his mom died, and Damian and Steph are forcing him to be social, and Cass never had any problems understanding him in the first place, and Bruce has stopped just assuming Tim is always fine and started actually asking and sometimes Tim even answers him.

Which just leaves Dick, out on the fringes. Not in Gotham. Not part of the normal patrol rota. Not in Tim’s life the way everyone else is.

He’s going to fix that though.

His apartment is cleaner than it’s been since he first moved it. He’s spent half a month’s pay on food he thinks Tim might actually eat, and more different bottles of spirits than he’s ever owned in his life before in the hope that he might actually persuade Tim to have a drink with him if the drink in question tastes like alcoholic cherry Zesti, and DVDs of like 50 really depressing films about toxic masculinity and also Twilight because you never know with Tim. He’s even put fresh sheets on the bed because when Tim was younger he could generally persuade him to sleep there with Dick instead of alone on the couch and he fucking misses being able to cuddle his baby brother.

He’s promised himself that he’s not going to talk about sex unless Tim starts it, and he’s not going to freak out even a little bit when Tim inevitably starts talking about cannibalism, or all those mysterious accidents he keeps having since he started dating Jason, or something else horrifying that Dick isn’t nearly twisted enough to think of. He’s going to be nice, and as normal as any member of his family ever gets, and remember that just because he doesn’t really have boundaries that doesn’t mean Tim shouldn’t.

He’s so caught up in worrying that he nearly jumps out of his skin when there’s a knock on his door. No one uses the door. All his friends are window kind of people.

He flips back onto his feet and generally tries to make himself look less like he’s been pacing upside down again. “Coming.”

He's expecting Mormons, or Girl Scouts, or one of his neighbours come to complain about something. He’s so surprised to see Tim standing there, in his good-boy-disguise clothes, that he doesn’t say anything, just stares.

“Hello Dick.”

“You’re using the door.”

Tim quirks a smile at him, and it makes Dick feel a little better that he recognises it as a smile when no one who doesn’t know Tim would. The muscles in his left cheek tighten momentarily, almost a twitch, and his eyes narrow slightly, and Dick knows that this is Tim laughing at his awkwardness. “I do that sometimes.”

“When?”

“When it’s daylight out and I’m not dressed for breaking and entering. Can I come in?”

Dick steps back too fast, doesn’t need another of Tim’s not-smiles to tell him that he’s being awkward, but he can’t help it. Tim is here, in his apartment. There was a time when he’d thought that would never happen again. “It’s good to see you, little brother.”

“Jason has been teaching me to appreciate being seen.”

“Comm sex?” Shit, he hadn’t been going to talk about sex, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t talk about sex unless Tim started it.

Tim doesn’t look uncomfortable though, he just nods and says, “that too.”

“So what, any time you’re not responding on the comms it’s because Jason’s describing how he wants to eat you?”

Tim gives him a long look, and then turns and heads towards the kitchen. “You’re not old enough for this conversation. I’ll tell you when you’re 21.”

“I’m 25!”

Tim turns just enough that Dick can see his grin, wider than before but still not really a real-boy smile, “31 then.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve been having comm sex since before you were in green panties, young man.”

“But how much of it was with someone who wanted to crack open your bones and eat the marrow?”

“You’d have to ask Roy. Kori doesn’t, Babs only does when I’m being especially annoying, Wally… is terrible at comm sex, he’s not big on delayed gratification. Roy though…” He’s joking. Mostly. Dick loves Roy, he always has and always will, but they’re not super sexually compatible. It’s always a balance between how kinky Dick’s willing to go vs how vannila Roy can take, and while cannibalism is definitely too far for Roy, he knows for a fact that blood-play isn’t.

“And now I’m regretting not getting to know him better.”

“You can’t just collect cannibals.”

“I don’t see why not. Anyway Damian and Steph aren’t cannibals, they just eat people.”

“Ah yes, of course, because that’s much safer.”

“If we cared about safe, we both would have laughed in Bruce’s face the first time he offered to mentor us,” Tim points out. “Safe and vigilantes don’t go together.”

“I want to tell you that exclusively socialising with people who want to eat you is stupider than dressing up in tights and punching people who want to eat you, but I might have to concede this one.”

“Glad you can see my point of view.”

“But putting your soft bits in the mouths of people who want to eat you is still stupider.”

[purplesurveys]

1122

survey by lets-make-surveys

1 - Would you describe yourself as neat, messy or somewhere in-between? Hardcore in-between. I tend to make a slight mess everywhere I go but I remember where everything is; which is exactly why it drives me crazy whenever my much-neater mom moves my stuff around in an attempt to help me.

2 - What do you have planned for tomorrow? Is that typical for you for that day of the week? Again, it’s a weekday so it’s just another typical work day for me. It’s a Friday though, so I’ll be looking forward to close out the week. I am reeeeally crossing my fingers that it won’t be hectic tomorrow, but of course that’s going to be a lie.

3 - If you have pets, when was the last time one of them needed to go the vets? Cooper was scheduled to go the vet late January, so I took him then. He needed to take a shot but I don’t quite remember what it had been for anymore.

4 - Would you freak out if you found a cockroach or other kind of bug in your home? Bugs are a normal sight so I wouldn’t freak out over them. Cockroaches are a different story, though.

5 - What’s your favourite kind of milk to drink (if you drink it)? I don’t drink milk by itself.

6 - Do you find that your skin has gotten worse since the beginning of the pandemic with having to wear a mask? It definitely has gotten worse. I have a pimple in between my eyebrows that’s been hanging out for a few months now and I can never seem to get rid of it. I think it’s because I’ve been staying at home where there are two dogs that aren’t always the cleanest, though, and not because of masks.

7 - Aside from Tumblr, what was the last website you visited and what were you doing on there? Twitter. I just checked for any new tweets on my timeline and if I’ve gotten notifications since I last visited.

8 - Do you use streaming services to watch TV? Which one is your favourite and what do you like to watch on there? I use Netflix and a free version of Viu, which really just gives me ads in between my shows which doesn’t bother me too much. On Netflix I mostly rewatch Friends whenever I need pick-me-ups; on Viu, I watch 2 Days 1 Night.

9 - Are you a fan of garlic bread? Only if it’s a side meal to pasta. I don’t seek it out on its own as I hate the strong taste of garlic.

10 - Have you had a good day so far? What have you been up to? If it’s first thing in the morning, what did you get up to yesterday? It was fine. It’s a holiday so I was looking forward to today all week hahah. I just caught up on rest and watched an episode of 2D1N; and I actually just got home from the local coffee shop since I desperately needed me time. It can get exhausting staying at home all week and seeing the same 4 people and not having a place where I can be entirely alone. After the coffee shop, I also stayed in the parking lot for an hour and a half so I could vape in the car, and also because the place was starting to become crowded.

11 - What’s your favourite way to eat your eggs? Poached, scrambled, or an omelette with a lot of fillings in it.

12 - When the pandemic is over, what is one thing you can’t wait to do again? Going back to the bar/club scene, traveling, and seeing all my college friends.

13 - Do you know anyone who could be described as a hoarder? How would you feel going into a house like that? I’m a bit of a hoarder but I stuff all the crap in my drawers. I’ve never been into a hoarder’s home where the situation could be considered extremely serious.

14 - What’s one thing (aside from essentials) that you spend the most money on each month? Has anyone ever told you you’re obsessed or addicted with it? Taking myself out to get nice food, which isn’t an essential in this case lol. It’s my favorite way of spoiling myself since I love food. I’ve definitely been told I’m obsessed, but it’s true so it doesn’t bother me.

15 - What’s your favourite way to get exercise? Is this something you do regularly or not? I just walk my dogs. Yeah, I try to do it a few times weekly.

16 - What’s your favourite genre of TV show to watch? What’s your favourite show that’s not from that genre? Dramas and sitcoms, mostly. I never expected to enjoy The Walking Dead but I did, at least until the 6th or 7th season.

17 - Would you rather be employed or self-employed? Why? Employed. I don’t think I’d ever be capable of running my own business.

18 - When was the last time you threw away food that had gone off before you got around to using it? Is that something that happens often? This doesn’t happen to me since I don’t cook, but the last time I had to throw out food was last month. I had ordered a Croque Madame at La Creperie and had my leftovers for takeout since I wasn’t able to finish it...then I forgot about it until a week later, lmao. It did not look and smell nice, obviously. But anyway, to answer the second question, I had a bad tendency to similarly forget about my packed food especially back in my college days; but since I just stay at home these days, this doesn’t happen a lot anymore.

19 - Do you do a job that requires you to wear a uniform? If not, what do you typically wear to work each day? No but we have a dress code, at least for the physical office. Business casual, then we have casual Fridays.

20 - Is your hair naturally curly, straight or somewhere in between? Do you wish it was different? Somewhere in between. Not really. I don’t feel too conscious about my hair, except for the fact that I wish it were less frizzy.

21 - If someone were to buy you flowers, what kind of flowers would you like them to buy you? I love flowers and would adore any kind.

22 - Are any of your electronics on charge right now? Nope but I know I have to charge my phone since it was at 6% the last time I checked. I’ll plug it in before I head to bed.

23 - Have you had to take a COVID test yet? Was it positive or negative? No, never had to. I deliberately avoid going to places where a swab test is required.

24 - Do you leave your house everyday? Is this for work, exercise, socialising or something else? Nah. Usually just on weekends, when I need time by myself. I use the time outside to recharge and see people other than family, even if the people I see are complete strangers.

25 - If an unknown number calls you, do you google the number to see who it was? I dunno if that kind of technology exists here, but I’ve never tried it and I doubt it would give me leads either.

26 - Given the choice, would you rather deal with a problem in person, over the phone or via e-mail? Depends on the gravity of the issue.

27 - Do you find it awkward when strangers try and make small talk with you? No. I appreciate it a lot, actually. If it seems as though they genuinely just want to make conversation I’d happily dive right into it.

28 - Have you ever fallen for a scam? Did you ever get your money back? Fortunately I never have.

29 - Who was the last person you argued with? What was the argument about and have you solved the problem yet? My mom; money issues. Yup.

30 - What colour are your bedsheets right now? When was the last time you changed them? I feel like I always answer this with my blue and yellow bedsheets, but I swear I change them every now and then. I just never encounter this question when I have another bedsheet in use lmao.

