#I responded on the original post but I can’t find it

[ghostymarni]

[Resharing an older sketch because I realized I deleted the original file. I’m glad I exported it]

[porcelana-r0ta]

let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was. 

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM: 

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin. 

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia. 

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option. 

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. 

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house. 

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death. 

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building. 

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?” 

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.” 

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl. 

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house. 

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight. 

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!” 

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.” 

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.” 

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms. 

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly. 

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!” 

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs. 

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead. 

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.” 

“What did I do?” 

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?” 

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!” 

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand. 

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.” 

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?” 

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.” 

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.” 

Damn, Jason curses to himself. 

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?” 

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.” 

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.” 

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!” 

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.” 

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face. 

Jazz doesn’t dispute it. 

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t. 

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.” 

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!” 

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!” 

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again. 

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.” 

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab. 

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy. 

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green. 

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell. 

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?” 

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings. 

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral. 

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it. 

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery. 

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton. 

“Why are the fucking Bats here?” 

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?” 

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?” 

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.” 

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?” 

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls. 

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating. 

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.” 

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks. 

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.” 

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks. 

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.” 

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.” 

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it. 

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.” 

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.” 

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully. 

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?” 

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X: 

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her. 

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

[roseykat]

TITLE: Venom Biter

PAIRING: Minho x reader

SUMMARY: The end of a relationship between you and Minho turns as sour as it could ever get. A lovers to enemies trope.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: breakups, hate sex, post-breakup sex, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, manhandling, push and shove, spitting, choking, oral sex (f!reader receiving), angst, strong hints of degradation, use of degrading names such as 'slut' and 'whore'.

A/N: this was originally meant to be for one of the days I had planned for Kinktober but I was up to my neck in work and I didn't want to post something sort of half-assed so I had to hone down on most of the work for this piece.

MASTERLIST

“Broke up?” Chan’s eyes refuse to blink. “You two broke up!?”

His confused filled stare shoots for the direction of his best friend, Minho, who quietly sits opposite him across the table. He looks slightly withdrawn or…off colour. It can’t have been the gruelling two hour lecture they finished before heading out to lunch. If it were that, Minho would be complaining his head off saying how boring it was or cursing himself for not changing his minor earlier. 

He’s just not his usual self. In other social settings, he could talk until the cows came home. But the entire hour that they’ve spent together at lunch, Chan has been doing all the conversing and only receiving vague one-word answers. It wasn’t until he asked what was up with Minho that his friend dished out the news that he and his girlfriend - you, had split up.

“Why?” Chan proceeds, still swimming in shock.

A sigh leaves Minho’s mouth. He truly doesn’t feel like revisiting this subject. When he even thinks about the answer, all he can recall is the firey shouting match you both had the day things crumbled. 

“It’s messy,” he replies with a cloudy and ambiguous answer. 

“If you talk about it, then it might help you make sense of it all.”

He groans this time, “I really, really don’t want to do that. What’s done is done.” 

“Done?” Chan questions, still not letting up on an interrogation. “You were in a relationship with Y/N, for years. You guys talked about a whole future together. That’s not something you just sweep under the rug and forget about.”

If there’s one thing he almost did forget about, it’s that you were friends with him - not just Chan, but the seven others as well. After all, it was Minho who introduced you to those select people whom he calls his brothers. They would’ve found out eventually if Minho refrained from telling them who you were dating all those years ago.

Though naturally, you became very close with them. 

“We’ve both chosen to do that so there’s nothing really much left to dispute.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, realising he left out a crucial question to the situation, “why did you guys break up in the first place?”

Minho feels like he’s going to run out of sighs, “she doesn’t love me anymore and I don’t love her anymore. That’s literally all there is to it.” 

“You’re telling me you both fell out of love - at the same time,” Chan responds, still having a difficult time trying to comprehend his friend's situation.

“Pretty much,” Minho confirms with a nod. 

Chan finds that extremely hard to believe from his friend - the very person who would enter a different realm whenever he was in a five centimetre radius of you. His eyes would glaze over as if he were possessed; always fixated on you, he’d smile more than he usually would, and was comfortable in the space around you. 

There had to be another reason, surely. 

But it had almost been three weeks since Chan dissected the news out of Minho, and it was almost like pulling teeth trying to dive for the details. Each attempt was as fruitless as the next and in the end, Chan just plucked the same answers.

Regardless, it seemed to play out better than expected. Minho saved himself from having to dish out explanations as to why you wouldn’t be around anymore. As a result, telling Chan was the best option and since the others didn’t know, Minho was okay with him telling them so that he didn’t have to. 

In saying that, Minho left out very central details of what happened leading up to the breakup. He never mentioned the constant fighting, the lying, the false accusations, the shouting matches, up until the point where you were both swimming in the toxicity the pair of you created. 

He also absconded from the fact to Chan that not only did you both separate, but you’ve also both come to view the other differently and not through a good lens. Minho shouted it in your face the other day to which you did the same; “I hate you.” And that was that.

But his friends probably didn’t need to know all of that. 

Since that day, you’ve been in the process of trying to find an apartment for yourself which isn’t easy. You want to remain in town and not too far out so that you don’t have a long commute to work, and at the same time, you don't want to break the bank trying to find a nice place to rent in the city. All in all, it was tough, but you were ready to just leave. 

Having packed up the majority of your stuff in boxes, all you had to do was wait for landlords to contact you back about possible vacant apartments. Thankfully Minho was lenient in allowing you to stay until you found a place. 

You slept in the spare room, mainly keeping to yourself and the boxes of things surrounding the space. Occasionally you would have to lock yourself in there and throw on some noise-cancelling headphones whenever Minho brought around another woman to sleep with.

It was his house, you knew that and now that you have no ties to him and he’s letting you stay, it was never your place to question his actions. 

Still, that could never lessen the hurt. It was painful which is why you hated him so much. You don’t know how a person could move on so quickly after so many years of being told how much you’re loved. It was like he never meant it. With that being said, when you eventually managed to find a decent place, you were free from Minho. 

All of your items were ready to be moved out, taking a couple of days to actually get them to your new place. In the tiring process, you also had to factor in your work schedule which meant it would take longer to continue moving your stuff. Nonetheless, you had the majority of your boxes out of Minho's house with only a few remaining that you needed to swing by and pick up.

"Something wrong?" he wears a blank look on his face when you arrive on the doorstep to his house.

"Some of my stuff is still here, can I come in to grab it please?" You ask politely. He gives a silent answer in return by opening his door wider for you to walk in before he goes back to whatever it was he was doing.

You make your way into the spare room where the last of your things remain, but there is one odd detail you notice as you approach the items. What was supposed to be taped down lids to the boxes had in fact been opened; not in the state you had originally left it in. 

"Minho," you call out, hoping he heard you.

Sure enough, he did. Minho walks into the spare room with a puzzled expression, wondering why he's been summoned, "what?"

“Why are these open?” You ask, lifting one box off of the other to check if the rest were open as well. “Half of my stuff isn’t in here.”  

“You were coming back for those?” he replies with a question. 

“What the hell else would I be coming back here for?” 

“That's what I thought when you got here,” he says. “I thought it was for other things that you left behind, not ones in these boxes."

Your eyes never leave his face, tracking any sudden shifts in his muscles to try to figure out if he’s actually telling the truth or not. Even though you and Minho aren’t together, you're sure he wouldn't do anything malicious out of spite.

“So why is half my stuff missing?” 

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, “I thought you didn’t need any of it and that you left it here on purpose for me to deal with or throw out.” 

“So what…” you trail off, expecting his answer. Minho hesitates for a few moments, sitting on the fence about whether he should actually tell you or not. But the least he can do right now is be honest. 

“I told the…girl I bought around the other day that if she wanted anything-“ 

“No you fucking didn’t.” 

“-she could have whatever was left in the boxes,” Minho finishes the rest of his sentence which would’ve been better for you not to hear. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you for leaving them behind in the first place!” Minho argues back, trying to defend himself here even though he knows he’s in the wrong. “You were gone for a few days Y/N, I thought you just left!” 

