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vatelixx · 15 days ago

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The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

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There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid smut #sub spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #giving him the happiness he deserved #he is my roman empire #his excess trauma is also #my #roman empire #thank u and good night america #i’m not even american

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 1 year ago

Text

The Grand A-Z List of Whump 1/3

This list contains ~290 items listed A to H

As always, I heavily encourage people to research topics thoroughly when writing as it is important to avoid stereotypes/misinformation. This list's intention is not to glorify/romanticise sensitive topics in any way.

This part one-of-three comprehensive lists of injuries, Illnesses and tropes - including those from the Whumptober 2023 trope vote!

All submissions are listed in italics, and those who wanted to be tagged will be included at the end. If you have any more submissions: please send them via DM/my ask box.

[I-Q] [R-Z] [NSFW List]

List below the cut:

"I don't need your help."

"I'm doing this to make you better"

"I'm fine, take care of them!"

“I’m Fine”

"Kill me instead"

"Let me in."

"Look at me."

"Should I know you?"

"Take me instead."

(No) Anaesthetic

A Good Ol' Sickfic

Abandoned

Abdominal Pain

Aching Wounds

Acne

Adrenaline Crash

Adrift (in space/at sea)

Agoraphobia

Airsickness

Alien abduction

Allergies

Alopecia

Ambulance Ride

Ambush

Amnesia/memory loss

Amputations

Anaemia

Anesthesia

Angina (Heart condition that causes pain)

Animal Attack/Bite

Ankle Sprain

Anthrax

Anxiety/Anxiety attack(s)

Aphasia

Appendicitis

Arrested

Arthritis

Asking for help

Asphyxiation

Assumed Dead

Asthma/Asthma Attack

Auctions

Autoimmune disease

Avalanches

Backache

Bad Caretakers

Bandaged Head

Banished

Barbed Wire

Bear trap

Beaten up by ex-friends

Beaten with blunt object (i.e, bat or pipe)

Beatings

Bedrest

Bedside Vigil/Hospital Vigil

Begging

Betrayed by close friend/team/family

Bites (Animal, Bug, Human….)

Biting

Black Eye

Blackmail

Bleeding Out

Bleeding Through

Bandages

Blindfolded

Blindness (this could be temporary or permanent)

Blisters

Blood Loss

Blood Poisoning

Bloodied Knuckles

Bloodstains/blood trail

Bloody handprints

Bloody nose

Blunt force trauma

Blurred vision

Body modification

Body Sharing

Body Switching

Bounty on their head

Brain Damage

Brainwashing

Breakdowns

Breathless

Bridal Carry

Broken Bones (Ribs, Arm, Leg)

Broken Nose

Broken Promises

Bronchitis

Bruises

Building Collapse

Bullet Removal

Bumpy roads jarring injuries

Buried Alive

Burning Building

Burns/Scalding

Busted kneecap

Cancer

Caning

Capgras syndrome/delusion (belief that someone close to/important to the person has been replaced by an imposter)

Capsulitis

Captivity

Captured

Car chases (and maybe a car crash)

Carbon monoxide poisoning

Cardiac Arrest

Caretaker has to “play nice” with whumper.

Caretaker has to hurt whumpee while undercover.

Caretaker sacrificing something dear to them to get something the whumpee needs.

Caretaker turned Whumpee

Caretaker-whumper who's a parental whumper. But their "love" is not real love. Or even right treatment.

Carsickness

Cataracts

Catatonia

Caught in a fire

Caught in an explosion

Cauterization

Cave In

Cavity

Celebrity whump (exploitation in the music/movie industries…)

Chaffing from ropes/handcuffs/shackles

Chained/Shackled

Checking for injuries

CHF - congestive heart failure

Chicken Pox

Chills

Chloroform

Choking

Chronic pain

Claustrophobia

Cleaning wounds alone

Cold/Flu,

Collapsed Lung

Collapsing (into someone’s arms is usually nice, bonus points for cradling their head as they lower the whumpee to the floor)

Collapsing after they win

Collapsing/Fainting/Passing Out

Collars

Coma

Comfort after a nightmare

Common cold

Completely betrayed by their own team

Complications

Concussion

Confusion

Constipation

Constricted Airways

COPD - Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease makes breathing increasingly more difficult.

Corporal Punishment

Corset too tight and won’t unbutton

Coughing

Coughing Up Blood

CPR

Cramps

Crikes (intubation through neck)

Crush injury

Crying

Cuddle pile

Curses

Cuts/Grazes

Cutting off hair (more of an emotional hurt)

Cyanide poisoning

Damaged Larynx/Vocal Cords

De-aging

Deathbed Confessions (don’t have to actually die and stay dead, just the threat of dying)

Defeat

Defenestration (throwing out a window)

Dehydration

Deja Vu

Delirium (bonus points for this being drug/ fever induced)

Deluded whumper/thinking they’re helping the whumpee

Dengue Fever

Denial

Depression

Dermatitis

Diabetes (type 1 and 2)

Diarrhea

Diseases ('mystery' diseases are the best kind)

Dislocations

Disorientation

Disowned by Family

Displaced hip

Dissociation

Distress call

Dizziness

Dragged Away

Dream sequence

Driving to the hospital with a whumpee slumped barely-conscious in the seat of the car

Drowning

Drunkenness

Ear Infection

Edema (swelling from build up of fluid)

EKG

Electrical Burns

Electrical shock

Electrocution

Emergency field surgery

Emergency Surgery

Emotional angst

Emotional manipulation

Endometriosis

Enemy to Caretaker

Energy Drain

Environmental whump

Execution

Exes reunited with one wanting a relationship and the other just wanting friendship.

Exhaustion

Experimentation

Exposure

Extreme Weather

Eye injury

Facing Phobias

Failed Escape

Failure to thrive

Fainting

Fainting (but also fainting aftermath) / Fainting due to lack of sleep, food, or overworking fainting from exhaustion

Falling

Falling for Caretaker/Whumpee/Whumper

Falling Through Ice

Fatigue/Exhaustion

Fever

Fibromyalgia (Chronic Pain)

Field medicine

Fighting (while injured)

Financial difficulty faced + how whumper might take advantage of that + how caretaker handles everything (well/badly)

Finding your loved one dead without explanation but thinking they’re still alive.

Fireman's carry

Flare ups

Flashbacks

Flinching away

Flu

Food Poisoning

Forced to... (Break out, Choose, Hurt, Kneel, Scream, Watch)

Forehead kisses

Forgotten by team

Foul-tasting medicine

Found family

Found unconscious

Fracture (Arm, Hyoid bone etc)

Freezing / cold whump

Friendly Fire

Frostbite

Gagged/Muzzled

Gangrene infection

Gaslighting

Gas (noxious, poisonous etc)

Gastritis

Glass (shards, debris etc)

Grief

Gunshot Wound

Hair Pulling/Cutting/Matting/Stroking

Hallucinations

Hanahaki

Handcuffs

Handgag

Hard ground

Haunted

Hay Fever

Head injuries/concussion

Head trauma

Headache/Migraine

Heart Palpitations

Heartburn

Heat Exhaustion

Heatstroke

Heavy metal poisoning

Held at gunpoint/knifepoint/weapon point

Hematohidrosis (Sweating blood)

Hemophilia/Hematophilia (Blood unable to clot)

Haemothorax

Hernia

Hidden Illness/Injury/Scar/Medical Issues

Hiding

High Blood Pressure

High Fever (like dangerously high)

High Pain Tolerence

Hit by a car

Home Sickness

Hospital Codes

Hostage Situation

House burnt down

Huddling for Warmth

Human Shield

Human Weapon

Hunger

Hungover

Hunted for Sport

Hurt no comfort

Hyperalgesia,

Hypermobility

Hyperventilating

Hypo/Hyperthermia

Hypo/Hyperthyroidism

Hypoglycemia

Hypotension/ Hypertension

Hypoxia

TAG LIST: Thank you very much to the following people for submitting ideas! (I apologise if some tags did not work, I'm not sure why tumblrs not letting me tag you!)

#whump #a-z trope list #prompts #a to h #long post #extra long post #depression tw #anxiety tw #chronic illness mention #gun tw #angst #hurt #injury #illness #cancer tw #illness tw #alcohol tw #violence tw #medical tw

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qatheauthoress74 · 2 months ago

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Transformers One Spoiler Review

There are so many spoliers in this review. I am not kidding when I say go watch the film (five times at least) before reading this. Okay? Good.

I’m gonna be honest here. Growing up I wasn’t all that invested in the Transformers franchise as other kids were. I ocasionally watched a random episode of Transformers Animated or Prime whenever they were on TV back in the day but I wasn’t what you’d call a fan. All that changed after I watched Bumblebee (2018) on a whim and it changed my brain chemistry in the best way. Seriously, that film is still one of my comfort movies and I love it so much that I even began to write fanfiction again with several TF fics, including my Riding A Sunset story (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648414/chapters/41617823).

But before Bumblebee, theatrical Live Action Transformer films had the infamous status of being bad to downright terrible for overusing bland human characters over the Autobots or Decepticons as well as being very inconsistent with their own established continuity. Not to mention making some characters act very out of character. Seeing a film like Bumblebee helped me believe that filmmakers are capable of telling a story that not only respects the lore but also genuinely cares about substance over spectacle outside of the well-made fight scenes. That was why I wanted to give Rise of the Beasts a chance when it came out but I was sadly a little underwhelmed. It is still better than any of the Transformer films Micheal Bay directed, but personally, that’s like saying the Eukrea 7 film “Pocket Full of Rainbows” is better than E7: Ao and the follow-up film trilogy, which isn’t saying much. Again, that’s just me and my biased opinion. Which is the whole point of this review.

But believe me when I say I did want to give Transformers One a chance. I was hopeful after learning it was going to be fully animated and would actually focus on the Transformers instead of some random humans. So, what kind of plot would the film be about it’s a prequel set on Cybertron?

Well…

Plot: The premise is the origin of the mighty leaders of the Autobots and Decepticons, Optimus Prime and Megatron, and how the two factions would eventually fight over control of their home planet, Cybertron. Both started as lowly miners unable to transform into vehicles like the other half of their race can and so are forced to work day in and day out in their underground home of Iacon City to collect the fuel source known as Energon. The reason they need to do so is because 50 cycles before the events of the story the leaders of Cybertron, The Primes, died in a war against an alien race called the Quintessons. After they were killed an important relic known as the Matrix of Leadership disappeared and it led to the Energon dwindling until it could only be found deep under the planet’s surface. Without Energon, the Cybertronians would perish, which is why Orion Pax (Optimus Prime’s identity before he became a Prime) wants to find out what happened to the Matrix of Leadership. The current leader of the Cybertronians, Sentinel Prime, is trying to find it out on the surface but has been unable to do so. D-16 (Megatron’s original name) would rather keep his head down but constantly gets dragged into whatever zany scheme Orion has come up with at the moment. Thanks to unintentionally antagonizing a Cybertronian named Darkwing the two get dumped into the lowest place imaginable and meet an overly talkative but friendly bot called B-127 (aka Bumblebee). There they discover a warped message from one of the fallen Primes, Alpha Trion, calling for aid. Orion sees this as an opportunity to find a clue to where the Matrix might be and convinces D and Bee to help him reach the surface and inadvertently brings along Elita-1, Pax and D’s former boss, who recently lost her job thanks to them breaking protocol to save another miner’s life. The four bots end up discovering Alpha Trion’s unconscious body and manage to wake him up. He reveals to them that Sentinel is not what he seems and tells them a horrible truth:

Sentinel was never a Prime and was the one responsible for killing the original Primes with help from the Quintessons.