[atopearth]

Shall We Date? Ninja Shadow Part 33 - Tou Route

Lol at Kou and Sou eating soba whilst Tou does the work. They do seem pretty close though, mainly because Sou seems to really care for them both. But, Tou seems to always be on edge for some reason.. Ooh, so the three of them come from the village of Shinki, a hidden village that passes on the art of puppetry where they are able to manipulate puppets to fight. It’s kinda cool that Tou has a vermilion bird, Kou has a dragon and Sou has a white tiger. It’ll be nice to see them all. Anyway, the shogunate is offering them protection due to their village being destroyed and probably because their art form or fighting style is unique and important I guess. And it seems like Sou has some sort of amnesia since he was the village chief and he was there when the village was attacked, but he woke up with no memories of what happened, I guess that’s why Kou and Tou are rather protective of Sou? Although I feel like there’s probably more to it than that.

Well anyway, I’m not sure what’s wrong with Tou and why he doesn’t want to talk to “mere humans” (is he not human?🤔), but really, he’s starting to aggravate me with how rude he is to the heroine. Like, I doubt Kou really cares about the heroine but at least he’s polite, Tou is just straight up aggressive and I just want someone to punch him ugh. On the other hand, the heroine is way too resilient against Tou! Usually she’d at least get mad even if she persistently tries to get the guy to talk, but here, she practically just ignores Tou and tries to get him to talk about himself etc. I guess for someone who wants to be left alone, that can be infuriating lol. It was nice of Tou to find a lost kid even though he hates people. I guess he just doesn’t like to involve himself with others if he doesn’t need to. I thought it was kinda cute how he couldn’t help but react a little more softly towards the heroine after she called him nice haha. It was really sweet of the heroine to get Kou’s help on what Tou likes to eat, so that she could make him dinner as appreciation for him using his energy (with the vermilion bird) to find the kid and thus exhausting himself. I liked how considerate she was to leave the dinner next to him instead of touching him (since he doesn’t like being touched) to wake him up.

Lmao at Kou tricking Tou into praising the food without realising it was actually the heroine who made it. It was pretty funny when he tried to say it actually tasted awful when he realised, but it was also really sweet when he eventually admitted to the heroine that it did in fact taste really good. It’s nice that Tou is looking at the heroine more favourably, but at the same time, I feel like the heroine is allowing Tou to step all over her a bit too much. It’s like when he says one “nice” thing that any decent person would say, such as thank you or good morning or something, she reacts as if it’s like a blessing from the gods or something and it honestly feels really weird because it doesn’t match her character imo. Like, of course it’s nice that he’s more accepting and receptive to her now, but I feel like there are other ways to portray her happiness over it without undermining herself. LOL, it seems like Tou is actually kinda jealous of Ukyo and the heroine’s relationship, he probably wants to be as close and nice to her as Ukyo is, but is too shy to do it haha. It was really nice and thoughtful of the heroine to take Tou to the ocean since he doesn’t like people, it was pretty cool to actually see him enjoy himself playing with the waves with the heroine. I’m not a fan of Tou, but when he held her hand and said he wanted to be friends with her, he was honestly so cute.

Lmao when Mashiro kept touching Tou for the fun of it, so Tou used the heroine as a shield against him (since he’s fine with touching the heroine now) hahaha. Tou’s story wasn’t anything surprising considering how he is right now, but yeah, to be betrayed by a human that was nice enough to spend time with him and teach him things, only to have said human bring other people to surround him and try to kidnap him is definitely a frightening experience for young him. It’s saddening that those people skewered his view of humans, but I’m glad the heroine is able to show him the kindness of other humans. I found it especially cute when he held her hand and said he really appreciated her teaching him how to touch others🥺 HAHAHA, I love how Tou misunderstood the heroine for wanting to be a man and that’s why she’s dressed as one all the time���🤣 I’m surprised he already knew she was a woman though, I thought he would be a little more dense, but I guess he’s an observant guy. I never expected Kasumi to be a puppet! Like, I’m not surprised he was the one who attacked Shinki village etc, but to think he was a puppet that Tou randomly found and fixed over a long period of time was interesting.

Their party before their mission the next day seemed like fun, loved how Mashiro was causing trouble again and getting scolded by Makoto haahaha. On the other hand, it was logical of the heroine to want Tou to socialise with the others but it didn’t need to be done by sacrificing herself to her own loneliness! She could have guided him to talking to the others! But I guess she’s kinda jealous and sad that she won’t be the only one Tou would focus on anymore so she just left the party instead so she didn’t have to see it. Honestly, it’s kinda cute how she’s troubled over it. Omgg, Tou saying he didn’t want to leave Nagasaki because He finally made his first friend (the heroine) here so he doesn’t want to leave her, he’s so adorable!🥺 Btw, I really liked the heroine’s confession, kissing him on the cheek was so sweet~ I actually enjoy how vague Tou is about his feelings, because I feel like it’s pretty natural that he wouldn’t know whether these feelings of his are love or not. He’s spent most of his life avoiding people so he’s barely experienced what friendship and socialising with others is like, let alone romance! Haha. But knowing that the heroine is the only one he wants to touch and feels happy about being kissed by already shows how special she is to him anyway haha.

I love how confused Tou is about what it means to be lovers, and I love how Kou is constantly apologising to the heroine saying he doesn’t know what went wrong when he raised Tou and taught him about human stuff hahahaha. I agree with Sou, should just let things go naturally and I think he’ll eventually come to his own realisation of how it feels to be in love, since really, love isn’t something you can really teach someone, it’s something you’ll experience and feel, and I think Tou will be able to understand as long as his feelings for the heroine remain strong. The kiss was sweet~

Overall, I quite liked Tou. I thought I would dislike him (especially with how things went in the beginning) but he’s actually cuter than I thought, he’s definitely a guy that takes a while to warm up to though hahah, but when he softens up, he’s pretty silly and cute. I think as long as you understand that Tou is only a prickly guy because he’s never really learnt to interact with humans due to his past, you’ll find him more adorable as the story goes on, especially when the heroine influences him into trying harder to mingle with all the others, and it’s also pretty cute how the heroine acted towards Tou. She’s obviously the one who had to initiate everything, but it was sweet to see how he ended up being able to move her heart with how clueless he was haha. It was pretty nice and innocent hahaha.

[ververa]

‘From Eden’

That’s just a little experimet of mine 😌 Sorry if this is shit 🙏 Also sorry if there are any mistakes,but I’ve written it on my phone.

Ally Mayfair-Richards x Ellie Steple

Ellie was beyond annoyed when she was asked to go to the masquerade ball. It was a charity event and she was supposed to be a representative of the organisation for which she was working. The psychiatrist didn’t like the idea from the very beginning. Who could blame her, she was a doctor not a party animal after all. However, since she didn’t really have a choice she took the trouble and made a splash.

Since the moment she got off of the black Aston Martin everyone was looking at her. It’s not that she wanted to be in the spotlight. She just liked looking smart and stylish. And she, for sure, did in a long, white dress with a V-shaped low neckline and a white, lace mask on.

Ally, who was a host of the event, was entranced since she had laid her eyes on the other woman. The mayor had no idea who the beautiful lady was, but she got lost in everything about her. There was about a million people in the place, but Staple was the one who had Ally’s attention. There was something about her. She was like a fire. The power she was emanating made the politician got out of her mind. She wanted to play with that fire even at the price of getting burn.

The psychiatrist didn’t really socialise at the party. They were all too boring for her, but she couldn’t leave just like that. She was sitting at the table, tied down with a boring conversation, when she spotted Ally. Ellie could feel the woman’s gaze and she couldn’t deny it was giving her a tingle. She kept on talking with the group of morons, who acted as if they’re experts in her field, but actually knew nothing. She was fighting the inner need of punching the man, who was constantly speaking However, since Ally had come into view she had a nice distraction and the whole conversation became more bearable. Ally came as a mysterious and excitative creature. She was like an unexplored object of study. An undiscovered case that cannot be decipher just like that. She was one in a million. And Ellie as a psychiatrist wanted nothing more, but to see the rest. To examine. To touch. To taste the secrets that were hidden behind a black and white mask which the woman was wearing. Yet she wasn’t going to do anything about it. She didn’t have time for all that. Besides romantic relations weren’t for her – she kept on telling herself.

Ally was waiting patiently. She knew already that the other woman noticed her, so she was hoping the beauty would make the first step. But as she spotted a man hitting on her ‘haul’ she couldn’t wait any longer.

“What is somebody like you doing in a place like this alone?” the man asked Ellie

“Go away, darling, if you don’t get a death wish” the psychiatrist said not looking at the stranger

“I see, you like to play hard to get”

“No” she shook her head “My tolerance for stupidity is just limited”

Ally – who was right behind them – couldn’t help, but smiled at the other woman’s response.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone for so long, baby” Ally said embracing the psychiatrist in attempt to deter her potential rival

Ellie was taken aback by a sudden touch, but she didn’t let it show. She only smirked at the man and decided to play along.

“That’s alright, sweetheart”

“I’m sorry, are you lost?” Ally addressed the man

“I… well no. I thought… I mean you shouldn’t leave such a beautiful woman alone. Someone may try to steal her from you”

“You mean a person such as yourself? Well, I think that my dear darling wouldn’t fall for a lowly and boring type of a man like you” Ally moved even closer to Ellie

The psychiatrist leaned into Ally’s touch. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling widely amused by the man’s face expression.

“Right. I’ll… I should check if they’re not looking for me”

“Oooh definitely” the mayor agreed

“That would be a shame if they wouldn’t be able to find you” Ellie added sarcastically

Finally the man left them alone, though Ally didn’t move. She was still having her arm wrapped around Ellie.

“I really appreciate your help, but I’m not your baby” the psychiatrist shifted trying to escape Ally’s hold

“You could be though…” she was cut off by Ellie’s intense gaze

“Could I?”

