#this is important to understand about her character

[gayslutbehavior]

i really admire the way my mom raised me when it comes to books. she always let me pick what to read, and she usually read the same books along with me so that we could talk about them. she likes reading YA, so that helps. i remember she really liked a series of unfortunate events and would help explain some of the funnier lines that might have gone over my head.

if there were books that either of us thought might be upsetting or hard for me to read, she would read them first and tell me what she thought. she wouldn't say i could or couldn't read them, she would just give me a heads up about things that might be challenging. for example, when i was about 10ish i wanted to read the sixth harry potter book, and she told me (with permission wrt spoilers) that an important character dies and that she found it really sad and thought i might too.

there were also books that she read before me and said she thought would be fine and then i ended up feeling uncomfortable about it for some reason and stopped reading. so she knew she could trust that i would take care of myself when reading. i had a panic attack when i read mockingjay for the first time because the war felt so real, and i took a break, calmed down, and came back to it later. but i'm still really glad i read that book because i think it was really good and taught me a lot.

it was the same way with movies - i watched little miss sunshine for the first time when i was pretty young, and she didn't try to keep me from seeing the more inappropriate parts, but she did explain things that i didn't understand. the only part she warned me about was when the brother realizes he's colorblind and can't be a pilot and gets really upset. she said he's going to yell and it's really sad. it wasn't the sex or the raunchy humor that she focused on (she knew that i knew what sex was), but the parts that were upsetting or scary, which makes sense to me.

pulp fiction is one of her favorite movies and we had a poster of it on the wall in our living room, so of course i wanted to watch it, but she told me that i should wait until i was older, not necessarily because it was inappropriate, but because it's the kind of movie that's hard to follow and requires a lot of cultural context to understand. i listened and when i ended up watching it for the first time i totally agreed that i wouldn't have understood it when i was younger.

she used to watch house when it came on and most of the time i didn't watch it with her even though she never said i couldn't because i really didn't like the parts where it would show the inside of a body. if i did want to watch, she would fast forward through those parts for me. i vividly remember watching house with her when thirteen comes out as bi. she paused the show to explain bisexuality to me and it was a huge moment for me as a queer person! the fact that she didn't brush past it or try to hide it from me helped me to learn and grow in my own identity.

the point is, the times when i was most confused or upset or alienated by a piece of media, it was rarely because there was sexual content. having warnings from my mom helped me to be prepared for things that might be beyond my expectations, and with her help i learned how to process and move through those things instead of ignoring them. i also learned that it was okay to feel like i wasn't ready to watch/read something. and i think that's a much safer approach to consuming media than trying to prevent kids from seeing or reading anything challenging until they're a certain age. it's all a process of growing and becoming ready for that kind of thing imo

I keep seeing aggressive "don't let kids read Wicked, it's inappropriate!!!" posts, and they're deeply irritating.

Would I recommend the novel to a random 12 year old I don't know? Probably not! But I first read Wicked at 12, and it's not like it permanently scarred me. It's not like I couldn't follow the plot. I didn't understand all the sociopolitical and religious commentary at 12, but that's why I went on to re-read it multiple times throughout my life. I get more from it each time.

There's sex and violence, yes, but I knew what sex was at 12, and I was seeing violence and war on the news every day. Why's the fictional sex and violence worse? Why should a kid not challenge themself with a book outside their comfort zone? Every kid deserves the chance to wig themselves out with a weird book they don't fully understand yet, and Wicked was mine.

My wife is very fond of a Mitch Hedberg quote I think is relevant here: "Every book is a children's book, if the kid can read."

(Also I think it's weird that people fixate on the puppet sex and the BDSM club, and not the parts where Elphaba bashes someone's skull in, or Turtle Heart gets lynched, or the soldiers abduct Fiyero's entire family as political prisoners. The "sex is evil, violence is fine" moral panic is eternal.)

[sexybread-png]

just elaborating on the previous ask

no, it is not because she “has a bush” and no it is not transphobic or misogynist to point out that you specifically drew her hairier than any other character when she is the darkest black women you have drawn or portrayed ESPECIALLY when you are portraying a real cis black actress who does not have the arm hair you are putting into your artwork.

women can and do have hair i am not saying that, but black women in particular have a long history of being forced into a realm of masculinity that is purely because of their skin color, maybe look into that instead of an article on “women and hair” if you are trying to show that you listen to criticism

hello again anon

to reiterate, i do want this to be a conversation, im not trying to shut you down or downplay your concerns by bringing my own. i do feel its relevant to inform you that you bringing up the fact that cynthia is a cis woman and should thus have less hair IS breeding grounds for those concerns.

on that note, i am NOT portraying the real life person cynthia erivo in my drawings, but elphaba thropp the fictional character. elphaba, if u didnt know, is not cis. shes intersex, as stated in the books. i do understand that using cynthia's likeness makes elphaba a black woman and so i have been careful abt my portrayal of her, but elphaba is not cynthia erivo. its important to make a distinction between the actress and the character

further, if the arm hair ur speaking of is the armpit hair, cynthia probably does have arm hair and chooses to shave it. i just dont think elphaba the character would be the type to shave.

if ur talking abt this drawing though i will point out that this is an alternate universe in which elphaba is a werewolf, as stated in the post, which is why she is so hairy. if i drew galinda as a werewolf, id draw her just as hairy! (which is smth ive done in the past, drawing white ppl / non black ppl as hairy werewolves.)

also, i have drawn darker skinned women who weren't as hairy:

my goal isnt to draw black women more masculine than non black women. my goal is to just draw women, all kinds of them, and it includes hairy black women bc i believe women being hairy does not make them more masculine. my intention shows in my drawings too: im not drawing elphaba less of a person or less pretty than galinda bc shes hairier. she just is hairier

in an effort to have a wider perspective on the subject, i did talk about this with my friend. shes an indigenous woman so to clarify shes not trying to compare her experiences to black women's, just offer her own perspective and she means all of it in good faith. i asked if i could show what she told me bc i felt like she explained things in a really thoughtful and intelligible way

[iamhereinthebg]

Heya Anon!

Tbh I don't really know, Akane is a character who has been dealing with a thousand death flags leading to nothing since his most serious appareance in the manga. And this new timeline is not an exception.

Especially since we know that Kako and Mirai gave him 'You have to try to stay alive' rule as one of his duties

Implying that it is dangerous to altern the past and be the Clock Keeper of the Present, that they have to stay alive to make sure everything goes according to plan.

It also ties to my theory that Akane is the first human clock keeper of the present; Because after all if Kako and Mirai have been asleep since they changed the past in this new timeline, they couldn't have chosen anyone during 1968 and the current events in the manga (2015).

Akane is the only person who is directly coming from a different timeline even compared to Nene and Teru who just remember the stuff from the previous one, being on a time limit before their memories are erased. Akane brought along with him the fact that he is a clock keepers and mystery n°1, something he couldn't be in this new timeline in the first place since both of them don't exist.