“I never left them behind! I told you how long it was going to take my things to move!” You shout at him, tears brimming your eyes. “Now my stuff…”

The hurt genuinely sets in. Minho feels a sharp stab of pain in his chest when he sees how visibly upset you are. He knows that he’s been nothing short of a dickhead within the past month and now he’s gone and made things worse. It’s no point in him now to say that it was an honest mistake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, truly.”

You shove him backwards into the dresser, knocking down some of the empty photo frames that were once homes for pictures of you and Minho, “you’re not sorry. You’re the fucking worst.”

Taken aback by your actions, Minho turns behind him to see the frames flat on the surface then looks back at you, “seriously Y/N, I would not have done that out of spite.”

“But it’s the fact that you still did it!” You raise your voice at him and shove him back again. “You didn’t bother calling or texting me about it when you should’ve!” 

Minho predicts your next move and catches your arms to stop you from pushing him back impossibly further into the dresser. He shoves you back, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed which causes you to land on it behind you.

Before the surprise kicks in, Minho is kneeling on top of you, nearly straddling your lower half as he starts pinning your arms to the side of your head. Yet with a split second of momentum to break free, you struggle but manage to flip the tables and pin Minho on his back. 

You mount his hips before your mouth comes down to kiss Minho so aggressively that it takes him a moment to react. With any other woman that he’s slept with so far, he would allow them to be on top. But because it’s you, and supposedly hates your guts, not to mention his untapped pride, it’s not going to happen. So Minho fights back, kissing and biting nearly every part of your upper body in the process until you’re under him. 

He sucks large, deep, red hickies into the skin of your neck, in places where everyone would be able to see them. Minho would want people to know that you’re just a whore he uses. Especially for the next guy you sleep with who would go down on you and see the myriad of hickies that Minho would eventually put between your thighs when he rips your pants down. 

“Wanna play this fucking game with me,” he rasps before yanking down your off. 

Despite being a dickhead Minho will still eat you out for prep. But it’s not soft and teasing when he does go down on you. It’s tongue and finger fucking you until you’re dizzy from how hard you’re about to cum. It gives you the opportunity to pull and tug on his hair until his scalp starts burning, forcing you to be as vocal as you’ve ever been. 

His fingers curl up into that sensitive spot while his tongue and mouth work simultaneously. He’s always been good at giving head, but unusually better now that he’s relatively angry. In the back of your mind, you supposed it helped having not slept with anyone for a month, making it easier to reach that peak of delicious, eye-rolling ecstasy. 

“Fuck!” you scream out, voice projecting throughout the room as Minho sucks on your clit. “Fuck you…you’re gonna make me cum.” 

Those words are something Minho could never get tired of hearing you say. Even in the headspace that he’s in now, he wants nothing more than to hear how good he’s making your body feel. However, he doesn’t need verbal confirmation from you to know that you’re about to cum. When your walls seize and clamp around his fingers, when you’re trembling around his head, Minho knows what that means. 

The quick drag of his fingers is only light work for him, pumping at a pace that has you panting to try and keep up with it. As a result, it’s not long before Minho brings you to your sweet release; a toe-curling burst of euphoria that has you silently creaming around his fingers. 

He has no patience for you to descend from your orgasm, sucking his fingers clean as he pulls away from your pussy. He gets to unbuckling his belt faster than he can even comprehend that this is still happening. 

“H-Hurry,” you whine, trying to quell the hunger for Minho’s cock while you wait.

His eyes squeeze shut, hissing as he coats his length with your slick, “shut the fuck up.”

Despite being in a haze post-orgasm, you manage to sit up quickly to turn and push Minho down by his shoulders. You find yourself straddling his hips once more, reaching down and behind for his cock, aligning it with your hole. Minho allows you to work for it yourself, watching his cock vanish by the second as you sink down. 

“Mmm…f-fuck,,” you whine, unable to come to grips with how much you miss him filling you out. 

Taking a couple of slow strokes up and down allows you to realise that never in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine hate sex with Minho would be this…rough. Both of you pushing, shoving, and manhandling each other around, speaking to each other with such disregard for the other person's feelings – beyond the point of degradation.

“Come on,” Minho grunts, fingernails embedding themselves into your hips so that the indents remaining become as equally as vibrant as the hickies blooming on your neck. 

You look down at him with disgust before your hand lowers to his throat, choking him out by the sides of his neck. That familiar feeling of restriction to Minho forces him to repress his sick enjoyment of it, even more so when you start really riding him. 

“Fuck you,” you strain out, trying to assert some degree of control even though you’re battling with oversensitivity from your previous orgasm. 

You slam your hips down repeatedly, building up a good pace and rhythm that’s enough for small moans to force their way out of your mouth. With a cock like Minho’s, it’s impossible to keep quiet no matter how much you try. However, as you work for your own orgasm, you don’t want to give him any satisfaction by making him think that he’s the one doing it; yet in reality, he is. 

Nonetheless, you continue to use him just as much as he’s using you until the luxury of pleasure accelerates in the pit of your stomach. In saying that, it doesn’t take long for Minho to find that information out as you continue to ride him. The observation is clear-cut;

“Nobody’s fucked you since me haven’t they?” He asks you breathlessly, watching you roll your hips deliciously over his cock. “Know how I can tell? Because you keep fucking clenching around my dick.”

Your eyebrows furrow, struggling to find an answer for him because he is right and that’s not your fault, “s-so what? Want me to stop?” 

“Didn’t say that, did I?” He argues back, too proud to say ‘no’. “Just…just keep moving.”

A firm hand of yours catches his taut jaw, and while his mouth is open, you lean down and spit right in it. 

You curse right at him, “fuck you.” 

His eyes lock with yours and for a moment, Minho is shocked, but not in a bad way. In that moment you despised him so much that he made you do something a normal person would find disgusting. Although it’s not long before a sick smirk spreads across his face, failing to pretend as if he didn’t just enjoy that, swallowing it back. 

“Course you’d be into that you fucking whore,” he rasps, his body jolting every time your hips slam down. 

“I’m not the whore who’s taking it,” you snipe back at him. 

Your comment riles Minho, resulting in him nearly bucking you off his body before flipping you onto your stomach. He yanks both of your hands behind your back as something for him to latch onto when he pushes his cock back into you, and starts fucking hard and fast. 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck…” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. 

The new angle makes his dick slip in just that extra bit deeper, achieving a sensation which you miss all too much. With the amount of relentlessness that Minho puts behind his thrusts is nothing but a fast, brutal, and unforgiving type of fucking. He’s not holding back with you, no matter how much you hate him and he hates you, he will fuck you to tears.

“Such a fucking slut,” he drives forward nastily. “Needy, loud, slut.” 

Your choked moans and whimpers are typical responses to hearing him call you that name again. In bed, if you weren’t his lover, you were his slut. Minho wouldn’t care less if the bed broke beneath him trying to fuck you like the whore you always wanted him to treat you as. But it was phenomenal.  

Now, that’s only a distant memory clawing to come back. 

“Make me cum…make me fucking cum,” you demand, acknowledging how close you are to the cliff of ecstasy.

Minho's breathing picks up from hearing the pure desperation in your voice, and so does his pace. His only release is not but a minute away, respecting that and also his motive to continue rearranging your guts. 

Yet the possibility of keeping up any longer draws to a short term. Minho’s hold on your wrists behind your back becomes a solid death grip with no chance of escape until the wet heat from your pussy has his hips jumping out of rhythm. 

His head tilts to the sky, the pleasure screaming at him from the base of his cock, “y-yes, fuck I'm cumming.”

At that very instant, Minho’s release rocks him over. His hands let go of yours in lieu of grabbing onto your ass instead. The pain and sting of his fingernails scraping deep into your flash forces strained whimpers and mewls from your throat, helping to push you over the verge of your second orgasm. 

