#because sooner or later i will need oxygen

[baekuras]

seeing a lot of posts floating around about “boohoo europeans can’t handle the heat” type of deal with current, again above average summer temperatures showing up in the news again but weirdly enough most examples people give UNLESS they live right in a desert are just....normal temperatures here anyway? Like yeah it’s 30 to 40 celsius during the day? yes it can get up to that in a car even when it’s colder outside? it’s a fucking car??? and no fans don’t cool down the air, they just push it around so you need an AC or at least a cold wet towel over the fan or something other than it to cool down the room? all that aside from the age old argument of ‘hey did you know that we aren’t used to those temps and houses aren’t build for hot summers but cold winters and due to climate change it’s all a hot humid hell?’

anyhow if you ever wanted to know why i dislike heat-it’s mostly because of the hot humid hell I’d much prefer a 30° summer in spain (beach weather <3) to odd 20°s in germany the past weeks

i am still waiting for temps to drop below 20s at least to go air out my room and cool it down some for the night (and by the night i mean apparently past midnight because the outside is still hotter than the inside for now and i am not going to compromise any of that carefully kept in cold now)

[forever--darling]

as the world caves in | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: there is nothing left to do but bite the bullet and face everything head-on. when neteyam finds you at the tree of souls, he can't help but demand answers while showing the remnants of his broken heart.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 8.7k ( i am nervous about this one)

warnings/notes: slow burn, swearing, major angst continued, mention of sky people, many feelings (too many to be honest), arguing, admission of feelings, crying, double heartbreak, almost to the end (1/3)

series masterlist | one of us: part six | requests are currently open for now

Freedom is a privilege no one really appreciates when they have it. Especially when you’re used to having it; you take it for granted, think it’s going to be there forever, and think that your life is built around free will and personal rights. But that's not always the case when you live in Pandora as a sky person. You’re locked up in a building, dependent on oxygen, on resources that aren’t even from the planet you’re on. Privilege is designed and seen by the link pods, the only machine that can transform you into someone else within seconds. Even that is short-lived though because even when you have the ability to become someone else, something else, freedom isn’t permanent. Because sooner or later, you always have to wake up. 

It was iridescent, the only way to utterly describe the sight before you. Iridescent bathed in bright neon bioluminescence lights that glowed as readily as the green lush of the forest. Mauve tendrils dangled down in front of your face, whispering soft assurances back at you, as you stared forward with silent prayers on your tongue. Silent prayers you had held in until now. It was like once they met your lips, they would become poisonous to not only yourself but everyone else around you. The sight of Vitraya Ramunong’s long luminescent rods, reflected in your eyes coating them with hope and The Great Mother’s comfort. The Tree of Souls offered a sacred site for those seeking solitude, a place to bear your soul in the hope of being answered. 

You had a lot to bare as you stood there within the draped tree, queue with the lightest sensation bound to a mauve tendril. A neural link, the only possible connection between you and the great Eywa. With your eyes closed, your eyelashes felt like woodsprites on your cheeks and you took in a deep breath, one that felt as if you were filling your lungs completely with hot scorching blood rather than air. A plea was the only thing you could think to ask her. No other words could fall from your tongue but they didn't need to as you could feel her; her large motherly arms and firm comforting aura. You knew you didn’t need to say anything for her to feel your presence and the pain that was sewn across your heart. 

Salty tears were beginning to form behind your eyelids. You clenched your eyes harder, trying to conceal them from falling across your blue skin. It was as if the organ in your chest that you were trusted to keep safe was failing you. Slowly piece by piece being chipped away along with the hope you were trying to hold onto. But the longer you kept using the link pod and prolonging the link process, the more it felt the virus was no longer just infecting the body you were born into but every part of you.

Almost as if the virus had made it to your brain and the effects were nullifying the spiritual bonds you had with the Omatikaya clan. Abiotic forces aren’t derived with empathy and you knew it wouldn't surrender just because of your ceremony. You were one of the people and now just as quickly, it felt as if you were being ripped away. With no escape, no lifeline from this very battle, you knew under Eywa’s consolation she wasn’t trying to offer you absolution from your lies or secrets but open up a home for your soul. 

As the tears began to slip from your eyes as easily as you were slipping from the concreteness of the world, you could feel the mourning that had overtaken you. Your cries were mournfully falling from your parted lips and you dare to let them swallow you whole. You were mourning this life, this world, this encapsulating version of yourself you hadn’t even known existed but that this body had graciously granted you. You were mourning the future and the love that had overtaken your heart but now fell at your feet like withered petals.

The Great Mother had her great plan laid out and with you completely stuck in the dark about it, you couldn't help but let sickness claw and tear at every remaining hope you had left. Its cuts were deep, tainting, and leaving the last remaining pieces of your personality to resemble the physicality of your human body. Death had plagued you and you knew based on the shakiness of your form and the dizzy spells behind your gold eyes that things were bad. If you were feeling the effects here in this other world and this other body then it had reached a point of no return. 

With your jaw trembling, and lips chewed to a pulp in between your pointed teeth, you released the queue from the tendril. Standing up, your hands wiped manically at your cheeks ridding them of the hot salty streams. You rid yourself of the physical implications of the pain that was sewn deeply across your back. Instead, as if it never happened, you let the tendril fall through your touch, the softness and comfort of it leaving your fingertips. Staring forward at it, your ears twitched at the quiet sounds of Omatikaya ancestors.

You then let your head fall back to peer up at the towering tree before you with complete and utter awe. It was a site that had been off limits to you until now, until you had become one of the Omatikaya. With tear-stained cheeks, a broken laugh fell from your lips. With the luminescent green ground warm under your feet and pulsing with every neuron of the forest, you felt the sorrow and the ruminations be pulled from your body. 

Laughing like a madwoman, you walked along the hanging tendrils with a light smile pulled at the ends of your lips. You leaned into Eywa’s consolation, her plan tickling your ears as if she were going to whisper it to you. Face clean of the intense feelings that once harbored your body, you walked as if your shoulders were free of every burden you had acquired. It was as if Eywa heard your silent pleas and offered you a moment of relief. A moment of bliss overcompensated by an expression of tranquility that had appeared across your face. 

Within the secluded part of the thick forest, your skin buzzed at the sound of muffled footsteps walking along the lush ground. Your ears twitched at the familiarity of it and you let out a breath of relief. Relief that he had decided to come and find you within the tree of pure spirits. You knew you should have retired to your human form hours before, the weakness evidently now taking a hold of your insides, but you couldn’t when you hadn’t seen him yet, knowing that you hadn’t talked to him. You needed to take in every moment of his presence you could. The very presence that left your heart aching for more — for more time, more courtesy to the feelings that were tightly wound around you, for more of him.

Your smile widened. It was soft and completely docile as you watched the lush ground of the forest illuminate under each of his heavy footsteps. Dots decorated his face like ivory stars radiating within the darkness of the eclipse, and you held your breath, praying to the Mother that he would reward you with the sight of his pearly white-coated smile. If there was anything you wanted to commit to your memory, it was that look, that infrequent smile, and the swelling feeling that appeared in your chest at the sight of it. 

With anticipation and you standing under the tree, Neteyam felt his chest constrict at the sight of you completely dosed in bright colors reflecting off your skin. You were mesmerizing and ethereal as you stood there still dressed in what you had been during the ceremony with soft wispy pieces of hair framing your face. Even if he wished you could be the last thing he’d ever see, he felt the misery reach around him again and squeeze every delusion to the surface.

The sight of Lo’ak’s battered face flickered behind his eyes and it only reminded him of what had led to it. Of what destruction he had encountered that led to his own crumbling. When he stared at you in your ethereal form, he didn’t feel like he had anything left. Like after all the long months of stolen glances and mixed signals, there was nothing left of himself to give to you. Slowly he had wantingly opened up his ribs and the confines of his body to offer you everything he had inside, mistakenly. Because where that fondness of you still remained it was now overshadowed by anguish and exhaustion. 

As he appeared in the light, the soft callings of Eywa draping his face in color, you felt your smile slip from your face. As if the Great Mother was asking you to push it back inside where it came from — to save it for another time away from the Toruk Makto’s oldest son. A gasp was wrenched from your throat, breathlessly, gold eyes dancing across his skin worryingly. Because paired with those scattered constellations was blackening blood expelled from the deepest cuts across his temple, just above his eyebrow, and bottom lip. His chest rose and fell distressingly when he breathed because of the purple and black swellings pressed along his torso and sides. 

“Neteyam,” you whispered, disbelief coated across your tongue. 

Your eyes flickered down to his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if they hadn’t softly been pressed against your chest hours ago. His tail swished from side to side while his guarded eyes that managed to never leave yours, the entirety that he approached, refused to waver until you said his name. His eyes stared back at you until his name had fallen effortlessly from you. The overwhelmingness that coated his insides forced him to drop his stare to the lush green ground rather than the woman before him. 

Your silence became suffocating as you stared, unable to look away from the stains that coated his skin, caused by someone else’s hands. It made your whole body tighten. The effects of his crestfallen expression and the state of his body filled you with an entirety of new panic you had never felt before. Your thoughts bled with questions like bulletholes that were detrimental and unable to coagulate. How did this happen — the spotting with his father, while in the sky, did a sky person shoot them down, threatened them, chased them back into the forest where more were left waiting, and worse of all had they been far over the territory line than anyone realized. Like a never-ending horror show, you felt the panic take over every inch of your body completely taking priority over anything else. 

Neteyam could not stop the pounding in his ears as your quietness did nothing to resolve his pain-stricken self. Even with you there in front of him, he felt Lo’ak’s words echoing in his head, tearing down every reserve he tried to build up on his walk over. He told himself to not get too close to you, to separate the light featherlike hold you had around him. The hold was evident in the way his eyes flickered back up to you with your silence drawing him back in, asking for him. The notion brought on a cold sweat that bathed his skin and sunk deeply into the open wounds like salt. 

He could read your mind, the panic that had completely overtaken your features, burning every other emotion that had once resided there. Your mind was going around in circles like a boundless carousel and he cursed himself for feeling affected by it. Your eyes met his and with so much uncertainty filling them, he only had one answer for what and who was responsible. “Lo’ak.” 

Your eyes widened the panic starting to crawl at the back of your throat drowning you completely, “W-What? Is he okay? What happened?” 

A slight hiss fell from his lips as if you had reopened one of the many bullet wounds lodged deep within his chest wall. One that Lo’ak had put there. Tilting his head to the side, he closed his eyes for a moment. It was like you had struck him and he hated himself for how much you asking about his brother affected him — hated how much you affected him. 

When he looked at you again he noticed that the pinched look of confusion on your face had deepened at his reaction. He shook his head slowly, glare meeting your timid gaze. “No. Lo’ak.”

You shook your head softly, trying to decipher the meaning of his brother’s name. Frantically, your eyes swept back and forth between Neteyam, the boy in front of you, whom you were desperately praying for day and night, and the dark forest behind him. His cryptic response left you with a dizzying, all-consuming trepidation. Your hands hung out in the air, ears tightly pulled back, and your gaze matched the constant steady of your thoughts as they flickered every which way. Lo’ak. 