But I digress.

Akane has been a little bit different since they came back from the boundary closest to the far shore. It's not that surprising with how much the previous arc must have taken a toll on him. Understanding that Aoi wanted to die, losing her, being impaled, having Teru confirming that he will lose years of his lifespan by turning back human too soon, being beaten up twice by number 6, etc...

Akane is like Kou and Nene on this point, a character who wants to do a lot, but is always a step behind when it comes to supernaturals. And like the other two, it is starting to show in his attitude.

Akane has been shown more unsure of his choices and of his opinions when it's something that never posed him a problem before. He is more scared of Teru (when he knows the exorcist by now) and of being hurt in general,. Something he hasn't showed as much before, liking and enjoying life of course, but never being afraid to be in the first line even if it meant being hurt; Now he acts like he is truly scared of dying.

And he lets things involving Aoi not being his first priority. Refusing to listen to Natsuhiko plan to even try to heal her. Akane has always been showed to be really proactive anyways, that's one of his main character trait. So seeing that he is putting something for a later date and it involves Aoi can be seen as a little bit strange. Akane still loves her deeply and all but he seems to have other plans now, which we learn later in the clock keeper arc. He is not even looking at her directly, having an air of melancholy when he announces he will heal her but not now

That's more of a stretch now, but I think it's pretty safe to assume that Akane has known since a long time what it meant to be the clock keeper of the present, that they had the power to change the timeline. But nothing special has been happening to make the clock keepers take this drastic decision, especially since we know that nothing has been ever changed since the Yugi Twins 4th birthday at least. Which is why he probably never thought about it before. But now that he knows the school mysteries are more important, not just dangerous supernaturals but are protecting the land, and that Hanako has been destroying the yorishiros (which to me, seem to be the seals to keep away the God from the pit/the God Sumire was supposed to marry) he seems to be more aware of this duty in general.

Or if he was made aware of it recently anyways, it's something that the clock keepers must have brought up before the fall festival, being something that even someone as 'Carpe Diem, it is what it is' Aoi Akane may not be able to entirely ignore.

He has been forced A LOT in his role lately too and he clearly doesn't really like it, even if he is good at it.

He finally say 'we' when talking about the clock keepers, and consider even himself as the biggest threat of the school. He doesn't know what to think directly of the supernaturals or seven mysteries now. Knowing that they have an important role to fulfill but still not trusting them at all, knowing of their dangerous tendencies to hurt humans. He can't even look Teru in the eyes when he asks him if the clock keepers are planning to change the timeline over and over again. His feelings for the clock keepers being clearly a difficult case for him to tackle down even if he pretends it's not.

I always said this kinda as a joke, that Akane had the role of a Chosen One but went 'fck no' with it. But I think that it really is this kind of stuff now. Like for Nene who is 'the Kannagi' of the current time and get to make choices and stuff she doesn't want to do. Akane is the same with his role as the clock keeper of the present. Because no matter what he says, he kinda has accepted this fate now, preferring to know what is happening (since he realizes how ignorant he was in the "to the far shore" arc), and having a way to be able to change things. Sacrifying his chance to be 'a normal student'.

But he is not happy with any of it, being the one on the front row to endure all of the supernaturals choices, even knowing that if they don't change back the timeline, he will be the last one to remember. And as said previously, he is now a part of it! He is of course still more human than supernatural but he still acknowledges his role way more than before. Akane hates the way supernaturals work and now what he is doing? Being one of the reason the world is in this state. Of course it's taking a toll on him.

Of course, he doesn't accept everything right away, like Aoi's engagement, it's at first played for jokes but even then, it's understandable with how far their relationship evolved in the previous timeline. He is now thrown into the role of 'the childhood friend who never stood a chance in the first place'. I do think he has a right to be a little bit upset

But after understanding that technically, it's not that much of a big deals in the current events of everything else, since at first most people seems okay, he goes right away to do what the clock keepers asked him to do. Even going to go ask for Teru's help when he knows how much he destroyed his trust.

To finish this long stuff, I think the real big ''death flags' for what is happening right now is of course the fact that he got cursed by the red house (which is a supernatural who has already tried to fool him in the og timeline btw) .

And that there is a chance, like said earlier, that there is only one Akane like him for now, and that he could get stuck here or at least not coming back entirely as the Aoi Akane we knew in the manga (a chance for him to become a full supernatural for example, to be forever now the clock keeper of the present) But for this tbh we don't know a lot it's really more speculation because we know nothing of what could happen to him particulary.

My fav 'suspicious af thing he said' for now in the new timeline is this.

The official translation goes " .. And will love my whole life to the day I die and even beyond that."

When he starts the manga with this.

With the same belief than Hanako that 'death is the end' and now he is considering the After Death, with everything he saw of course, but specifically for him in this case.

Bonus: a thing that is apparently confirmed to be a lie, or he can bend the rules, but he didn't say this in front of Teru and Nene the first time.

And something that I truly think he doesn't know anything about too (my brain truly think Kako and Mirai choose him, and I have some delulu proofs but I digress) Akane do not know sht about the clock keepers and especially doesn't see when people show clear interest in him

[alwaysless]

Fellow William analyst, greetings! I hope you are well, I hope you don't mind a question/ask.

I am curious about your thoughts on the lack of reaction we see of Will at the "one life" reveal at the dinner scene, if you haven't already shared your thoughts before! We know Annabel wasn't shocked, but what about Will?

It took me longer to answer than I thought, sorry

I'm not sure I can say anything new, but yes, it's pretty damn suspicious. The composition of the frame stylized as broken glass, makes it easy to draw Will with everyone, and a frame later we see him with other panicking students, so RnF didn't show his reaction quite intentionally.

But I also want to talk about his behavior further. In the next episode, Will doesn't behave the way you expect him to. Given his weak-willed personality, it seems like he should be scared and overwhelmed by the prospect of a survival game (like Morella for example) but he's confused at best, and moreover, confused by everyone else's reactions. He even tries to justify the deans, basically gaslighting the rest of the students.

Will is not afraid, but he does not understand why others are. I have only two possible explanations: either he knew, or he just doesn't care, just like Annabel. Or maybe both.

Maybe he has played these games before. Maybe he doesn't plan to fight for a second life (at least not in Nevermore, again just like Annabel). Maybe because he is somehow connected with the academic staff with all his doll aesthetic, there is no second life for him in general, he just works there. There are many options, but here I would prefer to focus on his parallels with Annabel - two characters whose reactions we don't see in this frame.

This is actually not the only scene where they are absent, contrary to common sense. In episode 6 we see the merit board for the first time. Most of the names on it are blurred, but some can be distinguished. Among them are Lenore, Annabel, Duke, Morella, Ada, Prospero and Will. All of them, except Annabel and Will, are present in the room at this moment.