“Y-Yes, cumming, oh fuck-” you cry out with a shaky voice, stiffening while your hole seizes rhythmically around Minho’s length. 

The pleasure is throat-gripping, making you forget the words to express how good you feel. Except, in the vapour of your orgasmic haze, you still don't want to accept the fact that it's Minho who makes you feel that way.

He pauses for a moment then thrusts hard back into you, making you keep the warm load that you were so undeservingly given, regardless if your walls are spasming and contracting it out. Then just as he was fast to try to get inside you, he's just as fast when he pulls out and flops beside you.

The air in the room becomes breathable again now that your heart rate isn't racing to the heavens, but picks back up quickly when you decide to hop off the bed and get dressed. You couldn't care less if you were sore and unbalanced. The thought of staying in the room with Minho any longer was suffocating.

“About your stuff,” he starts, filling the silent void with an exasperated voice. “I’ll try to get it back.” 

You zip your jeans up, “don’t bother. I know you did give it away for whatever reason, but for what reason is something I’m betting you’ll take to the grave with you.” 

Minho is up and now following suit by putting his clothes on. If now is the time to get one thing off of his chest, it’s now. Since the day you both separated, there has been no proper conversation. Both of you are too stubborn to admit wrongs and fix rights, but in your eyes, it's too far gone. There’s no going back to a good thing that was once more. 

"I won't if we can just talk it out," he offers the opportunity to you.

“Minho, the nights that I had to listen to you fuck someone else in the next room right after we just broke up was a clear sign that we did not need to talk it out. All it made me do is realise that you didn't actually love me."

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head as you hear a twinge of desperation in his voice like he's pleading his case. "That's not true at all."

"It is though," you correct him. "You were free to sleep with whoever you wanted to because we had broken up at that point, but not a day after that did you wait."

Minho follows through with his explanation, “I was trying to get you out of my head. Spending too long just thinking about you makes me want to lose it. It didn't mean that I never loved you before."

“So you’re just going to continue being delusional? To fuck your way through trying to forget me?” You question, nearly laughing. "I honestly think you're just being pathetic."

He shrugs, “if it means that I don’t have to feel heartbreak, then yes.”

Part of you gets it. Minho’s found a vice and is using it as a tool to deal with his pain. But you’re in pain too, and you haven’t done anything to upset him ever since you split. Maybe it is as bad for him as he says it is. Maybe he doesn’t truly know how to navigate himself out of this like you’re attempting to.

It’s almost a rebuttal to your statement about whether he truly loved you or not; if he’s using other people to drive the thought of you out of his brain because it’s too painful to deal with, then maybe you were more than just a lover to him. 

"I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I cannot stand being around you anymore because of how much it hurts to know that you're not actually with me. I'd rather try to forget your existence in order to not feel that type of heartbreak," Minho explains, his words coming from a place inside him that must've just opened up.

But he continues, "the second we split, I needed every last memory of you out of this house. But I know that this hurts you too and that this past month I’ve hurt you and that’s no justification to say that my reason is because you mean more than my entire life.”

There’s an ache in your chest that you’ve never felt before, a blend of all the emotional pain that could’ve been prevented had the two of you just talked. But that ache is fuelled by the fact that you can hear the waiver in Minho’s voice, and even though his back is still turned to you while he sits on the edge of the bed, you’re sure he’s crying.

-

A/N: Dare I say that I want to make a part 2 to this where Minho and reader try to rekindle, things are pretty tender but they sort of want to make it work...

[faceless-soul2]

Nuked at 2,500

Prev @faceless-soul

⛓️ABOUT ME & RULES ⛓️

🩸25 years old

🩸Straight

🩸Dominant

🩸I'm single

*not looking for a partner or permanent submissive at the moment- just here to express myself, enjoy some play, and make some friends along the way that enjoy the dark things I do.

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[olderthannetfic]

I just have to say, I don’t like the internet’s recent obsession with labeling everyone, but right now it’s the proship vs anti. I don’t know which side I fall on but I don’t know how to say that without getting someone mad at me. I don’t like to see proship content and I have filters on so that I don’t see it, but I also understand that it has the right to exist and that policing what people post on the internet is stupid and gatekeepy. And I also know that saying that publicly could lead to me getting doxxed or some shit like that.

I guess the main reason why I’m venting about this now is because an anon just asked whether I was proship or anti because apparently I had reblogged a post that says “proshippers dni”, even though I have no idea when I did that and can’t find the post because tumblr’s search bar is shit. I know that this anon, whoever it is, is a proshipper, but I also know that some of my mutuals are antis, and whichever label I put on myself will probably end up losing me at least one mutual and I just don’t know what to do. Is saying that I don’t care about the labels a valid option in this situation? I don’t know what to do.

I’m sorry for venting in your inbox, I just had to get this off my chest. You don’t have to respond if you don’t want to.

--

Oh for fuck sake.

First of all, stop spreading the nonsense that antis promote, which is that "proship" means "problematic ship" and/or is a label for dark content.

The term originates as "I'm not an anti" and refers to the overall stance that dark stuff has a right to exist whether or not you personally like it.

In other words, your stance.

Second, man up and say what you think. If people are dickheads about it, block them and tell them how inappropriate bullying is. The fact that most people go "Oooh, I don't know where I staaaand" is exactly why bullies are allowed to run rampant through our communities.

Do you think I don't get threats by leaving anon on to make my inbox safe for you? Of course I do! But I get far fewer than I would if I acted spineless.

If you have mutuals who are truly antis, it's time they learned that they'll lose nice and reasonable friends by being harassing assholes who believe fairy tales about video games causing violence or the sexy equivalent.

--

Say "I think these terms are both dumb. I believe dark fiction has a right to exist, but I don't want to see it. If you think it's okay to harass real people to "protect" fictional characters, you are a terrible person. I don't need a label to say I'm anti-censorship and anti-bullying."

If anyone wants to cry about that, they suck and you should remove them from your life.

[amorchai]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄.

original post was 934 notes.

pairing(s): steve harrington x female!reader

words: 1529

warnings/tags: female!reader, pining colleagues, pet names.

steve was counting the notes from the cash register in family video when he first heard your voice, a small ‘hi’ from the other side of the counter. and while it wasn’t directed towards him, his head snapped to the side to catch a glimpse of you, and my god.

he watched as you smiled at robin who tears her glance away from her doodles against the notepad on the table and towards you, “hi there, can i help you with anything?” robin asked kindly and steve knew she was probably just as flustered as he was at the moment.

“i—uh, yes. i’m actually meant to start working here today…” you trail off nervously causing robin to grin, “oh you’re y/n? keith said you’d stop by!” robin replies, quickly tearing her glance from you and to look at steve behind her as they share a knowing look.

his hands have frozen in counting the money, it could have been ten bucks or a hundred, he was far from caring at this moment. therefore, he stuffs the notes back in the register and wipes his clammy palms against the material of his jeans before fixing his hair, quickly, in case robin noticed him and most likely outwardly teased him in front of you.

“let me show you around! my names robin, by the way,” robin was enthusiastic, turning around to walk around the counter as she begins to converse but steve jumps forward, hand stopping robin as he smiles towards you, “i can show her around, you’re front desk robin, remember?”.

robin’s eyebrows furrow with a glare following, “then you can just jump on—?” before she can continue, steve is interjecting, “—i insist, robin,” he replies with a help-me-out-here look.

robin nods with an eye roll, grudgingly moving back to her seat by the desk and uses her pen to point towards steve, “the dingus will see you now.” you look over at his dorky smile, his folded arms falling as he quickly moves out from the counter and towards you, outstretching his hand to shake yours, “steve, i’m steve harrington,” he points towards his name badge, and you giggle, “i’m y/n.”

“pretty name for a pretty girl, are you new in town?” he asks, leaning his elbow on the counter to the side as he speaks to you, robin’s eyes following as she watches steve’s lame attempts at flirting. however, from your expressions and giggling, it seems to be working.