As if Eywa had sent you the very answer, your breath was snatched from you and your body stiffened. No. No. Your eyes snapped up to meet his just as your tail swished irritatingly. His once fleeting stare didn’t move again but stared forward, watching as all fear was expelled from your body with a single realization. You looked at him with disbelief, taking in his clenched jaw, spiteful eyes now being overtaken by unshed tears. Within the desolate area, it was like the distance was vast between your fragmented bodies. It was like you had already lost him to an unimaginable force pulling the two of you apart. But to Neteyam it wasn’t an unimaginable force, it was Lo’ak. 

Distress overtook your shaking form at the thought. Lo’ak. You wondered what he must look like in comparison to Neteyam and felt your entire will be wretched from your body to only be laid at the future Olo’ektan’s feet. Because what happened to them wasn’t something or someone but each other. 

“Neteyam, no,” your voice trembled as you let yourself breathe again, “No.” 

He was silent for a moment, face struck with the same distress that you thought had occupied you. But based on the tension that was pressed firmly between his shoulder blades and the scowl on his face, his was far heavier than yours. His glare didn’t falter but only seemed to harden further as if he was once again the shell of the man he was when you met him. Spoiled with an anger that was grasping tightly at his throat, mostly afraid of anyone seeing past the facade he had stitched onto his face for years. He was trying to hide the stability of his sanity and the pain that was threatening it. He was trying to hide how you made him feel and worst of all, the affliction you had caused him. 

You could see it past the unshed tears in his eyes and the frustration that was reverberating from his hands. How desperate he was for some exoneration. As he stared forward at you, you knew then that somehow he had heard about everything that had happened between you and Lo’ak. It was a rotting truth that somehow had taken the man you had known for months and turned him inside out. As horrible as it was, some of you felt satisfaction. Even as his heart twisted before you like it couldn’t take any more, you were presented with the indisputable fact that what he felt for you was there. His pain served as a confirmation to you.

“He told you,” you whispered. 

Neteyam huffed suddenly, his arms lifting out in front of him as his hands clenched further into fists. At the sight of the dried blood as well as the open cuts on his knuckles, you felt your stomach drop and your eyes soften There was nothing you wanted more than to step forward and take each of them in yours. You wanted your touch as well as your lips to heal his wounds you had caused not only physically but emotionally, but the look in his eye had you glued to your spot. A wave of anger and hatred you had never seen before in it. 

You felt yourself stepping closer craving to be near him. Needing something to ground you as it felt like the whole world was burning around you. His eyes narrowed, and you felt yourself crumble slightly at the sight. Deception. 

“You act as if I did this,” you suddenly felt defensive as if you had to protect what was left of your own heart, “The choice wasn’t mine. I didn’t ask Lo’ak to make this decision of who he wanted to be his mate. It’s not mine to bear.” 

“So you’re saying you told him no,” Neteyam said, breaking slightly noticeable by the sharpness in his tone as he took a step closer to you, “You explicitly told him that you didn’t want to be his mate. That you couldn't, not with what rules Mo'at has set.” 

It was a shot. Such harsh words to get back at the inexplicable deception he felt by you. He wasn’t going to try and lessen the blow not when he thought you had done so much worse. You felt it just as it was meant to. Like he was trying to hurt you, go against every part of himself that had feelings for you, and hurt you plain and simple — whatever it took. You knew this was his defensive nature, his soldier makeup, doing everything he could to not break, to not tarnish, to remain strong to the orders bestowed on him.

He was being cruel because cruelness would keep you at an arm’s length away. Far away so he could stay true to what the clan needed of him, what the world needed of him. They needed every part of him including his heart which meant it wasn’t free to give away, especially to you. 

You glowered up at him, trying not to let your mind get distracted by the bleeding cuts across his face. 

It was your turn to have your quietness serve as an answer for him. An answer to his question. He nodded then dropped his arms to his sides as a pained exhale parted his lips, “Then it is yours to bear. Then it is just as much your choice as it is his. It is yours to bear.” 

It is yours to bear. The words were spiteful but so desperate and you felt them shake your core as every expectation and ask of him seemed to be proudly on his shoulders at that moment. He bears the entire world and he always would until it would lead to his collapse. He would hold it all until it finally killed him. He will give the clan, his family, and his father everything until there would be nothing left of him but an imprint of dust. He didn’t have the strength to carry the weight of his love for you, let alone his pain. The repetition of the unknown article of it was completely evident as were the tears in his eyes that threatened to fall. Where he held up the entirety of the world and the conflicts that arose with it, the rest was yours to bear — his heart, his soul, his suffering. 

“Then I will bear it,” you whispered, the sob within your chest was scorching, as the quiver of your lips was inevitable, “You’re right. It was just as much my choice as his. I should have told you that he had asked me, but I didn’t. Because I haven't decided.” 

You had watched as he had absorbed your first sentence like it would save him but then by the end of your honest answer, you watched just as carefully as his entire body fell. Because I haven’t decided. Soldiers and warriors are trained to be made like gunmetal and piercing arrows, but even gunmetal can tarnish and arrows can break. No one is imperishable or has the ability to prevent themselves from getting hurt because you’re not in charge of your own pain. Other people were. They are the ones who deliver the blows, who ask for everything and give nothing. They are the ones who prove that you can’t be imperishable. 

His eyes became drenched, his unshed tears displaying it all to you. You knew then as your own tears threatened to spill, even if you took his suffering away, bearing the weight of it wouldn’t make the truth any less painful. He shook his head almost mournfully, like no matter what you said to him, he would be saying goodbye to not only you but the possibility of the two of you. 

“I didn't give him an answer or tell him no because I just needed a minute — a moment to feel like this isn't my life. That a man can propose to me and I have the ability to say yes. Trust me, all I think about is what Mo'at said. Because no matter how hard I try or what I do, I will never be allowed to live like everyone else. Not while I still have this weight of a whole other life on my shoulders. And it is suffocating because it’s all I can think about. How ceremony put aside, I will never be one of you.” 

Just like that streams of salty tears rushed down your cheeks, the hold on them broken by the very same words that had once been spat in your face by the same man before you. The very man, who once had to say those heavy agonizing words as if it was the easiest thing he ever did. Now you mirror them back at him earnestly, torturously like it took everything in you to say. With your ears pulled back, you feel that sob rising in your throat like a knot that refused to disappear. It threatens to cause more wreckage to this already fatal tragedy. 

You sighed, it sounding broken as it escaped, “So when Lo’ak asked me if I wanted to be his mate, I allowed myself a moment to feel what it would be like to say yes. A moment where I could have everything. Right then, I couldn’t say no because I needed to remember that feeling it gave me, and now I just need time to try and figure out what to say.” 

The exhale that is ripped from his throat pulls the sob right out of yours. His dreadful gaze is nauseating as he steps closer to you, his own lips trembling as if he had already been crushed, and by his next words, maybe he had. 

“A moment?” a cool chuckle fell from his lips, “Really? So, then why did you go to Mo'at? Why do you request a consciousness transfer? If it was about some fucking sentimental bullshit, you wouldn’t have asked this of our Tsahik and decided to gamble your life with Eywa. You’re planning your whole damn life here Y/N. Your future. So, don’t go and tell me you haven’t given him a decision yet because you needed a fucking moment to try and revel in some feeling.” 

It turned out as he stared back with daggers in his eyes, it wasn’t the weight of everything he carried that led to his demise but the weight of his broken heart. You think yours became collateral damage, broken just as much as his, caught in the line of fire.

“Neteyam,” you cried, not knowing what else to say but his name. 

He recoiled from you, taking a step back as if whatever answer you gave him or explanation wouldn’t be enough. His lips twisted painfully, trying to stop them from trembling as he wiped at his eyes. He had been trying so hard, to keep his tears from escaping, to keep them where they were gathered within his eyes. At the sound of his name falling from your mouth, sounding so much like grief, he was able to pull himself together letting his anguish be masked by anger. 

“Just stop! Just... what the fuck, Y/N? A consciousness transfer. Are you serious?” he cursed, the only way to handle how absolutely empty he felt inside, “Are you trying to make me lose my mind?” 

Taking your silence into his hands and the fresh tears that fell from your eyes like a river, he let the last of his patience snap inside him like his last will to live. “How can you do this? Do you have a fucking death wish?” 

That one hit you right where it needed to and you felt your mouth drop in shock and just as your chest tightened it was accompanied by a flutter — a flutter that wasn’t supposed to be there. You didn’t let it have your attention though, not even for a second. However left with your mouth agape, you were stranded of knowing what to say next. 

“What you are asking of the Great Mother is too much. It is dangerous, not to mention rarely successful. You are risking your life and what I can’t believe is that Lo’ak was going to let you. He fucking knew and was going to let you go through with it anyway. He is a coward and he knew about your request to Tsahik. Not only did he not try to stop you, but he used it as a way to get you to be with him. Like some damn bargaining chip. He is a fucking coward and you’re just mindless.” 

“Mindless?” you huffed, your voice unsteady and aching from the cries that had reverberated within the quiet forest, “You don’t get it, do you? You were supposed to understand this better than anyone but I guess I was fucking wrong about that too. Neteyam, time here is a factor. A factor that one day is going to run out, maybe quicker than any of us realize. Oxygen is depleting, and resources are limited. More sky people are coming. They are coming and they are not going to stop. Nothing is promised and what I want more than anything is this. It’s this life.”

The flutter increased but as it did it only became an ache, an ache that seemed to increase as your heart rate did. His eyes drank you in as if it would be the last time, a sheer of sweat formed across your back and your palms. He doesn't move closer though. No, he just stands there, mesmerizing every inch of your face in case this is an argument he won’t win. In case Tsahik accepts your request and you are uprooted from this existence and his whole world.

“I can’t let you do this,” he spoke, strongly, his voice cutting through all of your senses as if it had complete control over you. 

“It’s not your decision to make.” 

It was brutal. Your words and admission were brutal, leaving him with his breath hitching like he was afraid to cry. An irrational fear that it would break everything inside of him to pieces worse than you already had. He hated this. He hated this. That was all he could think as his eyes clenched shut, worried about the ruinous consequences he would face when he chose to ask his next question.

“Why Lo’ak?”

The question was torturous to him, the mention of his brother excruciatingly reminding him of the markings across his entire body as well as the welts across his knuckles that were left.

He sighed, as he managed to push out the last of his remaining words, “Why didn’t you say no? I know Lo'ak and for years I have had to listen to him talk about you, go on and on and on about how he feels. But I think you and I both know that the way he feels isn't how someone should feel for their mate. So, tell me, why haven't you told him no?"

The ache worsened and it was like your chest was going to explode. Your lungs were burning like pins were being pelted at the organ trying to poke holes into them. That nauseating feeling returned to your head from what you could only assume was the rush of emotions pulsing through your entire body. But you wouldn't let yourself falter under his unwavering gaze. You wouldn’t dance around it and offer him cryptic explanations or hide how easily you craved him. You craved him and knew that with every fiber of your being as easy as he had broken you, he could put you back together. And as you stared at his wet eyes, emerged in unsaid words, you knew deep down that if you could, you would spend an eternity letting him do it. 

“Because I knew I could never have you.”