I wouldn't have paid much attention to this scene if it weren't for Prospero. Why is he there? He doesn't speak a single line, and we haven't been introduced to him as a character yet. His presence here is useless. So maybe the idea really was for all the characters whose names were visible on the board to be in the scene(or at least have already been introduced, like Annabel).

So what about Will? My main problem with shapeshifter characters is that they can be anyone, anywhere, at any point in the story. Especially if they can also create their own copies. He could have already been introduced and we just didn't notice.

Now let's talk about the games these kids love to play so much. We know that Annabel is a talented chess player, and Montresor constantly uses card game slang. But did you know that it was William Wilson from Poe's original story who was a cardsharper? I just think it's such an interesting detail. Nevermore`s Will has never been seen like this, but considering how much of a board game aesthetic this webtoon has, I think it's important to note this.

And finally, there is a similarity that also makes them very different: both Annabel and Will have ribbons as an essential symbol, but it has a completely opposite meaning for each of them. For Annabel, the ribbons are a symbol of madness, fear, and perhaps her golden cage. It appears in her hallucinations after Lenore's fake death, as well as when Ada shows her her main fear.

Will, on the other hand? The ribbons are his weapon. He uses them to tangle other people. Curious, although his spectre is obviously a marionette, he doesn't have a control bar for strings, he controls the strings himself (not always successful but still).

No matter how weak-willed Will is, he's the only one in Annabel's group who isn't influenced by her. She blackmails Montresor, Prospero respects her as a leader and friend, Ada admires and envies her. But she doesn't have anything on Will. In the chess allegory, he will obviously be a pawn (and I`ll write a whole post about it, I swear), but not Annabel's pawn. I have an idea that sooner or later, Montresor will think of using Will to find dirt on Annabel in revenge. After all, given their spectre abilities, it's easier for them to find out lenabel's secret.

So, let's summarize what we found. Absolutely nothing. This post turned out to be longer than I had planned, because I was a little carried away, but I hope you found something interesting for yourself in this stream of thoughts.

Here, take funny little Will everyone. He deserves to be noticed.

[niiwa-angel]

I'll also add, there has only ever been 1 (one) interaction between Stella and Blitz, and it's the "Sorry, I fucked your husband" scene. Stella only cares about Blitz in the sense that he's so far down the social ladder that Stolas having any sort of relationship with him negatively reflects on her.

Contrary wise, we've seen Blitz and Octavia interact at least once, they spent a good portion of time nearby each other in Loo Loo Land, both agreed that they disliked Robo-Fizz, and Octavia has Blitz's number saved in her phone. Vice versa, Blitz has Octavia's number saved. Even during Sins-mas, Octavia and Blitz agree that Andrealphus getting his ass kicked by IMP would be "a bad look". Not only that, Stolas is very proud of his daughter, he mentions that Via is at her mother's when trying to invite Blitz inside after Ozzie's. Blitz has enough information to not only put a name to a face when it comes to Octavia, he's had enough interactions with her to have her number saved.

It's not that Blitz wants to completely shove Stella out of the picture, it's that Stella isn't really in his picture. Even if he doesn't really know Octavia, he knows she's important to Stolas. He understands that in the terms of a long term relationship with Stolas, Via is part of the package. The same way any long term relationship with Blitz involves Loona too. As flawed as Blitz's relationship with commitment may be, he is a devoted father to Loona and he expects the same from Stolas.

Furthermore, let's look at Blitz's character. Blitz is a character that desires a family, it's one of the few things from the pilot that didn't change. Blitz wants a family, he calls IMP a family, to the point of over involving himself in Millie and Moxxie's relationship. It's why he continues to push his way into Barbie's life and recovery, despite the nurse and Barbie saying that she doesn't want him there.

Blitz fantasizing about he, Stolas, Loona, and Via as a family isn't him trying to shove Stella out of the picture, it's him continuing to want a family.

What’s gross is that I bet you’re smarter than this, you just have a bizarre antagonistic parasocial relationship with Vivienne Medrano.

This critique is fundamentally flawed in its analysis, misinterpreting the narrative structure and character dynamics of Helluva Boss. Here’s a breakdown of why it doesn’t hold up:

1. The Claim About Blitz and Octavia:

The statement that Blitz “pretends Octavia’s mother never existed” grossly oversimplifies his behavior and motivations. Blitz’s struggles are rooted in his unresolved trauma and inability to form healthy relationships, not a deliberate erasure of Stella. Additionally, the idea that Stella is treated as a “nameless surrogate egg donor” is false. The show repeatedly acknowledges her presence, but she’s portrayed negatively because her actions (abusing Stolas, prioritizing status over family) make her an antagonist. This isn’t about erasing her but about exploring Stolas’s toxic marriage and its impact on Octavia.

2. The Misreading of Stella’s Character:

The critique argues that Vivienne “has to make the woman purely evil and unfeeling,” but Stella’s characterization is consistent with her role as an abusive partner and a foil to Stolas. Her lack of maternal care is a reflection of her values and personality, not an inherent “hatred of women.” Plenty of female characters in Helluva Boss are nuanced, compassionate, and strong (e.g., Millie, Loona, Octavia), disproving the claim of misogyny.

3. The Strawman Argument of “Gay Erotica”:

The scene where Blitz throws Stella out the window isn’t about her disliking “gay erotica.” It’s a comedic exaggeration that underscores the absurdity of the situation, fitting the show’s satirical tone. The focus isn’t on her gender but on the humor of the clash between her and Stolas.

4. The Daughters’ Reactions:

The daughters’ lack of mourning in the Christmas episode is a misinterpretation of the narrative focus. The scene is meant to emphasize Blitz’s moral growth, not delve into the daughters’ feelings. It’s also possible that the mom died quite some time ago and they have moved past actively mourning, but to assume they “don’t care” is reading into something the episode doesn’t explicitly address.

5. Accusation of Misandrist Themes:

Claiming that Vivienne portrays “gay men’s love as more pure” ignores the complexity of Stolas and Blitz’s relationship, which is far from idealized. Their love is messy, imperfect, and rooted in deep emotional baggage—hardly the pedestal the critique implies.

In summary, this critique misrepresents Helluva Boss by cherry-picking elements and ignoring context. The show’s nuanced exploration of flawed relationships, trauma, and humor-driven storytelling doesn’t align with the reductive and bad-faith interpretation presented here.