“For sure”

“I’m not that easy, dear darling”

Ally smirked

“Do you enjoy the party?” she asked sure that she would be able to take the pride of being the one who organised it

“Honestly, I do not. It’s the worst party in my life. I mean no offence, I don’t like such events in general, but it’s just horrible. The food is awful and cold, but the worst is probably limited range of alcohol. I mean well the bartender is visibly not qualified enough. They could have found someone better, who wouldn’t try to flirt with every moving creature. He clearly is desperate. I’d say a bit obsessed. Probably has some kind of mental disorder. That should be checked before they hire anyone…”

That was pretty a lot of information for Ally to take, but she did it as good as she could.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind next time”

“Wait” Ellie looked at the other woman intently examining her features “It was you… You organised the ball. You’re Ally Mayfair-Richards? Oh shit, sorry… I didn’t realise…”

“That’s okay. I do appreciate honesty”

The psychiatrist smiled awkwardly.

“So, since you don’t enjoy the party, would you like to go on a walk? I’d like to somehow compensate you for all the inconveniences… And hopefully, maybe you’d like the garden that I designed”

“Actually, I’d love to. Anything is better than those imbeciles and their retrograde way of perception”

They kept on talking about everything and nothing. Ally still knew barely anything about the other woman, but was taken by the conversation piece. There was something magic about Ellie. Something wholesome and precious. Something in her had such a power that Ally could barely tear her eyes away. And when she looked into her eyes Ally got out of her mind.

“Oh no” Ellie sighed spotting two men going towards them “Here we go again” she rolled her eyes causing Ally to chuckle

“Do you know what I like about men?”

“What?”

“Their girlfriends” she said and kissed her

It was a gentle and rather a short kiss, but it left the psychiatrist breathless

“Well… that definitely compensates for all the flaws of the party” Ellie smiled

“Why don’t we see where it go?”

“Let’s figure it out”

That’s all it took for them to end up in Ellie’s hotel room.

“You’re mine. All mine” Ally whispered kissing down the other woman’s neck and slowly taking off her lace bra

“I’m yours tonight…” Ellie moaned at the feeling of Ally sucking on her collarbone

Ally had her mind made up from the very beginning. Since she saw gorgeous doctor she wanted to feel her body and couldn’t resist it. And she got what ahe wanted.

Seeing Ellie like that – dishevelled and completely lost in lust – she felt as if she was watching her groovin’. She was moving so naturally that Ally was in awe. She enjoyed every second. When Ellie wrapped her cold fingers around her throat and let her head fall back Ally was on the edge of glory. She couldn’t feel anything, but pride that she was a part of that incredible rite. She was moved more than ever before by anybody and wanted the moment to last forever. At that moment Ally knew that her new desire was to praise Ellie as if she were a goddess, because for her she truly must have slithered on eart from Eden.

@misssmephisto

[seonghwa-things]

Just A Party

This is part 3! Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: kinda angsty, like one swear

“It’s just a party. Don’t worry too much about it.”

De Jun looked over at his roommate. “It’s not that simple, Sicheng.”

He thought his friend had it easy - Sicheng was tall and thin. Everything fit him perfectly. He didn’t have to try to look good.

And his ex wasn’t attending the party.

“Are you seriously still hung up on that?” Sicheng sighed, stepping toward De Jun and fixing his collar. “Tonight’s about Kun, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll just be a couple minutes,” he said, turning to his mirror.

“I’ll go start the car.”

De Jun nodded, running his fingers through his years. After four years, Kun had successfully earned his degree. And after four years, De Jun still yearned for Yang Yang. Stupid.

Tonight was about Kun, and De Jun was determined for it to stay that way.

***

As he stepped into the house, De Jun was overwhelmed. Lights flashed, music boomed, and the smell of alcohol tainted the air. You know, the usual. Unusual though, was some kid hanging upside down off the stairs, and a dude dressed as Santa (it was April).

Sicheng disappeared quickly into the crowd, leaving De Jun alone in the doorway.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

Glancing around the room, he figured out the quickest route to the kitchen. One that included the least amount of people.

The kitchen was empty as he entered it, most people socializing in the living room. De Jun poured himself a glass of water, not being much of a drinker himself. He usually avoided parties.

“Since when does Kun have so many friends?” he sighed, leaning against the counter. He didn’t understand how people could be so social. In the last four years, De Jun had had a couple close friends (Sicheng and Yukhei), and some acquaintances (Kun and Guanheng). Even then, he only saw Yukhei every couple weeks, and Sicheng more often, but just because they lived together. His mother had told him that growing distant was just a part of growing up. It was starting to seem like she was right.

De Jun wondered if he should join the crowd, if anyone (besides Sicheng) even knew he was here. He supposed he should at least congratulate Kun before he left.

So he walked out of the kitchen, immediately running into someone. He was thankful that it was Yukhei. They exchanged quick greetings, and Yukhei lead De Jun to the room that Kun was in.

“Is he here yet?” De Jun asked Yukhei, as quietly as he could while still being heard over the music.

Yukhei shook his head. “They’re coming in about an hour if you wanna socialise and get out before then.”

“Thanks,” De Jun smiled. Yukhei and Sicheng were opposites regarding De Jun’s feelings. Yukhei respected his emotions, while Sicheng often told him to get over it. De Jun appreciated both.

It wasn’t like De Jun hadn’t seen Yang Yang in a long time - they’d hung out as a group just last week. He was just never prepared.

Some nights were better than others, and De Jun was able to handle it. Sometimes it was like he’d never liked Yang Yang in the first place. And then he’d be alone, and his mind would wander.

He thought he was stupid for having this crush for so long, especially when he’d been treated so poorly. But he’d never gone more than two weeks without seeing Yang Yang, so he’d not really had the chance to get over it.

De Jun shook his head clear, and made his way over to Kun, giving him a hug, and a congratulations. He sat nearby for a while, listening in on the conversations. He learnt quickly that: Kun was moving away to go to grad school, Guanheng had a girlfriend, and that Yukhei was getting a dog. Apparently he’d missed a lot.

Missing things was all he seemed to do now.

***

Yang Yang and Ten arrived separately.

Ten arrived quarter past nine, already drunk. He greeted everyone but De Jun. They hadn’t been on good terms for a long time. De Jun wasn’t phased by it. Ten was barely civil sober.

Yang Yang didn’t show up until almost eleven. And seemingly without a drop of alcohol in his system. He was quieter than normal, but De Jun was certain he had some sort of reason. Maybe he didn’t want to outshine Kun tonight.

De Jun watched Yang Yang’s mood brighten as he started interacting with others. Somehow Yang Yang got along with everyone, stranger and friend alike. De Jun wished he could be like that.

Letting Yang Yang take over the bulk of the conversation, De Jun sunk back into his chair, wondering if he should get himself ready to go. As the night progressed, Yang Yang and Ten would likely fill the room with PDA, and De Jun definitely wasn’t in the mood to see that.

He let himself fall farther into his chair as Yang Yang sat on the arm of it. De Jun was almost certain Yang Yang hadn’t even processed that he was sitting there (the boy was so wrapped up in his story), but he didn’t want to engage in a conversation. Not tonight.

Yang Yang sitting on the arm of the chair quickly turned into Yang Yang squishing himself beside De Jun in the seat. De Jun hadn’t even been acknowledged yet, but he was practically being sat on.

“Dude...seriously?” he finally spoke up, earning Yang Yang’s attention.

“What?” Yang Yang started. “Oh shit, uh, sorry,” he said, clearly noticing their proximity. “I can move, there just aren’t exactly a lot of seats. I didn’t mean to like, fall onto you.”

“It’s okay. I was gonna go get some air anyway.” De Jun removed himself from the situation, finding his way onto Kun’s back porch.

He slumped against the railing, taking a deep breath. The air was refreshing, and didn’t taste of stale liquor. He was thankful for that. The music was slightly muffled behind the closed door, and for a moment, he felt like he could think clearly.

Was Yang Yang actually unaware of who was sitting in that seat? Or was he trying to push it? Maybe he thought that they were closer than De Jun felt them to be.

De Jun tesnsed when he heard the door open, but kept himself facing the trees in the backyard. It was probably just someone coming out for a smoke.

“Jun..?”

De Jun spun around. Yang Yang was standing barely two steps away from him.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Yang Yang continued. “I thought we were, well, closer now, and that me trying to act a little more casual around you would be okay.”

Nodding, De Jun tried to find his words. “No, it’s fine, I just..” he paused. “You took me by surprise is all. Didn’t think that was something that Ten would be okay with.”

Yang Yang’s face morphed into one of confusion. “Why would Ten care?”

“Well aren’t you guys-’

“We broke up like a month ago.”

“Oh.” De Jun froze. Yang Yang and Ten had still been pretty close when they hung out last week. “What happened?”

“He’s moving across the country. I’m not good with distance,” Yang Yang shrugged. “I wanted to tell you first, but I felt like you wouldn’t want to hear it," he hesitated over his next choice of words. "Why don’t we talk anymore?”

De Jun grimaced. “Because Ten told you I was changing you.”

“I guess I was pretty blindsided.”

Yang Yang laughed awkwardly, running his hands through his hair. De Jun couldn’t take his eyes off him.

They stood in silence for longer than De Jun would’ve liked.

“I’m gonna go back inside,” De Jun started.

Yang Yang quickly grabbed his wrist. “Stay. I-” he fumbled. “Can we start over?”

De Jun hesitated, but found a smile growing onto his face. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

[wings-of-a-storm]

Phew, I am half way through unraveling my thoughts on Lucas’ and Eliott’s big afternoon together. As the flirting gets more blatant, my posts get longer -- I don’t make the rules.

I’m saving your dashes with a cut though! :)

ELIOTT’S APARTMENT

So already one obvious question comes to mind: does Eliott live alone instead of with family? Because that room they were in screams bachelor pad. Plus there was no bed there, so no way is that tiny, cluttered room shared with anyone else as an actual living room. Not with Eliott’s drawings and belongings scattered everywhere. So if Eliott is living alone, I wonder how this will or won’t affect the setting of later plot.

BEER FOR TWO

Eliott saying he has some beer to lend Lucas and then coming out with a ‘suitcase’ of the stuff is pretty funny. I’m not sure if it is supposed to show us that Eliott likes to socialise a lot with friends, or that he might use it as a coping mechanism when his you-know-what gets overwhelming, or whether it is just to show us the difference in age/experience between them – that Eliott can afford loads of beer and is independent already to have such a cache of it stored up (he must surely live away from his parents!), or that he generally lives the life of a university student more than a highschooler (but I’m not French so what do I know?).