And all of the Energon the Cybertronians have been mining was being given to the Quintessons by Sentinel as a form of hush money to keep them from revealing his true colors to the Cybertronians. The heroes later learn that he was also the one responsible for taking their cogs as newborns so they could never have the freedom to be anything else but miners. The story then goes to show how Orion, Elita, and Bee want to bring Sentinel to justice while D (who gets slowly consumed by his deeply suppressed anger) wants to seek vengeance against Sentinel for what he has done and kill him for his crimes. The story gradually unfolds as lines are drawn, and tragically, the beautiful friendship between Orion and D ends with them becoming bitter enemies under their new personas, Optimus and Megatron. The movie ends bittersweetly with Optimus inspiring his former fellow miners into becoming Autobots and bringing Energon back to the planet as soon as he was given the Matrix after he sacrificed himself trying to save Sentinel from D/Megatron’s wrath. He also gave the miners their T-Cogs back, restoring their freedom and autonomy. Optimus then sends a message to the Quintessons, telling them he and the Autobots will be ready to face them when they return. Meanwhile, Megatron forms a new faction consisting of the previous members of the dead Primes' High Guard and calls them Decepticons to remind themselves to never be deceived by anyone again.

Damn.

Characters/Voices: The film leans heavily on established lore from pretty much all of the comics, the Aligned Continuity, some Live Action stuff, and Transformers Animated. I wasn’t bothered by the celebrity voice cast. Don’t get me wrong, I will always choose professional VAs over celebrities anytime, but I genuinely thought everyone did a great job, especially Chris Hemsworth as Orion/Optimus and Brian Tyree Henry as D-16/Megatron. Henry said in interviews he was using his experience as an activist in college as inspiration for how resentful and angry D-16/Megatron sounded in wanting to change things and I say he succeeded. Hemsworth had done his homework by consulting with THE Optimus Prime himself, Peter Cullen. I personally like to believe Cullen shared his “how I became Optimus Prime story” which is summed up by how Optimus should “Be Strong Enough To Be Gentle.” The reason I think that is because I felt it in Hemsworth’s performance, especially at the end of the film. I loved how they gradually sounded more like Optimus and Megatron as the story progressed. Which is both amazing and heartbreaking at the same time because you could see from the start how close Orion and D-16 were to each other before learning about the truth. It gave me the same feelings after seeing other great friendships/sibling bonds like Vi/Power/Jynx and Moses/Ramses fall apart in Arcane and The Prince of Egypt. Also, was anyone else reminded of that scene from The Fox and The Hound Todd and Copper's promise of staying friends after seeing Optimus' flashback of his first meeting with D-16? );

Other standouts include Laurence Fishburne as Alpha Trion. He gave the Prime a grand presence that almost reminds me of James Earl Jones as Mufasa from The Lion King. RIP.

Scarlett Johansen was great as Elita-1, but I already had zero doubts since she had experienced voice acting before this film.

Vanessa Liguori did a great job of giving Airachnid a sinister personality.

And I have no idea who this “Jon Bailey” is, but he certainly gave Soundwave an “Epic” voice that I liked. ;)

Steven Buscemi as Starscream was a delightful surprise, even if I learned way more about Starscream’s kinks in this film than I would like, but hey, if he likes getting hit and choked, I won’t kink shame him.

Jon Hamm made me hate Sentinel so much. Give him an Oscar, please.

Now, the one actor who I was a bit wary of was Keegan-Michael Key as B-127/Bee. Bee has quickly become one of my favorite Transformers thanks to Bumblebee (2018), and I was worried Key would make him unbearable to sit through. But as I said earlier, the script (and possibly the voice director) made Bee come off as annoying in a “doesn’t know better” kind of way that almost leans to obnoxious but more akin to a hyperactive young adult who’s happy to have friends. Heck, the film even knows his voice could get annoying and made several funny jokes surrounding it. Also, the film knew to only have Bee talk too much during scenes that were supposed to be funny. When it came to the more quiet moments Bee was able to take things seriously as well as the rest of the characters.

And yes, I noticed Steve Blum was the racer announcer and archive guard. He did amazing as per usual. No notes.

Animation: I can’t stress enough how beautiful the animation for this film is. Industrial Light & Magic did an excellent job with the animation and I hope to see them do another Transformers film like this again. I loved the way Iacon City was designed.

The director, Josh Cooley, said the filmmakers were inspired by the Art Deco movement and you can see it from how the buildings look. It gives off a Metropolis meets Blade Runner in the best way. I also liked the way the roads and rail tracks would “magically” appear when someone was driving on them. And the way the planet’s mountains moved was also nice to look at.

And this is something that my mom liked while she watched the film was how Alpha Trion used sand to show the past and what happened to the Primes. (Who knew Alpha Trion was an Earthbender? XD)

One touch that I really like was when after the quartet learns of Sentinel’s alliance when the Quintessons you can see D-16 is sitting further away from the others and has his back facing them. A subtle sign showing the growing distance between him and the heroes. And the way his optics gradually changed from gold, orange, and finally to red was done very well.

Also, when Orion reunited with the miners he made sure to kneel so he wasn’t towering over them. It’s a nice way that show how humble he truly is compared to Sentinel and later Megatron.

And another thing was when D-16 shot Orion his left arm got destroyed. D-16 originally ad the Megatronus Prime decal Orion gifted him at the beginning of the film on his right arm, too. It truly feels like D-16 is destroying his old self in that moment.

Did anyone else notice that Shockwave and Soundwave initially had yellow optics and visors, but they were changed to red in the post-credit scene? They must've did it to match their new leader, which I'm sure Starscream was very "happy" about since he was originally leader of the High Guard and had red optics before Megatron. XD

I didn’t expect this film to get violent, but the shot of Megatron killing Sentinel by pulling him apart was brutal. The film did not kid around with its PG rating.

Nitpicks:

If I could complain about a few things I would say that I wished the film had a slightly longer runtime. At least 10-15 more minutes in the third act. I would’ve loved to see more of the final battle with the miners fighting Sentinel’s soldiers and Optimus vs. Megatron. I did mean it when I said Hemsworth and Henry killed it as Optimus and Megatron. But hey, if their performances were that good it definitely convinced me to go see the next film with them in it.

I would’ve liked to have seen other animals on Cybertron’s surface besides those metal deer but that’s just me.

Also, this is just a me thing again, but I kinda wished the miner characters (or minors XD) had more distinct voices. It’s just that since the Generation 1 cartoon, all of the Autobots were known for having unique accents like Ironhide’s southern drawl, Wheeljack’s Brooklyn accent, or Jazz’s smooth way of speaking. I mean, if the High Guard/Decepticons were allowed to have voices based on their original counterparts the Autobots should’ve had the same thing, ya know?

And how dare they tease me with namedropping “Medic Ratchet” but not actually have him appear in the film. I want my grumpy doc-bot. And Drift. I don’t think I saw Deadlock with the High Guard. Did anyone? I think I mostly just saw Seekers and Coneheads in the crowd shots.

HC/Theories:

The reason mining Energon was so dangerous had to do with Primus himself deliberately trying to halt it as much as possible. Think about it, Primus sent the Matrix of Leadership away before Sentinel could use it. I bet Primus didn’t want Sentinel to give Energon to the Quintessons which Sentinel ended up doing by making Cybertronians mine for it. Primus also probably made the mountains move while the group was on the train because we later learn it was full of Energon and not waste like Elita initially thought. Primus has been trying to undermine Sentinel’s plans all this time but probably couldn’t do too much damage as he didn’t want to hurt innocent Cybertronians in the process. And another thing to add is the fact that it looks like the planet itself is moving after Orion was dropped by D-16/Megatron so that Primus himself would bring him to the planet’s core and bring him to life as Optimus Prime because he knew the young miner was worthy of the Matrix.

I’m pretty sure Jazz became one of the first Autobots because he wanted to show his appreciation to Optimus for saving his life earlier in the film.

I like to think the reason why B talked so much in One was probably to make up for the fact that he barely talked at all in previous TF films. Though, there is another theory going around that in the next movie, the filmmakers are planning to make him mute which is why he talks alot in One. I seriously hope that WON’T happen because I’m sick and tired of Bee losing his voice so often. I know some later shows have avoided this, namely Robots in Disguise (2015) and EarthSpark, but I would seriously love the films to follow the same example.

Overall:

I love this movie a lot. I’m pretty sure if this was my first time seeing it instead of Bumblebee (2018) I think this would’ve altered my brain chemistry as much as that film did. If you haven’t seen this movie go watch it and if you have, go see it again. I WANT this movie to do well in theaters and not be a failure. The fact that it took us this long to get a film that captures the Spark of Transformers and be something both fans and newcomers can enjoy is nothing short of a miracle. We need Hasbro and Paramount to know this and Bumblebee are the kind of content we want to keep seeing and not the same movie with “Bayhem” over and over again.

Thank you. I’m already writing another blog about this movie soon. It’s going to be about why TF: One is a better Wish movie than Wish (2023). Trust me, it’ll make sense once I post it. XD

Keep on Writin’ and Rockin’

#maccadam #maccadams #transformers #transformers one #tf one #transformers one spoilers #tf one spoilers #transformers one review #tf one review

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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago

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Illicit Affairs | Chapter II: Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Neteyam x Human!Reader (later Avatar!Reader)

Chapter I Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You were one of two kids stuck on Pandora after the war took all the Sky People back to Earth. After a series of events left deep scars behind, you are now forced to deal with your trauma - and your lingering resentment towards Neteyam - head-on.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, blood, injury

Word Count: 4,7k words

A/N: So I didn't expect the last chapter to do so well, but I am happy so many people enjoyed it. I have really enjoyed writing this and I am happy to say I am almost done with Chapter III, as well. I am feeling all the feels doing this, and I hope you do, too.

“I cause no harm, mind my business If our love died young, I can't bear witness And it's been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong … I'm right where you left me”

The next couple of weeks were uneventful. You haven’t seen Lo’ak since that afternoon, although Kiri’s dropped by a couple of times to keep you company while you worked. Getting her to put on a lab coat and goggles was an adventure in itself, but she eventually relents and does as she’s told.

She’s shooting you a sly smirk as you are busy pipetting a reagent on your samples under an aseptic hood. “Your birthday’s coming up soon, do you have any plans?” You could hear the smile in her voice, which you found odd. You pushed the feeling aside. Kiri’s odd, and the things that bring her amusement sometimes elude you, and you love her for it.

“Oh yeah, big party planned, I was thinking pres in the gym, then main party in the dining area and a wild after party in the lab.” You roll your eyes. Birthdays seem fun in movies and TV shows, but it really isn’t the same stuck in a tiny confined space with nothing to do. You were turning 18. Not of much significance to you, although this birthday does seem to hold some relevance back on Earth. 18 is the age you become an “adult”, where you become legally allowed to do all sorts of human things, like drink, smoke, vote, be held liable for your actions (this one still confuses you), get married, drive and so much more. It seemed strange to you that so much weight was placed on this day, and you wondered if when the clock struck midnight a few days from now, you will feel different, like something in your brain will click and you will have answers to all the questions you have been silently asking yourself at night.

“Thought so. Well, we do have a surprise for you.” She says, still smiling from ear to ear.

Has everyone you loved collectively decided to forget that you hate surprises? With a groan, you got up from your chair, removed the samples that you quickly placed back in an incubator, shut the hood and motioned for Kiri to follow you out of the lab.

It was later than you expected when you finished, and you knew Kiri would have to leave soon so she can make it back home in time for curfew.

“Anywayyy…” she says, refusing to let your sour mood damper her own, “I was thinking you could join us at the home tree for your birthday party. The family prepared something for you and you haven’t visited in so long, everyone misses you, especially Tuk.”

“Kiri…” You wanted to go, and were touched that it seems that the family actually wanted you around, but you were scared. You knew it was stupid, but deep down the guilt of what your species did, what your own dad might have done, eats at you every night. You knew that whilst the Sullys and maybe other Na’vi as well were more than welcoming, others regarded you as a curse, an alien with demon blood that should have been sent to her dying world long ago. You couldn’t deal with knowing your very existence was a reminder of their lost family, their destroyed home, their battle scars.