A shudder shocked through Neteyam’s body at your words, his hands clenched shut, yearningly. His head was swirling with a newfound desire. One of relief to hear you admit it so willingly, to finally say in so many words that what you felt for him was real and that what he felt for you was requited. It wasn’t in his head and it never had been. It had always been him. That thought paired with the way your gaze was swimming in so much passion and so much hurt made his chest tighten as if he would stop breathing right there. He felt his words get lodged in his throat and he knew if you got any closer you would be able to hear the interworkings of his heart. The way his heartbeat was frenzied and completely under your control. 

“Neteyam, the way I feel about you is... consuming. The way I want you consumes me, completely.”

He knows the meaning behind your words, how scary it had to have been to say them. He knew the weight of them as they actively slithered their way past his chest after all the beatings it had taken in a single day. The words installed every single hope back into his shattered organ but even with the warmth that was beginning to spread, the spite dipped in acid was not budging from where it sat lodged in the base of his stomach. He knew what he was about to do was going to leave you battered and bruised and completely dejected but he couldn’t help himself from saying it anyway.  

“No,” he denied your words like he was denying a fact that had been calculated wrong. He was taking your feelings that had been expelled from deep inside and was giving them back to you on a platter as if he didn’t want them. 

“No?” you choked breathlessly, your voice losing all the strength it had left as the burning in your lungs become completely unbearable. 

His face loomed over yours, face twisting further than it had before as if his next sentence would hurt him more than it could possibly hurt you, “No because how could you just not say anything? How could you contemplate having something with Lo’ak? If it was me... how could you? If you felt this way, why not tell me?” 

With a shuddering inhale you reply with, “You’re going to be Olo’eyktan one day.” 

He huffed, your answer fueling the anger that lingered in the base of his stomach. You lifted your arms up just as your vision began to blur, becoming waves of mauve and the blue of his skin. With your hands reaching out towards him, he didn’t bother to move away from your touch. “How could I tell you when—” 

He cut you off, voice overpowering yours. “I trusted you. I trusted you and the second that I think… you just move on as if I didn’t have a say. You know you’re just like everyone else.” 

His words tore into you. Tore into your flesh as if making you bleed could possibly heal his own wounds or rather settle the scale. It felt like maybe it had as it was like your lungs had bursted, the struggle to breathe emulsifying with the rapid heart rate and your sweat-coated skin. Your hands were shaky and desperate to be held, hoping he would grace you with one last touch. 

With the only breath you had, you felt yourself pushing it out painstakingly with his words I trusted you still coating your heart. “Neteyam, I—” 

The link pod lifted like the top of a casket and you felt the light blind your eyes in hues of white. A huge gasp was wretched from your chest like your soul was trying to be yanked from your body. As if the afterlife was present and ready to collect. Skin drenched in sweat, your lungs were gasping, trying to devour the air that was being pulled in from your diaphragm. Fingers curled together at your sides, you felt your eyes flickering to the ceiling as control had disappeared from your body. The feeling of the gel encasing your body was cool but you couldn’t completely register it. Not with your heart beating as fast as it was paired with how your whole body was twitching beyond belief. It was almost like every anatomical system was failing you.

“Fuck,” the coarse word echoed in your ears like hysteria as the person lifted the metal cage from your body, “No, no, no. Ugh, fuck.” 

The ringing in your ears subsided, as the sudden interruption of the link process numbed your senses. Within the next few seconds, you were cognizant, able to hear the obnoxious beeping next to your ears that usually only went off when there was a machine malfunction. Then you felt the twitching in your toes like a reflex reacting to a sensation. It started in your fingers a second later and from there began to travel up your entire body through the neuron channels of your nervous system. 

Two hands slipped under your shoulders and began to lift your body as your gasping got worse. “Max, help! Need some help here, now!” 

Norm watched as the twitch in your fingers stop for a second, a mere second before your eyes began to roll to the back of your head. Your body went limp in his arms and knowing what was to come, he slipped a hand under your knees and lifted you from the link pod. Your breathing was short now, too quiet, as your eyes fluttered behind your eyelids. The second your human body started to convulse in his arms, jerking back and forth, he began to lose his grip. With not enough time to get your body to a bed, he fell to his knees and laid you on the tile floor. As he rolled you onto your side, he couldn’t help but take note of your gritting teeth and shaking limbs. Your cold, pale skin, slipped through his fingers as your head flailed from side to side. 

“Max,” he screamed out again as a few other scientists appeared at his side trying to do what they could to help. His arm braced against your back to keep you from falling flat onto your backside. “Diazepam, now!” 

His panicked eyes found your form again and as he stared at your stiffening face, all he could think about was you at six years old, laughing in a chair, sharing your red stringy candy. Your giggle was the sweetest sound in the world as you watched the scientist make horrible jokes that could only get a child to laugh. Then as he blinked the memory was gone, replaced by the eighteen-year-old young woman who now lay convulsing under his hands. Suddenly, the future, the very demise that the two scientists had been working all day and night to deter or to altogether avoid was playing out right in front of his eyes. An inevitable outcome of an impossible problem. 

He says your name. Once and then twice. Anguish and distress laced into his voice so strongly he felt that it could be permanent. He doesn’t move but stands, now with the physicality of holding his world up in his arms; you. His calloused and familiar hands cascaded across your arms to your back — your exposed now suddenly cool back. His touch languished as his fingers rubbed up and down the base of your back feeling the indent of your spine. Your name suddenly felt like the only word he could manage to form as his breathing heaves up and down while his body trembled and shook with terror. 

The rest of your words had been stolen from you and let to drift into the unknown that was the desolation between him and you. His name was the last thing to grace your tongue, leaving him in a puddle of heartache. Your dispute was being pulled into the air by the large gasp that had been wretched from your body. Legs collapsing under you, he felt his entire universe shift as you fell forward, eyes rolling back into the base of your head. He grunted as he caught your torso in his hands, his battle-scarred hands, covered in his brother’s dried blood and his own. Your neck collapsed from the weight of your head and he felt your forehead fall to his chest. The pull of gravity paired with dead weight drilled your body straight into his. 

He felt himself stumble as his hands shifted to wrap around your back while the panic began to claw its way from his stomach. With one arm strongly wrapped around your lower back, his other hand drifted up quickly to your face. Pulling your head back away from his chest, he feels his insides tighten at the way your head folds back. Your face was tilted up towards the mauve tendrils of the Tree of Souls as if asking for a kiss from Eywa herself while Neteyam’s hand cupped your cheek, brushing the soft hair from your face. 

“No, no, Y/N,” he tripped over his words as he took a breath, solidifying the terror rising up in his throat. Alarmed gold irises wide and quivering flickered across every feature of your face. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, and the softness of your eyelashes that peacefully kiss the tops of your cheeks. He found himself tracing the ivory specks that were scattered across your smooth blue skin. 

“No, Y/N, please,” he begged, the tone of his voice foreign to himself as he stared up into the lush dark forest around him. The quietness reminded him of the void that surrounded him. Ruminations were taking over his face led by your heavy words that had once been whispered in his ears like the best-kept secret. The way I want you consumes me. 

But all things must come to an end. 

You were being ripped from his reality and as his thumb traced over the cupid’s bow of your upper lip, he knew this couldn’t be his goodbye. Whatever had happened to you, this wasn't going to be his last image of you.

All of his senses became alit at that moment, focused on your collapsed form in his body. Clearing his throat, he tilted his head up towards the night sky as the stars taunted him back. He let out a loud scream, a call sign that echoed within the trees of the forest. His hand fell from your face and instead swooped under your legs, pulling your entire body up and off of the ground into his strong statue. He stumbled away from the Tree of the Souls into the clearing of the forest, eyes racking the sky in desperation, a quiet please falling from his parted lips. 

He heard the familiar screech paired with blue and purple-coated wings as he was about to tilt his head back and yell out again. Relief flooded Neteyam’s system for a moment as his Ikran flew down and landed within the trees of the forest. He climbed on with ease and connected his queue, arms tightening around you. With a single click of his tongue, the Ikran was taking off into the night sky towards the village. Neteyam's eyes throughout the ride flickered from you to the sky, feeling the panic increase and begin to suffocate him from the inside out slowly. 

Landing in the base of the village, he slid from the creature, his arms numb and chest heaving. Not many people were still out and wandering but those that were, found their wide terror-stricken faces on Neteyam as he carried you with both arms. The anguish of his pain was now tightly swelling around every piece of him, the idea of losing you in his grasp killing him slowly. The fire was put out and other riders and hunters who watched the future Olo’eyktan sprint by with the new Omatikaya woman in his arms felt the alarms going off in the man’s head. They could see the panic laced within his eyes and couldn’t help but feel it forming in themselves. They all began to mumble to one another and just as his own hut came into view, it felt as if the news was going to get there before him. 

Stood outside, illuminated by a soft lantern and the night sky, Jake stood with Neytiri. They were whispering under their breath as their youngest son sat in their tent, getting patched up their two daughters. Lo’ak’s hisses of pain and discomfort echoed out of the tent but the couple was too immersed in their conversation. Their conversation about Neteyam. Jake had agreed to give the boy another ten minutes before he was striding out of the village with an attitude to be reckoned with. Neytiri stood trying to calm her husband down as they tried to unravel what had happened between their two sons to invoke a fight.

A fight that seemed to come out of nowhere, invoked by all of the worst possible feelings and words. Jake had been trying to wrap his head around what his oldest son could have been thinking for almost twenty minutes. His very son who could never go out of his way to defy him — his very own son that would one day own and control every piece of Jake’s current world. 

Neteyam — the warrior, the soldier, the hero. The very man who could have outfought Atlas, Achilles, or Hercules. The very man who gave everything to the world including his bones, tears, sweat, and blood. The perfect son. The perfect soldier. Toruk Makto’s firstborn had thrown a punch at his younger brother, multiple at that and Jake simply couldn’t figure out where any of it was coming from. The last look on his son’s face as he stormed off, was the only thing on repeat in his mind.

“Dad!” Neteyam yelled with as much of his voice as he could as his throat was raw.

Jake’s ears flickered curiously able to hear his son’s voice as well as the desperation heard in it. With his arms tightly crossed over his chest, he was prepared to deliver hell but as he turned to face Neteyam, his facade dropped immediately. Quickly it was forgotten as he found his son's battered form rushing towards him caring a statue of dead weight in his arms. A dead weight Jake could clearly identify as you. Neteyam was barely breathing at that point as both his mom and dad rushed toward him. 

“Dad, please,” Neteyam begged. 

“Shit,” Jake cursed, eyes scanning your ashen form to see no markings or visible injuries, “What happened?” 

Neteyam stumbled over his words, his father’s question bringing back every single second of the conversation you two had. Muted within his ears, he felt as if he could still hear your voice. He shook his head, arms tightening around you unable to even calm down enough to let his father take you from him, “I-I don’t know.” 

Neytiri gasped at the sight of you, her hands reaching out to take one of yours that was hanging limply in the air, “Oh Eywa.” 

Jake’s hands ghosted over your form as if he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. His marine persona instantly clicked on and like a true soldier, he began to go through a checklist in his mind. No bulletholes or blows to the head. “No injuries? She didn’t fall or anything?” 