[pansexualhousecat]

seems like mel's VA said that mel isn't manipulative and people are taking her word as gospel as all fandoms do when a VA speaks up about any media, unfortunately.

i understand her point in that mel was trying to do what she thought was right and that is true, mel is someone who grew up seeing war and colonization because of noxus and her mother so she has a different view of the world and thinks what she's doing is the best and she does have good intentions to protect people.

but she was still manipulating the people around her to get what she wanted. does it mean she's a terrible person and the worst villain in the series? of course not and people who think like that are dumb. her manipulation comes from a good intention in her mind (protecting Piltover) but comes at the expense of the people who were actually suffering which are the people of Zaun, the people that the council ignored, let die and rot until they thought they were a threat to their perfect city. that includes mel.

mel is not a horrible person, but she's not 100% good either, her manipulation coming from a place of good intentions does not erase that but it also does not make her the worst person in the show. people don't seem to understand that the characters are not one dimensional, pointing out flaws in a character doesn't mean it's hate, it's analysis of them.

BUT!!! of course there are people who are spreading misogynoir rhetoric towards mel as well and i'm not denying that at all either, people are disgusting towards poc characters and especially women.

i love mel and i think she's one of the smartest characters in the show and her story is incredible, i'm excited to see more and how she grows. i'm not saying she's a villain in any way here, just explaining my thoughts. we should think critically about characters and not see them as just one thing, having flaws is important to every character and sometimes these flaws are something that helps them achieve what they want, just doesn't make these flaws something good.

[specialagentartemis]

Aro- and Ace-Spectrum Murderbot Diaries headcanons

For the beginning of Aromantic Awareness Week, I thought I’d write out some of my a-spec headcanons for TMBD characters!

—

Murderbot: its opinions on romance and sex range from “I didn’t give a shit about [it]” to “No!” to “No, no thank you, no. No.” This one’s not a headcanon these are all direct quotes haha.

ART: Because of its limited socialization and its only very recent introduction to deeply feeling the things depicted when watching media, I have a hard time imagining ART conceptualizing romance as something it would want or has any reason to want. Its articulation of closeness, commitment, devotion, and duty is crew. I think upon meeting Murderbot, it kind of got friendship for the first time. But Murderbot is also very much part of crew now as well. I don’t see it feeling the need to add romance to that emotional-relationship framework. It’s adventurous with experiences, though, especially with things it might consider gaps in its knowledge; it may be willing to try certain types of intimacy, experience, or sensation out of curiosity.

Three: Still very new to the freedom to name and articulate its feelings and desires, let alone take initiative to act on them when they involve other people. It had a weird and unique kind of closeness with its squadmates: you’re the only one I can trust. We can’t ever trust each other. You understand me. We aren’t allowed to talk about it. Our communications are closely monitored and limited. We know what the limits are and how to express ourselves within them. I care about you. I want you to be safe. Three wouldn’t call it romance but wouldn’t know what to call it at all besides squadmates. If Three identified as anything it would be quoiromantic, quoisexual, quoi-everything: how can it fit its experiences into a framework of sexuality and romanticism.

Ratthi: Aromantic allosexual with a strong belief in relationship anarchy. Takes the viewpoint of, every one of his relationships is different because every person is different! Hierarchizing them or categorizing them is kind of beside the point! Every relationship, family or friend or colleague or coauthor or person he knows from board game night or sexual partner, is something special. Though the most important people in his life include his best friends Arada and Overse, and they consider each other family.

Gurathin: Aromantic asexual. Limited social energy. Spends a lot of time quiet and alone and likes it that way. A few strong friendships, a few work friends, a few scientific colleagues, a cat.

Pin-Lee: Gray-aroace. Romance, dating, or sex is not a particular priority she wants to spend time pursuing, and she gets an uncomfortable stomach-churning feeling if she feels like she’s being expected to tie herself down to a relationship too fast. There’s a lot about her work and her goals and her life she’s not willing to compromise on. If her friendship with Bharadwaj or Mensah became something more squishy and boundary-blending, she wouldn’t be opposed, but she won’t actively pursue it either.

Arada: Demisexual lesbian. Ideal family household is her wife and her best friend.

Volescu: Aromantic heterosexual. The aro allo het man that tumblr warned you about~ Devoted father and husband. Comes from a culture where marriage and romantic desire are a venn diagram of optional overlap more so than a necessary expectation. (This dovetails with my Divarti political refugee backstory headcanon because as you may have noticed I am going full My City Now at this point)

[siggiedraws]

Hello! In one of your recent posts, you've mentioned that

There are little hints here and there that point towards the symbolism of his origins, like his folded boots being inspired by Santa Claus, which is why they're red and white with a buckle! I find that such a cool detail.

and it stood out to me because "the symbolism of his origins" is very fascinating. Could you elaborate? What other hints like this are there? Thank you in advance! ^^

Of course!

What I meant by what I said is that, despite us not knowing of Sonic's past, what very little we do know about it also happens to tie into the concept of Christmas/Santa Claus, that being his red and white boots that he's been wearing since the beginning and his birthplace literally being Christmas Island.

To understand where I want to go with this, I need to get into the important context behind the presence of Christmas in the Sonic series, which is that Naoto Ohshima loves the holiday. To the extent that he would dress up as Santa Claus in public and give gifts to people.

(SOURCE)

The reason behind Ohshima's passion for the character of Santa is that he was inspired by Santa and wanted to be like him. He's always wanted to create things for children to enjoy, or things that would delight people, much like how Santa spreads joy around the world by delivering gifts.

(SOURCE)

(SOURCE)

What I meant by the "symbolism of [Sonic's] origins" is that they are literally symbolic. Sonic was the gift Ohshima created for children all over the world.

I will say that this can come off as an especially Doylist perspective on the matter, because surely Sonic's past must exist within the fictional context of the Sonic universe, and we just don't know about it. I agree with this! Looking at it within the fictional universe, it's fun to speculate on what his birthplace could be like based on what limited information we have. If he got his boots from there, it might be a Christmas-themed island where it snows a lot. Alternatively, it might bear a striking resemblance to the real Christmas Island, since the Sonic universe already has many places that are analogous to real life, like Dragon Road being inspired by the Great Wall of China.

Sonic as he was originally conceived plays with the concept of blurring the lines between fiction and reality, so I would argue a more Doylist perspective is valid when we're discussing the symbolism behind Sonic's origins. If you're aware of the Marie Granette stories, that's a great example. There's a metafictional story about how Sonic, the fictional character from a fairytale, comes to life within reality (another fictional universe in our reality, but is meant to represent reality all the same), and saves a woman from a fire. Then, he's gone again, like he was never there.

This story depicts Sonic as a character who brings joy to people, as Meg (the woman who Sonic saves) recognizes him on a flight jacket as the character from her childhood that brought her so much joy over the years. When she wears the jacket, it makes her feel safe and comforted. No one would believe her if she said she saw him. Similar to a certain jolly fellow, donned in red and white.

Perhaps Sonic was never born; not through conventional means, that is. Maybe someone needed him, and he appeared. Maybe the rest was history.

Thanks for your ask!