What I love though is that Elliot came into the room with two extra beers to visually lure Lucas into staying longer. He could have just asked Lucas if he wanted a beer and then gone off to get a bottle upon hearing his answer, but our sneaky Racoon wanted to make sure Lucas would really stay. How can you say no to someone already holding up beer (especially when they are already doing you a favour)? Plus having the item right in front of you is so hard to resist and so, I dunno, action-oriented (I’m sure there are studies on it). Smooth work there, Eliott. True lit student?

ELIOTT’S SPIRIT ANIMAL: THE RACOON

I love how open Eliott is with Lucas about his drawings; that he actually told Lucas that the racoon was meant to be a portrayal of himself. That is very personal information, right there.

BUT THE RACOON LOOKS SO SAD. DON’T DO THIS TO US, ELIOTT!

From the get-go, Eliott has been so open with Lucas and keeps offering bits of himself up even though Lucas doesn’t often reciprocate. Is this to make his secrets all the more painful? Because you get fooled into thinking Eliott is just this warm, open person who is upfront about everything? (Am I being too coy, Skam France? What I meant to ask was: is Eliott’s consistent openness a way to make the end of the episode that much more painful for Lucas? Because he was not expecting that sort of omission from Eliott? Ouch France. Very ouch.)

Anyway back to Eliott’s love of raccoons. How cute is it when Eliott got a little defensive when Lucas shortened ‘racoon’ to ‘rat’ and Eliott was like: IT IS A RACCOON! SHOW SOME RESPECT, BOY! Okay maybe it wasn’t so cute -- Lucas insulting the raccoon is like insulting Eliott and a representation he holds dear in his heart, and for a second, he seemed to take it to heart.

In Skam Italia, we had a deceptively brilliant spirit animal chosen for Niccolò and his state of mind (the giraffe whose heart fell in love before its head caught up), and now we have Eliott’s raccoon.

The most obvious connection Eliott has with racoons is from his own words: they wear a mask. Eliott points out this characteristic to Lucas in typical youthful exuberance, as if it is Zorro or something. But in reality, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who felt pretty sad hearing him say it despite his adorable smile – it feels like he is already masking (pun definitely intended) why he is drawn to the idea hiding your full identity.

It is pretty interesting how Eliott’s internal turmoil is already being foreshadowed, actually. In previous versions, we’ve seen the pictures his counterparts have drawn and stuck on their walls. We’ve tried to study them to figure out what our Evens were trying to creatively express about themselves as they drew them. But the drawings have never been overtly explained to us by their actual owner before! The mask reference is unmistakable and a real little gem of an insight into how Eliott views himself in the world.

Aside from feeling like he has to wear a mask, I wonder what other elements of the Racoon will come into the storyline later…

‘HOW WOULD YOU DRAW ME?’

Oh my god, Lucas. Just oh my god. No matter how many times I rewatch this clip, my jaw drops at how bold Lucas is. Like have you no shame, child?!

A) Asking Eliott how he would draw him is basically Lucas saying: LOOK AT ME. STUDY ME. TURN ALL YOUR ATTENTION ONTO ME. LET THERE BE A MOMENT IN THE WORLD WHERE ALL YOU DO IS THINK ABOUT ME.

B) I know we’ve all been joking about ‘Draw me like one of your French girls’ but it does feel that intimate. Drawing a portrait, whether it is a spirit animal or not, is an intimate affair. Not necessarily Jack Dawson’s naked ladies-of-the-night kind of intimate, but still exposing on some level. Lucas was basically all: I want to get intimate with you. Challenge accepted or not?

B) The context of their conversation was about spirit animals, about Eliott knowing himself so well, he can see his own characteristics in a specific animal. But how the hell is Eliott supposed to know Lucas well enough to nominate an animal or even have a basic concept of Lucas so early in their acquaintance? They have spoken twice. Lucas asking Eliott how he’d draw him assumes that he is important enough in Eliott’s sphere for Eliott to actually know him the way he’d know a close friend. And since Eliott doesn’t know him that way, it is almost like a challenge to get to know him that way.

C) It is such a huge assumption that Eliott would have the time to even verbally craft a drawing of Lucas. That, my friends, is a transaction. Lucas just robbed Eliott of a suitcase of beer and now he’s demanding something else from him? I know he didn’t ask for an actual drawing, but even just coming up with a theoretical one takes time and thought. The boldness, Lucas, the boldness.

It was all such shameless flirting. Can you imagine Isak or Martino being bold enough to be all: draw a picture of me, babe, and add me to your collection. It was like Lucas skipped testing the waters and just went straight for it.

But somewhere along the way, Lucas must have felt confident enough to go there. Was it because he had seen how open-minded Eliott was in Polaris? Or because he was picking up on their own vibe together? Whatever it was, he was comfortable enough around Eliott to truly flirt. Our baby gay is actually flirting with another boy! But it makes the betrayal at the end of their afternoon so painfullll. I am sensing a pattern here, Skam France: ouch!

And the flirting worked. Because Eliott saw what Lucas was doing and fought fire with fire: damn right he took the opportunity to study Lucas’ face, to openly gaze at him for as long as he wanted and really take him in. (And Lucas ‘bold gay’ Lallemant didn’t even drop his gaze!) I love how Eliott even tilts his head back and steps back for a proper look, like challenge accepted, Lucas Lallemant.

But, incredibly, the quality of his gaze seems to shift, as if we can actually see his artist mindset clicking into place while he appreciates the angles of Lucas’ features and enjoys them.

It felt like such an intimate moment.

Of course what happens next, my friends, is the moment when Eliott drops one of the biggest lies of his life: “I don’t know how I’d draw you.”

L.I.A.R. My mind legit screams that every time I see him take that swig of beer.

Seriously, did you notice Eliott’s foot trying to push the folder full of Lucas’ drawings under the couch? Okay I am joking but those sketches of him must surely exist somewhere. If just glimpsing Lucas on his first day of school inspired Eliott to take another look at Polaris (as seen by the dates on his instagram account), he surely would have doodled Lucas and some of the things he had seen him do with his friends. That sip of beer seemed so much like guilt and thinking fast to cover himself. He lowered his head and everything. Guilllllllty. (Either guilt because he had already drawn Lucas, or guilt because he just got a flash in his mind of the perfect sketch and it was too personal for sharing.)

What I love though is how serious Eliott suddenly sounded when he said: “I’ll have to think about it.” Like even though they had both been half-joking about the whole drawing thing, Eliott really does want to try drawing a portrait of Lucas in whatever form and he is so flustered about that desire when confronted with Lucas’ seemingly omniscient gaze.

And then Lucas does that eyebrow wiggle and Eliott goes from barely-holding-on flustered to send-help flustered. He not only broke the super charged eye contact with Lucas, but had to physically turn his head away to hide his face from him!

Not only that but he suddenly brings up smoking weed out of nowhere -- it had absolutely nothing to do with anything they had been talking about! I imagine it is because smoking weed is Eliott’s go-to method to calm down and he really needed to in that moment so it just came out of his mouth.

And, well, luckily for Eliott, Lucas is a snake that has no qualms about offering up his friends’ weed for further bonding time. ;)

As other people have already mentioned though, it is such a fascinating change that there is such mutual woo-ing going on; that Eliott is charming and Lucas sees it and raises it and ends up knocking Eliott out. It happened with the piano obviously, but this clip is where it really begins.

[eldritchsurveys]

604.

What do you do for work? >> I don’t.

What would you ideally like to do for work? >> Ideally, I’d like to do something constructive -- as in, something that directly contributes to the care and maintenance of the community -- that doesn’t require me to keep unnecessarily long hours (necessarily long hours are a different story) and where my time, energy, and mental health are respected. Typing that made me feel silly because I could already hear the socialised inner voice chastising me for being so ~grandiose or whatever. That inner voice is probably exactly why corporations and employers get away with treating their workers like wage slaves who should be grateful to be employed at all.

What are you doing in order to achieve this? >> Anyway, yeah, I’m not doing anything to achieve that. I’m not even sure how I would, in this society. But in the meantime, I’ll be grateful that I still have a government income and my life partner appreciates and supports me despite my unemployment.

What is the meaning of your life? What is it that you really live for? >> I’ve put the search for meaning on hold. I live for the sake of living, for now, because that’s as good as anything else.

Have you ever REALLY thought what it means to have children? >> Yeah. It’s pretty daunting (understatement of the year, but I can’t think of a better, clearer word right now).

Are you planning to have children anyway? >> I am not.

What is the most awful thing about the world today? >> I don’t know.

What do you think is the worst being on the planet? >> I don’t think anyone is the worst being on the planet.

Have you ever been arrested? If so, what for? >> No.

Have you ever been in court? If so, in which role? >> Yes. Defendant. (I’ve also been to civil court, a much less dramatic process.)

Which do you think is a more valuable being, a human or an animal? >> I personally place more value on the humans in my life than I do the animals in my life. 

What, in your opinion, will cause the end of the world? >> I don’t have any opinions about “the end of the world”.

What does your mother do for work? If she's a homemaker, any specific reason for this? >> ---

What about your father? What does he do? >> ---

How do you like your coffee? >> Black.

If you're of age, what's your favourite alcoholic drink? >> I have so many.

If you're under-aged, what is your favourite soft drink? >> ---

Do you smoke? If so, did you start when you were 18 or were you younger? >> I don’t smoke anymore, but I started when I was in my mid-20s (I stopped at around 30).

Did your parents approve of your smoking/alcohol use before you turned 18? If you started before the age of 18. >> ---

Do you have siblings? If not, skip the next few questions.

Are you eldest, in the middle or youngest?

How big an age gap is between you and your siblings?

Do/did your siblings cause trouble?

If your siblings are old enough, what do they do for work?

Have you ever been jealous of your siblings? If so, why?

Do you still live with your parent/s or do you live alone/with a partner? >> I live with a partner.

What do you think about growing up? >> I don’t really understand the concept, aside from learning to take responsibility for oneself and stuff like that.

What about having responsibilities? >> I think it’s important.

Do you know how to cook? If so, what's your favourite thing to cook? >> Sure. I don’t have a favourite thing.

What about baking? >> I don’t bake.

Do you ever drink tea? >> Yes.

Have you ever followed any of these fad diets that go around? >> No.

What do you usually order at your favourite restaurant? >> ---

Do you prefer a proper restaurant to a fast food place? >> I definitely do.

Is there an arcade anywhere near where you live? If so, have you ever been there? If you have, what's the game/s you usually play? >> There’s a Dave and Buster’s not too far away. I’ve never been there, though.