Tears gathered in their son’s eyes and Jake tried to not let himself get so caught up in it knowing his attention needed to be on you. Neteyam shook his head still unable to let his tears fall recklessly across his face, especially not in front of his father. “No, no, we were just talking and—” 

As if it was the most evident answer in the world, right in front of his face, especially as a previous dream walker it should have been the first thing he thought of. Sudden disruption to the link process. It was the only explanation, usually done by either someone manually kicking a person out of the avatar body through a red button or the individual pulling themselves out. Jake knew Norm and Max though and knew how dangerous it was when a link process was interrupted. What it could do, the harmful effects, and how the longer the link procedure the higher the risks increase. Jake knew Norm and Max. Jake knew you. This wasn’t deliberate. Something had happened. 

“We have to go,” Jake suddenly snapped, his eyes connecting with Neytiri’s within the darkness of the village, her eyes clouded with sorrow, “We need to go right now!” 

As if his words had cut through the air like a knife, his head snapped into the direction of their hut, hearing the front flaps be pulled back quickly with hurried steps following. Kiri and Lo’ak rushed out from inside as they heard their father’s tone through the doorway. Spider and Tuk were only a step behind them. It was as if a war had been set off then. Like a siren had gone off initiating war and the beginning of a long cold spell of suffering. All of their eyes fell on the lifeless form draped across Neteyam’s arms. 

A moment of silence. A beat where all of their eyes were drilling into the body — your body. The shock after a few seconds wore off and their eyes widened in horror and their lips twisted on their faces. The parents were quiet, feeling the grief that was starting to form within their children and the denial that was sure to follow. Jake shook his head, hands locked around your cold shoulders, knowing that it wasn’t time for that yet. Not when they didn’t know what had even happened.

It was too early to be grieving over someone who wasn’t even dead. That’s what Jake told himself as the tears from his youngest began to fall in complete confusion. Jake could only hope that he was right as the thought rang through his mind — you being sick. Norm told him it wasn’t great. Dread formed within his stomach then, knowing it had to have been the cause. 

At the same time that Kiri mumbled out Neteyam’s name to draw his gaze to her, Lo’ak was sputtering out in confusion, “W-What h-happened?” 

How was he supposed to explain this to his children, his four children who didn’t understand the entirety of what link pods were or the neural pathways that connected the human consciousness from one form to another? They barely could perceive the idea of dream walkers and let alone that you were one, how was he supposed to explain that what happened to you wasn’t normal but there was a chance you were okay? 

Just then a cry from Tuk filtered into his ears and he felt his fatherly instinct start to outway the soldier. Neytiri was about to release your hand from her grasp to scoop her youngest child up into her arms but was still at the worried look that washed over her husband’s face. His frown practically glued her in her spot and asked her not to move. “Neytiri, we have to go.” 

She nodded and as both her and Jake released their hands from around you and stood, he could feel the sharp gaze from his children burning holes into his back.

He couldn’t escape though as his oldest son’s voice was drawing his attention again, “Dad I want to come with you.” 

Broken. That’s how Jake could describe Neteyam. The sight of a broken man as if he had lost everything and at that moment as he held your body in his arms, unshed tears staining his eyes, he was. And it was all that Jake needed to understand what was going on. You, that was the sole answer. The answer that Neytiri and he had spent most of the evening trying to find. The common link between it all. Neteyam’s brazen attitude, his absence in the hut at night, his distractedness, the need to start a fight with his brother, and his storming off after. You — you were the formidable answer. 

Which was the exact reason why he couldn’t let Neteyam come. If that wasn’t the look on his face and if you weren’t the answer to everything, he would. Now that he was older, it was very rare that Jake wouldn’t have Neteyam accompany him anywhere, but this wasn’t right. Especially when he wasn’t sure what they would find, he couldn’t. 

“No, I need you to stay with your sisters and with…” Jake felt his voice trail off as his eyes fell down to the avatar’s body still tangled in his son’s grasp. It felt wrong to say that it was you because even if it had been for months, in the current state it was just a shell of a person — consciously you weren’t there. “Just take her to Mo’at, okay? She’ll know what to do.” 

Jake watched his son’s ears become taut, his lips twisted into a frown. The disappointment was the sole cause of the look on his face, almost as if he had his hands tied around his back. There was no argument, no defying of his words, just complete silence, bestowed on Neteyam like an unwanted gift. He watched as his father and mother called to their direhorses, the sound of their calls perpetrating his ears. Then as if they were never there, they hopped on and rode off into the forest. The pliable shape of your avatar body was the only reminder that it all had in fact happened.

one of us taglist is not working the best right now and I have over the limit of people asking to be tagged (it says it's fifty) so, for now, I am just not going to have a taglist because I can't tag everyone and it's taking a lot of work to figure out.

[coochiequeens]

Doctors and nurses who are not willing to listen to their patients should be replaced

BY VICTORIA SMITH

The third time I went into labour, I was determined to avoid getting told off. With both of my previous births, I had somehow managed to get things wrong. My errors the first time: going to hospital too early, then, when I returned three hours later, “leaving it so late”. The second time: ignoring assurances that I didn’t need to come in yet, then giving birth in the car park — an event I later discovered was being used in antenatal classes as an example of women “not planning ahead”.

“My previous births have been fast,” I said, when I went into labour with my third, “so I’d like to come in now.” I was speaking to the woman at the midwife-led unit that is the only option where I live. (If you need a caesarean section, you have to be transferred to next town.) “Third babies are notoriously difficult,” was her response.

What an odd thing to say to a woman already in labour. The “notoriously” suggested it wasn’t based on any actual evidence, but rather a kind of folk wisdom. It felt as though I was being warned not to tempt fate, not to assume that this baby would just pop out. I saw myself being categorised as one of those arrogant women who presumes to know her own body, only to be taught a harsh yet much-deserved lesson. “Third babies are notoriously difficult” sounded not unlike “third-time mothers shouldn’t get above themselves”.

In fact, I have never been particularly cocky about childbirth. When I was pregnant with my first child, back in the days when the Right-wing press were still obsessed with famous women being “too posh to push”, I wondered if I might be able to get an elective caesarean myself. I did not particularly care about childbirth being a wonderful experience, or about “doing it well”. I didn’t care if the Daily Mail thought I was a joke.

What I cared about was not having a child who would face the same difficulties as my brother, who was starved of oxygen at birth. This has had serious consequences for him, and for the rest of my family. Just how serious is hard to gauge. He was born traumatised; there has never been a before to compare the after with. What there has been instead is the hazy outline of an alternative life, one that runs parallel to the one he has now. It’s a life that began with the problem being identified sooner, with him being delivered quickly, perhaps by emergency caesarean. The difference between this and his actual life comes down to something small: mere moments, mere breaths.

I was born three years after my brother, in a larger hospital, where my mother was induced and monitored carefully. There is something very strange about being the sibling who had the safe birth. It feels as though I stole it. There is a constant sense of guilt, as if my life — my independence, my choices — constitutes a form of gloating. “This is what you could have had.” Everything I do feels like something owed to my brother (do it, because he can’t) but also something taken from him (you shouldn’t have done that, because he should have done it first).

Still, my family were fortunate, insofar as my brother didn’t die. Current reports on the Nottingham maternity scandal reference 1,700 cases, with an estimated 201 mothers and babies who might have survived had they received better care. What strikes me, reading them, is the enormous gulf between the cost of a disastrous birth and the trivial, opportunistic way in which childbirth is so often politicised — with mothers themselves viewed as morally, if not practically, to blame if anything goes wrong.

As a feminist who concerns herself with how the female body is demonised, my interest in debates about birthing choices is more than personal. I have read books railing against the over-medicalisation of childbirth, aligning it with a patriarchal need to appropriate female reproductive power. I have also read books protesting the fetishisation of “natural” birth, suggesting that it infantilises women, that it implies women deserve pain. To be honest, I find both arguments persuasive and dismaying. Both are right about the way in which misogyny and professional arrogance can shift the focus away from meeting the needs of women and babies. I feel a kind of rage that we are told to pick a side.

Representations of the labouring woman are so often negative: the naïve idealist, the “birthzilla“, the birth-plan obsessive, the woman who is “too posh to push”. This latter stereotype has gone hand-in-hand with a veneration of vaginal births, and stigmatisation of caesareans, that has had sometimes disastrous consequences. Midwives at the centre of the Furness General Hospital scandal were reported to have “pursued natural birth ‘at any cost’”, referring to one another as “the musketeers”; at least 11 babies and one mother died. But their approach was sanctioned by their employer: the 2006 NHS document “Pathways to Success: a self-improvement toolkit” explicitly suggested that “maternity units applying best practice to the management of pregnancy, labour and birth will achieve a [caesarean section] rate consistently below 20% and will have aspirations to reduce that rate to 15%”. Proposed benefits to this included “a sense of pride in units”.

Responses to maternity scandals now express horror that such an anti-intervention culture ever arose — responses in the same press that denigrated women such as Victoria Beckham and Kate Winslet for not giving birth vaginally. Instead, newspapers now stoke outrage over “natural” treatments during NHS births, such as burning herbs. Women have been shamed for having caesareans, but they have also been shamed for wanting births with minimum intervention — as though they are selfish and spoilt for seeking control over such an extreme situation.

In his memoir This Is Going To Hurt, former doctor Adam Kay writes disparagingly of women who arrive at the delivery suite with birth plans:

“‘Having a birth plan’ always strikes me as akin to having a ‘what I want the weather to be’ plan or a ‘winning the lottery’ plan. Two centuries of obstetricians have found no way of predicting the course of a labour, but a certain denomination of floaty-dressed mother seems to think she can manage it easily.”

Wanting to have some control over your experience of labour — which will hurt you and could kill you or your baby — is not akin to some messianic aspiration to control the weather. And in his mockery of the woman who wants whale song and aromatherapy oils, ironically, Kay deploys the same silencing techniques that might intimidate a woman out of seeking the very interventions he so prizes. What he and others do not seem to grasp is that their arrogance is a problem, regardless of which course of action they champion. It makes women feel they can’t speak, for fear of inviting hostility at their most vulnerable moments. It’s true that none of us knows our body well enough to know how we will give birth. But, looking back, I find it utterly insane, not least given my own family history, that one of my biggest worries during labour was “please don’t let anyone get cross with me”. Then again, I don’t think that fear is unrelated to the desire to remain safe.

Birth is not a joke. It is not a place for professional dick-swinging or political one-upmanship. I cannot describe — and, as I am not my mother, cannot fully understand — the shame of feeling that you “let down” your child before they drew their first breath, that they will forever suffer because of it. You watch an entire life unfolding and that feeling is there, every single day. This is the fear of the women in labour who are characterised as either idiots mesmerised by fantasy homebirths or cold-hearted posh ladies who can’t take the pain. If things go wrong, they are the ones who will bear the consequences, reflecting every day on what might have been, if they’d only done more.

When people discuss their siblings, my mind does wander to the one I don’t have, the one who was born safely. Perhaps he would have a job he loved, or one he hated, but in any case a job. Perhaps he would have a partner. Perhaps he would have children, and I would be their aunt. Perhaps we wouldn’t get on, wouldn’t even speak, but he’d have a life of his own. I know he thinks about this too. I wonder if the professionals who presided over his birth have thought about him since.