[bowandbrush]

sorry for patronizing you mutuals with my sudden avatar fixation!

having rewatched the series, I decided to check out the live action series out of curiosity (I jumped straight into the Kyoshi island episode, to see what the interaction between Sokka and suki was like. Yeah)

In the new series we have much more screen time with Suki and more story on her past, but it’s not written half as well as the original. I understand they’re trying to change some things up and erase sexist Sokka, but that was the entire point in the original story.

in the new version, Sokka just…stares a little and tries talking to her. Which is fine I guess. He’s impressed with her skill in fighting and devotion to being a warrior. It’s understandable, as he develops a bit of a crush after watching her in combat. Later discovering her training dojo, Suki just decides to train him. Out of nowhere. There are a fair amount of scenes and dialogue that insinuates she has a thing for him too, a lot. The entire training segment is just them standing close, tripping over each other, staring, etc. basically the same formula so many writers use to build tension between two characters.

It lacks substance. There isn’t much reason for them to like each other here. And for Pete’s sake, we don’t get to see Sokka wearing the traditional Kyoshi outfit!

In the original, Sokka saunters in with prideful arrogance, dismissing and underestimating the female warriors. Y’know, because they’re girls. This scene wasn’t being sexist, Sokka was. I still don’t understand why they erased this, because it was a very important character development.

When Sokka ‘demonstrates’ his combat skills, Suki sets him straight without a sweat. In humiliation, Sokka realizes how much how wrong he was about women and their strength. How disrespectful he was.

that gives him a reason to ask for training. For forgiveness, and to better himself. It’s also a great scene when we see Suki sharing her culture with him. Although she wouldn’t normally “train outsiders, much less boys”, she still gives him a second chance.

There is so much authenticity here. He grows to admire Suki as a fighter and as a person. For her kindness and forgiveness too, not just strength.

we can see Suki grow on Sokka, appreciating his unbreakable loyalty and bravery. As well as his silly demeanor. We all like funny guys!

It’s a really nice Strong and brave woman + smart and silly idiot duo, and I love it.

live action is just,,,watered down a lot. I don’t know what the live action series will do in the future. I don’t really care anyways. BUT what I really appreciate with Suki and Sokka is their vulnerability with each other.

nowadays, every “strong” girl is defined with outer works/action. That usually means no crying, no soft side, no fear. Especially if she’s in a relationship with a man. She has to be tougher than him. Because I guess vulnerable and defeated girls can’t be strong. At least, that’s the trope I see most often.

Suki is very strong, brave, and tough. But when the appropriate time comes, she lets herself be open and exposed. She can let her guard down and expose her inner pain, because she knows Sokka is there for her.

it’s perfectly normal and healthy for a man to be able fall apart in his girls’ arms. But I feel like that’s suppressed the other way around, because it displays weakness. And I guess we’re cancelling weakness in women now. Because of woke

[gayofthefae]

El's season plot wasn't Mike telling her he loved her any more than Will's was the painting itself. Both were treated as pretty important for about three episodes and then brought back at the end. That was A plot, and one that contributes to their overall story for sure. But the pacing itself of both plots proves them more of setups for season 5 resolutions than plots themselves (and, of course, what does that say for the one that's "resolved", but I digress).

They are smaller pieces of a larger story, displacing their season plot to be something else. We want Will to give Mike the painting and he does. We want Mike to tell El he loves her and he does. But those are very straight forward setup/payoffs, and not kept up with enough to be true plotlines for Will or El - Mike maintains a plot with it but only he does. Will's is about acceptance, achieved when Jonathan accepts him, set up and maintained by lines like "what if they don't like the truth" and "sometimes you feel like a mistake". El's was about leaving Brenner, the connection being that feeling unlovable makes it harder to leave your abuser.

But if their plots were unrelated, then the other things truly were just setup. Every time Will and Mike have a romantic seeming scene, it was not season 4 buildup - as many of us were confused in volume 2 thinking it had been - but seeds planted for future seasons. It was not required for the key arc of the season, nor was Mike's "I love you" curfuffle with El.

Will could have not had/addressed his feelings for Mike and simply struggled with acceptance of his sexuality and El could have had Mike tell her he loved her but argue that she didn't believe him because she was a monster and he must be lying - there was no requirement for him to actually support her belief and it could have been an opportunity to show just how deep in it she was.

But instead, they gave Will and Mike repeated intimate one on ones and had Mike fail to tell El he loved her. When Will's resolution was with Jonathan and El's with Brenner.

So if those plots were unnecessary to everyone but Mike's plotline at this timing, why include either of them at all? What is their purpose to him? Well, exactly the reason I realized Byler was endgame in the first place: the synching up and therefore implied causation between his moments (and conflict) with Will and his issues with El.

Mike could have had a plot that had nothing to do with either of them and the themes and climaxes of both of their season plots would have stayed the same. Mike NOT being able to tell El he loves her and he and Will both fighting and having intimate one-on-ones after were both for HIS plot, confirmed as both by the climax scene itself, which includes both. Because the setup has to do with both of them, there was no version of that climax scene that was just about El. It was always Will prompting him and him turning to El, because it was the culmination of his plots with both of them.

But, of course, you can't have two plots. You can only have one. And we've established that both El and Will's relationships with him were NOT their season plots. Which means that his inability to tell El he loves her and his conflict and following heart to hearts (including those unrelated to El entirely) with Will were ONE plot. ONE plotline that meant ONE thing as it can only culminate in ONE event.

They aren't Will and El's plotlines with Mike oblivious and only having El's. Because they aren't Will and El's plotlines to begin with. People understand that characters only get one. They just didn't take the jump to understand that closeness with Will and distance from El CAN be one. (They do, of course, understand this, though. Because in season 3, everyone knew that his issues with Will were a direct cause of his relationship with El. Nobody clocks that when it's swapped though. But the structure confirms it).

[ilikekidsshows]

Why do people use the “Marinette must make a mistake in every episode” thing from the show bible as a way to say that the show treats her badly? They use it to justify her decisions and act like it’s the show’s writing working against her and making her out to do bad things. Really, it’s the show’s coddling of her that’s the problem, and the mistakes she makes are quite consistent with her character.

The show bible also says that Marinette must be sympathized with in every episode or something to that effect. But they never talk about that. And when did we forget that “protagonist makes a mistake and learns a lesson” is the standard format for almost every episodic show? They’re making it out to be like this sinister conspiracy against Marinette by the writers, it’s fascinating.

---

There's a reason I made an entire ask game out of the kind of backwards defenses some of the more desperate Marinette stans come up with. They’ve seen selling themselves and each other on this conspiracy narrative where the main lead in a kid superhero cartoon teaching kids moral lessons by learning them herself is actually that main lead being punished by the writers “for things that aren't her fault”. Like, I’ve seen that phrase basically word for word so many times that I have no doubt that it's something some slightly more popular blog said once and the Marinette stans never stopped running with it.