“yes i am, moved a couple of weeks back, my cousins live here and needed a roommate,” steve nods along intently, “no college or anything?” he asks, “not yet, i took a year out after graduating school so i’ll probably apply to places near here when the time comes.” your smile quirks when he continues to nod, finding him increasingly cute and charmingly flirty.

“what about you?” you ask, causing his mouth to agape slightly in thought of what to say, “i mean— yeah, that’s basically what i’m doing; a good, swift break before going to college,” he leans further against his elbow and you can’t help but notice the blush arise in his cheeks when robin mutters under her breath and against the palm of her hand, “that’s a pretty long break, harrington.”

he clears his throat awkwardly, “there’s always time.” you nod to his statement in agreement but before you can respond, robin interjects once more leaning up to push steve's elbow from the counter and nearly sends him falling, “enough chit-chatting, don’t want keith to find out you’ve been flirting with y/n instead of teaching her the ways, do you?”.

“robin!” steve bickers back, turning away from you as his eyes widen to his best friend, utterly ashamed, “well, it’s true, you’re practically—”, “stop talking.” he sighs, trying to compose himself as he turns back towards you, “anyways, let me show you around before you start, y/n.” he goes to guide to towards the sections to one side, sending a warning glare to robin when he hears her mock his words in a low-pitched voice, yet pretending he couldn’t hear her when he turns to you.

showing you across the sections, he tries his best to pretend he’s knowledgeable and an expert at his job but given the fact he states that ‘sylvester stallone was great in breakfast club’, you thought it was safe to believe that he wasn’t. he shows you over the sections, flirty one-liners and wrong comments about the movies cause you to uncontrollably giggle beside him throughout the tour.

steve was trying, and it was unbelievably cute to watch. his big doe-y brown eyes scanning your features as a few of his light brown locks poke against his forehead, he was handsome — and also had massive arms you couldn’t help stare at whenever he pointed towards something.

“right through here,” steve murmurs while lifting the partition by the counter before allowing you to step through, he leans close to robin while you do so, “she’s been laughing at everything i say, i think there’s a chance here.”

“…a chance that she’s laughing at you? yeah, massive chance, little stevie” robin quips, turning to him with a teasing glare as he pulls back before stepping through the open partition himself. “twelve o’clock buckley, go assist the customer, i’m busy here,” steve speaks, loud enough for you to hear as he nods towards the front door where a new customer walks in.

she grunts, pointing at him warningly as she moves from her seat to leave the area, “you owe me one, dingus.” he just turns back to you with an aloof smile, “i notice not a lot of customer’s, huh?” you ask him, glancing at the nearly empty store, employees outweighing the number of customers.

“nah small town, but it’s all good, means you don’t need to do much,” steve folds his arms, hip nudging against the counter as he sends you a lopsided smile which was hard not to melt over. “does it not get boring?” you ask, “not if you’re on shift with me, sweetheart.”

you shake your head with a quick smile before he continues, “speaking of, let me just grab your schedule for this week,” he’s curious as he collects it from the back wall, steve and robin’s missing as they checked over theirs merely hours ago.

standing beside him, you ignored the feeling of his warm skin of his arm against yours as you tried to look over the weeks schedule. steve held it with one hand while his pointer finger grazed over the times curiously, a crease between his eyebrow while he analysed.

“that’s perfect! you’re on with me all week, you’ll be an expert by this saturday,” he enthuses, quickly turning over to grab his schedule laid messily across the pile of paper on the desk before holding his beside for comparison.

you tried to ignore the tug in your heart at how happy steve sounded to be on shift with you, only an hour or so of meeting each other and he was by far the most interesting person you’ve met in this town. maybe anywhere. “can’t wait,” you replied as coolly as possible.

steve passes you your own schedule while you move back to your previous spot, “do you live nearby?” steve asks you suddenly. “yeah, just ten minutes over, near the old mall?” steve nods, it was a small town of course he knew where you meant. “if you give me your address, i mean if you don’t mind, i could drive you to work? i already drive that idiot back there, and she’s probably near the same shifts as us,” he nods to robin over by the action section.

“if you’re okay with that, you don’t have to though i can—“, “i offered, sweetheart. course i don’t mind,” steve grins when you nod once again with a quiet ‘thank you’ trying to hide your giggle at his dorky nature. steve licking his lips slightly before returning to his charming grin, “no worries, pretty.”

you look down to the couple of body moles peaking from the collar of his shirt as you avert his eye contact in an attempt at hiding your smile, not noticing the way steve’s eyes gleamed at you. he was used to hitting on people upon first introductions but nothing like this, he’s never felt a flurry of dizziness quite like he did from his first glance towards you.

and it was addicting, inviting even.

then he knew, it was official, he was a goner. he realised this as he stared at your face, soft cheeks contracting as you smile lowly and he can tell you’re forcing it down as you look behind you and at the equipment behind the counter, “teach me more of the family video ways, steve.”

steve hoped he seemed cool and collected to you, because anytime you spoke to him, or smiled… or even looked at him, his mind went foggy and tried to hold back from completely breaking down. “buckle-up, buttercup,” steve replies while gesturing towards the chunky computer system.

yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

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amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[h0neylevi]

Levi with Red!!

c/w: written with fem!reader in mind, otherwise just cute post-war fluff ❤︎ words: 490

Levi’s never really thought much about the meaning behind colors.

It’s common knowledge that the sky is blue and grass is green. When the seasons shift, the leaves on trees often change with them. Greens fade to orange and yellow. The sky above becomes a spotted and despondent gray.

And then there are the other ways that colors show up in life that have more unnatural origins–their meanings more subjective. Was the green of scout cloaks chosen for camouflage or to inspire hope? Would Mikasa care so much about that scarf she wears all the time if it were yellow instead?

No matter the meaning behind it, Levi’s seen enough blood in his life to associate the color red with pain.

But now, as he stands at the threshold of your door and stares down the large bouquet of red roses in his arms, something very unfamiliar stirs in his gut. If he didn’t know any better, he’d call it anxiety.

They had been Onyankopon’s idea, the flowers.

After Levi had asked you (rather impulsively) on a date one slow afternoon at your tea shop, the man had taken it upon himself to offer some friendly guidance.

‘Don’t frown. Save any jokes for at least date three. And above all else, at least look like you’re having a good time, hm?’

The door opens while he recites the words in his head and you quickly emerge, jumpy in your movements.

“Sorry,” you greet in a breathless way, turning your back to him to shut and lock your door. “I couldn’t find my bag.”

Behind you, he tries to adjust his expression into something less deadpan. “It’s alright.”

It takes a moment but when you turn back to face him again, he feels like his heart might fall through his stomach.

Your lips, painted a rich rouge, curl into a shy smile. Then, you look down at the bouquet in his hands.

“Oh.” You blink, clearly surprised. “Are these for me?”

If he could think, he might respond with something dry and witty. Something likely far too scathing for someone so pretty and kind, but by some miracle he remembers Onyankopon’s advice and manages a soft yes before offering them to you.

He feels warm when you take them and bring them to your nose. So much so that he’s suddenly very aware of the collar of his shirt around his neck. Is this what it feels like to blush? He must look like an idiot, red in the face after only giving someone flowers.

But if he is, you’re nice enough to not point it out. Instead you inhale the fresh, floral scent and sigh.

“These are so lovely, Levi. Thank you.”

You smile again, and Levi thinks for a brief moment that maybe he understands a little better how people land upon a favorite color. Because in this moment, he can’t think of a more beautiful color than red.

[5ummit]

Important things I’ve learned about the new tumblr polls so far (which are NOT mentioned in the official announcement post):

Once you’ve voted you can’t change it and you can only vote once.

You can only view poll results on the dashboard or in blogview. The buttons are still displayed on custom blog layouts, but if you try to click on them it will automatically take you to blogview.

Responses are completely anonymous. Neither the poll creator nor the respondents can see who voted or what they voted for. The only visible metric is the total number of votes.