“Come onnn, girl, you can’t spend every damn day of your short human life in this place. I mean, I like this place, don’t get me wrong, but if I had to spend every minute of the day here, I’d kill myself. I mean the foooood, the artificial lightinnggg, the stuffy aiiiiir…” she dramatically dragged every word to make her point, and despite everything, you couldn’t really argue with her.

“I’m not leaving ’til you agree.”

“I mean I just have to wait long enough that curfew begins, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna see you run out of this place leaving a Kiri-shaped hole in the wall of the lab.” you said, laughing at the frown that settled on her face at your stubborness. “Fine, Kiri, my God, I will be there.”

“Yay! Thank you, you won’t regret it, I promise!” You couldn’t help crack a smile at her enthusiasm, and you hugged your friend that was sitting on a chair, short enough this way to enable you to do so.

“Do you want to see Grace before you go?”

You forget sometimes Kiri isn’t Jake and Neytiri’s biological daughter. I wonder if they forget, too. Kiri is a miracle child, of sorts. Born out of Grace’s avatar, she was like a gift from Eywa herself. She always visits her Ma when she comes to see you.

Kiri shifts uncomfortably in the chair, prompting you to raise an eyebrow. Strange, you think to yourself.

“No, I should really go, I don’t want to be late getting home and I want to pick some herbs I saw on the path on the way here. I think they’ll be good for the illness going around.”

You wanted to push, but decided to let it go. You couldn’t blame the girl for maybe not wanting to be reminded that as well as Spider and yourself, she, too, was an outsider.

You said your goodbyes, and deciding against dinner with everyone in the lab, you made your way back to your room. You picked a book from the shelf of your mum’s old book collection; another thing that apparently became obsolete on Earth with time, your mum revelled in collecting them. She said the only way to properly experience a story is with a physical copy of it in your hands. You agreed. There were a lot of electronic copies of books in the directory, and while you spent so much of your life dedicating yourself to them, nothing compared to the feeling of holding a book, that you know has been held and experienced by another human. You found notes and dried up tears on the pages of these books even to this day, and every time, it brings you closer to your mum, to your grandparents, to a home you’ll never know for yourself. You fell asleep with one of the poems you read that night still fresh in your mind.

“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading - till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -“

You woke up in the forest. You recognised the place immediately. Secluded from the village and near enough to the lab that even a child could find their way back, it was the perfect hiding spot for little Y/N. You didn’t go there anymore, you’ve barely allowed yourself to even think about it these days, but your dreams spoke to something deep inside you, a yearning you couldn’t drown out no matter how hard you tried. You looked towards the clearing, where the riverbank was almost unrecognisable past the foliage and rocks and allowed yourself a moment of respite. You were startled by a high pitched laugh, and turned your head towards its origin. A little girl, no older than 10, was running towards the bank holding on to an oxygen mask pack, giggling as she looked behind her to an emerging second figure. She was so happy, so…alive.

Her eyes were glossy from unshed tears, happiness so loud it expressed itself physically. A second child emerged from the shadows, just behind where you stood. A boy, tall and blue, with the same innocence behind his eyes, quickly caught up to where the girl now lay on a rock by the river.

“I won, Neteyam! I beat you!” The girl says, panting, laughing and crying all at once. The boy’s expression softened, and as he took his place next to the girl on the rock, gave her a small smile.

“You did! I didn’t try that hard, though. I want a rematch.”

“You’re on!”

The two kids sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the peace and quiet, the hushed whisper of the water and the bustling chirping of insects and birds hidden from view.

“I have something for you.” The boy suddenly said with a gummy smile.

From behind his back, he retrieves a bracelet. It was green, made up of numerous beads and tiny rocks that complemented each other so well, it seemed they were put on this planet for the very purpose of adorning a Na’vi’s body.

You recognised the bracelet and the sight of it tugged at your heart. You felt your eyes tear up and cursed your mind for putting you through this again.

“This is like your bracelet!” The tiny girl says, with a wide smile.

“Yes, I told ma I lost mine and asked her very nicely to make me another and she did! I want you to have it. This way I have one and you have one. Just you and me.”

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me.

You woke up in tears, eyes locked on the bracelet in question that was still residing on your nightstand. You didn’t wear it anymore, but couldn’t find it in your heart to part with it fully. It now lay next to your head, a bitter reminder of yet another road not taken. You cursed Neteyam for coming back into your life, if only briefly, just to resurface hurt you are yet to deal with or even acknowledge fully. You curse him for the bracelet, and the memories and yet another pain you have to deal with on your own. Always on your own.

The next few days went by in a blur. You spent the days buried in work, and the nights exercising and field stripping weapons. You refused to think, or sleep, or read or play music or really anything to would give your heart the opportunity to take over again. You passed out last night in the gym, but it was a dreamless slumber, which you were grateful for. This night was your last night at 17. You were waiting patiently for the clock to strike midnight as you were finishing up your last experiment for the day. You glanced at the clock, once, then twice, then three times. Eventually, it happened. And then nothing. No answers, no epiphanies, no nothing. Disappointed, but not entirely shocked, you chuckled at yourself for thinking life would give you an easy way out. After all, it never did. A little after 1AM, you made your way to your bed. You took one last look at your empty nightstand, then passed out.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAAY!!!”

Your entire body snapped in an upright position at the sudden auditory onslaught. Your face settled in a deep frown as you were trying to make sense of the scene in front of you. At the edge of your bed on all sides were people. Kiri, Lo’ak, Norm, Max and Spider. They all had big smiles on their faces, a big contrast to your own. You actively tried to remove the frown from your features, and found it easy enough when you realised these people, these people you loved were here, for you.

“Thanks guys. Anyway, could I get some privacy so I can put some clothes and thank you properly??”

With a grunt that definitely came from Lo’ak, they all left you to get ready for the day. When you appeared in the dining room, you found a big basket filled with incredible Pandoran food, and you were happy to see your favourites as the most prominent.

“Oh my GOD, Banana fruitsss!! How did you guys find these??”

“Lo’ak may or may not have spent an inordinate amount of hours waiting for a couple to drop out of the push fruit tree that grows a few clicks from the village.” Kiri said, laughing and poking Lo’ak sides with her fingers.

You felt a lump in your throat form at the admission. God, you were so grateful for this boy. You could live a thousand lives and still not deserve him. Feeling you getting emotional, he dropped to his knees and opened his arms. You made your way to him and hugged him, as tightly as you could. You were not great with words, but you put all of your unspoken thoughts in that hug. Your size difference made both of you snicker, and with one last tug, you let go.

“Thank you, guys. You are great, really, I couldn’t ask for better people to be around today.”

“Come on, let’s eat. We have big plans awaiting.”

“Sing!!”

You spent the morning eating and talking, Lo’ak complaining about the training and the ass kicking he got from his dad after your last meeting. You were laughing at his exaggerated manner of speaking, excited to finally have him around to get you out of your funk.

“You guys always want me to sing, you need to pay me if you’re gonna treat me like a jukebox, you know?”

You picked up the guitar that Norm brought for you out of the recreation room. You took it in your arms and strummed the chords, making sure they were tuned correctly. You thought long and hard about a song, and you found it eventually, buried in your brain, along with the memory of your mum singing it to you as a child with tears streaming down her face.

“… Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be"

You felt the tears coming, but you willed them away. Your heart was strong, but it couldn’t contend with your mind. You continued, pouring all of your frustrations with Neteyam, with yourself, with this life in the song.

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy and you're sitting in front of me"

You looked across the room and felt weird, sick ecstasy at the faces of the people around you, all of which looked sad and glossy-eyed. You didn’t want to make anyone sad, but you loved the power that music held. You loved that it brought people together, no matter the species, the language, the tone, the mood, you could always rely on music to provide unison.

If our love died young, I can't bear witness, and it's been so long

But if you ever think you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me

As you played the last chord of the song, you looked up and froze at the sight of Neteyam sitting by the door of the room, an unreadable expression marking his features. You registered people talking in your direction, but couldn’t decipher the words as you lay there, on the ground, guitar in hand, staring at the beautiful boy who did not allow your eyes to leave his own. You swear you saw a flicker of sadness in his big, yellow eyes you used to know so well, but as you were trying to decipher them, Spider’s oh-so-human face flooded your line of sight.

“Hello!! Earth to Y/N”

“It’s concerning how many times this happens”, Lo’ak intercepts.

You finally focus on the people who have come here for you, and put the guitar down with a small laugh.

“Sorry, guess I got way too into the song.”

“Yeah, what the hell’s up with that? It’s your birthday, it’s supposed to be a celebration and you’re making us depressed, instead.” Spider says, frowning.

“Sorry!” You whine, hoping the childish tone would earn a quicker forgiveness.

They all somehow roll their eyes simultaneously, which you find amusing.

“Mum and dad say it’s time.” It takes a second for your brain to register the Na’vi sentence. The deep voice breaks through the chatter and everyone turns their heads towards the oldest Sully sibling.

“Right!” Lo’ak says, patting his knees and getting up suddenly. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!’

You knew it was dumb, but you were nervous, too nervous, to make your way to the Home Tree after so much time. It’s been years since you have been there, maybe since you’ve been anywhere, and it scared you more than you wanted to admit to yourself, or to anyone around you. Nevertheless, you put on your mask and secured your oxygen cartridge behind your back.

You bid a swift goodbye to Norm and Max, who said they will try to make it to the celebration later in the evening. You then stepped outside, eyes finding it hard to adjust to the natural brightness of Pandora. You found the mask uncomfortable, having been so long since you needed it last, and took a deep breath in your attempt to calm down and take it one step at a time.

Lo’ak was, as always, Neteyam thought, leading the pack. Spider followed suit and you and Kiri maintained a steady pace behind the two boys. Neteyam was quietly walking behind you. He was deep in thought, not being able to shake the image of you playing guitar and singing that song he had never heard before. He hasn’t heard you sing in so long and hearing it again opened a hole in his chest that he thought was long closed. His eyes followed you closely, taking in all the details about you he hoped he wouldn’t notice. Your hair was lighter than he remembered, not by much, but enough that it was there, present for him to see. You were tall, taller than you used to be, and taller than most human women he’s seen. You were wearing a skirt, he thinks it’s called, that flows every time the wind touches it. It’s black and it looks soft, and Neteyam can’t help but want to feel it for himself. Your top is braided and beaded, and it seems like a mix between human clothes and Na’vi wear. You back is completely bare short of a string that ties the top together and the man feels his heart picking up pace at the sight. Cursing under his breath, he moves his gaze on a piece of jewellery adorning your arm. A intricate bracelet, green and red, definitely Na’vi make. He remembers briefly Kiri making it for one of your previous birthdays and smiles sadly at the thought. Finally, his eyes settle on a deep scar on the back on your left leg. Before he can help himself, the memories flood his being…

Neteyam found himself once again, waiting outside the big metal building for you to come out. He was excited for today, too excited to put into words. It always took convincing for you to come out, especially recently, but he loved that you said yes to him, and not to Lo’ak or Kiri, for once. He knew you have been sad for a while, and was happy to do anything in his power to help. He jumped out of his skin when the door opened, and you laughed at him for being what you called a “scaredy cat”.

“I’m happy to see you, Neteyam”, you said, in Na’vi. He smiled to himself at your accent, but loved how hard you tried to speak to him in his own tongue. “Not happy you’re dragging me out, but if it means spending some time with you, I guess I will let it slide” You continued in English.

“I think you will be happy to be out for this”, Neteyam interjected. You walked together in comfortable silence, only speaking when you found a plant or animal you didn’t know the name of.

“Oh my God, this is so pretty, what’s it called?” You ask, enthusiastically.