Have you ever played pinball? If so, an actual machine or on a computer? >> Yes. Both.

Have you ever taken part in a pinball tournament? If so, what has been your highest position? >> No.

What's your dream vehicle? >> ---

What about your dream house? >> ---

What is the biggest dream of your life? >> ---

If you could travel to another country right now, where would you go? >> It doesn’t matter.

What is a country you'd never ever visit? >> I don’t know.

Are you good at taking care of your finances? >> Sure.

Have you ever had any trouble paying your bills? What about your rent? >> Sure. I’m on a fixed income, it’s bound to happen at some point.

What do you think is the best thing about being an adult? What about the worst? >> I think the best thing is having agency -- being completely responsible for myself, for better or worse. It was all I wanted when I was a minor, to be able to make my own decisions and deal with whatever consequences occurred. The worst thing is, you know, coming to terms with mortality and banal shit like that.

Is there a person in your life, who wastes their life somehow? If so, how are they wasting their life? >> I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to say that someone is wasting their life.

What is something you need to do, but you keep postponing it? >> ---

Do you think life should just hand things to you? >> No.

Or should you earn the things you want and need with hard work? >> I think that’s exactly how it should go. But I think despite the fact that the society I live in claims that’s exactly how it goes, it... doesn’t always. Plenty of people work very hard but don’t reap the rewards of that work -- someone else, in an office, high above the earth, reaps the rewards instead. I don’t think actual work is truly valued in this society.

Would you rather live off government benefits or earn your own money? >> I don’t even have a preference at this point. I’ve seen what you have to do to earn money in this country. I’ll deal with the stigma of disability.

When you take a survey, do you skip questions? If so, what kinds of questions? >> Yeah. Questions I can’t answer.

What type of a survey do you skip altogether? >> Anything that doesn’t look interesting to take.

Why, do you think, people write lyrics as the title for a survey? >> Because it’s fun, dawg.

If you have a Facebook, what do you use it for? >> So people can contact me. I really don’t do anything on it.

If you have a Twitter, what do you use it for? >> ---

If you have a Tumblr, what do you use it for? >> Entertainment and indulgence, mostly.

If you have an iPhone, why? >> ---

If you have an iPad, why? >> ---

If you have the latest electronic gadgets, did you pay for them yourself? If not, then who did? >> I don’t have “the latest” anything. But yes, I often do pay for my own electronics, except when Sparrow buys them for me.

Do you always put your litter in a trashcan? If not, why not? >> Yeah. I’d rather carry my trash than litter.

When you walk/ride your bike/drive your car, are you careful? If not, why not? >> Well, I mean... yes????

What is the rudest thing a person could do or say to you? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever been that rude to someone else? >> I’ve been rude enough, I’m sure.

Do you think your parents are proud of you and what you do with your life? >> No. I know for a fact he is not.

Which would you rather be, famous or a "nobody"? Why? >> I would much rather be a nobody. Because it means I have the most freedom.

Do you need to have the latest fashion in clothes and accessories? >> No.

If you have a job, do you get along with your co-workers? >> ---

What kind of hobbies do you have? >> Just your average ones.

Would anything in the whole world make you give up any of those hobbies? >> I really can’t imagine why I would have to.

Have you had/do you have any pets? >> Yes.

Do you even like animals? >> I like them a whole lot more when they’re out in the wild, but we all make sacrifices, huh.

If you aren't already, would you ever get married? If so, what for? >> ---

If you are already married, what was the ultimate reason for the marriage? >> Legality. For instance: I have no family, so who else is going to be able to advocate for me at the hospital if I am incapacitated and unable to advocate for myself?

As a child, did you do anything really bad? If so, what was it? What were the consequences? >> Not to my knowledge.

As a teenager, did you do anything really bad? If so, what was it? What were the consequences? >> No, but I sure had a lot of bad things done to me.

Do you have a problem with authority? >> Sometimes.

What's your favourite comic strip? >> I don’t read comic strips anymore.

Is there a piece of clothing you absolutely must wear every day? >> Underwear, like, in general...

Has a doctor ever told you to lose weight? >> No.

Have you ever been diagnosed with a lifelong disease? >> No.

What is something you absolutely hate? >> Meh.

What about something you absolutely love? >> Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. (A song from the soundtrack is playing on my Spotify right now, lol.)

[silentlytypingyou]

About Those Types Misconceptions

INFP: They’re fierce - INFPs often remain silent and are very observant of other people and what makes them who they are, but this apparent softness hides a very passionate drive to do what is right, and if ever a situation or a person does not align with their principles, you will definitely know about it - do not underestimate them.

ENFP: They’re very analytical - Yes ENFPs can seem a little crazy and like they’re constantly fooling around, but it is to be remembered that this type is extremely perceptive of their environment and of ideas, that they dissect carefully and draw conclusions from. They have true depth, and labelling them as shallow would be a big mistake. 

INFJ: They’re quite independent - It may sound strange but INFJs are quite independent. They strive to help people to be better individuals and to make the world a nicer place, but they follow their own rules and will not hesitate long to react if you go against them. Harmony is their priority, but don’t you cross them. The difference with INFP is that INFPs will simply see this other person who does not conform to their vision as not really worth their time, INFJs on the other hand trying to change this person’s mind-set for a kinder approach, etc.

ENFJ: They struggle - ENFJs are probably the most disorganised of all J-types, and they take on sometimes way more than they can carry. Even if these guys try to help people as much they can, sometimes it isn’t enough and that can go against them. The bubbly stereotype does not apply to all ENFJs unfortunately, since they can get depressed easily, and thereby stop their advising functions.

INTP: They really care - INTPs can sometimes seem off and uninterested, but this most-likely comes from a system of self-defence to prevent them from harm, as they may have been previously neglected for their ideas or conceptions of the world, and have been misunderstood. If an INTP likes and cares for you, there is nothing they would not do, and their aloofness is not to be taken as pride or smugness (although sometimes they like to be ;) and they genuinely care. 

ENTP: They’re just feeling half the time - ENTPs are absolutely mind-blowing master concealers. Their emotions get triggered by the littlest things, and they spend a lot of their time, if not almost all of it, concealing what they perceive as weaknesses under fair amounts of witty comebacks and confidence. These people are actually great empaths, but their chosen priority being logic, they often toss those feelings away for later, and often avoid them until it’s too late.

INTJ: They have feelings - Similar to ENTP, except INTJs truly master their emotions, and manage to chanel them instead of shutting them away. INTJs have a good deal of feelings, except they don’t necessarily feel the need to talk about them, and prefer rational advice when considering their emotional needs, which is seldom given. INTJs openly reject the myth that they lack feelings, and may feel even more misunderstood when they have the impression that they are expressing them, as sometimes they do, but in ways most people don’t perceive because they are seemingly so small, which can be hurtful. 

ENTJ: They’re understanding - I’ve said this already, I’m always quite awed by ENTJs, but once you get to know them, they are truly open people. More than once have I heard them give relationship advice, and try to help people understand concepts with detailed explanations and diagrams, they strive for a more efficient and knowledgeable world, which can be seen through a sometimes devoted attitude.

ISFP: They’re not always kind to themselves - ISFPs may appear as charismatic, different, inspired and like they like themselves quite a bit (and that is absolutely great) but sometimes, when their creativity lets them down for example, they have the impression that they are now devoid of their identity, and may feel lost, and even over-criticize themselves. They need to be understood and comforted in their unicity and worth, almost as if they possessed Fe but not quite.

ISTP: They can feel quite lonely - ISTPs love peace and quiet and alone time, but sometimes loneliness can become quite painful. Composing only 2% of the overall population, ISTPs often feel like few if any people actually understand them, and that it may be easier just to crawl back onto themselves and create a shell to self-sustain instead of socialising and creating bonds with people. 

ESFP: They’re nostalgic - Living in the moment is often a way for ESFPs to have peace of mind, as their brains are involved elsewhere. Their need for company and action is their way of escaping their responsibilities, that remind them once again that they’re adults or growing into adults now, and that means, for them, that fun is almost over and that they’re going to turn into “boring people”, or be coerced into becoming “normal people”, which their Fi has difficulty dealing with.

ESTP: They value your opinion greatly - ESTPs have strong views on many subjects and they are also very passionate individuals, but boy do they need to be validated. It’s not a bad thing, of course, it’s simply a little surprising (although it shouldn’t be) that someone under appearances so outgoing and frank and sometimes even careless may need approval that what they are doing is good, and that they are accepted.  

ISFJ: They’re strong - ISFJs may constantly be trying to please everybody and adhere to everything, but deep down, they know who they are. They know what they like, what they dislike, what they are willing to tolerate, and what they are not. They are capable of enduring so much without ever complaining, and are truly inspiring people, who can talk about anything they set their mind to. 

ESFJ: They’re insecure - Organisation and procedure are the ways in which ESFJs try to live by, but it can also truly hide a very anxious nature. Planning is what ESFJs do to prevent lack of resources and preparing ahead to survive is a way in which ESFJs feel that they are under control. Their bubbly nature shows their need to be loved and feel like they have worth. Don’t rely too much on them, although they really want to carry your load with, or even for, you.

ISTJ: They feel misunderstood - Nobody is as organised, structured and rigorous as ISTJs, and the world’ s messiness can be quite overwhelming to them sometimes. That feeling that they’re the only ones holding it all together and getting everything done for everyone can make them feel like they’re being used or that people don’t appreciate them for their true worth, for what they are deep down. 

ESTJ: They doubt a lot - ESTJs may appear very confident and they may be your bosses most of the time because they’re great administrators with a plan based on sound facts, but the truth is ESTJs are almost constantly questioning if they’re doing the right thing, and the fear of failure is very much present. 

[studentville-struggles]

On Set // Part 2

Chris Evans x reader

Multi-part series following the reader’s life on the set of the latest Avengers film

Part 2

Words: 1,504

Warnings: mentions of gaslighting, mentions of emotional abuse, swearing

Massive shout out to @dsakita for being a real-life superhuman, a newfound friend and an amazing person; she helped me edit this chapter so it’s only readable because of her so go check her out

Part 1 // Masterlist

——

“Cat got your tongue, b?” Why couldn’t I have dated anyone else on the planet, literally anyone else? Before you could respond though, Scarlett grabbed your arm and dragged you off, presumably to ask what was going on.  