My third labour was not, by the way, “notoriously difficult”. My third son arrived into the world safe and well. No one can say why him or me, and not my brother. Mothers may long for control over birth, for which we are mocked; but we do not have it, for which we are blamed. Politics still takes precedence over our needs, and the needs of our babies.

[drdemonprince]

ive seen you talk about FIRE/mr money moustache and i am interested in how you balance that with your politics. i ask because i am also interested in FIRE but struggle with the idea of saving 2mil+ to retire early when people need money NOW to survive. not just broadly but even loved ones and community members in my immediate vicinity. i dont mean this in an EXPLAIN YOURSELF sort of way, just so many of the FIRE etc people i find writing about it dont really address this aspect and its something i struggle with internally myself.

Sure, I don't mind speaking about this at all. I wish I more frequently had the occasion to because it's a major special interest of mine.

First, I'm not interested in the saving 2 million dollars (if that were even feasible) school of financial independence/ retire early. I'm more of an adherent to the r/LeanFire, r/BaristaFire type approach of maintaining a consistently very frugal standard of living that is sustainable for me, on a relatively smaller savings, and pursuing a life of relatively little consumption.

I also think that MMM, despite his many flaws, is broadly accurate in stating that when people continuing working all their lives, they also create more ecological devastation by consuming a whole of a hell lot more resources on convenience and burning more fuel, while chasing after a steadily rising living standard set by the norms of their profession. By taking myself out of the workforce sooner rather than later, I will be contributing less to climate change and waste because I'll need fewer convenience meals, fewer car rides, fewer flights, fewer hotel rooms, fewer fancy professional clothes, and so on and so on.

I also spend a lot of time on the Socially Conscious Mustachians group on Facebook, which focuses on investing one's savings in ways that are less ethically problematic. The easy mode version of this is simply putting one's money into index funds that exclude oil companies, gun manufacturers, etc. But honestly, today, with interest rates being as high as they are? It's pretty easy to just sock one's money into a CD or a bond, collect the cool 5.4% interest, and avoid having to contribute to the stock market directly at all. There are even high-yield savings accounts at credit unions that pay out about that much interest these days, and those entities typically do not invest in oil pipelines, BDS targets, or anything all that objectionable.

As for the hoading money while others are in need piece: Well. yeah. that's a difficult ethical challenge that we all must consider. how much can i hold onto for my own wellbeing in the spirit of "putting on one's oxygen mask first" without it being wealth hoarding? how much should i give to other people when i see that they are in need --someone could easily make the case that I have the moral obligation to give away what i have to my very last cent, and I couldn't really argue with them on that. maybe a person should do that. but i'm not going to do it. and of course the effective altruism freakos would counter that if i invest my money and grow it now, i will have more to give to others in the long run than if i cash out now.

realistically, i won't be able to continue working for much longer without having another health episode or worse. i will not qualify for disability benefits because high maskers who have had careers usually do not. and social security's coffers will be entirely drained long before i reach the age to qualify for it. if i enter my non-working years without any resources, someone else will have to worry about me staying housed and medicated and fed.

i tend to think of my retire early stash as my own little private disability benefits fund that will allow me to live safely and will hopefully allow me to take care of other people that i love as we age, and that will give me the freedom from having to do any morally compromising capitalist labor ever again, and only put my energies towards causes that either fulfill me or benefit others.

but it's still rooted in a highly individualistic capitalist system, this holding onto money under my own name and investing it thing. im sure a lot of people would choose instead to sock all of their money into some kind of cooperatively owned communist farm or something, and you know, some day down the line i would love to put money toward a big multi unit building that lots of people i am in community with could live in, with no financial obligations for them. but i dont have anywhere near that kind of scratch. as hannibal buress (that landlord piece of shit) said, "i don't have fuck you money, i have strongly worded email money." and you know, being able to write a strongly worded email to people who would otherwise be exploiting me into another huge burnout does feel good.

thinking that one day i might not work anymore is one of the only things that keeps me going. i am always on the razor's edge of not functioning, i dont think people really realize that, how could they, the mask is there to prevent them seeing it. im beyond privileged to even get to CONSIDER the dream of getting by on my savings for however long human society continues to exist. and it sure would be better if i could extend that kind of freedom and peace of mind to others. my life still feels very precarious and it always has and ive had to be stable for the sake of others for a long time, ive had to be financially responsible for others for a long time. i cling to the idea of FI/RE because it offers me a way to finally break down and be weak. but something more community oriented and interdependent would sure as fuck be better. in the meantime i guess im saving for something like that i could trust enough to give myself over to.

i also have a really strong fetishistic desire to be someone's completely brainwashed sex pet for the entire rest of my life, and having an early retirement account would really help me facilitate that

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hi Lana! I love your work, I have a request on Bill where he would have a s/o with a heart condition where her heart beats faster than ordinary hearts and sometimes gets too fast. (I have this irl and other than the negative sides I want to look on the positive sides)

If you don’t have time it’s fine! 💗💗

(Hello! Thank you for requesting and telling me about your condition! You're amazing and I hope you have a wonderful day! Enjoy!)

Bill Kaulitz x Reader with a Heart-Conditon

He wasn't really familiar with your condition when he first met you

He had heard a bit in news and online about people with conditions like yours but he never really knew anything about it for a while

Until he actually did meet you and learned about your condition

He was actually pretty interested on it and wanted to know more

Especially if there was a way he could help you and make you comfortable

If you go to doctor visits for your condition he is hyping you up about it to make the nerves go away

"you're gonna fucking kill it! But not die!"

This was when you first got to know each other and we're friends, but it remained the same, if not even better, when you guys started dating

You told him about it and he never interrupted you, playing with your hand and asking a little question here and there as you told him about it

He would never want you to feel bad about your condition, especially if you were insecure about it

It's not your fault, and he still loves you the same with or without your condition

He's just glad you're there with him, condition or not

When you need to take a moment for your heart beat to mellow out he's making jokes to help you laugh

For example

"I made your heart beat that fast, huh?"

Just corny shit like that to make you laugh, jokes about your heart beating fast for him because he's just that great

He's an idiot like that

He'll let you take all the time you need, reassuring you it's no bother and hell happily sit and give you company as you take a minute

He'll keep an eye on your watch for your heartbeat and the minute it goes off he's making you sit down

You have no choice anymore because Bill will not let you leave without sitting down

He likes doing breathing exercises with you

Helps him learn a bit and calm down also

He may almost die from no oxygen for a moment buts it's to make you laugh so it's fine

If anyone ever says anything to you, he gets mad

Not anger mad where he'll fight them but like scold them and tell them to shut the fuck up

Like if they go "Really? Right now?" When you need to sit down

He feels like yelling but he'll opt to cussing them out in public, cursing their entire family tree and lead you away to sit down

He'll go from calm and collected with you to almost like a feral child protecting their candy

It's scary sometimes when he actually does yell or get very angry

Few times he did was when paparazzi was flooding you and asking you questions when your heartbeat went up

He had to physically push them away, yell at them and bring you to the car to sit down

He stands up for you when needed and will make sure you never let anyone make you feel bad for your condition

Will not stand for it, babe

At one point he didn't know smoking could harm you a little bit and he did smoke a little bit

When you told him about it he felt so bad, felt like he was harming you

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" While dumping his cigarettes

He will not take the chance of harming you for a cigarette

If you tell him it's okay, just you can't be around it for long or too much

Hell relax a little bit and try his best to not smoke around you

And if he does he'll go outside or when you come he'll put out his cigarette and continue later

He'll get the band not to smoke around you, a few times the were confused why they couldn't because they weren't really educated on it

Before you could explain Bill did it for you

In the form of smothering them and their cigarette with a pillow

"Can't smoke if you can't fucking breath, Tom!"

It's okay, they're brothers, they can kill each other if they want

But if you come into a room and they're smoking Bill will tell them to put it out and do their shit later like he does

When you're nervous and your heartbeat spikes, he will do his best to calm you down

Again with the jokes or just sitting with you

But a few times he made you nervous when you weren't dating and he thought he was actually hurting you

Almost cried and was like

"I'm killing (Name)?! No!"

Literally almost ran out a room when you came it as to not make you nervous

But it got better over time and now when it happens he'll be flirty and again with the heartbeat jokes

But yeah, he'll help you the best he can to get you back to a normal beat!

He loves you no matter what, with or without your condition

He loves you, for you!

[gabnills]

Idk if you're still taking requests but maybe headcanons on how neteyam is with a human reader? Like would his family approve of the relationship? Is he more protective? Bunch of fluff and maybe some angst. ❤

This is definitely going to have a second part

Neteyam X F! Human Reader Headcanons Part 1

So as the principal, you would have to be like Spider's sister, it's the only way I can find, one: be more or less the same age and two: be close to the family because this is the thing

Although Jake always wanted the humans and the Navi to be united Neytiri on the other hand, he always made sure to tell each of his children the atrocities of the sky people, so Neteyam (with some known exceptions) never fully trusted in humans

Norm thought it would be a good idea to raise the twins with the Navi people, it could almost be said that it was an experiment, so when he presented them with a little Nete who was barely walking, he was scared

Over time, explorations through the forest were the favorite part of the whole family, of course you never gave much importance to the strange looks of his mother, you chose not to take it personally, you were also aware of the damage caused by your species originally

They couldn't be happier with each baby in the family the following years, it meant more people in their explorations and also, you could teach things to the little ones that Jake had taught you before

You were always closer to Neteyam because for a long time it had been just the two of you, and the friendship of so many years ago inevitably turned into something more when, around 16, adolescent hormones made your eyes occasionally wander into his strong arms or into her jawline marked more often than you'd admit

Neteyam is not safe from that and when she occasionally invites you to fly in her Ikran she places her hands on your thighs or she grabs you by the waist a little too hard with the excuse that you might fall

What really made you fall in love was her daring personality and at the same time so protective of you every time you both went hunting, and the smile she gave you every time you hit the target with an arrow had no comparison.

For his part, your bright eyes behind the oxygen mask every time you admired the nature of the forest in his explorations, you loved his world and his people and that filled his heart with warmth every time

You turned to Kiri, although you always had more confidence with Nete, you didn't think it was something you could talk to him about, not for now at least. He turned to his father, he thought that maybe he would understand because his story with his mother was not so different.

Things change, Jake knew that they have always been close and that this could happen sooner or later, but he was not sure, his son would be the next Olo'eyktan and he did not believe that the people would see that relationship with good eyes, even if it hurt him , "We'll figure it out" was just another way of saying it wasn't possible

Jake tried to subtly separate them by giving them tasks that would take them right on the opposite side of each other in the hope that things would cool down and no one would get hurt, he chose not to tell his wife because he knew she would take more radical actions

Over time, sometimes days went by without seeing each other but the feelings never dissipated, so one night Neteyam decided that he had had enough and that he needed to tell you, he was not willing to continue pretending that things had not changed

He went quietly to your house shared with Spider a few minutes from the village and looking out the window surprisingly you were awake reading some of the books that the scientists in the laboratory knew that you like

You looked out the window surprised to see him, it had been a long time, maybe weeks since you had really seen him and had shared some moment together, so when he invited you for a walk you felt an immense wave of joy and euphoria your soul

[lynmars79]

Reflecting on the meme responses and jokes to episode 12 of season 3 Midst--and don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying the reactions too, after sitting on this for two weeks--and there's specific ways in universe, and by the narrators, in which Weepe's Fold disability is treated compared to others afflicted by their Fold scars.