“A’o” Neteyam answers you, smiling softly, never getting bored of your incessant line of questioning. Like with the language, he was just happy you cared.

“What are you wearing?” Neteyam asks, unable to stop himself.

“Oh, this?” You say, looking down at your choice of attire. “It’s just an old T-shirt I found in one of the drawers of the living quarters. I’m not sure whose it is, but I assume a big old man’s, cause it’s more a dress than a t-shirt at this point.”

“A T-shirt…” Neteyam said, contemplatively. He looked at it closer and saw an image he couldn’t quite understand on it and the word “Metallica” written on it. He didn’t know what it meant, so he dropped it. At least he learnt a new word today.

You walked like this for over an hour, but eventually reached the end of a cliff, that overlooked a beautiful waterfall. Neteyam thought this sight alone will make you feel better, but he had bigger plans in mind.

“Wow, this is beautiful! This was almost worth the fresh hell I felt when that bug went in my nose like 20 minutes ago.”

Neteyam laughed, and he revelled in the way only you seemed to be able to make him feel like this. Free and alive.

Standing on the edge of the cliff, Neteyam let out a high pitched yell, then turned around to look at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He smiled as he heard the trees on the other side of the cliff ruffle, and watched with pride as a big bundle of green, yellow, red and blue emerged from the foliage and landed in front of him. He turned to you and let out a big laugh when he saw your face, jaw dropped in horror and amazement, eyes wide with the glint of curiosity he’s come to love so much.

“You did it!! I’m so so so proud of you, Neteyam!” You screamed, running at him and launching yourself as high as you could, knowing he would catch you in his arms. “And at 13, too! This has to be some sort of record, right?”

“I doubt it, but it still felt good doing it. I was shocked Mum and Dad even let me try it. Anyway, I wanted you to meet her.”

He swung you in his arms with ease, not weighing a lot more than his baby sister, who was just around 3 years old. He finally placed you back on the ground with care, right in front of the Ikran. He made tsaheylu and waited patiently as you were building it up the courage to approach the mighty being that was lowly cooing and nudging its head against Neteyam’s. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your beautiful face, and said a silent prayer, thanking Eywa for still being able to bring that expression to your otherwise crestfallen figure.

Once it seemed you became comfortable enough around her to pet, he clicked his tongue and motioned for you to get on. You let out an incredulous laugh and shook you head.

“No way in Hell, are you insane??”

“Come on, Y/N. I never pegged you for a coward.”

After this many years, he knew how to push you buttons. He saw your smile drop and your eyes take on that expression that almost frightened him. Thank the Great Mother you were human, cause you would be a force to behold as a Na’vi.

“Damn you, Neteyam.” You said, slowly getting up on the banshee and making yourself comfortable in front of the boy. He felt your back flushed against his bare chest, and suppressed a shudder that threatened his body.

“It will be fun, you will see. Here, hold on here, and don’t let go. I will have my arms around you at all times, and I promise to make her go slowly.” You refused to acknowledge him, and he found himself laughing, again.

Without any other words, he willed the ikran to take off. You let out an involuntary yelp, but otherwise you were brave and strong, just like he knew you to be. Once you were above the forest, he found you staring in awe beneath you, his gaze locked on the side of your face and on the smile that made him happy to be alive at the same time as you, just so he can experience it over and over. You flew like this for a long time, just taking in the beauty of this world that you both called home. A beauty that he knew you never got to experience, not the way you should have, not the way you deserved. He saw a tear escape your eyes and make its way down your cheeks and settle in between your lips, and cursed himself for not being able to take it away, the pain he knew clawed at you every waking moment since your mum died. You have never been the same since.

“Thank you for this, Neteyam.” You said, softly. “I wish there was a way to show this to her, a way to share this experience. I know she would have loved it as much as I do, maybe more.” You settled comfortably on his chest and sighed.

He didn’t get a chance to formulate a response, though, as a loud shriek came from his Ikran and he felt the panic overtake him as the tsaheylu made the feeling echo in between them. Looking up, he saw what no man wants to see: Toruk, his dad’s former pet, launching itself at the two teenagers and their ikran. Clearing his mind, Neteyam removed a hand from the reigns for balance and banked left abrubtly, diving straight for the trees, that were fortunately not too far below them. As if life suddenly stopped to a halt, he was able to experience the next harrowing moments in slow-motion - the diving, the terror of watching your frame slowly disappear from his line of sight, your voice screaming his name as you dropped towards the ground, his own voice getting caught in his throat trying to call for you, willing his Ikran to go faster than he thought was possible in an attempt to catch you, the pool of red liquid spilling from your frame as you impaled your leg on a broken Pxiut hitting the ground. He quickly removed himself from the Ikran and ran to you, picking you up in his arms, trying to ignore the way the blood was spilling down his torso and dripping on the ground. He looked at your unconscious body in his arms and felt the first crack in his heart form, a crack yet to be healed to this day. He pushed back the tears that were starting to pool and got back on the Ikran, flying as fast as he could through the foliage. As soon as he could see the outline of the metal building, he stopped the animal and got off, running with you in his arms. It’s all a blur afterwards. He remembers going home, your now-dried blood still marking his skin like a tattoo, he remembers crying in his mum’s arms, he remembers the guilt that poisoned his mind and heart and he remembers sitting on a cold floor next to what humans called an operating room, waiting to hear if the damage he has caused you will plague you for the rest of your life.

His eyes never left the scar on your leg, and, as he forced himself out of the torturous memory, couldn’t help noticing the slight limp with which you walked towards the village.

Crack.

Tag list :-): @mashiromochi

#neteyam #neteyam fanfic #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x avatar!reader #avatar #avatar fanfic #avatar twow #atwow #atwow fanfic #avatar loak #loak #loak fanfiction

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yawntu · 2 years ago

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Not a request (unless you want it to be)! but imagine avatar!reader showing neytiri a little girl on girl action (scissoring) cause Jake's been too busy with the whole clan leader thing to please her 🫣

this had to get its own little moment

a/n: I love her I had to write this when I got it something about her makes me swoon. She has so many layers and she is my queen. I finally formatted it. Not proofread yet oop

pairing(s): Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite x f!Reader, extremely brief Jake Sully x f!Reader

word count: ~2k

warnings: NSFW / MDNI Caught, Scissoring / Tribbing, Switch x switch couple, Pregnant Neytiri bc she’s a milf it’s more so a plot point then focused on, Praise kink (receiving), Neytiri doesn’t really know what she’s doing but your enthusiasm makes up for it

Neytiri could not bring herself to understand why she was sitting here complaining to you. Her life had finally found some semblance of peace. She knows that she should be thankful for the way her people have risen from ashes; for having such a strong competent mate and a mother who knew what was best for her people. She was thankful still had a family to support her and her beautiful planet that was in the very least safe for now.

She should be at ease but she’s not. She’s frustrated and antsy. Maybe it was because she was pregnant enough to be left behind in things she felt needed her attention- or maybe she did not actually care about all of that and the sun was just too hot. She was no sure what it was but she couldn’t shake all the bitter moments that had accumulated throughout the week and led her to this very moment. Sat lounged out by a stream not so far from the village enjoying lunch with her best friend. Though she loved your daily walks, even your company did not soothe the bubbling anger she ultimately has concluded boiled down to Jake.

“All he does is work!” She snaps at you plopping a round berry in her mouth.

For a second you flinch as if you’re the one she’s scolding for neglect. You’re thankful you’re not at the receiving end of her sour mood as she rants about how annoying her day has been.

“Well, he’s dealing with a lot of guilt I’m sure. Men think too much and get stuck in their own brains.” You shrug as you finish peeling her fruit for her, trying to ease her foul mood while not throwing the friend you greatly admired under the bus.

She thinks it’s sweet how you’re always looking to help her, and how loyal you have been. Almost to a fault.

Jake had given you the order to look out for her and you did the most to make sure you met his expectations- like the good little ex-SEAL you were. She thought it was cute that you were so eager to please. Listened to orders so well.

“I’m dealing with the weight of his tsawl txìm ‘evi,”

Big ass kid. Her joking comment makes you bark out a laugh and throw your head back as you swat at one of her sore legs that lay across your own lap and legs.

“Better hope he doesn’t have his father's big ass head,”

You make her laugh as you point to your skull to annunciate the comment. She likes that she doesn’t have to act properly around you. She didn’t have to be nice. She felt she could act her age. Act like she wasn’t Tsakarem. That you were not an alien who had lived a whole over life before you chose this. That her non-native mate wasn’t tasked with rebuilding the world around her with the help of her mother while Neytiri was forced to focus on being pregnant.

She thought that preparing for motherhood would leave her in isolation and drive her into a solitary pit of despair, lost in her own thoughts- but yet here you were. Like her little shadow. Always there to keep her from feeling so alone. You were a good listener too. You didn’t talk much- would just let her ramble about however she felt so she didn’t have to keep it in and go insane with grief. It’s why she trusted you so much.

“I’ll never have another child again,” She rolls her eyes as she wiggles her sore calf over your lap again,

“Please; continue.”

You smile softly at her, returning to rubbing her swollen calf and thigh that you had previously neglected to peel a particularly rough citrus-like fruit for her.

She can talk about anything to you, and you’ll nod and joke along because ultimately she’s your best friend. The best friend you’ve ever had. You think she’s interesting and you care about the way she feels. That’s probably why she likes you so much right now. Your attentive hands on her anyways.

She tries to occupy herself with the citrus that dances across her tongue but all she can feel is the pad of your thumb massaging her swollen thigh.

“Let me sit up so I can get your other leg and hips.”

Her tail flicks as you move past your leg to sit on your knees. She doesn’t mean to seem so annoyed in her actions. She is not mad at you. She really just hates Jake right now. For how tired he is. How busy he is.

He always makes it up to her but had he not been so busy she wouldn’t have been so enticed by the swift movement of your hands against her sapphire skin.

She can swear you’re teasing her on purpose. The way you prop yourself on your knees and annunciate the pretty dip of your hips. Neytiri can’t help but shift and open her legs a bit more. To give you more room between her. She’d say she was getting comfortable but she isn’t stupid. She knows you know it too. You’re terrible at controlling your body language. It’s almost rude how quickly your tail twisting behind you and the way your ears are pointed right towards her.

Your nose crinkles in concentration as you move her leg to rest on your full hips while your thumb instantly moves to push a firm long stroke up the side of her thigh. The feeling shoots across her nerves and she sighs at the alleviation of pain in her hips. It almost makes her forget how much you had turned her on.

“You are so blessed,” She’s shocked at how quickly your palms pressed running across her sore muscles has begun to ease her tight hips and her sour mood, “You’re doing so well,”

She’s thankful you’re so easily appeased. Tail swishing behind you as you rub where her leg met her hip. She’d encourage you the rest of the day if it meant you didn’t stop.

“I have one order, gotta keep you from killin’ Jake during the day,” a giggle falls from your lips.

You lose good girl points at the mention of Jakes name and for the fact that you tease her for her temper. It is Jakes fault she was so irritated today. You knew that. It was obvious how needy she was for intimacy. Jake was as perfect as he could be to her- he was just so busy. You know she didn’t have the heart to complain to her mate that she was horny and lonely when he was carrying such a burden. You could chalk her well-hidden desperation up to her being pregnant but your face flushes at the thought that maybe she just liked you a little bit. You can’t stop your silly smile at the fact that her hips relax even more when you switch over to her opposite leg. One leg lay lazily on the ground while your knead your hands against her flesh.

“Am I helping the pain a little?”

And though you’re asking her a question you’re not looking up at her from your position between her legs. Too busy watching your hands paw at her swollen hips and thighs.

You’re sweet to her. It’s why she controls the motion of her tail snapping up off the ground to smack right up against what she hopes is just as needy and wet as she is.