Like, I can even understand the “Marinette must always be sympathized with” caveat, because, for all I do consider it better than Miraculous as a whole, one of Danny Phantom’s issues to me, as a moral lesson show, is how mean-spirited it often is. Yes, it's self-aware about it, but Danny often gets such a short end of the stick even when he does everything right with the show expecting you to laugh and find it funny, so you kind of want him to get away with something for once. It goes a long way selling the loser protagonist character archetype Danny is but, yeah, I kinda see why Astruc would want to avoid Marinette getting that treatment even if she wasn't his pretend daughter.

The problem is, of course, that every single time Marinette is expected to get the lion’s share of the sympathy. She's top priority. That's why the show focuses on her perspective over everyone else’s. When we only see her chaotic feelings and her guilt over her missteps, while her victims give us silence or an “I’m okay!” it does make it feel like she's the one who was hurt by her mistake most of all. It's incredibly unhelpful as a moral lesson because it doesn't teach you to take others’ feelings into account. How could it when they're never shown or named? It only teaches you to look at the projection target’s emotions, your emotions.

‘Gamer’ is actually such a good example of how Miraculous’ writing approach injures the storytelling and muddies the messaging. “Don't publically upstage your friend and classmate in the hobby he’s passionate about, not because it's important to him and, as his friend, you should be supportive, but because, if you do, you might feel bad.” No wonder big parts of the fandom still think Max did something wrong in the episode, even though it was actually very mature of him to get away from Marinette, a friend who hurt him, so that he wouldn't lash out and say things he didn't mean before he calmed down because he has a right to be upset when someone he considers a friend does that to him. Max was far more mature in that episode than our main lead, who got rewarded for doing the bare minimum to make up for her thoughtless action at the last possible moment. Instead her stans have been using this episode as an example of “Marinette being punished for Max being a poor loser” for nearly a decade.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Another reason to stay

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Furina, Neuvillete ]

[ Genshin Impact ]

⚠️ Mention of depression and suicidal ideation

Some conforting fic with some of my favorite characters!! Yeeeey!!

I decided to keep this as neutral as posible because i want to make sure everyone can get the comfort, no matter if you like them in a romantic or platonic sense <3

Furina

Getting to be close to Furina is quite the journey, she is considered and idol all around Fontaine and she is loved as such what already makes it dificult to get to actually know her (and even when you can make an appointment with the hydro archon or have the opportunity to work along her she normally doesn't let her guard down nor drop her excentric character)

Still, once you manage to leave a good impression on Furina it will just be matter of time and patience for you two to grow close to each other, becoming incredibly meaningful in boths life almost in the same way, once you become so important for Furina she will grow a bit clingy and even doesn't bother to hide how much she appreciate you (even if she deny it when someone ask)

You grow to mean so much to her that even without knowing you become a reason why this life is worth living, a reminder of why everything she has being throught and all her efforts have been completely valid and that she has been doing a good job, no matter when you two grow together (if before or after the prophecy) that doesn't chance how she feels nor the fact that she struggle a little to directly tell you how important you are for her

Furina had been a bit too distracted by the comfort your presence brings her that when she got to know that you struggle with serious problems like depression or even have thought before about taking your life is completely shocking for her, she is in panic the moment she get to know, even if she didn't got to know the extent of your depression she will be so scared that may end up even thinking is worst that how it actually it is because now she is too scared that she may lose you

Furina is too scared to ask for further details but also is trying really hard to think how to help you, her mind goes back and forth between thinking what she can do to help you and how she could tell you how important you truly are for her and how much you have helped her while trying to don't broke in tears

Furina needs a while to think on all of this before being able to calm down, and probably some time alone because she is a mess and doesn't want you to see her like this so you won't feel responsible for it or something, but even even when she manage to calm down she won't be less worried, she will just be able to think with a clever mind and actually try to make a plan to bright up your days just like you have done for her (and, also, making a plan about how to finally tell you how much you have helped her and how comforting your simply presence it is without embarrassing herself in the process)

It end up being easier to offer sincere help and care than she thought since she can understand the feelings and what you are going throught, your stories may not be that same but the feelings you are being tormented with are, she knows how you feel and because of that she can offer you an understanding company

When you express how after all this time and for how close you two have grow to be she has become one of the reasons why you still find reasons to stay alive and keep trying everyday is shocking for Furina, but this time in the complete opposite way, it makes her feel flattered and a bit embarrassed but that slowly transforms into an inmense happiness, and this time she won't be able to hold back her tears because, for her you are just as special and important as she is for you

Neuvillete

It isn't the easiest thing to get close to Neuvillete just because he is normally serious and it can be quite intimidating his position as the ludex of Fontaine, but once you get to know him better you can see how kind and surprisingly gentle he actually can be, as well as really caring

Once you two grow close enough to consider you someone special your simply presence and company can mean a lot for him, he doesn't really have much free time because of his work and all the responsabilities but he is always making sure you are alright and taking time to offer you help if you ever have a problem

Neuvillete can have quite a hard time when it comes to feelings, he is not excatly clueless but because of the complexity of the emotions and having to hold back himself since as the Ludex he can't get carried away from his feelings despite being quite emotional makes him have some troubles so he would have a bit some troubles to understand what are you going throught, but he will try to actually understand because of how much he cares for you

As the Ludex he have seeing all kind of people in court, with all kind of reactions and motivations but that doesn't stop him from not only be surprised but also concern when he understand the terrible state you are, even if you smile or seem to have a good time whenever you two spend time together that doesn't ereaser the deep sadness and suffering that you have to live with, and, honeslty, he is quite heartbroken because of that. If you don't say it directly or even try to don't make a big deal out of it he will try to don't talk more about the topic but he simply can't take the thought out of his head (if later that day it start to raining out of nowhere is probably because he is still thinking about the matter and feeling more and more concern)

Neuvillete will make up his mind to help you with everything he can, he won't exactly use his position to benefit you or something, he will rather try his best to help you, personally trying to learn more about depression and how to help you as well as being extra caring, he is just way too worried and will take him a while to finally know how to help

Neuvillete is already worried enough but knowing that you have tought about dying as something serious, not as a posibility but as an option, just make him grow more concern (but it is until you tell him, either directly or indirectly, he doesn't want to jump into more concerning conclusions just because he can't stop thinking about it and growing more worried), he can't imagine what it is and yet won't judge you, again, he wants to understand you to be able to help you in any way he can, he doesn't want to lose you after all (at least not this early and sudden)

But the moment you admit that he is one of the reason why you stay alive, one of the reasons why you keep finding the strengtht to keep going and one of the reasons why life is at least slighy more bearable Neuvillete will be incredibly touched, he feels like is some kind of honor to be this important in your life (just as you are important in his), he won't know how to react or even how to answer but will definetly thank you for it, promising that you will always be able to count on him

Actually, knowing this will gave Neuvillete as sense of responsability with you, but not in a bad way it just makes him feel like the efforts he constantly does to help you are actually helping so he needs to keep with this, to be there for you, to be able to provide you help and because it makes him incredibly happy seeing you genuinely happy and even improving

[atopvisenyashill]

I'm not debating dark!Dany, because I think there's a lot of things that point towards that as well as a lot of things that don't, so I could easily see it going either way at this point. But I don't understand people characterizing Dany killing Mirri Maz Duur as "she burned her slave to death" because that had zero bearing on the situation? She doesn't burn her because she's a slave, she burns her for murdering her son, and if any other character had murdered her son, it seems pretty obvious that she would react the exact same way. And personally, that's a fully understandable and reasonable reaction to someone killing your child.