Votes don’t show up on your activity feed so you have to go find the poll on your blog if you want to see the results or know if people are even voting.

You can’t view the results of your own poll without participating (clicking on one of the answer choices yourself).

You can’t edit a poll post once you publish it, you can only delete it! I assume this lasts until the poll has timed out, which will either be in a week or a day depending on what you picked This is permanent, so you better hope you got all of your tags and answer choices correct before you publish! This also means you can’t change your poll duration later either.

UPDATE (Jan 22, 2023):

You can send individual polls to someone as a submission, which the recipient can then edit and customize before publishing, but this will NOT give that person the ability to create new polls on their own.

Polls have a maximum of 10 answer choices and each answer choice is limited to 80 characters.

Polls can’t be added to reblogs, only original posts. Additionally, only one poll is allowed per post.

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[fanfictionismyaddiction]

So could you do a Star Trek one with Spock (or whoever you write for as I can’t find that post now😭) with an SO who is visiting home on earth and keeps on bringing him interesting rocks she finds?

Stones and Stars

word count: 940

Pairing: Spock x human!reader

Summary: Y/n visits her home on Earth with Spock, enthusiastically collecting interesting rocks and sharing them with him, while Spock patiently admires her fascination and offers scientific insights, deepening their bond.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n stood on the quiet shore of her family’s lake house on Earth, her bare feet sinking into the soft sand. The sun was setting, casting a warm, amber glow over the still waters, and the air carried the scent of pine trees from the nearby forest. It was a moment of peace, of home, far away from the busy corridors of the Enterprise.

Behind her, Spock stood observing the surroundings, his hands clasped behind his back. He had agreed to accompany Y/n on her visit to Earth, a rare chance for her to reconnect with her roots and for him to experience the human world outside of Starfleet’s structured environment.

Y/n bent down, running her fingers over a small, smooth stone nestled in the sand. She smiled, picking it up and turning it over in her palm. Its surface was streaked with tiny veins of quartz, glimmering faintly in the fading light. She approached Spock, holding it up for him to see.

“Look at this one, Spock,” she said, a playful grin spreading across her face. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, taking the stone from her hand with the precision of a scientist inspecting a specimen. “Indeed,” he remarked, turning it over slowly. “The mineral composition appears to contain a significant amount of quartz, likely formed by years of pressure beneath the Earth’s surface.”

Y/n chuckled softly. “You always know how to make things sound so... scientific.” She watched him closely, enjoying the subtle curiosity that flickered in his dark eyes as he studied the rock. It was a small thing, but seeing Spock’s fascination with something as simple as a stone warmed her heart.

After a moment, Spock handed the rock back to her, inclining his head. “It is an interesting specimen. However, I do not believe it holds particular significance beyond its geological properties.”

Y/n laughed again, more at the formality of his response than the words themselves. “It’s not about the science, Spock. It’s about the beauty of it. Sometimes, things are worth appreciating just because they’re nice to look at.”

Spock’s expression softened, a subtle shift that only Y/n had learned to recognize after all their time together. “I see,” he replied, his voice thoughtful. “You derive pleasure from observing the aesthetics of natural formations.”

“Exactly.” She beamed, slipping the stone into her pocket. “It’s a little piece of home.”

They continued walking along the shoreline, Y/n occasionally stopping to inspect another rock or shell. She collected a small handful of them, showing each one to Spock with the same enthusiasm as the first. Though he did not share her penchant for collecting seemingly random objects, he never dismissed her excitement, responding to each discovery with patient interest.

As they reached the edge of the forest, Y/n bent down again, this time retrieving a larger, rougher stone. Its surface was jagged, unlike the smooth pebbles from the beach, and it seemed to carry the weight of ancient time within its weathered surface.

“This one feels different,” she murmured, brushing off the dirt. “It’s heavier… older, maybe?”

Spock took the stone from her, his long fingers tracing the irregular contours. His eyes narrowed in contemplation, and for a moment, he said nothing.

“You are correct,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “This rock likely originates from deeper beneath the Earth’s surface, perhaps pushed upward by tectonic activity.”

Y/n leaned in closer, intrigued. “Do you think it’s volcanic?”

Spock’s lips quirked, the closest he ever came to a smile. “It is possible. The rough texture suggests it may have been exposed to intense heat.”

Y/n couldn’t help but marvel at the way Spock could transform an ordinary rock into something extraordinary with his explanations. She rested her head against his shoulder, content in the silence that followed.

“You know,” she began softly, “I used to collect rocks like these when I was a kid. I’d bring them back to my room and pretend they were treasures from some distant planet.”

Spock turned his head slightly to look at her, his gaze thoughtful. “Your fascination with these objects seems to persist.”

Y/n smiled up at him. “Maybe it’s just nostalgia. Or maybe it’s because now, with you, it feels like I really am collecting treasures from other worlds.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, his expression softening further. “An intriguing perspective.”

They stood there for a moment, the quiet of the forest around them, the distant sound of water lapping at the shore. Y/n reached for Spock’s hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“I’m glad you came with me,” she whispered. “It’s nice to share this part of my world with you.”

Spock squeezed her hand gently. “I find it… agreeable to observe Earth through your eyes, Y/n.”

She laughed softly, knowing that was as close to romantic as Spock would get. And that was more than enough for her.

As they walked back toward the house, the last light of day fading into twilight, Y/n tucked another rock into her pocket. This one was small and round, polished smooth by the water, and it sparkled faintly in the moonlight.

“I think I’ll keep this one,” she said, holding it up for Spock to see. “A souvenir of today.”

Spock tilted his head, his dark eyes reflecting the silver of the moon. “You seem to have acquired quite the collection.”

Y/n grinned. “I’m just getting started.”

And as they walked hand in hand beneath the stars, Y/n couldn’t help but feel that every rock, every moment, was a little treasure they shared in their own universe, one that Spock, in his own unique way, understood perfectly.

[forestleavescat]

Took time to think on Moominvalley S4. it still feels bad

I’ve thought about Moominvalley season 4. Seen other people respond to it. I still don’t feel great. There was a great journey from S1-3. But this season sorta fell off. It felt like character development disappeared. And I’ve seen people say it wasn’t queerbaiting and I disagree. I mean, you gotta trust that a lot of people have dealt with it before. We know what it is. And the argument that snufmin never had a chance isn’t true. I was starved for moomin content between seasons and listened to the team discuss moominvalley. There were podcasts where they would chuckle and say that they were a little in love. They know the fanbase. The argument that it would never happen because they never stray from the original story isn’t true. Each version makes changes. And I don’t think that people can argue that they wouldn’t stray from the source material when the finale was what it was. They completely turned that story on its head. I wanted to come back to the topic because I decided to rewatch the earlier seasons. I saw some of the ‘it’s not queerbaiting. They were never more than friends’ posts and I started to think that it was true. That I read too much into it. And then I watched The Spring Tune. And just. no ??? Ain’t no way there wasn’t anything going on there. And previous iterations usually had some level of pining while not committing to a romantic development. There were 100% moments, but it wasn’t like moominvalley. If you don’t care for the ship. That’s fine. If you liked the final season that’s great. But don’t tell fans that they can’t be upset about how this was handled. Don’t tell them ‘well you set yourself up for disappointment’ or ‘did you really think that would happen.’ It’s like you’re telling people who are disappointed in this happening that they were just delusional about it?? A lot of people, whether new to the community or not find a sense of belonging in queer media. It’s something welcoming and friendly. Especially if you’re either trying to figure out your identity or find comfort in media that embraces similar identities. Maybe it’s fans that grew up with it and found a sense of comfort with the close and romantically ambiguous relationship between snufkin and moomin and when you start to watch moominvalley it really does seem like there’s a chance compared to other iterations. The creators seem to support this. They acknowledge it outright. It seems more possible than ever. Or you’re just getting into the moomins. The way this show explores their relationship early on is something that really did help people with their identities. And when a show seems like it’s heading there and then pulls back completely in the final season it sucks. And it makes it so much worse when people say ‘well duh, of course it wouldn’t have happened.’ And moominvalley felt even worse. Because the creators outright acknowledged it on multiple occasions while older examples of queerbaiting didn’t. The creators wrote what seemed to be gay ships but dropped it after securing money and views. But the team didn’t wink and nudge the way this team did. And just look at the Lonely Mountains. That episode was not only the largest step towards it being canon but it didn’t finish what it set up. Snufkin never did finish that chat that got interrupted. Which made it seem like something they’d likely save for the last season. If season 4 handled them exactly like season 3 without their relationship going farther that would still be an improvement. They lose all of that subtle ‘what are we’ closeness. You gotta know moomin fans live throughout the world. Shows that are explicit with that tend to get censored overseas. But it’s easier to get past that when there’s an implicit thing that other members of the lgbtq community would pick up. Then America in a time where laws are censoring gay stuff. I feel like it’s important to consider how important queer media is and to observe past instances of queerbaiting and why that’s as harmful as it is.