You yelp and it makes her laugh and though you’ve been half purposely touching her in the hope she’d recuperate your touches you’re almost shocked at the outcome.

“Why are you wet, huh?”

She hopes her words work you up but the fact that your eyes shoot to hers for only a second before looking down to her core ignites her own needy breath.

“I- uh… I dunno I haven’t had sex since I’ve been on earth… like seven years ago.” It sounded like a long time- five years and some months of those if those years were actually getting to Pandora- and it felt like a nap to you. You still miss it obviously- a little too much as she reaches her fingers to caress your wrist and it has you humming.

She laughs at you of course. Making fun of you even though she knew only the rudimental outside of Jake.

“You’re also very pretty,” your quick addition accompanies a charming smile.

She can tell you admire Jake so much at this moment. You match his same entranced pretty smile. Wide eyes looking all too eagerly up at her.

“You’re very pretty too,”

Your thumb runs under the lining of her tweng as she compliments you back and you practically purr at the soft and wet feeling her lips greet you with.

“Does it hurt here too?” You ask her, and though it’s half in jest she nods.

“Terribly. You’ll have to help me.”

You’re a bit nervous when she reaches her hand down to untie her bottoms. it’s not until her other hand touches your hip that you snap out of your own thoughts.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit clueless though,”

There’s that pretty charming quip in her voice that reminds you she is a princess and it makes your legs clench but ultimately calms you down over the fact that she cannot really judge your performance without comparison.

“I can show you,” you didn’t know why she made you nervous; “It’ll feel good for both of us,”

She just grins and pulls at one of the strings of your bottoms that you’re cursing for being as intricately worn as they are.

She can’t help but dance her hands down your exposed skin and admire how excited you seemed to be at the prospect of relief.

She’s not even all that pregnant yet and you’re still so gentle as to carefully position your leg to avoid her.

You sit against her a little too quickly, plopping down flush against her own swollen slit out of pure excitement before jolting back up slightly. Just allowing your swollen clits to touch.

It’s not that Neytiri didn’t figure this is how women who mated with other women slept together- but no one ever talked about it. She had heard whispers of women preoccupying themselves during heats, but she was clueless as to how it actually happened or how it could possibly feel satisfying.

Then, however, you started rocking your hips forward a little. She finally got the appeal of the feather light weight you started with. How enthusiastically and quickly you rub yourself against her is hypnotizing. She feels bad for being so into the way your dragging across the wetness between your bodies considering she has Jake but she can’t ignore how nice this is. She wonders which one of you is responsible for the mess- she can believe it’s her- it wouldn’t shock her in the least- but she hopes it’s you. Even though your eyes have already started to close as you nestled your face into her leg you used to balance yourself and your hip's movements stutter and messily ruin the steady build towards both of your orgasms every time you feel too close to cumming.

The feeling of you gliding your warm cunt against her swollen clit has her sighing in lenience. If your careful hands rubbing at her hips and thighs didn’t alleviate the pain she felt before then the way you forced her to focus on the desire to cum has cured it.

“Mmm. You’re doing so good for me- ya you’re right- fe’els good.“ she choked on her own pant as she tries to sit up slightly so she can touch your tail, “Go faster please,”

One hand plays with your nipple as the other uses her outstretched legs as an anchor to grind yourself down onto her at the speeds she requests.

The fact that you turn to look at her but instead get distracted by the oscillation of her full breasts has her hips rolling up to meet you.

“Oh-ohhhh,” and she feels your fall forward at her intrusion as to brace yourself onto your hands. She’s so thankful you were so flexible. So easy for you to loosen your hips open a little more and fuck yourself down onto her.

She felt so good. So much better than what you thought dragging your clit against hers would feel like. You get why Jake folded and betrayed everyone so easily. Her nails running across your thigh or back haphazardly in conjunction with the way you feel your clit slot up against hers makes you shutter.

You really hope you aren’t setting a bad example. You hope she’s feeling just as good as you are, it’s hard for you to turn your head to face her so you focus your energy on making sure your grind down accurately.

You try not to be sloppy- you do the best you can even though she whines and makes you want cum before she could.

You thank Eywa when you feel her nails dig into your hips and the gush of her pussy against yours.

Your, “Oh fuck- fucking hell,” is less ceremonious then her moans but you can’t help it when the added slickness of her orgasm makes it all too easy to trib yourself down against her and chase your own high.

You thank divine timing for finishing just in time for your heart to drop into your stomach at the sound of someone crossing the tree line,

“Huh, woulda’ get a load of this,”

It is a gruff masculine voice that you now vividly recall giving you the order to watch out for his wife- not scissor yourself between her thighs and fuck her.

#neytiri x reader #neytiri smut #neytiri imagine #avatar (2009)#avatar x reader #avatar fandom #avatar smut #jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader

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magotthemaggot · 8 days ago

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if you don't mind answering, why do you love the Valensoul ship as much as you do? I'm writing a personal project regarding the major ships for Skullgirls and you're the #1 Valensoul shipper I know of

I’m sorry for taking so long, since I’m actually really interested in answering this, but haven’t checked socials as much lately.

I have to start off by saying that before getting into Valensoul, I didn’t understand shipping nor fanon as concept. I didn’t understand why would someone build upon someone else’s fiction, nor why did people ship two characters that barely have any meaningful interactions between them in actual canon (not to mention Valentine is a really underdeveloped character in terms ingame canon). That all changed the day I drew these two literally handholding and it absolutely clicked in me that the “enemies to lovers” trope was blowing my mind through my skull, permanently changing my brain chemistry.

I'm gonna put a Read More 'cause I'm gonna start fixiating right now hold on gimmie a sec

okay so

The main appeal of the Valensoul ship is its versatility within the fandom: there’s no canon that supports it (nor contradicts it ;)) so people portray it whatever way they choose: they’re enemies to lovers, they’re exes, they’re in a toxic relationship, hell sometimes they don’t even like eachother, but somehow they're still together???

People don’t like Valensoul as much they like their version of Valensoul.

For me, I love the “enemies to lovers” trope as a form of character growth for the both of them. These are characters that have clashing personalities, different upbringings, and yet share similar struggles as consequence of having to face an apocalyptic force every 7 years. The appeal to me lies in asking “What has to change in both of them for them to form a relationship and be happier because of it?”

Parasoul is stuck with the demanding role of leading an entire kingdom at a relatively young age and seeks to protect it from the catastrophe that took most of her family. Because of it, she’s overprotective of her kingdom, her people, her sister, to a detrimental degree, unknowingly distancing herself from her sister and turning into an authoritarian leader. She comes off as cold and strict, but she’s driven by fear of losing what she has left, and that drives her to never compromise her way of leading, as it is the only way she knows how.

Contrast that to Valentine, a pawn of unknown (and frankly unimportant) origins. Being a soldier most of her life and a member of the ASG means the Skullheart also plays a big role in her life, practically she has dedicated her entire life to hunting it down. Much like Parasoul, she has also faced loss due to the Skullgirl, after she took out the Last Hope and forcing Valerie to become a confidant. Paradoxically, Valentine, who is very much characterized as a lone wolf who chases her own motives, is always taking someone else’s orders, let it be as a soldier, as Brain Drain’s assistant, or as the Skullgirl’s confidant. She never really had her own way, and is a puppet to bigger forces around her.

So there’s some interesting contrasts and overlaps between them:

Parasoul is overwhelemed by responsibility. Valentine rarely has any say on her fate.

Parasoul is protective of what she has inherited, what's left of her family and honor. Valentine doesn't have anyone nor anything left. She seems more interested in her research and mission being fulfilled rather than any self-preservation.

Parasoul is strict, set on her ways, and although she sometimes struggles to see the bigger picture, she always does what she believe is good. Valentine is someone with no affiliations, who has estranged herself from others, and adopts a gray morality and instrumental worldview to set herself on her...confusingly ambigous and ever changing goals.

Yet both of them faced loss, both of them have rigid personalities problems that alienate them from others, and both of them are just in dire need of a psychologist to be honest.

The Skullheart isn't directly leading the destruction of the world. It feasts off vulnerable, desperate people. If the status quo of this world continues, in 7 years there will be another Skullgirl. The only way to ensure it doesn't happen again is to change; adhering to the same methods, the old ways, will just ensure that the cycle mantains itself closed. With these different upbringings and motives yet similar objectives and loss, what could they bring to eachother? If they truly meet eachother, will they change? Will this change give Parasoul the perspective and guidance to lead and shift the tides and break the cycle? Will Valentine find somewhere to belong and with it a greater sense of purpose?

That to me is a very interesting writing prompt, a great starting off point to a piece of fanon to compliment the stated canon. It's an interesting direction for me to write fanon about the series, if I ever got the opportunity to do so. It's a different perspective on the characters and it's universe. A very hopeful one as well, one that contrasts with some of the more dark, edgy and sometimes one note stories of earlier SG. I'm not the biggest Skullgirls lorehead out there...

...And honestly, I don't care. the lore is physically all over the place, often it breaks its own rules even in the original 8 stories, and even then most of it isn't even implemented ingame and is just trapped in some napkin Ahad wrote into like 10 years ago...

...so perhaps I'm not the best to stick to the lore of the setting it takes place. But honestly, that's not my focus. I can't be asked to verify every single miniscule lore detail just to justify a work. Lore and worldbuilding doesn't make a story; that's just a backdrop, context for which to build on. Characters are what drive a story. Their struggles and how we relate to them is what keeps us interested. And if someday I can develop the dynamic between these two, that would be enough make a story. I really wish to dedicate a fully fleshed out work of fanon to this ship someday.

Anyways, thank you for asking, and sorry for rambling. Pharmacy school has been cooking my brain and frying my retinas, so excuse me if my train of thought sometimes went nowhere or my speech was too repetitive. I like talking about this ship, and would like to keep writing about more of my SG opinions, eventually. I hope this is enough to answer your question.

#my headcanons #inbox #valensoul #skullgirls #valentine skullgirls #parasoul skullgirls

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tossawary · 2 years ago

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Hi! Just wondering, for you what is the difference between transmigrating in as an infant and regaining memories of your past life later, and transmigrating in as a character who a bit older but remembering the past of the character you’re in? I guess it’s kind of moot considering he still feels the weight of both those lives either way, but I was curious about your thoughts on it.

Hey! I think this is a pretty complicated and broad question. Overall, as with any story, there are different ways to write both of those things, different directions to explore, which could make them feel very different or functionally identical. My personal feelings on this can change wildly from story to story, and character to character. SPOILERS for SVSSS.

Let's say that Airplane Bro is the first case (reincarnated as an infant and gained his memories of his past life on the way) and Shen Yuan is the second case (transmigrated into an older character's life and later unlocked some of Shen Jiu's memories). Just to use their particular situations to look at some of the practical realities. I know that it doesn't fit precisely, but it's useful to have examples.

I think that a big element here is personal life choices and personal relationships. Airplane never has to feel like he replaced someone else. He's Shang Qinghua now, sure, but there was never an Original Shang Qinghua in this world. Being there from the beginning, he's been able to control his actions and responses, and build his own personal relationships. His relationship with Mobei-Jun, for example, is entirely his own.

(We don't actually know how much the System interfered in his life, but he does seem to have a degree of freedom that's much more significant compared to his fellow transmigrator. The vibe I got by the end of the Airplane Extras was that the System probably would have let him do whatever he'd wanted if he'd really gone for it, honestly.)

Shen Yuan, on the other hand, knows that he replaced someone else, and Shen Jiu had a miserable life and then made some cruel choices. Shen Yuan has to bear the burden of things he didn't do, even if other characters are willing to sweep it under the rug of amnesia, which has permanently colored his relationships with Luo Binghe, Yue Qingyuan, and Liu Qingge. (The System then forced him to do something terrible to Luo Binghe, whom he loved very much. At the very beginning, it temporarily controlled his every single interaction with any other human being during the OOC restriction period. That's just fucked up.) By the end of SVSSS, Shen Yuan fully inhabits the new Shen Qingqiu he's created and has made peace out of the story he's been given and the relationships he's inherited and made his own, even though he owns a life that partially belonged to someone else (Shen Jiu and the System). He has to live with that history.