“What happened with him? You’ve never mentioned a fiancé, so something happened.” Is she actually an assassin in real life?  

“Generic shit you hear from anyone who dated a narcissistic white boy.” Oh, that look isn’t good.

“Elaborate.”

“Everything was perfect. He was nice, supportive, all that jazz, but that was when I was at uni. He was already working and I’ve mentioned to everyone before how much I struggled at uni. When I graduated, got a job and started to really succeed, things changed.” It was so obvious looking back on everything. “Things got a little messy, he couldn’t handle me being successful and not relying on him for support and motivation.”  

“He gaslighted you? Emotional abuse?”

“I don’t think I can truly say he abused me, because it just wasn’t that bad compared to other people I know, people who are truly survivors. But when I became aware of what he was doing; making me think I was useless at my job – a job that required people to rely on me – thinking I wasn’t physically fit enough, not good enough for my rugby team, not eating well enough, not stable enough mentally – not a thing to say to an extremely anxious person! When I realised what he was doing, I noticed it only happened when I was having good days; when I struggled he was so much more affectionate. Honestly, I think the reason I can’t call it abuse is because he never really knew what he was doing, I think he didn’t anyway. Anyway, I noticed, we had an argument that rivalled the war of the roses, minus the deaths and armies, and I left.” It felt good to say all that to someone other than a therapist.  

“The severity doesn’t impact the validity, Y/N. What you experienced must have hurt and that pain is valid. How is it seeing him then?” Girls... Wow. How amazing are they?!

“Odd. I’ve done enough therapy since I auditioned for this role that I have pretty much forgiven him. I am at peace and I know what I’m worth. I’m not scared of him but it’s definitely a little uncomfortable. Though it’s odd having people I knew before watch me act. I barely remembered he was here when I was messing around with Seb and Chris.” Why is she smirking? Soon the smirk changed to confusion.  

“What happened with him just now? Why is Chris so pissed off?” You swooned internally at how sweet and kind it was for him to stick up for you. You relayed what had happened to Scarlett. She smirked again. What is she scheming?

“We don’t have to but this just popped into my head. What do you say to us having them as extras for some other scenes so you can show off how much better your life is a) than his generally because we have one of the most privileged jobs out there – think how much we get to see and do, and b) how much better it is without him in it.”  

“As long as I’m not left alone with him, I could probably manage that.” Forgiveness. We managed that. Socialising is the next step. We can do this.  

“Of course hun, say the word and he’s gone. As soon as it’s too much, he’s gone. This is all about you.” So much love.  

Wandering back to the boys, it seems Seb was glaring at Dave and Robert had moved Chris back, talking him down a bit. Chris was visibly tense and pissed off. You and Scarlett meandered through the crowd of people, you stopped, letting Scarlett go right to the front of the group, staring the boys down. Dave was flanked by two of his work buddies you quite liked before.  

“You’ll do,” Scarlett said after a little pause, staring at the boys. “Since you’re so intent on getting more than a, what were the words used again Chris?” Chris seemed to have an inkling of what was going on.

“A pay attention and a strip show, I seem to remember,” He replied sarcastically.  

“Ah yes.” Scarlett continued. “‘A pay attention and a strip show’. Why don’t you stay on for a couple more scenes? I’m sure we always need more extras. How does a couple extra days work sound boys?” She really turned on the charm at the end; she was definitely going to get her own way.  

I think Dave might have thought flirting with your friend was going to piss you off, and had it been another time, you would have felt insecure. However, now it was just funny. He looked you dead in the eyes before turning with a smirk to Scarlett and replied with a sickly

“Sure thing, sweetie.” Almost instantly Scarlett began walking to towards the directors to put her plan into motion.

Passing you she fake gagged and joked. “God, you really dated that?” You just chuckled at her response to the whole situation. It made you feel a lot better about everything knowing how much everyone had your back.  

Chris came over and put a hand on your back to check in, although he ended up pulling you round into him, his arm basically around your waist and your hand up on his chest to steady yourself.  

“You okay? I know Scarlett’s got this big scheme, but we can just toss him out if you’d prefer?” You gave his arm a squeeze to show you appreciated the gesture and gave him a smile.

“I’m honestly so much better already. Anyway, who doesn’t want to show their glow up to an ex, I mean look at me now.” You winked at Chris before stepping back and doing a little twirl. Everything must have been fine for the banter and flirting to still be there. Chris leaned back and pretended to really look you up and down and think about how you look.

“Yup, definitely worth showing off” Chris nodded before winking back at you.

  “C’mon lets get some food while we have a break you dork,” you laughed back at him, linking an arm through his as you wandered over to the break room area.  

———

You were relaxing, reading through some more of your script when Tom jumped over the back of the sofa and plopped down next to you.  

“Jesus Holland, are you trying to kill me today?” You exclaimed, clutching your chest trying to will your heart to chill out. “Nice use of the emergency call earlier by the way, really appreciated that” you stated sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him.  

“Always.” He drawled – ever so dramatic. The two of you had become quite familial since hanging out on set, watching everyone else’s scenes and chilling in the evenings. He was the brother you never had. “So I used that because Seb looked pissed and Chis looked murderous – in my defence, I didn’t know it was because your ex was in town. Speaking of which we need to talk.” You really didn’t want to explain it all again today.  

“Tom, I’m sorry but can we do explana-”  

“I don’t care about that right now, you can talk to me about that whenever you’re comfortable to. I trust Scarlett’s handling that whole situation.” He cut you off, though not in a rude way, though it left you wondering what he wanted to talk about. “I want to talk about Chris. Specifically, you and him.”

“I don’t follow.”  

“Flirting on set is normal, I get that. Our main casts living arrangements currently are not.” You were all being put up in a big country home – not like a traditional National Trust country Home, but like a big-ish house a little out towards the countryside – as a way of allowing more switch off from the public. “It’s not a continuation of set banter usually, so why are you two flirting quite so much when we’re at the house?”  

“We aren’t?” At least you didn’t think so.  

“Bullshit, I can feel the sexual tension.”  

“You might wanna see a doctor about that..”

“Y/N!”  

“What, I can’t feel this so-called ‘sexual tension’, you might have an issue!”

“Okay! Fine! Deny the flirting outside of the set, but you two flirt with each other more than any other actors and I stand by that! Also, how do you explain that little arm around thingy you two had going on earlier? I saw that.”  

“Tom, that was concern! Not romance.” You defended

“Whatever you say, bean, I gotta get to hair and makeup. Just think about why your ex turning up made him so angry.” And with like that, Tom walked off again, leaving you with your thoughts on how you and Chris interact. Like earlier, he was just looking out for you, right?  

———

Part 3

Let me know what you think of part 2!

Tags: @dsakita @i-just-wanna-live-gc @dlb113 @ajosieface @greyeyedowl01

[mvssmallow]

Bloodline, Part VI

Previous Chapters

Soundtrack: Waste It On Me by Steve Aoki (feat. BTS)

It’s a fire truck that wakes him up the next day, blaring with the type of distress and urgency that makes it hard to dream of anything peaceful. Not that he has a lot of peaceful dreams these days. He thinks about his family on the other side of town, of his sister (all grown and in high school now), of all the friends he barely talks to anymore, of work, of life....

...but no matter how they start, his dreams always lead him to darkness, shadow, smoke and a cool smirk that fades every time he tries to get closer. 

Maybe he should thank the fire truck for waking him up and cutting short his misery today. Maybe this was good luck. Something like that. 

Or maybe not. 

Because he’s almost out of food, having left the grocery shopping to the very last minute and then succumbing to the habit of ordering take-out all week out of sheer laziness, resignation and shame. 

He makes a strong mug of black tea and drinks it, leaning of the kitchen bench, slowly waking up and trying to mentally make a shopping list. The fire truck’s siren has long since faded and it’s so early on Saturday morning that there’s an eerie hush that washes over the apartment block. Maybe it’s always like this, he wouldn’t know, he never gets up this early. 

The search for a clean shirt just reminds him that the laundry needs to be done at some point too but not today, he can only handle one domestic task at a time. There’s a Chicago Bulls t-shirt (left over from high school) and some semi-clean grey sweatpants that haven’t seen a gym for more months than he’s willing to admit. They both vaguely match his favourite red plaid shirt and well worn black Chuck Taylors. As for his hair, it’s a mess that only a navy Yankees cap can cure.

Too bad he can’t even find that right now.

But fuck it. It’s Saturday. The shopping list won’t care what he looks like. 

The rice definitely doesn’t. Neither does the bread, pasta or cereal. He buys orange juice and spinach because sometimes you have to try and not kill your body, and besides, for all his self loathing, he doesn’t actually hate himself that much yet. 

The check out queue is non-existent and he’s in and out the store in under half a hour. Maybe that fire truck was onto something. Maybe he should get up at 7am every weekend and join the tribe of Early Birds; catch that worm, take control of time, make something better of his life. 

Or maybe not. 

The bad luck starts in the big parking lot that’s shared between the supermarket, a 24 hour McDonald’s, a bakery and fruit shop. No matter how early it is, there’s always a group of people hanging around. 

He hears it before he sees it. And he feels it before he hears it, it’s that prick on the back of his neck, that static over his skin and heat in his stomach that always resembles fear. It’s that feeling you get just before you turn into someone’s target. 

He’s 25 now. He’s not a teenager in school anymore. He’s not skinny, small, indefensible anymore. He’s been in fights and knows how to defend himself but whenever he has to walk past a loud group of people, the jittery teenager inside will always be there. The best thing to do is keep your head down, avoid eye contact and get the hell out of there. 

It’s a good plan, in theory. In reality, he’s stupid and makes the mistake of looking up. Curiosity is going to get him killed him one day.

Three guys. A girl. Laughter that floats across the carpark. Maybe they’re talking about him. Maybe not, he doesn’t know. They’re dressed in blue and gray and one in all black. 

Jiwon.

Again.

He’s everywhere, like an inescapable presence, like a blood red wine stain on white carpet, the longer you leave it, the harder it is to get out. 

He doesn’t mean to stare but his eyes like it, they’re drawn to that face in a way that he wishes they weren’t.