I've been seeing this characterization a lot recently, and you're someone who's takes I really enjoy, so I wanted to ask you why you specifically see it that way because it's a very confusing viewpoint to me.

A boy came, younger than Dany, slight and scarred, dressed up in a frayed grey tokar trailing silver fringe. His voice broke when he told of how two of his father's household slaves had risen up the night the gate broke. One had slain his father, the other his elder brother. Both had raped his mother before killing her as well. The boy had escaped with no more than the scar upon his face, but one of the murderers was still living in his father's house, and the other had joined the queen's soldiers as one of the Mother's Men. He wanted them both hanged.

I am queen over a city built on dust and death. Dany had no choice but to deny him. She had declared a blanket pardon for all crimes committed during the sack. Nor would she punish slaves for rising up against their masters.

“mirri killed her son” is devoid of the context that mirri is a slave though. that boy in the above text is a child, younger than dany. the slaves are adults, like Mirri. and like Mirri, in their anger, when given the option to harm someone who enslaved them, they chose harm, and they killed his family. if you were to describe it out of context “he doesn’t hate them because they are slaves he hates them because they murdered his family and raped his mom” it sounds awful. but when you factor in the power dynamic at hand it suddenly becomes uncomfortable and much more complex as a situation.

mirri, just like those slaves, is only in this situation because she is a slave. dany has the power to order her burned because she is a master. it’s absolutely relevent to the situation because the only reason this situation exists is because dany owns slaves and mirri is one of the slaves she owns.

let's take a comparison here - jon isn't a classist prick to pyp, grenn, small paul, and all the other boys, they're bullying him. that sounds like a wild thing to say but it's not wrong. they are bullying him, they are making fun of him because he is a bastard who should "know his place" underneath the people like alliser thorne and they enable alliser's behavior towards him with the repeated use of the "lord snow" nickname. but as tyrion points out the bullying is not devoid of context - in fact the context is more important because it explains the aggressive behavior. in reality, pyp, grenn, and small paul don't really care that much about jon being a bastard, they just don't like being made to feel like they're idiots and jon's prickly behavior does just that. it doesnt really matter that jon is being prickly because thorne is purposefully antagonizing him over being a bastard because ultimately, what the boys see is jon's class status and an attitude that strikes them as arrogant. the moment he starts using his prickliness in defense of them rather than against them, that trio becomes his devoted friends - and while people like chett and thorne really do care about the fact that jon is a bastard, as we see in chett's prologue chapter, chett is also very bothered by the fact that sam is immensely privileged and can read better because of it. is it sam's fault that he was born privileged? no. and yet his privilege results in a loss of station for chett and it leads chett down an abysmal and dark path. yes chett is responsible for his own decisions. but you cannot divorce chett's bitterness from the fact that he is lowborn and sam is highborn. it's not about "well chett is mean" it's about one person having immense privilege and one person being born in the dirt. it's not about "well dany would have killed mirri even if she wasn't a slave" it's about how dany was born with a fancy last name and mirri is raped repeatedly and watches everything she has built be destroyed directly because of something dany wants to do.

beyond that. i think that rhaego’s death is actually much more complicated than a cut and dry “mirri murdered dany’s son so dany burned her alive.” mirri does not act maliciously towards dany until after everything is said and done - because she does not have ill intent. no she isn’t selflessly helping dany. rather she is hoping to alleviate the humiliation and danger with being a slave by making herself useful. this meta here is a good breakdown of the entire situation from mirri's pov but look at what mirri is doing and saying, what she's actually doing, and not just dany's confused thoughts.

One of them, a thick-bodied, flat-nosed woman of forty years, blessed Dany haltingly in the Common Tongue, but from the others she got only flat black stares. They were suspicious of her, she realized with sadness; afraid that she had saved them for some worse fate.

“Silver Lady,” a woman’s voice said behind her, “I can help the Great Rider with his hurts. " Dany turned her head. The speaker was one of the slaves she had claimed, the heavy, flat-nosed woman who had blessed her.

Mirri Maz Duur studied Drogo, her face still and dead. "The wound has festered."

Mirri Maz Duur came with her, eyes heavy from sleep. “Drink,” she said, lifting Dany’s head to the cup once more, but this time it was only wine. Sweet, sweet wine. Dany drank, and lay back, listening to the soft sound of her own breathing. She could feel the heaviness in her limbs, as sleep crept in to fill her up once more. “Bring me …” she murmured, her voice slurred and drowsy. “Bring … I want to hold …” “Yes?” the maegi asked. “What is it you wish, Khaleesi?”

“You knew,” Dany said when they were gone. She ached, inside and out, but her fury gave her strength. “You knew what I was buying, and you knew the price, and yet you let me pay it.” “It was wrong of them to burn my temple,” the heavy, flat-nosed woman said placidly. “That angered the Great Shepherd.”

“It is not enough to kill a horse,” she told Dany. “By itself, the blood is nothing. You do not have the words to make a spell, nor the wisdom to find them. Do you think bloodmagic is a game for children? You call me maegias if it were a curse, but all it means is wise. You are a child, with a child’s ignorance. Whatever you mean to do, it will not work. Loose me from these bonds and I will help you.”

i don’t think she poisoned drogo. i think she attempted to help him to appease dany, because she doesn't want to be resold, & drogo doesn’t follow her directions. i think she’s actually very upset as it starts to sink in that drogo, to steal a tyrion line, is not just vicious he’s a vicious idiot.

and then dany asks her to do some pretty serious and dangerous magic. mirri gives dany very clear instructions.

“The time for that is past, my lady,” Mirri said. “All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands. He will be gone by morning.” Her words were a knife through Dany’s breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe place, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all … “No,” she pleaded. “Save him, and I will free you, I swear it. You must know a way … some magic, some …”

Mirri Maz Duur sat back on her heels and studied Daenerys through eyes as black as night. “There is a spell.” Her voice was quiet, scarcely more than a whisper. “But it is hard, lady, and dark. Some would say that death is cleaner. I learned the way in Asshai, and paid dear for the lesson. My teacher was a bloodmage from the Shadow Lands.” “You must. Once I begin to sing, no one must enter this tent. My song will wake powers old and dark. The dead will dance here this night. No living man must look on them.”

jorah does not listen.

dany is right, mirri is trying to teach her but while mirri certainly sets a trap and knows very well if it goes off people are going to die, i think framing her as an evil conniving witch who got killed ONLY because she is partially responsible for rhaego’s death, completely ignores mirri’s frame of mind and the precarious situation she is forced into by dany herself. she is a slave. she is dany's slave. you cannot divorce that from what dany does to her or what she does to dany.