Rambling on about Airplane Bro for a little bit to take a look at these two different approaches from another angle...

I typically imagine Airplane Bro slowly regaining his memories over the course of his childhood, because I personally can't fully suspend my disbelief over a fully conscious adult in the body of an infant. I mean, I've read that kind of thing before, and some of the stories have been good. But brains just don't work like that. Newborn babies are such little fragile aliens, barely able to see the faces less than a foot from their face. It's important to me to physically ground fantasy (and sci-fi) somewhat to make magic (and tech) feel both believable and compelling. This is a personal nitpick.

(You could have the reincarnated/transmigrated mind/soul being held mostly separate, slowly integrating, and essentially controlling the body remotely, I guess? But yeah, the "adult stuck in a child body" thing inherently has powerful horror elements (and political elements in regards to children's rights) that a lot of reincarnated stories seem to take on unintentionally and don't always handle well. When I'm writing reincarnation stuff, I usually skip over that backstory stuff in part because it's just so complicated, and also because there are other plots I'd rather explore that I find more interesting. Getting bogged down in early childhood stuff generally isn't really my thing, reading or writing it.)

If Airplane is essentially haunted by the memories of his past life for his entire childhood, I think it would make him strange, unnerving, and generally unpalatable to other people. I think it would be confusing and scary to know things without being sure how you know them. To remember things that seem to belong not only to another life, but another world. It would contribute to his isolation, his emotional detachment, and his choice to identify strongly with his previous life in terms of personality.

And if it's a more gradual process, then he doesn't have to feel like he replaced someone else. He knows (as much as anyone can know anything) that this body has always belonged to him.

If he suddenly remembered a past life, then that would also lead to his detached Airplane Bro personality. But if he suddenly remembered a past life, depending on how you write it, it might feel functionally identical to transmigrating in in that moment but still retaining the body's memories.

Of course, even if it was a gradual process, depending on how you write it, it could seem to him that it was a gradual transmigration and that he replaced someone else. Both approaches are cool.

Transmigration and reincarnation must be such a disorienting experience, liable to make a character doubt reality or their "sanity". When a character transmigrates in but has access to the body's memories, there's often some plot device dream sequence (the transmigrator briefly gets to meet the ghost of the person they're replacement) or System interference to let both the character and the readers know that there's been a switch. What if there's no System popping up to explain exactly what happened? What if the character just has to guess based on these vague memories that they may or may not be able to tell came from another person?

Either way, transmigrators are usually dealing with feeling like an imposter. But I think the transmigrator generally might feel guiltier over taking up or ruining any pre-existing relationships if they know for a fact that they replaced a separate person.

Back to some physical practicalities between our two transmigrators in SVSSS... Airplane Bro has just had... more time to get used to his life here. Coming in as an infant, presuming a gradual adjustment of awareness, he's used to his own body. He's at home in it.

SVSSS isn't fully interested in exploring this topic, so we don't really see Shen Yuan dealing with it, but... suddenly being in a different body would be a WEIRD experience. I can handwave away a lot of brain stuff on "magical System weirdness", so sure, Shen Yuan's mind is somehow his own while retaining some Shen Jiu memories, and he has special muscle memory and spiritual memory that allows him to continue being a powerful cultivation with only minor adjustment.

But... what about things like taste buds? The physical human experience is so wildly varied. Humans are incredibly adaptable, but surely it would be weird at first to potentially have different favorite foods. To like different drinks. To maybe enjoy different smells. To dislike things you used to love. To be a different height. A different weight. To be far more physically fit. To have different teeth. Personally, I move slightly differently and have slightly different mannerisms depending on the length of my hair, having to keep longer hair out of the way. Shen Yuan would adjust in time, sure, but that dysphoria must've been something else at first.

As someone interested in these physical realities of magic, I was a little disappointed when none of these came up more extensively when Shen Yuan switched into a body made out of a plant. I think that even little things like breathing and sunlight would feel intensely different. I'm now tempted to write something exploring Shen Yuan enjoying the sensations of his super magical plant body now.

Okay, I don't know where I'm going with my rambling now, so I'm signing off. I think the weight of different transmigration experiences can feel very, VERY different depending on what you're personally interested in exploring when you write.

#goldroitelet #ask tossawary #tossawary svsss #shang qinghua #shen yuan #airplane bro #fic ideas

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sciderman · 8 months ago

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Ngl i am kinda anoyed the symbiote is just a "manipulative evil metaphor for substance abuse" in Spider-Man adaptations. When the symbiote is so much more interesting, more layered and i preffer when the suit is treated like an unhealty relationship with boundary issues and lack od comunication, where Peter sees it as a physical thing while the suit is in love with Peter and doesn't understand boundaries (hence taking his body on rides while he's asleep). That's kinda what i like about the original alien suit saga, the suit isn't the focus and it's all fairly subtle where it doesn't turn Peter angry or evil.

substance abuse? okay, i don't really think i've consumed a lot of the more recent adaptations of the symbiote, save for the venom films and spider-man 3 (my beloved. it's not good. i love it somehow regardless. it's agony to watch.) i think it's so boring to read the symbiote that way. besides - people can be self-destructive without it being related to substance abuse. it can be allegorical for anything, anything.

i think with the symbiote (or any metaphor at all) it can't be 1:1 – but the way i see the symbiote is that it's kind of an embodiment of his ego. the symbiote - actually, is a force that loves peter parker and wants to protect him.

it embodies the opposite of self-destruction, actually. peter parker - peter parker is self-destructive. but the symbiote? the symbiote wants nothing more than to protect peter. because they're one.

the symbiote, to me, the way i write it, is an embodiment of peter's sense of self-preservation. it's his ego. it's his sense of self-love. it's all the things peter does to protect himself, and nurse himself, and soothe himself, and bolster himself, and shield himself.

it's all of peter's habits, and all of his insecurities. everything he does out of a sense of self-love and self-preservation. so that's why...

but also why...

so it's all of peter's behaviours that peter's brain orchestrated to soothe him and protect him - good and bad. the suit loves him, but also isolates him out of a sense of self-protection.

peter is scared of getting close to people - particularly johnny, because - you know, bisexual panic. and so the symbiote literalises this and is terrified of flame. i think it's funny goofy that in 9319 it's canon that the symbiote is weak to flame because peter is gay for johnny and can't handle it. hilarious. i am hilarious.

(also the symbiote is weak to high pitched frequencies because peter's autistic ass was already sensitive to noise!!! the symbiote just soaked it up.)

the symbiote was a blank slate, and only learns from peter. so what comes out with symby, is just - it's just what peter is, but manifesting in a way that facilitates peter looking at it from an alien perspective. like peter knows it's him. but he'll deny it, and pin it on the alien. and so when peter rejects the symbiote, he's rejecting himself. he's rejecting all of the things he's ashamed of. and his rejection of the symbiote is the actual destructive force.

aaaat least that's the way i see it.

#sci speaks #please read it came from outer-space . it is the most audhd addled peter parker i've ever written. and i love him.#the symbiote is just peter's autism creature. we all have one.

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starsinmylatte · 2 years ago

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Do you have any thots about the blueberry man lately ? ❤️

Ooooh anon, my beloved…. Let’s see what my brain comes up with for our fav Grand Admiral. As always, we do a bit of legends/canon Thrawn mix (but tbh, this probably leans way more legends)

Pairing: Thrawn x afab!reader

Tws and tags: size diff, belly bulge, cockwarming, face-sitting, oral (f!receiving), voice kink, men who eat it for their own pleasure, Thrawn is an alien with alien bits (human variant, no tentacles), no proofreading we die like clones

18+ ONLY below the cut. Minors DNI

Alright, alright, now hear me out:

Chiss anatomy is similar to human anatomy… but not exactly the same. The first time Thrawn takes you to bed, he warns you that it could be a bit of a tight, painful fit at first.

You quickly learn that he definitely isn't being overdramatic. Nothing about Thrawn is small. From his ego and intellect to his cock the man is big.

Length is only a little more than what is "normal" for a human but stars the man is thick and ridged in a way that makes your mouth water indecently.

So, every time he truly takes you, Thrawn spends so much time preparing you.

Sex is never really a fast event for him anyways. There is the odd chance he will pull you in to quickly satisfy a specific craving (i.e., calling you into his office to ride his face before a meeting because he needs to taste you right then). However, if he is to indulge, it will be done properly.

Other men with his..... gifts would likely just brag about how big they are and try to force it in with little-to-no actual preparation..... But, yeah, that's not how Thrawn operates.

The Grand Admiral draws much of his satisfaction from your pleasure, and he'd be appalled by the idea of actually hurting you. At least in a way you didn't consent to.

This also means that if he actually fucks you, it's a whole event. You might as well write off the entire night because you won't be leaving the bed. Of course, it doesn't help that walking becomes very difficult after.

Your first orgasm is always on his tongue. Partially because the man loves to taste you and partly because he wants you adrift in a haze of desire and pleasure as quickly as possible.

"Oh, ch'eo ch'acah... You taste divine," Thrawn practically purrs against your soaked cunt. His muscular arms wrap around your legs as he reclines between them, one large hand splayed across your hips to keep them from arching off the bed. The other wraps around to part your lips for his deliciously torturous assault.

His fingers join the mix after your first orgasm. They stroke the bud of your arousal languidly, trailing down just enough to circle around the entrance to your core teasingly as Thrawn leans back to see you whine for his touch.

Thrawn's red eyes glow with lust in the darkness as the fist finger slips in, but it isn't enough... it will never be enough. Your walls flutter and clench around the digit, drawing a low groan from your lover as he hears your shameless cries.

"Patience, darling," he chides, slipping in a second finger and stroking them against the spongy spot nestled inside. "You'll get your wish soon enough."

Your second orgasm has Thrawn bringing his fingers to his lips to show you just how he savors the taste of your arousal. He licks it off, and you moan again at how raw and shameless his desire is.

Multiple orgasms later, it's finally time. You are already a wreck beneath him, absolutely dripping with arousal and begging for more, but Thrawn still takes the time to pull a small bottle of lube from his nightstand.

You can feel every single ridge as he slowly pushes in with a growl. Thrawn lavishes kisses up and down the column of your neck as your back arches at the exquisite burn of being stretched and filled so completely.

There is still a brief moment near the end when you tense up, and he immediately stops to remind you to relax. His own body is shaking, voice low and rough in your ear as he fights back the urge to just sink all the way in. "Breathe... Relax...... You're doing so well for me."

Stars, you were always a fool for his voice. With another low moan, your body obeys, and he finally bottoms out, the blunt head of his cock nestled against your cervix.

Sometimes all you need is to grind your hips up and down as he stays still and talks you through another orgasm, your walls clenching at his sinful words and rubbing against the thick ridges. Either that or he will sit in his command chair as he works late at night and have you warm his cock, lifting your hips up and down every so often to draw out your arousal.

Thrawn loves to tease you like this, even though it just drives him insane too. He will run his fingers over the thick outline of his cock nestled in your lower tummy, pressing against it in a way that has you whimper and beg.

After everything is said and done, you can expect the most thorough, tender aftercare from him.

Tagging some friends! If your name is crossed through, please consider updating your username by sending me a message. Join my taglist here.