He's hardly the only weird or monstrous looking person in the cosmos, particularly those who live within the Fold itself, and now many of the citizens of Midst who survived the moonfall. There's people with extra eyes, limbs, even heads. Fiona's left leg is now a man named Jacob. Giselle's personality is replaced by frogs. Fuze's upside down mouth, hidden behind his facial hair. Ettie's constant laughing. Saskia's doubling can even be horrifying in a few ways, though she's currently coping and using it as an advantage, most times.

And then there's Moc Weepe, who was the most noticeably Fold-affected person on Midst pre-tearror. Because of what happened in the Arca, his situation became a lot worse--a situation he tells Imelda was an inevitability someday.

(Was it really? Or is that his assumption, given how events in his life tend to happen? That if it wasn't Imelda pushing him like that, someone else would have sooner or later?)

Weepe's appearance is described as ghastly and horrific, and it is! He's a translucent jelly of a person, innards on display, the Fold visibly slinking through his system. He has to constantly have a pump going, not unlike people who need their constant oxygen, or drainage bags, or other outward signs of their disability.

Weepe's falling into a(n often dicey) trope of his outward appearance reflecting the monstrousness within, though his descriptions in that way are different from others afflicted by the Fold. Many of them are noted by the narrators as simply existing, a little odd but nothing grotesque, even when the descriptions given would be extremely off-putting. They're spoken of as normal, if noticeable, ramifications of exposure to the Fold. The images and descriptions of the Sequester citizens that Phineas, Lark, and Tzila encountered in season 2 could also be considered monstrous by some.

But it's Weepe specifically who murders people with his own tainted blood, even selling it to others (like Lark, unknowingly). Having his security use it to kill Kozma's entourage. I doubt he's sending any samples to the Mothers now. There are indications, too, that Weepe is exaggerating how weak/ill he is to take others off guard (like Kozma). It's Weepe who weaponizes his Fold affliction, with all sorts of justifications pertaining to his own survival and success.

(Perhaps Saskia to a degree also, using her doubling to literally be in two places at once, passing information between herself, but for very different reasons.)

I say in another post that I gotta respect Imelda's monster-fucking game (I've been on the internet for 30 years, y'all). Especially since I consider her as a monster of another kind, the True Believer with ambition and seeking power, somehow seeing Weepe as a key to her own success, willing to do anything to achieve that. So far it's working, and there have been some concerning appendices about her actions as Archauditor already.

It's not so much about Weepe's horrific Fold-altered state (though that is part of it, but unlike with other Fold-afflicted characters). It's not the middle-aged aspect of the participants (that may be part of it for some younger listeners, though Lark and Sherman hooking up is also considered normal to sweet, and Imogen Loxlee is forever a catch).

It is two horrible people, who have done horrible things to each other as well as to other people, giving in to a long-standing tension (Weepe describing Imelda in detail down to her "little sexy suits" during his Arca ranting, and her fawning on Midst and into the Highest Light didn't seem entirely business-driven) for their own dubious reasons that likely have nothing to do with actual romantic emotions, and are more likely as much about their parallel schemes as about the sexual attraction over their matching ruthlessness

Of the relationships, complicated as they all are in this series, it's the potentially most toxic we are shown as sex occurs, in an exchange to cut the various tensions and issues with this particular hookup; it's actually one of my favorite narrator interactions, the awkwardness and uncertainty playing up the funny to describe the scene without describing it.

I just also look to all the discussions about aging, weight, and disabled, and other folks who fall outside our society's norms for desirability, and wish the narrative descriptions did lean a little more on Weepe's actual monstrosity, and not the grotesqueness of his Fold-afflicted appearance. Cuz when they do turn on the Actual Monster Weepe mode, he's terrifying regardless.

Besides, the pump sound effects and ability to "see" Weepe's physical reactions definitely added to the creative descriptions of that scene in a way that wouldn't be possible otherwise!

Anyway. Mostly feel like there's some unintentional line toe-ing happening in some of these descriptors and reasons for them, which is going to happen in pretty much any and every media, especially a semi-improvised one, as our diabolical businessman--inspired by various traditional villain characters--slips further into villainy himself and his oft-described appearance reflects it.

[whovianwatchingstartrek]

A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 068 - Parental Instincts

Star Trek: Enterprise - Season 3 Episode 17 - Hatchery

Enterprise is still on it's journey to Azati Prime, but on their way, they've discovered a crashed Xindi Insectoid ship, so a crew is sent down to investigate. All information about the Xindi will help with the mission, of course. Some corpses are taken to Phlox to Autopsy and, more importantly to the episode, the ship is carrying Dozens of Xindi Insectoid eggs. As the title implied, this is a hatchery ship.

One of the eggs, as a defence mechanism, sprays some sort of toxin at archer. Mostly harmless though. Phlox's autopsy of the insectoids reveals that these insectoids sacrificed their own oxygen to save their eggs, but now that system is failing too. The main conflict of the episode is over how much Responsibility Enterprise should have over the eggs' safety. A really interesting conflict

Archer wants to save the eggs both for moral reasons and because it could be an opportunity to change the Xindi's minds about humans. Trip, Mayweather and Malcolm however are more adamant to not repair the eggs' oxygen systems. They see it as a delay to their mission to earth, from this same species, which admittedly it is. Either way, Phlox estimates that the eggs will hatch sooner than later.

Archer starts being very overprotective over the eggs however, to the point where he starts using Enterprise's limited energy reserves to repair the Xindi ship. At this point, I started theorising that the Spray did more than just sting him. It appeared to have activated some sort of parental instincts in him, and later in the episode I'm shown to be right.

T'Pol decides not to follow the order to divert enterprise's power to the Hatchery. Archer relieves her as First Officer, which is very out of character for him.

Meanwhile Malcom and Hayes also get some time together, and find a weak spot in the Insectoid ship's armour. Now that they're no longer actively fighting eachother, their vibe together feels different. Something about Malcom's delivery on his "Nice work. [Awkward Pause] I apologise, I over reacted." felt like a bit more than a compliment and an apology, and their whole conversation for the rest of that just felt like something was going unsaid. But then I remembered it's 2004, so I shouldn't get my hopes up for a gay romance subplot. Oh well.

A xindi ship shows up, and opens fire on Enterprise. Malcolm does what he needs to, destroying the ship, but that results in Archer relieving him of his post too. Then Archer makes an extremely eratic decision to put a Xindi distress call at the ship in all frequencies, essentially putting a beacon on Enterprise's location

T'Pol, Trip and the rest of the crew realise that Archer is endangering the mission, and decide to order him to Sickbay. Of course that doesn't work, but luckily Phlox subtly manages to get a scan on Archer. Trip and Phlox then decide to launch a mutiny

This episode and it's conflict were really interesting, and I loved the effect that the Insectoid toxin had on Archer. The episode also kind of reduced the MACOs to faceless mooks who just follow orders, maybe seeing one or two of their perspectives or having some of them take part in the mutiny would have been better too, but episodes have time limits, so I get why they didn't. I loved watching the breakdown in Enterprise's command structure, and Archer's slow descent into obsession over the insectoid eggs was beautifully performed. I enjoyed this one!

[snarkythewoecrow]

okay, for a little treat, here's some super big feels in snippet form from my mpreg!buck story (which i should make a special tag for) but this is a buddie, one night stand to enemies to reluctant roommates to lovers/family fic, with misunderstandings and lots of hurt/comfort, and this out-of-context snippet is from some stuff I wrote tonight, with Athena being the best surrogate mom to Buck in his time of need, like the feels!

tagging @kookieisbaby and @underwater-ninja-13 since i think they might be interested, i've never done a tag list but i can try to make one for snippets from this fic if you want, just let me know if you want on it

“Buck, sweetheart, you did take it, didn’t you?” she asked.

Something clawed at his throat, scraping upwards and making him cough, trying to ease it. The sensation didn’t abate, but he pushed past it, nodding tightly a few times, then managing to rasp, “Yeah, I—it’s in there, but, uh, I couldn’t—I couldn’t—I can’t—”

He shook his head, not able to explain—and not just because he didn’t know how, but because his chest had suddenly refused to expand how it should, leaving the tissues burning for oxygen, screaming for him to suck in faster--pull harder--to fill his lungs. Though that only made the panic worse.

“Woah, woah, woah,” she said, touching his shoulders, then his face, turning him to face her. “Breathe, Buck. Come on, baby.”

The room spun when he shook his head. “Can’t—can’t—I can’t.”

“Easy—look at me—that’s it, baby—there you are.” One of her hands slid to the back of his neck, putting him in a scruff that sent a jolt through his arms, then into his chest, working like the opposite of adrenaline. “I promise—you can, and very much are, breathing. You’re moving air, baby. It might not feel like it, but I promise you are.”

The tight cinch of panic around his ribcage eased.

His gaze locked with hers, latching on and finding faith. In and out. He wasn’t suffocating—Athena wouldn’t let him drown.

Her lips twitched, an almost smile. “There you go—those lungs are working a little better for you now, huh? Alright, just keep breathing, nice and slow, for a bit longer, then we’ll go from there. That sound good to you?”

A quick nod, then he closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth of her hand squeezing his neck, grounding and reminding him of a childhood he never had, with a mother who’d never cared to soothe him this way.

Then, after gathering himself, though his nerves still buzzed with static, he took an easier breath and opened his eyes to face Athena, and everything that time refused to stop chasing.

Because no matter what, sooner or later, the test would need to be read—and his life would change—even if he wasn’t pregnant, as this experience had already left its mark.

“Um, thanks—and sorry, for, you know, all that.”

She rolled her eyes, brows lifting and dropping her hand from his neck. “You’re just as bad as Bobby—and you know, you’re not the only one who struggles—we all do from time to time. But that’s what pack is for, right? We’re here for each other, through thick and thin, or whatever is waiting behind that door.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She shrugged a little. “Eh, I’m not sure you do, but it’s a work in progress, baby. We all are, in our own ways. But the real question is, are you ready to see what the next step is gonna be—where this path is leading?”

His throat still ached when he swallowed. Then he inhaled hard and fast, exhaling just as roughly afterward. “I’m scared, ’Thena.”

“I bet you are—probably downright terrified, but I’m here, and the pack is a phone call away. You know Maddie will drop everything if you ask, and no matter what—we’ll back you up. However you want to play it.”

He had to stop his hand from sliding to his lower belly. Then, glancing at the door, he asked, not even turning back to her, “Can you—would you look? Then—then tell me. I can’t and I—I think it would be easier if you…”

She patted his shoulder. “Of course, baby.”