S4 felt like the July 1st of moominvalley to me. Just ‘okay we’re done no more gay’

[mangalho]

Ex-warbot OC

They don’t have names yet.

The two bots with the scary faces were specifically made for war, and now that it’s over, they still maintained their original ‘warface’ even though it has stigma associated to it. Many robots changed their faceplates post-war, as it made it easier to find jobs and not get into unnecessary conflict.

The sleeker looking guy used to be in their company, though he wasn’t made in the same factory as them; he isn’t their ’batch-mate’.

After the war he completely modified his frame, and now has an idol career. He desperately wats to erase his past, as people (and robots alike) will respond better to a ‘new’ and untainted idol.

The two warface bots are “brother and sister” and they do odd jobs here and there to make ends meet and to be able to afford things they want. Rich people hire them as bouncers a lot since they are a symbol of terrible times. Sometimes they earn 15k in one night for just one gig it’s crazy. They both really love clothes since it distances them from their body’s original purpose while simultaneously not erasing their past. Also they look cute and cool!

The idol bot once meets the warfaces by chance in the street and pretends he doesn’t know them AGAHAKALAK I think he’s insane… completely erasing your past and the person you were is psychopathic to me idk. Anyway

There arent a lot of warfaces going around anymore. since they either died during the war or changed their frames. Pre-war bots were re-fitted during the conflicts and just had to go back to their former unweaponized frames after it was all over so they’re fine.  All of these robots can download information and i want that type of learning to mostly disappear if its deleted, but if they learn things like we do or experience real events, those memories and skills can’t really truly be erased; if they do try erasing them, they will still remember them, just not with HD video clarity, which brings them immense suffering sometimes. “How to people live like this?!” Well buddy it sucks idk we all cope

Newly minted robots are wack because they don’t exactly have a ‘soul’ yet they just do things they’re supposed to do, but after some time, all of them actually develop real awareness and shit… my war bots had like a 78% chance of dying everyday when they were activated, but they survived and attained sentience at like one year post birth and they wised up rly fast after that. They remember their first year, but they describe it as a ‘weird haze’

These robots feel pain so they wont like dive into a hole or damage themselves too much. Self preservation means longer-lived machines which means less repair costs and less human lives on the line as well.. slay !!!

While the conflicts went on, most robots achieved sentience and decided to stop fighting so there was like a robots rights movement and eventually the war stopped altogether and now the robots have a salary and a normal life mostly. They arent organics, so they need other things. They are solar powered and need oil sometimes and also they need new nanomachines once in a while like we need vaccines. Get your boosters… its not just tetanus and coronavirus anymore now they gotta think about like..the trojan horse 9000

I want them to have this aversion to organic things dying bc they are universally gross. Like they dont like seeing living-machines die either but a rat being squished by a car is also gross!

There are probably some tensions between humans and robots but like i kinda get it bc i wouldnt mess with a guy who has like lead pipes for arms. also most robots ARE normal but some are insane idk 🙆‍♀️🤷‍♀️ just  like people are.

 mine are normal tho they’re just vibing 💖🗣🤙

[moonbaby26]

As we know, Oda made the original seven warlords all animal themed. With Doflamingo -duh- being a flamingo 🦩💖. But in this post I wanted to add the additional reasons I find it funny that my favorite warlord is indeed, a bird. Because most birds are chaotic, evil trainwrecks if you didn’t know! Do not be fooled by their elegant propaganda of the American bald eagle, peacock, and such.

Far more bird species are of the hissing/unpredictable/possessive/oversexed/homicidal/drama queen variety.

And as part of my example, I will be introducing my pet cockatiel! He is a male, lutino color variant. I took him to the avian vet recently to get a quick nail trim (he treats my arm like a bloodied ski slope with his little feet razors otherwise).

The likeness is uncanny, right? Spiked up blond hairdo and all. 🤣

But here is my rambling list below of why Doflamingo fits the bird theming beyond just his aesthetics. Note, all species are different. These are just generalities.

1. Birds are needy, attention whores. Realistically, this comes from wanting the attention and safety of their flock. And my bird gets plenty of out of cage time with us. But oh my god, sometimes if he hears me so much as sneeze and he can’t see me…WHY AM I IN THE HOUSE, BUT NOT WITH HIM!? WHY!? RED ALERT. He starts flock calling for me, and I must respond with at least a whistle or he will begin screaming. Because surely, someone must be murdering me if I don’t come to him immediately.

2. They are complete horndogs. Seriously, everyone thinks humping inappropriate things is a male dog exclusive problem. Nope. There are professional bird behaviorists that people literally pay to come teach them how to calm their pet birds’ sexual aggression and the nightmare that can become. You have to be mindful of how you interact with them, lest they start thinking YOU are their mate and begin attacking anyone else in the house who is not you. Because they are jealous. So jealous. I only pet/preen my bird on his head. As that is perfectly platonic flock behavior. But touching anywhere else (back or chest for example) can make them think it’s sexy time. Male birds will hump the utter hell out of “favorite” objects. Birds kept with others must be monitored that no one is getting ganged up on. But it happens in the wild too. Female ducks need pepper spray or self defense classes. I’ll just leave it at that.

3. They are murderous/violent, and easily overstimulated. So my bird weighs around 80 grams give or take. As an adult human, he’s not going to take me down anytime soon. But if he wanted to, he likely could bite me hard enough to go to the bone. He never has truly bitten me, but I watch his body language. He runs up wanting to be petted. Or sits on me long enough that he falls asleep. He likes to be together, but always on his terms. If I touched him too much, or when he didn’t want it, he’d definitely bite me. People have lost eyes to larger birds. People have had to have reconstructive surgery from parrot bites. They can crush whole nuts in their beak. So what do you think they’ll do to your face when they are sitting on your shoulder and suddenly get triggered (which they very easily are)? Humans have been drowned by swans. And forget it when it comes to something like the Cassowary. You’re already dead if they really wanted you to be.

4. They are opportunistic. Oh look, more murder! People think only birds of prey are the true meat eaters. But a pelican would eat you if it thought it could swallow you. Even the smallest birds have been observed killing other birds and small mammals if they can. Food is food. They are not cute to their victims. They are survivalists. No mercy. Ever. Some baby birds actually eat their own nestmates if one sibling is stronger than the others (sorry Rosi, there really was a precedent for that 😰).

5. They are territorial. And still more murder! In my own yard we have birdhouses made for Eastern bluebirds. They’re a species that legit benefits from human intervention as bluebirds will only nest in cavities, which they have less of now because of deforestation and competition with non native species taking said cavities. Non native species (for the US anyway) of the European house sparrow in particular. House sparrows are tiny. Smaller than a bluebird. But they will slaughter a bluebird family. All over territory during breeding season. They enter the bluebird nest and will peck even the adult bluebirds to death if they can catch them on the nest. They killed a male bluebird of ours this way. Now we put up “sparrow spookers” on our active bluebird nests once eggs are in the box. It’s just mylar streamers that blow in the wind, and the sparrows are afraid to fly through it. But every breeding season we have to go through this again. Basically Riku dynasty versus Donquixote dynasty in our backyard with the invading house sparrows.