Jiwon sees him but does nothing, eyes cold, blank, without a shred of recognition. Even if he had the guts to wave (he doesn’t) it’s too late, Jiwon is already turning away to look at something on his phone. The girl with them leans in close to peer at the screen, saying something that makes that familiar smirk appear, the one he thought only he got to see. 

Oh…..

Oh.

It’s delusional, he knows, of course Jiwon smiles and laughs for other people. He’s not special. He’s just a doctor. Jiwon is just a patient. Nothing more. Maybe he thought they had a connection but now, maybe he’s just the gullible sucker that fell for the charming act. He hates being wrong. Almost as much as he hates himself right now. 

He rushes to his old car and tears out of the parking lot without looking back.

Jin warned him. But he walked into the web, blindly, stupidly, and got stung. It’s nobody’s fault but his own.

********

He cleans the apartment. Tries to cook a healthier meal. Gets his hair cut. Does Laundry. Irons his shirts. Calls his parents. Face times his sister. Emails a few old friends. 

He’ll be a new Hanbin. A better Hanbin who learns from his mistakes. 

But New Hanbin still has the same old problems.

“My favourite patient is back!” Jim announces.

He smiles. “Haru? She only likes you because you gave her 20 stickers last time.”

“No, my other one.” Jin says, motioning out the back window.

New Hanbin wants to say no. New Hanbin does say no.

“Give him to someone else.”

Jin looks over in surprise, clearly not expecting him to say that.

But he’s shut down, icy doors closed around his heart, ready to just pack up his room and go home early for once. What’s the point of busting his ass to stay late just in case Jiwon needs him? What’s the point of trying to hide all this from their practice manager? He’s putting his job on the line and for what?

“Yeah okay.” Jin says quietly, sensing the sudden change in the room and not asking anything else. 

He’s cleaning his stethoscope when Jin walks in again with an apologetic look on his face. 

“Hey, I know you said you didn’t want to see him but he’s cut up pretty badly. Yun’s stuck with a chest pain and Mina’s gone for the day. I can just tell him to go to the hospital emergency department?”

He sighs in angry defeat, checking himself at the last second to stop it from becoming a really unprofessional tantrum.

“Take him to the treatment room and just….give me a minute?” He says, defeated by how much he can’t escape any of this.

“Yeah okay.” Jin says sympathetically. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Once he’s alone, he throws his equipment in his bag with too much force that part of him wonders if he broke something. Not that he cares. He doesn’t.

The walk to the treatment room is both long and short. He pauses, takes a breath and walks in. Jin is prepping the suture trays and anaesthetic. Jiwon looks up and gives him a sheepish smile that fades quickly when he doesn’t return it in quite the same way. But who is going to blame him? He doesn’t feel like smiling. 

“What happened?” He asks, putting on a gown and gloves and trying to keep everything clinical. 

“Accident in the kitchen. Tried to cook Jiun something I guess.”

Why does he bother? It’s just pretence now. He asks a question, Jiwon lies. That’s what their relationship is.

Relationship? His laughs to himself. There’s no relationship.

He peels away the towel wrapped around Jiwons arm, there’s a jagged shaped laceration over the wrist joint. It doesn’t look like an accident. It looks deliberate. Like all of them. The wound was half healed, half open, like it’s been days already. Like all of them. 

Jin stays with him and he’s grateful for it because there’s a buffer now, he can just sit there quietly cleaning and stitching Jiwon back together without having to socialise when he doesn’t want to. Jin asks them both boring clinical questions, ‘Is that painful?’ ‘Are you dizzy?” 'Do you need more saline?’ 'Which bandage do you want?’

Easy questions that fill the silence and don’t really mean anything important. 

Once or twice he catches Jiwon’s curious and questioning eyes but Jiwon’s not the only one with a poker face. He can give as good as he gets and right now, the look he keeps on his face is cold but of course it is, it’s always the coldest when he’s hurt. 

Without all the small talk and cute jokes, the stitches hardly take any time at all and when he’s done he leaves Jin to tidy up and bandage the wrist. He prints a prescription for antibiotics because the wound looked dirty, like it was done with a rusty blade. He tries not to think about that.

“Stitches need to come out in 7 to 10 days.” He says, not offering a repeat appointment because he knows Jiwon won’t turn up anyway.

But if he thinks he’s winning at this I’m Fine game, he’s wrong.

“Okay. Thanks.” Jiwon says, putting his jacket back on and folding up the bloody towel he came in with.

He hates that knows what Jiwon blood smells like, all earthy, elemental and ominous. It makes him sick and ache at the same time.

And then.....he’s gone.

“Is it always that weird?” Jin asks carefully.

He can only shrug. “Thanks for helping me out. I really appreciate it. I owe you one.”

“I do like those raspberry danish pastries from the bakery down the road.”

He smiles, adjusting the grip on his bag and pausing at the door. “Expect it on your desk tomorrow morning.”

It’s safe when he gets home. The world outside his apartment can go fuck itself, he’s done playing the game. He just wants to be left in peace. No more drama. No more guys who never give him any time of the day. No more.

But when he sleeps, he dreams. And when he dreams, all he sees is Jiwon and all he smells is blood.

New Hanbin sinks back into his Old Habits. 

“I have bad news and bad news.” Jin says the following week. “So which one do you want first?”

“The bad one.” He says with an eye roll.

“He rang up before.���

“Who?”

Jin just gives him a withering look.

“Well, what did he want?”

“To make an appointment.”

“And...?”

“He did it from a pay phone or burner phone because I couldn’t get a record of his number.”

“So?”

“It’s for his kid brother. He wouldn’t say what, just that the kids been sick and wanted an appointment.”

He tries to play it cool, New Hanbin is detached. “Did you book him in with Yun? He’s good with kids. Better than me anyway.”

Jin furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “He wanted an appointment with you.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I thought I was fully booked.”

“Not on Thursday.”

“Well, Yun’s still better with the younger patients.”

Jin looks like he wants to say something, something resembling a lecture, but he just sighs instead. “He only wanted an appointment with you.”

He shakes his head in defeat and tries to remember the Hippocratic Oath from Med School. “Yeah...okay.”

****

“So what’s been going on?” He asks Jiun with the friendliest smile he has. “Have you been sick?”

Jiun nods.

The entire consult goes like that; he asks questions, Jiun doesn’t say a word. It’s not exactly that different to his brother. 

“Jesus, use your words Jiun. You didn’t have a problem with ordering the pizza last night.” Jiwon sighs in exasperation.

He’s about to say something about not pushing kids out of their comfort zone, how mutism is a defence mechanism, how this might be a lot of PTSD....but then he remembers that he’s not Jiun’s brother or parent. He’s not family. He’s just a doctor. 

“It’s okay, you tell me when you feel like it.” He says instead. “We’re doing perfectly fine.”

He hears Jiwon sitting back and probably grumbling about being the bad cop to his good one but he doesn’t care. Jiun is his patient and his priority. Brothers with attitude problems will have to wait. 

After a small amount of gentle coercion, he’s finally allowed to examine Jiun’s throat and is relieved when it’s just a mild case of tonsillitis. It’ll only need a short course of antibiotics and a little bit of care. It’s fortunately not serious but one of the hazards with starting school, kids are germ sharers and he warns Jiwon that Jiun might catch more infections over the next 12 months.

“Great. We’ll be in here every week.” Jiwon mutters.

He tries to ignore the way that stabbed somewhere in his chest, instead he focuses on peeling a few dinosaur stickers for Jiun to put on his t-shirt.

“I’d like to review him next week, make sure it’s improving.”

Jiwon nods. “I’ll be out of town Wednesday though.”

“What about Tuesday?”

“No, I’ve got a-”

A what? he wanted to ask but doesn’t. A job? A meeting? A date? What?

“Okay. What about Monday?”

“Yeah. Guess so, sure.” 

He gives Jiun the appointment card to hold and puts another sticker on it. 

“Remember to take all your medicine okay? You’ll be better in no time.” He says, crouching down to Jiun’s eye level. “If you still feel sick, tell your brother.”

Jiun nods enthusiastically then goes right back to looking at all the stickers. 

He dreads this part; the small talk by the door. Jiwon shifts awkwardly as he straightens up and looks at him in the eye for the first time in, what feels like, a long time. 

“Is your wrist okay?” He asks, keeping his voice neutral and professional.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Jiwon replies in the exact same tone. 

They look away at the same time. 

And then Jiwon’s gone. Jiun turns to wave at him but his brother doesn’t look back once.

****

He should’ve know something was going to happen. The day started late, his computer crashed half way, there was too much sugar in his coffee.

It’s 6:30pm when he finally leaves the clinic to walk to his car. He got to the clinic so late this morning that all the staff car parks were full and he had to take one a whole street over. 

It starts with the footsteps, unfamiliar breathing, then something cold pressed against the back of his neck. His heart thumps erratically inside his chest and his entire body is electrified into paralysis. 

I’m going to die. 

This is how I die.

“Money and keys and I won’t blow your brains out.” It’s an unfamiliar voice he can’t place, deep but young at the same time. 

He fumbles around his pockets, throwing the items on the ground before leaning his head against the car roof, staring into a deserted parking lot and praying to God that someone passes by.

But then...nothing.

“You that doctor from the clinic round the corner?”

He’s too shocked to even reply.

“Need to borrow a 50 okay? Sorry bro.”

His wallet and keys get put back on the roof of his car.

“Might wanna park someone else, yeah? Don’t wanna get jumped proper.” The voice says, chuckling. “Never know what kinda people hang around here.”

He’s told to count to 10 before turning around. He doesn’t know why he does it but he does it. 

The guy is gone before he hits 8. 

The adrenaline is suddenly so overwhelming that he snatches up his belongings and speeds all the way home, only stopping at the hardware store to get new dead locks for his doors and windows.

What the fuck.

What the fuck?!

“What the fuck.” Jin says over coffee the next day. “So he just takes a 50 and just leaves you alone?”

“Yep.”

“That’s the weirdest mugging story I’ve ever heard. Bakery Guy had his car stolen in broad daylight last year.”

**** Monday rolls around faster that he’s ready for but just as well, he was turning increasingly paranoid and had spent the entire weekend replacing every single deadlock and bolt in his apartment. 

He’s glad to see Jiun though. There’s something about the mutism that kind of works for them. Maybe there was even a smile or two today. After he gives Jiun the all clear and leaves him to pick out new Spiderman stickers, Jiwon finally speaks, voice strained and tense in frustration. 