@saradika @djarrex @thefact0rygirl @firelordillyria @superfunething @thefireflyreader @mysticalgalaxysalad @babygirl-leon-kennedy @justanothersadperson93 @14mcmd112 @ele-millennial-weirdo @thestudyofwhyiexist @mittheresabosen @kurosakiyami @vibratingbonesbis @idkwhatimdoinghah @hereforthesunrise @darth-papi @ashotofspotchka @handbaskethell @my-awakened-ghost @ironandglass @amyroswell @chaosjedimaester @cassandrablacker

#blue man hot #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #grand admiral thrawn #villain fucking is back baybeee #tbh it never left #thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo

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softstanb · 3 months ago

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kidnapping toxicity (star eyes)

[aka no time to bleed]

i won't lie to you, dearest reader - this fic started in a buckwild way.

it's the summer. i'm queer. chappell roan sings the songs of my people. yet somehow the music video of casual, the lyrics, the melody, it all ingrained itself into my brain in a funny way. see, i ended up with about three ideas based off the song, each looser than the previous.

though it may not seem to be true, this fic was inspired by casual. that and this lovely little tweet. it drove me insane. sorry if it does the same to you.

but there's something else i'm not telling you. have you seen the movie predator? classic 80s action/horror. lovely little flick, not at all scary if you're a weenie. feels like terminator with neon green blood and bad heat vision.

if you've seen predator then you know exactly what i'm talking about. the beginning of the movie, before you even meet the predator, they raid what seems to be a cartel compound. they take this woman as a hostage. the alien starts fucking things up, but even throughout this she doesn't let them know she speaks english until she's seen the predator murder a guy. our lovely lady is our seokmin inspiration.

and there was something in me that was just itching to write something toxic for once. look through my backlog and you'll find softness overwhelmed with even more softness, tenderness filling the cracks. i write things that are meant to be cherished, relationships that feel like warm blankets and mugs of hot chocolate, your favorite books when you were nine and it was raining and nothing hurt and everything was okay.

i was a little bored. a little weary. i craved a toxicity you never see from me. this is what comes from it.

what's funny is that this fic actually had me crying in dms that it wasn't toxic enough. here i am, sobbing in my babies' dms, that our boy mingyu has too fast of a turn around for someone who is supposed to be the leading mc of a doc called "kidnapping toxicity (star eyes)". and sure, he isn't actually toxic enough to hold down this role, but he's toxic enough for the start for it to matter, i guess. besides, when i write, these stories take on a life of their own. all i do is just put them in a silly little doc and then release them to you. i don’t outline, i just vibe. i’m sure you all can tell.

this fic also has a bit of a funny story. it’s the second fic i’ve posted in a row at a wedding. in a different time zone. my streak is beyond bizarre but i should break it soon. i don’t have any more weddings on my immediate horizon so to keep it going you wouldn’t hear from me for almost years.

i intended a little more with this one too, sure. same shit different smell. ran up against the deadline with the force of an angry bull. ran into it a few more times too. fest mods deserve the world, truly. i love them and they’re too good for the rest of us. sure, i had other shit going on, but i still was an added stress in their life. but they told me not to be sorry. (i still am.)

anyways, the intent was to have a movie night or two. or just them binging movies and eating junk and doing nothing more than rotting as their matching wounds became matching scars. y’know, cute shit. but then i wrote the ending and i looked at it and looked at it again and realized that’s it. there’s nothing more i need to say.

there was an epilogue too, one i’m not going to promise to write. i won’t even tease it. it goes like this:

they get seok out. they get him off base and move him into that city that he once called home. it’s not really home anymore, something eerily reminiscent but to the left. something hazy with memories but with harsh realities poking through the nostalgia like machetes through sheets. it’s unsettling and off putting and just plain wrong, but it’s the closest civilization to the base for miles. his sister lives there. his mother visits, too. and though they don’t seek each other out, still far too scared of seokmin’s original captors coming back for them, even if their corpses are charred husks abandoned in the middle of nowhere they were a part of a network dammit, they see each other. they’re neighborly when they run into each other. if they leave each interaction more teary-eyed than the last, no one mentions it. the town is too good to.

and maybe there’s mingyu. mingyu, now desperate for an out, who latches onto seokmin like a snapping turtle who’s just got its jaws around a delicious treat it can’t quite break. he gets wounded again. something super fucked - think a demolished knee, a fused major joint, blurry vision that can’t be fixed. he’s declared unfit for duty and they plan an extraction date. is it an execution date? no one is sure. no one finds out either. he disappears into the trees, never to be seen again.

no one talks about the new man in the city, with his clumsy language and mysterious background and lover who looks at him like he has hung the moon, who stares right back at him like he’d give him the stars if he’d only ask for them.

that city holds both boys close to their chests and shields them whenever trouble rolls through. the city laughs in the face of danger. try us, they say, they are ours and you cannot have them.

and maybe there’s a bit of a treehouse somewhere in those woods. high and hidden unless you know where to look, know where to find it. seokmin brings the home cooked meals he grew up on and mingyu brings base favorites, leftovers concealed and treated as a gold standard currency. they hug and chat and catchup, jihoon recounting the newest way he’s made the suits lives shit and seokmin talking about his new adventures, about dreams he never thought he’d be able to have. he’s so much more alive that it’s common for men to come back from their “surveillance missions” and “general recon missions” with red puffy eyes. no one asks about it, for seokmin’s sake. even if he’s not there they know he’d be upset to find out they were teasing each other over happy tears.

and maybe they find another kid stuffed away on a compound, scared outta his mind. jihoon takes him to seokmin and leaves him there, knowing there’s no better hands for him to be in. he grows up loved and understood, even if he is technically fully grown. he gets years back to act like a kid.

a happy ending. hope for the future.

it’s a tcg fic. yall know the drill.

p.s. if it helps, since this is a vague predator au and that takes place in guatemala, the way i thought of the languages is like this:

- the base/soldiers/vague govt agency = english

- the compound/vague cartel stand in = spanish

- seokmin/the natives= an unspecified indigenous language/mayan/garifuna/xinca

kidnapping toxicity (star eyes) aka no time to bleed

other notes on my fics aka the index

#b be writing

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trippin-over-my-fandoms · 4 months ago

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So since I predicted that Sloane and Luther would get together from the day she was announced as well as a couple of scenes- I feel obligated to share w y'all my batshit crazy idea of what I thought might happen in season 4 and like now that we have TWO trailers why I think it might happen. In other words-

Me being delulu about tua s4 and y'all gotta deal w it

So my initial thought was that in this new timeline they are themselves slotted into lives they don't initially remember, that the longer they dwell in the timeline the more they remember and some come to accept. Up until the inevitable happens and the world is at risk again for whatever reason. However, saving the world means giving up these perfect lives for accepting their shitty dysfunctional reality to save each other. Because the more they stay and accept the more they lose of previous timelines.

I was gonna write a fanfic but then my resident evil obsession started and if y'all have read any of my fanfic y'all know my history with long-fics.

Why do I now think this could actually be the case you ask?

At the end of season 3 Luther takes off after our girl Sloane with Klaus following but everyone else is just so calm. Soooo which leads us to

Trailer 1

Viktor might own or work in a bar. Which the fact that he seems to be somewhat settled for sure tells us that some time has possibly passed between season 3 and 4

The sign says "home for wayward boys" implying that Allison may not have been in the group and maybe neither Viktor before the transition. I'm also wondering if now that his wife is back maybe in this new timeline they both fostered/adopted our main characters.

Oh yeah did I mention Reginald's moon wife is alive? His whole thing with the children was his alien (literally) way to save her. Now she's alive.

Allison is with claire so she also possibly has her life back.

Ben is getting out of jail and like it could be a "time has passed between seasons" thing or something happens in one of the episodes where he winds up locked up.

Diego is at a kid's party and either has his own kid or a niece or something. it's not claire and the family behind him is not his umbrella fam.

MY BOY IS SO SMALL ITS GONNA BE SO WEIRD SEEING HIM "NORMAL" THIS SEASON also he looks kinda sad. trailer two debunks what I initially thought of his reveal in this trailer because I thought oh haha what if it's a Halloween costume but like we'll get to my season 2 crazies hang in there.

Klaus is upside down in an interior (proven by the radiator) so he is either stuck, meditating, in a trance, or it's Sloane holding him there. I also kinda wonder if he's going through a clean streak or something OCD like with his addictions from the whole blue gloves thing. tbh i saw those in the promo and thought it was blue screen and his hands were gonna be effed up lol.

ben shouts "lets go kill this bitch" and allison corrects "this is a rescue mission" sooooooo is reginal and or his wife the bitch in question? and like sloane is the only one missing from our group so maybe she's the one being rescued? or maybe one of the new characters (like gene and jean).

which brings me to a theory I'll get to after my trailer break down and before the second breakdown.

side bar but the xmen stile jet is great lol

the subway is 100% a metaphor for the timelines AND that house diego and luther are at is the one from season two where they see reggie and grace at that party

the mind thingies in the blue room are so fucked up and i cant tell if thats sloane or wife hargreeves or a grace return in the bg but im wondering if it connects them to other timelines? Im wondering if the woman is sloane bc abigail has such curly hair but it does remind me of grace so idk.

upside down umbrella is insane okay

starting to think the jet might be flashbacks

A SPACE SUIT HAND REACHES INTO A RED FORCE SOMETHING FOR ANOTHER HAND AND SLOANE MAYBE????

fuck organization if you have read this far welcome to my brain- anyway- theory is that her place got swapped for abigail hargreeves' on the moon and now our beloved moon boy has to save her from that place. so symbolic.

now i was half put down a few shots later when we see victor emit a similar color power later but trailer 2 kinda backs some stuff up.

so trailer 2

opens with ben alone and confused and vicktor calls ben at the phone booth leading me to 100% believe they have split up again and have to find each other. very nostalgic of season 1 and 2

"there's something happening to you and it's only gonna get worse" so this is either about just ben OR its about all of them. either way ben did look confused so his eldritch horrors are either hulking out or he's losing memory chunks like my theory suggests. but it might revolve around ben bc vicktor specifically says "you" in the next time about the world ending.

(wondering if luther nervous farted in the car lmao)

Gene and Jean are possibly conspiracy theorists or agents posing as them but its interesting they are bringing attention to the altered timelines.

okay yeah world ending revolves around ben im tired okay and not proofing this you're stuck with my ramblings

the white violin is for sure abi hargreeves no doubt it doesn't look like sloane and plus the violin viktor got was bc reggie gave it to him that he got from his wife before she died okay. fanfic rn where viktor is the chosen child fanfic rn where abi loves all the kids fanfic rn where shes alive but shes just as much of a dick and we could have an epic trans story for viktor and expectations and yeah anyway-

whoever said it was jenny in trailer two i wanna kiss u on the lips ur prolly right and i love you for it

"ben died because we failed as a team" "and-" "and what" FOLLOWED BY LUTHERS CONFUSED FACE LEADS ME TO ONE OF TWO THINGS AND YOU ALREADY KNOW ONE OF THEM memory loss my beloved or something shocking occurs to him or like he seems something idk

more blue room stuff and uh maybe its not mind stuff maybe its power stimulation like what if they dont have their powers but ben does idk.

who TF is klaus digging up

OH GUYS NO I THINK LUTHER IS A MALE DANCER THATS WHAT THE SPACE SUIT IS IDK WTF IS THIS SHOW I LOVE IT

anyway they keep showing that one scene and like idk im delulu about sloane im so tired and i am not ready for this show to end in 8 days im sobbing y'all

#the umbrella academy #luther hargreeves #sloanes thoughts #sloane hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #tua s4 #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves

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antirepurp · 2 months ago

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ok. microwaving my brain to organize thoughts abt the dark beginnings animations mostly in how they portray shadow and maria on the ark. rouge and omega were cool too but not a priority here

i don't think im a fan of how... post-sa2 shadow is acting in these, in scenes that supposedly took place 50 years ago. from what i can tell though what we see of it is supposed to be through the perspective of shadow, as reminiscence or nightmares colored by the retrospect, which is a huge fucking relief unless they fuck that up later somehow. as long as the veil of retrospect surrounds those flashbacks everything is more or less fine; shadow can know about him being made out of black arms, he can have some violent angst about his purpose, act less unsure in general, because the shadow in those scenes would effectively be shadow from the present day, not the shadow that actually lived in those moments

that said if we take everything here at face-value it slots pretty terribly in with sa2 i'd say, which is pretty bad since that game is the Basis for shadow as a character. like the shadow in the flashbacks of sa2 was far less. aggressive even? prone to lashing out? he explicitly did not know his own purpose for a while, which in turn leads me to believe he probably was not involved in research the way dark beginnings implies he was. also that would give us Objective Depictions of Maria which sucks to me specifically but you know

there's also the matter of shadow's amnesia in heroes and shadow 05. i actually think that if all we see in the memories is subjective things work out in a really cool manner; everything here is painted from things shadow learned in retrospect about his early life and ARK. everything we see is things he has slotted in to a narrative scraped together from what remains, whether those remains are other people's subjective memories, documentation of the ARK and project shadow, or the state of the ARK in the present day. shadow could not remember what he was like 50 years ago - he slots in the version of himself he does know. he doesn't remember what maria was like - he replaces her with what other people have said she was like. he learns he's made of aliens - now there's aliens on the ARK. the original script is lost to time and he's forced to write a new one from what remains, which leads to inconsistencies, an obsessive knowledge of how much time must pass between each event, the birth of moments he wishes would have happened and that he can make real if he just believes in them hard enough.

if sega isn't a coward they will leave things ambiguous. we can have the cake and eat it too. they will succeed in creating something remarkably cool with shadow and the so-far questionable state of how much he remembers anymore. i am however terrified that im going to discover that the cake im having is filled with shit because no one at sega has realized the narrative potential in this character and his fucked up history

#soda offers you a can #i was gonna tag as spoilers but idk what fucking tag to use so. let me know it if you want it tagged?

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zuzsenpai · 3 months ago

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Deep dive into my personal thoughts on determining if I am autistic. Feel free to read or not read, but please refrain from dismissive language. I'm just trying to get this stuff written down and posted, because often that's cathartic for me. TW for negativity, mentions of mental illness, and verbal/emotional abuse.

I’ve been seriously considering the idea that I’m autistic for a little over a year now (probably longer if I’m being honest), though a conversation with a good friend yesterday sparked an interest in putting everything into writing. This past year was exceptionally bad as far as mental health is concerned, and I generally assumed depression and anxiety were responsible for a lot of my issues getting worse. And that’s definitely true. But as I thought about myself and became more aware of certain traits I have and things I do and say and think outside of just a depression standpoint, I kept wondering if I’ve been framing some things wrong for years. I had always assumed that certain things I do are “wrong” and “bad” because they’re caused by depression. When in fact they might be features of myself that can be reframed and understood better and I can learn to accept them. I’ve been wondering if getting screened for autism might be useful for me. I still don’t know. A lot of the things I’m about to list sound really negative. But I want to learn how to love myself and take care of myself so that positivity can come out of this.

So anyway, here are some things I do or think that, if I get screened for autism or at least dip my toes into the community, I might be able to understand more clearly. Not all of these are signs of autism, and some can absolutely be attributed to depression or self esteem issues, which I do have. But I want to get all of this down anyway.

Social anxiety. I have a lot of it. Always have, though I tended to mask it better in school. In my 30s, I’m not forced to interact with people outside of work, so my social anxiety has only gotten worse. I’m god awful at social interactions with almost everyone. Especially in-person social interactions (online is easier, though I tend to not have much to say in online conversations). Very close friends and immediate family are the only people I feel I can speak to properly, but even then I get nervous and have to really think before I say something. I think very carefully before every social interaction, and ponder them constantly afterwards. I tend to cancel plans VERY frequently if I feel like I can’t handle being around more people than just my close friends or immediate family. And when I am with new people, I fret constantly about being perceived as awkward. Which brings me to…

I have a deep fear of being perceived as awkward or weird. Of being recognized as someone who can’t communicate normally. I feel like an alien wandering around at all times. Everything I say sounds awkward coming from my mouth. Speaking leads to embarrassment. I sit in a room filled with extended family and all I can think of is how I can seem “normal” without having to talk to them. Because of this, I have become hyperaware of visual cues/facial cues/reactions of other people around me when I’m near them or speaking to them. I always thought that “recognizing social cues” meant that I couldn’t have autism. But I think in this case, I may have just worked extra hard to notice people’s reactions because of the fear of being perceived as different. I trained myself, if that makes sense. Though sometimes I realize too late that I actually said something weird, and I stress about it for weeks. Which brings me to…

I vocal stim. Because of my horrible fear of being perceived as awkward, I tend to replay social interactions in my head over and over for days and weeks after they happen. My brain does this thing where the moment I start to think about an awkward interaction, I immediately and involuntarily say a specific word out loud. It doesn’t happen in public while I’m in the situations, but it does happen every time I think about them afterwards, usually when I’m alone. This is a frequent, daily occurrence. I think of the vocal stim as trying to help me stop thinking about the thing, or reminding me that I’m thinking about it in the first place. When I hear myself say the word, I inwardly cringe for a moment, then try to refocus on something else. The word has changed a couple times over the years, but it’s usually the name of a fictional character I really like at the time.

I know this one will sound more like severe depression, but… My executive dysfunction is bad. REAL BAD. I have entire rooms of my house filled with garbage and junk because I can’t take a single step to clean and sort. Even the idea of taking a small step is stressful for me. Organization is a huge challenge. Starting any kind of task that involves cleaning or organizing gets me confused and anxious. And often even fun hobby tasks seem impossible to start or do, because my brain constantly tells me I don’t actually want to do them.

Also I space out and can’t focus when someone, like my mom, is talking to me. She complains that I don’t listen to details when she’s talking and she claims I “do it on purpose to spite her”. When in reality, I do it without thinking. It causes poor memory issues. One specific and horrible example is from last Christmas. My mom said she wanted new pot holders for Christmas— a specific kind that aren’t “mittens” and don’t include silicone grips, but instead are made of really thick fabric. She told me this a couple times, but for some reason I couldn’t process the details, or I immediately forgot them because I didn’t write them down. I eventually told my sibling that she could get the pot holders for my mom and I would get her something else on her list. But I neglected to tell my sibling any of the details of what my mom wanted. So my sibling got her really nice, big silicone grip oven mitts. When my mom opened them, she immediately said: “this isn’t what I wanted. Kristin I told you exactly what I wanted a dozen times. Did you seriously not listen? Why don’t you listen to me?” So in essence, I had completely ruined my sibling’s gift to my mom. I broke down and started sobbing. On Christmas. In front of my family. At age 35. My mom got really angry and told me I was crying on purpose to get sympathy, and that there’s no excuse for not listening to her, and that I’m being spiteful. I tried to explain to my family that lately I’ve been feeling like my brain doesn’t work properly. I don’t know if they really “got it”. It was AWFUL. I’m tearing up just thinking about it. Anyway… on to other things…

When I get a new project at work, I have to ask a lot of questions and talk it out for a while with my manager (who is very patient), pretty much every time. Just takes a while to process things. I spiral a little if I don’t have all the facts of a project right away. And speaking of not processing, please do not ask me to play a card or board game with a zillion rules. My brain shuts down. I get overwhelmed just thinking about it and I get stressed when someone invites me to play a game I’ve never played before.

I often take things people say too seriously, or it takes me a while to process what they are joking about with enough time to respond properly. I work extremely hard to mask this. I do understand sarcasm and jokes, but often I don’t know how to react to them. For instance, I have an uncle (Uncle Mike) who is notorious for saying incomprehensible shit and making inscrutable jokes about people (I’m sure you can guess that he is NOT my favorite relative). I was with him the other day, along with another uncle (Uncle Dave) who I hadn’t seen in years. My dad said something like “oh everybody’s gone through a lot of dog drama this year”. Which is true, though I personally don’t have a dog and did not have “dog drama”. Uncle Mike turned to Uncle Dave and just said offhandedly “Oh don’t bring the dog drama up around Kristin.” The comment made zero sense and I didn’t recognize it as a bizarre joke right away (he didn’t even know my cat was sick). So I felt the need to defend myself to my other uncle. I turned to Uncle Dave and said “well no, I don’t have dog drama but I do have cat drama. My cat was sick and had surgery, but he’s doing a lot better now.” Then I kind of went off on a tangent explaining the cat’s surgery. My Uncle in turn had no idea how to react to this. So I felt extremely awkward afterwards and sat there quietly contemplating how fucking awkward I am and how I can’t take a joke (even when the jokes are inscrutable). Anyway.

I get VERY overstimulated and anxious when my parents force me to come with them to local hockey games (they love going). I despise it. The competitiveness, the angry fans, the tension, the fighting on the ice… it’s awful. It sounds weird and counterintuitive, but I’m able to distract myself with the advertisements on the digital screens and the Jumbotron. But actually watching the game? Can’t do it. Serious overstimulation.

I have physical tics. I’ve cycled through different ones over the years— digging my fingernail into my palm, licking my lips, torso and neck twisting… etc.

I eat the same food every day. Takes A LOT to get me to branch out. I’m really picky. There are foods (like cheese, garlic, and fish) that just the idea of eating them makes me physically ill. I’ve actually puked from smelling mac & cheese and garlic pretzels cooking in the oven. I don’t have food texture issues, but I’m hypersensitive to taste and smell. I gag ALL the time when trying new foods, so I tend to avoid them.

I do hyperfixate on occasion. It’s not particularly extreme, but it does occur. Especially when I am too burnt out to do anything else, I find a single thing I really like doing at the time and become consumed by doing that one thing that makes me happy. Whether it’s writing fanfic for days on end or editing Digimon BGM or identifying bugs, I tend to ignore other tasks in favor of that one thing.

And finally, the suspected autistic burnout, which I am experiencing right now. I went through a VERY stressful August with my cat needing emergency surgery and his anxiety-inducing recovery. During that time and since then, my brain has been completely unable to start or focus on ANY task. I mindlessly scroll tumblr wishing I could do anything other than that, but feeling anxiety when I try. I’m exhausted. Everything makes me exhausted. Existing makes me mentally and physically exhausted. I’ve been really withdrawn.

Anyway, in general, I’ve always felt that I didn’t have traits that would get me diagnosed as autistic. And there’s a good chance I won’t be diagnosed. But I do have some traits. Maybe? My problem is fear of not being accepted and understood, because people in my life will think I’m “too old to be diagnosed” or “exaggerating” or “just have depression”. I have a childhood friend who got diagnosed a few years ago. When she told her mom she had autism, her mom was insulted, angry, and dismissive. Her mom brought out the “is it my fault? Was I a bad mother? There’s no way my child has autism” cards. Knowing my own mother and how she reacts to anything I tell her about myself, she would do the same thing. She would tell me I’m over-exaggerating and making stuff up in my head. And having my mom be insulted by my autism is a deep fear, because when she says dismissive things, they tend to burn into my mind for eternity. Like when I was 21 and she told me “don’t think you’re gay just because your friends are gay.” GOD that was a bad one. That one line held me back from understanding my sexuality for well over a decade, and it still haunts the back of my mind. I can’t imagine what her dismissing me as neurodivergent would do. The fight and guilt tripping and dismissiveness it would cause would be outrageously terrible for my mental health. My mom is staunchly anti-psychiatry, so I guess I will never EVER tell her. Maybe her acceptance wouldn’t make me feel better anyway.

But other people’s acceptances— the people who truly matter— might be what I’m looking for. I don’t know what to make of anything I just wrote down. I said a lot of things about myself… and it would be nice to frame some of them more positively, and to work on certain things with a better knowledge of who I am.

#Zuzu note;#personal post for ts #tw mental illness #mental health mention #thoughts on autism #tw verbal abuse #tw emotional abuse

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