And I could go on and on really, about greed, mood swings, vanity, etc. But you get the idea now. Murder, sex, and bright plumage. Heavy emphasis on the murder especially. He really is a bird in every sense of the word. 😅

Edit: Oh! And I forgot grudges! Some birds will hold a grudge for ages. Just ask a crow. I thought my bird would be over my betrayal of the vet visit by today. Nah. He’s still pissed. He won’t come to me right now. He fakes me out to offer my hand to him, then says, nah, bitch! And opens his mouth like he rather bite. It’ll be a few days I guess. 🤣 Never betray a Donquixote!

[irislunace]

So I've Been Thinking...

With the influencer arc vid and Green''s vids dropping recently...

And with Animation vs Youtube showing us that Alan's videos are canon in the AB universe...

How were some of them recorded? Since all of Alan's vids and Green's vids are now in the same universe.

For example, people tend to disregard this fact, but the CG are technically Outernet celebrities.

From "The King", timestamp 10:08

And if Animator vs Animation (original) and Animation vs Minecraft (original) are canonically videos as well...the others probably are too, right?

So WHO'S BEEN RECORDING!?!?!?

Is it Alan? Has he been recording the sticks without telling them and posting it on YouTube? He might have thought, in the original series, that he'd make a channel where he'd torture sticks or something. But AvA 4 changed that. And Animation vs Youtube made the sticks aware that Alan had a channel.

If so...

Do they know? Did all the stuff the sticks did happen for purely content and views purposes? Is everything planned out, and are the sticks acting? Has he been filming them without them knowing? Or maybe he tells them once the video content ends and they all agree to post it...

But then, how were the Outernet episodes recorded?! How was the Showdown recorded? How was the King recorded? How was Wanted and the Box recorded?

Since the Minecraft game was canonically made by Rocket Corp., was the video dredged from surveillance cameras surrounding? And if so, Did TDL set up cameras around his base that recorded "The Showdown" or something? If so, how was the footage recovered? And how'd they record in the wifi tunnel?

AND DOESNT THIS MEAN THAT THE STICKS CAN JUST GO TO ALANS CHANNEL AND FIND WANTED AND THE BOX ON YOUTUBE!?!?!

Or...maybe I'm just reading too much into it, and only the original AvA and AvM are YouTube canon. That is a possibility, since many of the shots are moving, and someone would need to be in front of the sticks for it to work out...

Edit: If someone wants to ask Green abt it on one of his vids go right ahead (I can’t have a YouTube account). U don’t even have to credit me, just make sure to reblog this and post his response (if he responds ofc)

[ryker-writes]

damn that leech sibling post really made me wanna make them sad, so can i request a scenario where reader starts ghosting them? basically just dodging them and their attempts at conversation, and one day the leech twins hear reader trash talking them. perfectly okay if you can’t!

I'm actually glad I get to do another part to the Leech twins one. This branches off from the original post

For those who didn't see the original leech twins sibling angst, you can find it here

Request rules and Masterlists

Leech Twins as siblings (Broken relationship: No forgiveness ending)

the two of them were spending an awful lot of time around you today and insisting on doing whatever you wanted to do

there wasn't any teasing or insults either

it was very...suspicious

you knew of Azul's magic with making contract and how clever they were at luring people in

so you were a little concerned that they wanted you to sign a contract

deciding not to dance around it you asked

"Are you guys trying to get me to sign a contract or something?"

Floyd was very blunt with his response

"Eh? What would we even need from you? You already work for Azul"

Jade was more polite

"We simply wanted to spend some time with you is all."

he smiled, but it wasn't his menacing one

it was a more genuine smile

they genuinely wanted to spend more time with you

but it was far too late for that

after years and years of being cast aside by the entire family and being called the boring little sibling by everyone was already enough

but then they had you working yourself nearly to the point of passing out every other day, all while they continued to make fun of you

and after all of that, they wanted to try and spend time with you now?

you're too tired to deal with this

to deal with them

you just can't anymore

so, without a word, you just turned and walked away from them

from then on, you did everything you could to avoid them

for about a week after that, Jade made consistent efforts to try and talk to you

he would often try to create conversation during your shifts at the lounge

usually it was about orders or certain customers

each time, you never responded or even looked at him, and continued working

but he was persistent and kept trying every chance he got

it's because of his persistence, everything that happened, and their presence at all that you decided to quit your job with the lounge

no longer would you see them on a daily basis

that's what you hoped

not to long after that you noticed Floyd "coincidentally" passing you in the halls or needing something from your classroom

and of course, he had to try and talk to you while you were there

you made a point to leave the room or pass right by him whenever you saw him

as soon as you left you could hear him grumble and sigh behind you

you were beyond exhausted of them at this point

each day they tried to talk to you seemed to chip away at your nerves

it didn't take long for you to finally express how over it you were

they finally gave up after hearing you talk to one of your classmates

the classmate mentioned wanted help with some of the tougher homework from class

they thought you were still associated with the twins and the lounge, so they came to you asking if your brothers or Azul would be able to help since they seemed smart

at that, you laughed

"Smart? I wouldn't call them that. If they've convinced you that they're smart, then they've managed to manipulate you just like they do everyone else. Those two can't even tell when someone doesn't want anything to do with them. They're pests that don't go away."

sure it may have seemed mean from an outsiders perspective

but they heard it, and they got the point

after growing up being the outsider, constantly ignored in the family, and deemed the boring sibling, they got a little taste of what you went through

but of course, they would never be able to feel the full extent of pain you went through because of them

they completely stopped trying to talk to you after that and finally, you could be away from them

there wouldn't be any chance of them hurting you again now

[roseofthewind]

Furina and High-Masking Autism

A lot of people don’t know how to recognize high-masking autism because its presentation challenges many stereotypes about what autistic people are like, but Furina continues to be a perfect example of it.

It should go without saying, but I love Furina as a character and this analysis is in no way putting her down. Autism is an entirely neutral trait that carries through to adulthood, and if you have a strong negative reaction to the idea of a character you like being autistic, you have probably absorbed a lot of misconceptions about autism and have some unconscious prejudice to unpack.

In the paragraphs that follow, I am going to explain several autistic traits and give examples of how Furina displays each trait.

*thinking face on*

1. Autism is, at its core, a difference in the way the brain takes in, processes, and shares information. This can make it challenging to communicate with other people who don’t share this neurotype, but a high-masking autistic person has observed the way other people interact and spent years copying them, figuring out through trial and error how to act to best fit in and get the most positive responses from other people.

Furina’s ascension speech in Act V of the Fontaine Archon Quest, where she first presents herself to the people of Fontaine, is a great example of this observation of others with the goal of masking as well as possible. Furina initially gives the speech as comes naturally to her in a very straightforward and honest manner (also an autistic trait!). After the speech, she realizes that her citizens are responding with hostility to her humility and lack of authoritarianism, so she then plays off the original speech as a ruse and immediately redoes the entire thing more assertively according to the feedback she picked up on.

(Calm down, Furina… Think. Think. What do the people want? How would they imagine a god to speak and act?)

Fontaine AQ Act V, Chinese audio: (link starts video at 3:10:07) https://youtu.be/T-AbXi5bufk?si=eQADAWw6n8Sk0PZE&t=11407

This is the kind of social trial and error that many autistic people do over the course of years so that eventually we can say the “right thing” the first time around, and it’s a testimony to Furina’s skills as an actor that she course-corrects so quickly.

Because of all the constant mental calculations, social situations are usually very tiring for autistic people, even when the social event lines up with their interests. In Clorinde’s Story Quest, Furina has no interest in Navia’s suggestion of pulling an all-nighter to keep playing D&D (I mean, Tabletop Troupe!) and wants to go home and rest.