“You planning on telling me about what happened last week?”

“Nothing happened?”

“Nothing?”

“Yeah.”

Jiwon looks at him in restrained disbelief, jaw tense from holding back whatever it is he wants to say. But there’s no lecture or demands for answers. There’s just a small package that’s slid across the table.

“Keep it on you.” Jiwon says, holding his gaze with the kind of serious and steely look that he half wants to back down from. It’s not so much a request as an order. 

It burns in his hand. It burns in his pocket. He never stops thinking about it. Is it a bomb? A gun? A gift? Why did he take it home? Hasn’t he learnt anything this whole fucking time?

But it’s here now, sitting on his dinner table, wrapped in unassuming brown paper. He’s stares at it all night, pacing around his apartment until it’s nearly midnight and he’s worn himself out to the point of exhaustion, only opening the package with shaky hands because he’ll never get to sleep otherwise. 

There’s a crumpled 50 dollar note.

And a black butterfly knife. Double edged. Sleek and cold with a perfectly symmetrical black blade that barely glints under the light. There’s something sinister and ominous and, as much as he hates to admit it, exciting about that.  The handles close with a metallic click and the entire knife folds neatly to fit into his hand. 

He stares at it with a combination of disbelief and fascination, feeling the push and pull of hating violence and being drawn to it at the same time. 

He puts the knife in a drawer at the back of his wardrobe, as if out of sight will mean out of mind, but his eyes are drawn there like magnets, he can feel it’s dark ominous presence flooding his apartment, like that blood red stain that seeps further and further into his life. 

How can I get him out of my system when he’s already everywhere?

He falls asleep with the cold metal in his hand, gradually warming up because even the hardest cut steel responds to human warmth after awhile. 

[faveanimeships]

MATCHUP

hi!! i saw your thing about sending you ship requests, so here's mine! i'm 5' 4", korean, and i have shoulder-length dark hair. i wear circle glasses, and i have a terrible prescription. i love to read, listen to classical music, and i'm a foodie! i eat when i'm sad. i'm blunt and direct, along with rather reserved, and i have a hard time letting people get close to me. but, once i do, i love and care for them to no end!!!! i like to dress comfortably (ex. leggings and sweatshirt).

i’m so sorry i just read your rules for your ships and i sent in the description about the korean girl w circle glasses please forgive me … this is for free and BNHA , i am infp-t, ravenclaw, and i am bisexual (i use she/her pronouns). i’m so sorry for not reading the rules before!!

LOOK!! A finally a fricken update lmao I’m finally writing again after procrastinating heh i hate myself thank you for waiting bubba yunseo I hope you like it!!! 

I analysed your character before but now I have more to add lmao!!!

FREE! SHIPS

You are reserved, shy, blunt, comfortable, open-minded and prefer to trust your gut feeling; you’re also thirsty for knowledge and love to learn. Your ability to have an open mind will only lead you to pursue new interests and new genres. When you’re looking for a partner you would probably look for someone accepting or equally open-minded, and probably someone empathetic. I’m not sure bur your reserved personality may bring you lots of outgoing friends, and maybe when you’re looking for a partner, you’d be the listener in the relationship. You’d be great at giving empathetic advice, especially emotional ones since you know, you’d get a feeling of what and what not to say, which IMO is amazing. Looking at your description, you’d be the calm person in the relationship due to your reserved and caring nature, and so you’d probably prefer a louder partner?

ADD+ You’re not confident in yourself, you’re a bit clingy in a relationship you’ll probably want to date someone who can tolerate and understand that. You need your other half to be dependable, understanding and patient.

I ship you with !!

KISUMI SHIGINO

Kisumi is warm, friendly, fun to be with, reliable (in the anime he’s a very strong and supporting friend for Haru and the other boys when they had the whole Ikuya drama), he’s outgoing, patient, caring (him and his little brother TUT sibling goals). However, he is very popular, and has a very active social life- he’ll obviously try to introduce you to his friends, make you go to his gatherings, pout a little if you say no but overall very understanding if you just want to relax after a long day. Due to your very different personalities, you might fight with him a little due to his overly active social life, and while he’s not ready to give up on his social life, both of you will work to find a balance to this relationship. 

Obviously, when he’s with his other friends he won’t reply much but he’ll try to cut down meetings with his friends and try to reply to you when he’s out with other people. If you overcome that first hurdle, you will have a very strong relationship! Of course, Kisumi will spend a night in with you, binge-watching movies and cuddling, ordering uber eats and just listening to you talk. Of course, due to his talkative nature, he’ll be talking a lot too, but yes, you’ll learn how to balance it out in the end. 

Not only that, I feel Kisumi can tolerate your blunt nature (he’s friends with Haru lol) and he’ll definitely be that boy who will talk back, maybe that'll improve your comebacks. Dating Kisumi may be difficult but I feel if you date someone like Kisumi, you’ll learn how to open up and talk about your feelings, learn how to communicate in like a better way instead of being blunt all the time (because you know when you actually go work for other people in the future, being blunt, might not be the best choice haha) I feel like although your relationship might be a little messy and all over the place, you’ll work together to hold it together, and being in that situation allows you to be much more mature, and understanding. 

Additionally, as his girlfriend, you’ll attend at least some of his meetings with his friends and you’ll probably collect a lot of connections thanks to that, or even discover a new hobby or passion you’ll take on later in life. ALSO we know Kisumi likes to meddle in people’s lives so maybe he’ll make you overcome any fear you might have and be super supportive about it. I feel this relationship would be a super supportive and fresh- he’s always thinking about new things to try and do with you, which will only benefit both of you greatly!

Kisumi likes: holding hands, some PDA, eating desserts together, you hanging out with his friends (happily), you being happy, you playing your instrument, you doing taekwondo and kicking some ass like the queen you are, you smiling, hugs!!!, drinking coffee with you

I also ship you with: (more under the cut)

SOUSUKE YAMAZAKI 

Sousuke is calm, quiet, reliable, a great listener, a little bit overprotective, patient, caring and a great mentor. Thanks to him attending a boy’s school, we literally can see how popular he is- my guess is if he was at Iwatobi instead, he would be the king of the school lmao !!! Sousuke is more of an introvert than anything, which I think, you would appreciate since you like staying indoors, he loves relaxing near the pool or with you indoors! 

It is canon that Sousuke is working in a restaurant so he’d probably make you some dishes when you’re doing a stay at home date, or he’ll make you bentos when you have a concert or exam coming up- it’s his way of showing love, kindness and support! Sousuke is also blunt- like you and he doesn’t mind your bluntness at all, if you were to be blunt about his cooking, he’d greatly appreciate it. Sousuke won’t talk a lot, but he’s always there to listen to you rant, he loves it when you’re a little clingy with him, and it gets him into the mood to spoil you. He also loves waking up to you spamming his messenger, and he reads through every message, careful not to miss anything.

 As mentioned, Sousuke is a great mentor and he gives great advice. He listens to you and he’ll try to remain neutral, maybe you won’t be too happy about that but you’ll eventually understand that he’s just trying to remain neutral so he can provide unbiased advice. Not only that, Sousuke also writes you letters sometimes!!! He’d write you a letter during your monthsary and your anniversary, and when you’re feeling under the weather. If you need personal space, he’d be happy to leave you with a letter, some of your favourite snacks, a handmade bento packed to the brim with your favourite dishes. 

BNHA SHIPS

I ship you with !!

MIRIO TOGATA!!!

Mirio is friendly, funny, outgoing, optimistic, energetic, laid back and hardworking. He’s one of the big threes, and he definitely worked hard to be one there and he deserves everything amazing in this world!!! Personally, I think Mirio is an ambivert, he can switch between being an introvert and extrovert, and that is really cool,, which in this case would benefit you greatly since he’d push you to socialise within your quota, but will also reward you with all sorts of cute stay at home dates, where he just solely focuses on you and you only. Mirio may seem confident and all but sometimes, he suffers from self-doubt and low self-confidence, and I feel like you could really encourage him and help him back up again. 

Alternatively, when you’re feeling the same, Mirio would know how to get you back up and make sure you’re okay. Overall, Mirio would be a very laid back boyfriend, and he’d trust you with all his heart. He’d also pull cute pranks on you, or scare you, but he’s doing it with pure intentions only, as he wants you to be happy!!! Because you happy = him happy !! 

Being with Mirio means seeing him working himself too hard, and i feel like your bluntness might just put him in place, and he’d listen. You might spoil him a little after (which he loves), and tell him off (cute). After all of that Mirio would just want to hold you so tightly in his arms, as he takes a short nap with you. 

ALSO !! He’d also introduce you to little Eri, and make sure both of you get along (no problem at all since Eri is a sweet girl), and the three of you would go on amusement park outings? And sometimes you’d get mistaken for being such “sweet parents” or having such a “cute family”, Mirio would tease you afterwards, and wouldn’t deny it if someone asks him if you are his wife- he’d proudly say “yes, isn’t she cute!” Eri would giggle and point out the fact that you are blushing- it’s just such a wholesome relationship tbh!!!

I also ship you with !! 

TSUYU ASUI!!!

Tsuyu is adorable, straightforward, caring, laid back, strong, calm, and is a great source of emotional support (recovery girl)!! Tsuyu is also an ambivert and loves being alone or surrounded by her friends,, She loves being comfortable, which means she appreciates your sense of style. 

Obviously, she’s not the best at showing weakness, which means she’d be the one providing emotional support in this relationship. She’d listen to you rant, and provide you with unbiased advice. (Tsuyu is known for her amazing judgement skills). Of course, you’d start to notice the gap and you’d want her to share her weaknesses with you- it takes time, but it’s not impossible! However, she’d prefer if she was the one doing the listening and advicing instead. 

Not only that, Tsuyu is very attentive so she’d know what to do when you’re feeling meh, she’ll also cook for you sometimes, and bring you to cute and nice restaurants so both of you can just date and chill out. Like you, Tsuyu is blunt and straightforward but she means well. She won’t mince words but she’d make sure she won’t mention any trigger words or events. She’d also make sure you’re okay after that, probably make you some juice and cuddle with you (if you want). I also feel like she’s open to try anything- she’d do anything that would make you happy. Like Mirio’s relationship- this relationship is equally wholesome, supportive and happy!!

[moiraineswife]

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.