[oflietoprotect]

Continued

@singswhendrunk

Let your guard down; for one night Jay wanted to escape the long cases he’s been working. The workload was heavy. He’d been in day and night attached to his desk working on each lead, working on signing off on each document we needed to more ahead. But tonight I was told to go home; to rest. And instead of being safely in my bed; I was here at the bar across town. Not because I needed a drink or perhaps two to get the edge off. But because I wanted to see Gia. I wanted to see her smile; hear her sense of humor. We helped each other, but it did develop into more. 

I had feelings and I made my shot; all jokes aside, I had found the balls to make my move; even going as far to stand up on a stage and sing with her. I was terrified but not as terrified when I heard those familiar shots; bullets flying. I wasn’t wearing a vest, I wasn’t wearing protective gear because why should I? I was off the clock, I assumed our case was closed. But Gia she got stuck in the crossfire because of me. Jay felt the guilt rolling off him; he knew she was hurt; the rapid way her breathing was coming, the lost of blood now pooling on the stage floor. 

I was scared for her. I felt at fault; if only I had gone home perhaps the suspect wouldn’t of tracked me down to the bar. Gia was fighting for her life because of me. I didn’t have time to think over the what ifs, or the guilt that was reeling off of me. My main concern was her; I had my hand pressed to her wound. Until the second Brett and Violet had arrived, the gurney in play; as they helped me lift her onto the gurney. Shaking palms bloody; not mine. I barely felt like I was able to walk on my own. Her calling my name before she went unconscious; that’s why I forced myself to be okay. In shock wobbly legs walked from the stage to the entrance doors.. Once a happy place full of music and now I felt like the laughs were wasted. I just wanted to make sure Gia fought this fight and woke up. But given her lack of blood; I had the gut wrecking feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

Upon reaching the ambulance; I knew Voight would have questions; ones I was prepared to answer at a later time. Hands shaking as I lowered myself down onto the spot besides the gurney where Brett had put an oxygen mask over her face to help with the shallowed breathing, she also was attempting to stop the bleeding, she had injected her to palm the brunette down a bit. Swallowing the lump that formed in my throat; the male had leaned closer, pressing a hand to her pale hand; thumb tugged under to fingers.  “ I’ll be here when you wake up okay.” A promise to myself and her. I just hoped Violet picked it up. 

Sirens rang through the streets; no one could blame Violet was rushing; eyes were glued to the stats on the machine; it wasn’t great, but her pulse was still running strong. A sign of relief as I heard Violet call back. “ Prepare to be ready, doctors are outside ready for us.” Ready for us; prepared; I hoped Will was on board; as the doors opened I had noticed Maggie, and the other members of the ED as they started to roll her inside. I stepped outside feeling the brush of the breeze hit my back; I stood there; releasing my hand from hers; she was rushed inside. 

What if I had spoken sooner? Or was it just the wrong place at the wrong time..

[forensicated]

Ginathon Episodes: Episode 233

After homophobic text messages, Lance knows he was the target of the bomb. He has no beef with Councillor Jerome Taylor who Adam suspected of planting the bomb when he was thought to be the target. Lance confronts Sheelagh Murphy's son, Connor, whose friends conducted a series of homophobic attacks for which Connor gave them a false alibi. Lance is aware that Connor has been struggling with his sexuality and has been counselling him because Sheelagh is of the opinion that being gay is wrong because of her Catholic religious beliefs. Whilst she's friendly with Lance, hearing her son is gay would be very difficult. Lance had recently changed his number and only certain colleagues, his boyfriend and his family have it. The only other person is Connor. Connor swears he didn't do it but Lance worries he passed his number to one of his friends.

He involves CID but doesn't mention Connor at first. Tony advises him to tell Jack but not Sheelagh. Lance is delayed in telling Jack as he receives a SO13 report at the same time. Sheelagh is furious when Lance tells her what he suspects. However the phone responsible for the texts is found in Connor's room.

Jerome Taylor visits the station to make a formal complaint about Adam accusing him of planting the bomb. You'd think given he sent hate mail to Adam he'd stay quiet and not want to fan the flames to stop people looking into things but I guess fire needs oxygen to burn!

Gina goes to speak to Jonathan to ask him if there's anything that Adam has to worry about. "You're really worried about the Super aren't you?" "If he's in trouble, yes." Jonathan chuckles as she moans about Adam accusing Jerome with a witness present. "It's you who finished it remember!" "Reluctantly! But at least we do have a better working relationship." "Oh absolutely. Professional to the absolute last." Jonathan tells her Jerome has a case for public defamation and aside from disciplinary action he could also make a civil case that would make Adam bankrupt. He suggests that Adam apologise or blame his medication for making him delirious.

Adam refuses to apologise to Jerome after they've had a rather tempestuous relationship over the years. He's furious no one will take him seriously and Gina's words make him realise that she hasn't told Jonathan how she feels. She explains the job got in the way and he tells her to just tell him and not let the job be the scapegoat.

Connor is found fighting with a colleague at work. It seems the colleague is the one who planted the bomb after taking his number from Connor to wind Lance up with homophobic text. Connor swears he never knew he had explosives. The colleague admits planting the bomb, spewing homophobic nonsense. Jonathan tells Gina she needs to MAKE Adam take notice and make that apology sooner rather than later before Jerome takes things further. She says he won't listen and takes Jonathan with her to try make him understand.

At the hospital, Gina and Jonathan explain they've got the real suspect and he's admitted planting the bomb. They tell Adam to think about everything that he has achieved - does he really want to let his pride make him throw it all away? Gina urges him to protect his career, himself and his family and to talk to Jerome.

With Gina and Jonathan present, Adam apologises and tells Jerome he's made a grave error. Jerome delights in telling Adam it's too late - he's already consulted his solicitor. As a public figure he has to protect his reputation and if it means destroying Adam then he's all too happy for it. He says he'll see him in court and walks out. Gina tries to comfort Adam but he tells her that if it does get that far - they both know his career is over.

Gina and Jonathan eventually have to leave and Jonathan tells her he's glad Adam has her in his corner. "What, a nagging old battleaxe?" "No, someone who can make tough decisions for the right reasons." She pauses for a few seconds before telling him it's not true that her job means more to her than Jonathan. Jonathan is confused as he thought when she didn't argue it was exactly what she meant.

Gina: "You mean as much to me as my career and I don't want to lose you. Not for anything." Jonathan: "You mean you can make space for me in that extraordinarily hectic life of yours?" Gina smiles and nods before realising that she's supposed to be giving a talk at a Neighbourhood Watch meeting. Jonathan laughs before Gina just shakes her head. Gina: "Stuff it. I'll send someone else because I might have a hot date tonight...?" Jonathan: "You sound pretty confident..." Gina: "I know what I want. " Jonathan: "Well I hope so, because from what you just said that sounds like the basis for a verbal contract." Gina: "Come on, i've got a very good bottle of single malt at home. Let's negotiate."

[chaotic-archaeologist]

Asking for advice: i am seeing someone who is having a really bad mental health time, i have a fear of closeness and they tend to overshare. I really don’t mind them telling me stuff, but os intense and it makes me feel helpless because i don’t know them well enough to really know how to offer support. This makes me feel more distant from them. I know relationships are harder if someone is struggling with mental illness, but i do want this and i would hate for that to come between this

Healthy boundaries are part of any relationship. I hear that you want to be with this person, but I think that if you don't address this issue sooner rather than later, it could ruin the relationship.

Ultimately, whether you choose to bring this up with them is up to you. If you do decide to have this talk, you need to be prepared for the fact that they may not take it well. That is a symptom of their mental illness, and it is 1) not your responsibility to be the sole support for their mental health, and 2) not a reflection on you needing to assert your own boundaries.

All of that being said, I am an advocate for open communication in any kind of relationship. This person cannot read your mind, and it may very well be that they have no idea how this is making you feel. They probably don't want to be making you feel this way, and they will never know unless you tell them.

Honestly and kindly, I would tell them essentially what you've just told me: you care for them and want to be in this relationship, but right now the amount of help they are asking you for is overwhelming. This is negatively impacting you, and while you want to support them, you need to put some boundaries in place for your own well-being. Reiterate that you care very much for them and want to work through this by establishing some ground rules for both of you.

A romantic partner is not a therapist. Some sharing is good and healthy, but you should not be expected to bear the brunt of their processing. If this person does not already have a mental health professional, they should get one. If they're already seeing someone, then that is the appropriate venue for some of these conversations.

In the even that the cabin loses air pressure, put on your own oxygen mask before helping others. You cannot support other people if you don't take care of yourself first.

-Reid

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Can I get a fic of Zelda and Mipha investigating a deeper body of water together now that Zelda has her new greaves. Exploring, studying, and having a good time with each other's company. Make it as platonic or romantic as you please, I just enjoy to see the two together.

Sorry this took me so long, darling. I wanted to make sure I had my head on straight for this one because I truly love Mipha and Zelda's friendship, both knowing the responsibility of royalty and whatnot and wanted to think of a good scenario and I think I have one.

"Are you sure it's okay to be so far from your home, Mipha?" came Zelda's inquiry as she shielded the sun from her eyes. Taking in the white sand beach and crystalline waters was a treat even for her. It was not everyday one got to visit Lurelin Village, after all. Her companion nods briskly, "Oh yes, it's quite alright, the swim back home will only take me a few hours. Just a matter of swimming around and crossing over the Samasa Plain." Zelda was astounded - that's at least a day's worth of travel on her end, to think Mipha could traverse the sea and river in a matter of hours...Zoras truly were incredible people. Mipha brings her hands together with delight, "I brought you here today Princess so that I could show you something you'd find fascinating."

The water lapped at both of their feet, "And that's why I asked you to bring your greaves," the Zora princess smiles, "The water is much shallower than the rivers in Zora's Domain, but you'll need them so you didn't miss a mere moment." Zelda lights up with excitement, her mind racing as to what her friend could have in store. Mipha wades gracefully into the water, signaling for Zelda to follow.

"Right!" Zelda exclaimed, trotting into the water. Having recently received her helm, she slipped it over her head. Imbued with Zora magic, it would filter the oxygen out of the water and in through the filtered nose and mouth covering attached, allowing her to effectively breathe underwater. Same for her ears, that could pick up decibels just under normal speaking level even when submerged thanks to the makeshift fins of the helm keeping them protected. It was a gentle dip into the sea for them both and after a few feet forward. Zelda was grateful for her Zora helm - otherwise the gasp that escaped her would have filled her mouth with seawater. Before her eyes was a beautiful ecosystem of colored rocks and plant life. All sorts of aquatic creatures inhabited this area from what she could see - though what caught her eye most were the tiny orange fish that poked their heads out, and upon seeing her, right back in.

"A coral reef," Mipha began, turning toward Zelda and giggling slightly when a butterflyfish swam past her, "A rare and beautiful sight - our river waters are too cold for them to exist, but the warmer waters of Lurelin see them right at home." Awestruck, Zelda took the biosphere before her, as she swam slowly, she'd lost count of all the different fish that swam out and about in the reef. Mipha would point out each as they came to her attention: various species of hawkfish, triggerfish, clownfish and so on. The spectrum of vibrant colored coral was a vision to behold - one that she would surely commit to memory. She had to wonder if Purah possibly had any to capture these kinds of views, and she tucked that thought into her back pocket for when she returned home.