Furina: Huh!? Oh, um… I’m not sure I’ll have enough energy for that…

Furina has shown other signs of needing to take a break from socializing– for instance, in Lynette’s hangout event quest, Lynette gets tired of all the people at her post-performance reception and goes upstairs to a quieter room to find Furina already there.

Furina offers to give Lynette tips on the best ways to slip away from an event, and Lynette misunderstands at first and isn’t interested in Furina’s advice because she thinks Furina loves everything about the spotlight and doesn’t realize how much they have in common. This goes a long way to show just how well Furina masks her autistic traits!

Furina: I see you’ve escaped the crowds to seek refuge on the second floor. Fame can be overwhelming at first, can’t it? Perhaps you’d benefit from hearing about the experiences of a veteran celebrity such as myself?

Lynette: No thanks, I’m good. Pretty sure this’ll be my first and last time in this situation…

Furina: Hey, at least let me finish! I have top tips on dealing with belligerent reporters, slipping away to hunt down snacks during the intermission…

Lynette: …Tell me everything.

Conversely, when alone, Furina will stay up late reading or doing something else that interests her and will not feel the same need to stop and rest, because when alone, there is no need to expend extra energy worrying about socializing properly.

At the beginning of the Fontinalia Film Festival limited event story, Traveler and Paimon go to Furina’s apartment and she answers the door sounding a bit groggy.

Paimon: Did you just get up, Furina? It’s already past noon, you know…

After Traveler chastises Paimon for being rude, Paimon panics and says something nonsensical about how the weather is so nice in the afternoon and sleeping in is fine, actually, and Furina responds that she’s just a bit tired because she was up late reading:

Furina: I was just up late last night reading some novels…

When focused on an interest, it’s very easy for an autistic person to lose track of time and it can be difficult to break out of the focused state and go to bed. (This is a trait that overlaps significantly with ADHD.)

2. Alexithymia is a difficulty with identifying, processing, and expressing your own emotions, and in extreme cases presents as an almost total lack of emotion. Some degree of alexithymia is common in autistic people.

I believe, in the flashback scene below from Act V of the Fontaine Archon Quest, that Furina genuinely did not realize she was upset and did not realize she was crying, which could be explained by alexithymia.

Fontainian citizen: Are… are you crying?

(If you played this part with the English voice acting and interpreted it differently, try listening to it in Chinese- Furina’s voice sounds completely confident and in control the entire time, and it’s not until the other person points out she’s crying that Furina sounds at all upset.)

Fontaine AQ Act V, Chinese audio: (link starts video at 3:22:00) https://youtu.be/T-AbXi5bufk?si=fl8xSwkQ0rRLFPQU&t=12121

I am a believer that Furina and Focalors were originally the same person, and Focalors is just Furina’s divinity and pre-archonhood memories— so if Furina is autistic, Focalors is autistic.

While talking to Neuvillette, Focalors is extremely matter-of-fact with her explanation of her plan, very matter-of-fact about the suffering of her own human self, and very matter-of-fact about her own impending death. There is no show of emotion— she just tells Neuvillette the facts. This could be related to alexithymia, but regardless it is a very autistic way of communicating that is often misinterpreted as cold and uncaring. In actuality, someone who is willing to sacrifice their own immortality, divine power, and freedom to save other people’s lives cares a great deal, even if the tone of their voice doesn’t reflect it!

Focalors: I mean, did you think I would be the sort to enjoy peaceful repose while Furina suffered?

3. The autistic nervous system takes in a lot of information that a neurotypical person’s would filter out as not being important enough to bother with- this is why autistic people are so much more sensitive to sounds, lights, textures, and any changes in the environment. Too much sensory input can actually feel painful.

There is a documented instance of the Opera Epiclese becoming so loud that Furina was overstimulated enough to yell at everyone to be quiet.

Furthermore, post-Archon Quest, after moving out of the Palais Mermonia and into her own apartment, Furina eats primarily macaroni for an unspecified amount of time— weeks or months on end. After a huge life change, it’s common for an autistic person to want anything they can control to be the same, so their brain has more space to process everything that’s different.

There is no neurotypical explanation for eating the same food over and over to the exclusion of everything else. It makes no sense to someone who doesn’t experience overstimulation and distress at too much change. Case in point, during Furina’s Story Quest, Traveler and Paimon are rather baffled:

Traveler: …Don’t you get sick of macaroni every day?

Furina: Not at all. As long as you have different kinds of sauces in, you can have macaroni and tomato sauce one week, macaroni and bolognese the next…

Notice that Furina says “macaroni and tomato sauce one week,” implying that she’s fine with just that sauce for an entire week, and then uses a different sauce for the next entire week. Still not very much variety!

Paimon: Oh, sounds like you’re really struggling to cope… Traveler: Is it because you have to do all your own cooking now?

Yes, Furina is struggling to cope, but not because she’s incapable of learning how to cook more complex dishes! She’s just too burnt out to want to make or eat a variety of things right now. Furina explains this and Paimon doesn’t believe her, but since we know that Furina’s special dish is an even more extravagant version of La Lettre a Focalors, if Furina is capable of baking at that level, she would certainly be capable of cooking.

4. Stimming, or self-stimulatory behaviors, are repetitive actions that serve to regulate or soothe the nervous system. There are countless behaviors that can be used as stims, but some common ones are rocking back and forth, hand flapping or waving, leg bouncing, skin picking or scratching, rubbing or squeezing a comforting object, dancing, spinning in circles, humming or vocalizing, or listening to the same song on repeat for hours. (It’s worth noting that stimming is not exclusive to autism— especially when stressed neurotypical people do some of these things too. Stimming can also be commonly exhibited by people with ADHD who aren’t autistic, although there are also a significant number of people with both ADHD and autism.)

One of Furina’s idle animations and also her normal attack sequence include behaviors that can be interpreted as stimming. Furina’s idle animation with Surintendante Chevalmarin involves her holding the seahorse up, waving her around, squeezing her tightly and rubbing her face on her head. Chevalmarin is made entirely of water and loves Furina dearly, and so does not mind being cuddled like a stuffed animal.

If you use all four of Furina’s normal attacks, she spins around several times and the final attack culminates with her spinning on a bubble and swinging her sword for AOE. If you use just three of Furina’s normal attacks and do not append any additional actions, Furina spins around again before plunging the tip of her sword into the ground (I do not have a gif of this). Furina also spins around when added to your 4-character party. That’s a lot of spinning, which certainly makes it seem like a preferred stim!

5. I got this far without mentioning special interests because I have so much other evidence that I hardly need to bring it up— but since it’s a much more commonly recognized autistic trait than many of the things I discussed at the beginning, I will include this part of Furina’s teapot dialogue, which does indicate that Furina engages in special interests:

Furina pretty much defines “special interest” with the above statement: it’s something that you’re interested in (to the point that it may feel like an obsession) and you have to know everything about it!

These are just a few examples of autistic traits that Furina exhibits— there are absolutely more. Furina is shown many times to have a high level of near constant anxiety despite being someone who is confident enough to perform on stage. This anxiety could come from other sources, like c-PTSD, but it’s very common for a high-masking autistic person to have chronic anxiety from being hyper-aware of avoiding potential social blunders, repressing stimming to appear more “normal,” and dealing with the increased risk of overstimulation that comes with repressing stimming.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! Even if you don’t agree with my interpretation of the character, I do genuinely hope you learned something about autism.

[edenfenixblogs]

BLOG PSA:

I have a lot more followers here than I’ve ever had before. For those who don’t know, this blog was originally created to help me journal, document, heal, and learn from others with PTSD. While I have been in recovery for quite a while and am mostly stable. My trauma anniversary lasts from now through mid/late October. I tend to be very low energy during this time and have very little emotional energy to spare.

If I don’t respond to your messages, please don’t be offended. If you want to message me, please do! I like to read even if I can’t find it within myself to respond. I don’t anticipate making any long analytical posts during this time, unless I find something to hyper focus on.

Just writing this pretty much sapped all my spare energy for today.

Love all y’all. Stay safe. Choose peace and choose kindness.

XO,

Eden.