As the day continued, Zelda had seen enough sea urchins, star fish, and even giant clams (that made up about half her size!) to last her a lifetime. It was all so fascinating! She would surely have to come here sooner than later so she could study the aquatic life a little more closely. When she and Mipha finally resurfaced, Zelda ran into the Zora princess's arms.

"You are simply the best, Mipha!" came her excited squeal, "I've never so many creatures and colors so brilliant before! It's a tiny world unlike anything I've ever experienced. I'm so grateful for you to have shared this with me!" Her joy was reciprocated as Mipha hugged her back, a soft laugh echoing behind Hyrule's princess. Pulling away she smiled brighter than ever, "I thought you might be interested. I don't get to come down here very often myself, but when I do it is always a delight - I'm happy you came with me, Princess."

The two royals exchanged brilliant grins, heading back to the beach. There, Zelda eyed one of the local fishermen grilling the catch of the afternoon, offering some rupees for lunch between her and her friend. Mipha and Zelda sat at the edge of the docks shortly after, grilled fish in hand and carrying friendly conversation as the day's experience settles into what would be a well-kept memory for them both.

[twobigears]

2023 New Year Goals and Reviews and Stuff

I usually do goal and review posts every year just like everyone else, but if I did this for 2022 I sure can’t find it. Maybe I was too lazy, which would surprise no one.

2022

This felt like a fairly chill year overall, which is probably a good thing.

We did some hiking and camping. As always, we could have done more.

Chandra made good progress in her iliospoas rehab that started at the end of 2021 (def a reason we didn’t hike as much, especially in the first half of the year). She is cautiously returning to agility and we’ll see how that goes.

Chandra did some more obedience training and also made good progress there. We didn’t trial other than some at-home WRCL runs.

Blizzard really picked up her agility trialing! She had her first full year of trialing after a slow start largely due to covid.

Between virtual runs and real trials, Blizzard made her way up to Masters in USDAA and Level 5 in CPE. She earned her MPD (Masters level title in USDAA) and is about halfway to her PDCH (championship title)

I finished 3/4 of my schooling for my GIS certificate and transition away from dog training to a new career. There is still a lot of anxiety going on with that, but the mental relief of getting away from agility-as-a-job has been soooo worth it.

I put more effort into self-improvement mentally and physically! After years of yo-yoing and steadily creeping weight gain, I revamped habits, made better choices, and lost about 25lbs. I admit this came after hitting a mental low point (and high weight point) early in the year when I was sitting in a hotel room eating grocery store chocolate cake with my fingers because I ‘needed’ it. The cake wasn’t even that good.

I also reined in my internet and social media habits, especially Facebook as recently mentioned. But also things like not scrolling my phone in bed at night, and not checking it first thing in the morning either. I think a lot of people these days have some sort of social media addiction, or at least way too much there, and Facebook was mine. For a long time I knew how bad it was making me feel for a hundred different reasons, but it was still a struggle to quit or cut back. I finally managed it in the last couple months of 2022 and I really do feel soooo much better just ignoring my friends feed and going on primarily to check some hobby groups. It is so much easier to spend less than 5-10 minutes a day there versus the hours I used to spend. Unfortunately I’ve kind of replaced the FB addiction with a Reddit addiction, which is something to work on in 2023....

I got myself spayed and off of hormonal birth control! It’s only been about five weeks but I can already feel the mental benefits and I’m so glad I did it. Only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner. I look forward to seeing how my brain and body continue to change and hopefully for the better. HBC is great for so many reasons (esp the No Babies part, so I have no regrets for that), but it’s also got shitty baggage.

Seems like a lot of 2022 was about me, which was probably more than a little overdue. As they say, put on your own oxygen mask before helping others. ~self care~ and all that!

What’s up for 2023?

Continue monitoring Chandra’s rehab and see how it goes and how she does with some agility again. I have a pipe dream goal of finishing her PDCH (she needs 8 Qs, even less than Blizzard) but I don’t want to be selfish about it. So we’ll see.

Obedience...idk. We’ll keep doing some training but at this point I’m not sure about trialing. The obedience community really does it make hard to love. Maybe later on I’ll feel interested again. I don’t want to regret not doing it, like I regret not finishing Ryker’s CD before he died.

Blizzard, I would love to finish her PDCH! It might be tough to do given the lack of USDAA trials here but I think it is still a possibility.

At this point I’ve put thoughts of Next Dog on hold for a while again. I’m currently enjoying the two dog life, backing away from dog sports again, and doing more non-dog things (even though a lot of it still involves them anyway, like hiking and camping). Plus with us likely moving, me hopefully getting a new job, I think it’s good to just not add another dog to the mix until all that has settled. I won’t say Next Dog is totally out of the question for 2023, but right now it’s unlikely and not something I’m planning to actively pursue.

At some point this year we’re planning to move to Minnesota. No specific timeline yet, but probably summer-ish. It will be incredibly sad to leave Colorado...

I’ll finish school this spring, hopefully find a real adult job in that field (yay..) and not have this schooling be for nothing.

Continue reinforcing and improving my habits for mental and physical health. I’ve been considering getting into bouldering for something different in the physical activity realm, so I’ll probably check that out. Plus the usual hiking and camping. Gotta get out and see some places before we leave! Then have new places to check out when we move.

Hmmm yeah I think that’s it so far. 😂

[gabnills]

Neteyam X F! Human Reader Headcanons Part 2

-When you crossed the gate Neteyam was already several meters ahead of you, even running it was not easy to reach him -You recognized the path I was leading you by, they were going to the tree of souls, the village is close to that place and many years ago you enjoyed going there although you couldn't do much more than observe

-Despite the fact that it was late at night, the forest was completely illuminated and you took great leaps and lunges to achieve it -When you arrived at the place he was standing in front of you, you could see through the oxygen mask his intense gaze on you, covering you with his big eyes over and over again -You started to care and once you were close enough you could see the tears accumulated in his eyes, you didn't know the reason but it warmed your heart because Neteyam didn't cry often

-"What's wrong dear, tell me what's bothering you" you stood on the tips of your feet and stretched as much as you could to wipe one of the tears that trailed down her cheek

-"I love you so much that it hurts" you didn't expect it. You assumed it had something to do with Jake, but he surprised you that once he had started speak hes crying even harder. you not know what to do -Neteyam fell to the ground on his knees, now that it was within your reach you hug him as hard as you could. Trying to give him the warmth and affection that he needs. The one who needs from you -Seeing him so vulnerable made you feel guilty for being the reason he felt that way. You never imagined that your feelings would be reciprocated but you could not allow yourself to be happy when those feelings caused Neteyam so much pain and anguish. -A few minutes later, when Neteyam was calmer in your arms, they was willing to end the matter. The sooner the better it would be for both.

-"You will never be able to kiss me, we will never be able to have a family, I know you like no other person, I am not going to condemn you to this incomplete life" at this point you also started to shed some tears, this also hurt you, but you knew it was the best , for all

-"I don't want a life without you" this time Neteyam spoke, it was true but he had already realized his father's constant attempts to separate them, he knew that due to his position as the firstborn the people would never approve that relationship, but in his heart still hoped it would work, yearned for it with all her might

-"I'm not going to be an obstacle, I love you like I'll never love anyone else, and I understand what's best for everyone" After a few minutes you let go of his arms, you stood up in spite of yourself and gave him one last look before turning around and leaving the place.

-Neteyam stayed on the ground, his heart begged him to be for you but his head told him that this would only make things more difficult, for both of them, so he stayed there, once again putting aside what he wants to do to end up doing what should

-Things changed after that. You didn't see him again and you did everything possible not to leave the laboratory, the forest was full of painful memories for you. You didn't visit the Na'vi village again for a long time no matter how much Spider begged you to come along. -Neteyam stopped going exploring with his brothers. There were many places that it hurt him to visit, even seeing Spider reminded him of you. I always try to keep busy, keeping his head off of you. -It hurt Jake to see his son's sad eyes every time they made eye contact, no matter how much he tried to cheer him up, he was never the same again.

-Norm gave you lessons inside whenever he could, that way you were often busy, you stopped wearing the Na'vi clothes you had and they gave you more clothes in the laboratory, you liked the white coat you used every day. -Neteyam no longer went to visit you in the laboratory facilities, sometimes he heard that his father asked about you but he walked away from him before hearing anything, he talked a lot with his grandmother who prepared him for his responsibilities -Only at night, when you look out the window, did you remember Neteyam, how they walked together through the forest, how they went swimming in the river on hot days and how he touched you when he took you flying in his Ikran -Neteyam went to bed at night and while he saw the stars he remembered the day he let you to go, you were something else he gave up so as not to get in the way of his destiny.

Ok I know maybe it wasn't the ending you were expecting but in my head Neteyam's life was so finally calculated that there was no room for anything he really wanted. He was brought up that way. He didn't even do it out of selfishness but he really thought that he would take the future of his people in his hands one day, that made him give up on living his life, he didn't really belong to him.

[rydenwrites]

Hello everyone! ♥

Today this account is turning 2 years old! And, for those of you who haven’t already noticed, I’ve changed my username from Jojjokiwi to RydenWrites, both here on Tumblr and on AO3. That’s because I’ve changed my legal name after coming out as nonbinary and I didn’t want to see my old nickname as much, but rather have it follow my journey ♥

My more than lovely friend and family @pumpkin69spice made this (and more) beautiful banner for me in order to celebrate the change and I’m over the moon about them all! I’ll show them in the posts to come to let them all have their time to shine ♥

As for ‘Blood must have blood’, there is a new chapter coming soon! I’ve just taken some time off to rest my brain and step away from the AU and focus on my mental health, but there is no need to worry; THE STORY WILL NEVER BE ABANDONED! ♥ 

Till then; I wish everyone happy and safe and calm holidays, and I’ll be back sooner rather than later with a new chapter. But since y’all are so amazing and I love you all so much, here’s a little snippet  of what’s to come ♥

-

The line rang for hours it seemed. Almost mockingly it went about its loop of rings, never changing, never interrupted, just baiting you with a silent dare of hanging up. A bait you never took. The longing to just hear her voice, no matter what was said, kept hope burning inside you and never allowed your hand to drop the phone.

Left alone in Bruce’s office, you had the chance to look around, to snoop even if you wanted to because you knew he trusted you enough to leave you in peace with your call, but you couldn’t bring yourself to even move. Your eyes strained and burned as they were frozen staring at a dried ink spot on the desk, silently praying that if you just didn’t move, didn’t disturb the air, your wish of someone picking up the phone would be granted. And it was.

“Ellsworth Downs Hospital and Facility, how may I help you?”

Shakily you drew a breath, your lungs thanking you greatly as they had been deprived of oxygen when you waited. You didn’t even know you had been holding your breath, let alone how much you needed air.

“H-hi, hey, hi, uhm… I’m, uh… I’m calling to see if, uh… If I could please talk to S-Sarah Harper Millers?”

“And who may I ask is calling?”

“Her-her daughter.”

“Her daughter?” the receptionist asked, clearly surprised.

“Uhm… yeah. Jess, Jessabelle Harper.”

“Please hold….”

-

Stay tuned and I’ll see you soon! ♥