[lalawakfam]

LETS TALK ABOUT COUNCIL ELIATROPE

I really don't understand, they are very important to the story, BUT WE DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW THEY INTERACTED WITH EACH OTHER (and very little about the culture of the aliatropes)

The only time we see them all together is in Quilby's memories, and for me that's very little.

How did they interact with each other before the war against Orgonax, who were they closest to, did the Eliatropes have traditions? How did each of them react when they learned of Quilby and Shinonome’s betrayal?

There are many characters that I wanted to know more about, like Shinonome herself (although we already know her well because of Quilby, she never appeared in the flesh for us) and that is very strange knowing that she is a very important character (and I am really curious about what her personality was like).

Mina, I wanted to know what she was like with her sisters and brothers, was she like a mother-older sister to the Eliatrope council? How did she interact with them (I know she appeared in Slands of Wakfu, but her interactions with Nora and Efrim didn't show much of what it's like there and being a sister, and the game isn’t even canon anymore).

Glip also appeared on Wakfu Islands, however, just like Mina, his interactions were few, and even so, unlike her, we were able to see a little more of his personality (I consider it better than nothing).

Chibi (yes, he is present in the story reincarnated) but I wanted to see more about what he was like in his past life, after all he suddenly appeared in the Oropo OVA (like what happened)

Tot you can do anything, a movie, a special episode, EVEN A TWITTER POST, we just want to know more about the eliatropes lore

was going to talk about the Eleatropes' clothing in S4, but I think I’ll need another post for that.

[gardenladysworld]

Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf, @nikipuppeteer@eliankm, @quintessences0posts,

Part 17: To worship (NSFW)

First of all, I want to apologize for making this part so long. I don't know why I'm doing this. :') So this part is set in the past, from Neteyam's perspective and how he experienced the past three years. The present, from which we count back, would be the first part of this fanfic, 'To belong'. This story has 2 volume because it is so long. :')

Part 18: vol 1.: To remember

(2 years and 9 months ago)

Neteyam had prayed for guidance. Months ago.

Under the glowing tendrils of the Tree of Souls, with the whispers of Eywa surrounding him, with the tsaheylu he had knelt and asked for wisdom. For strength. For a path that would make him the leader his father wanted him to be. He had thought of his people, of the weight of responsibility that would one day rest on his shoulders.

And then, you arrived. A human. Small and fragile. Out of place.

Neteyam exhaled sharply, watching from a distance as you stepped into the village again, trailing behind the other scientists. You were speaking with Kiri, your voice animated, your eyes bright with curiosity. Always asking, always looking at everything as if it was the first time. It made something inside him twist—something he didn’t want to name.

You have been here before. Several times now. At first, it was just the introductions, the formalities of trust. But you kept coming back with the scientists. With your wide, searching eyes and your endless questions.

It should not have bothered him. But it did. Because you weren’t supposed to belong here. And yet, somehow, you were starting to.

Neteyam turned away, his jaw tightening as he adjusted the bow slung over his back. He had more important things to do than stand around watching you try to pronounce Lo’ak’s name properly.

“You are angry again,” Kiri’s voice cut through his thoughts. He turned his head slightly, realizing too late that she had noticed him watching.

“I am not angry.”

“You are,” she said, unconvinced. “Your tail is moving like you are about to fight something.”

Neteyam exhaled through his nose and forced his tail to still. “She shouldn’t be here.”

Kiri crossed her arms, her ears twitching. “She is trying.”

“She wouldn’t understand,” he shot back, lowering his voice so no one else would hear. “She never will. She is—” He cut himself off before he could say the words lingering on his tongue.

Human. Fragile. Useless.

But the truth was, he had seen your hands stained with dirt from examining plants, had watched you write furiously in your notes, had overheard you arguing with Norm about something scientific that he barely understood. You were not useless, at least not in the way he wanted to believe. Kiri hummed, a knowing glint in her eyes. “You act like you do not care, but I see the way you look at her.”

Neteyam’s ears flattened, a flicker of something sharp curling in his chest. “I do not look at her.”

Kiri only smiled. He hated that smile. It meant she knew something he didn’t want her to know. Before he could respond, a familiar voice reached him.

“Neteyam.”

His shoulders tensed. He knew that voice. Too well.

When he turned, you were standing there, your exo-mask reflecting the light. You were looking up at him, those bright eyes full of something he could not name. For a moment, he only stared at you. You had a way of looking at people—not just at them, but through them. As if you could see past the layers of expectation and duty, past the role he played, straight into the parts of himself he kept hidden.

And that unsettled him more than anything else.

“I—” You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “I had a question about the ikrans. If you have time.”

A question. Of course. You always had questions.

His fingers curled into a fist at his side. He did not know why it frustrated him so much. Maybe it was the fact that you would never understand, no matter how many times you asked. Or maybe it was that you would leave one day, and none of this would matter.

“Ask someone else,” he said, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. You blinked, startled by his coldness.

Kiri sighed beside him, muttering something under her breath before shaking her head and walking off. Neteyam turned away, ready to do the same.

“Wait.”

Your voice was quiet, but something in it made him pause. When he looked at you again, there was no frustration in your gaze. No irritation. Only that same quiet patience. That same quiet understanding. As if you saw the anger and the confusion swirling inside him—and chose not to fear it.

He hated that. He hated that you looked at him like that. Because it made him feel like you saw him. Not as his father’s son. Not as the perfect warrior. Just him.

(2 years and 7 months ago)

You were following him again.

Neteyam could feel your presence at his back, light steps crunching softly against the dirt path as you trailed behind him. He didn’t need to turn around to know you were staring, your wide, inquisitive eyes scanning everything—the village, the people, him. It has become a habit.

He didn’t remember when he stopped avoiding you. Maybe it was that moment in the family kelku, when your small, strange hand had pressed against his, your fingers tracing the curve of his stripes like they were something worth studying. Like he was something worth studying.

He had been frozen then, caught between the instinct to pull away and the strange warmth your touch left behind. That moment had shifted something. Now, when you were in the village, you drifted toward him more than the others. And he let you. He had told himself, at first, that it was because you were persistent. That you asked too many questions, that you would only find someone else to bother if he pushed you away. But the truth was, he had stopped minding. And that was dangerous.

Because he had once resented your presence. Had once thought you a disruption to the path Eywa had set before him. But now? Now, he found himself answering your questions. Even the ones that had no answers.

“What does it feel like?” you asked, voice quiet beside him.

They were near the edge of the village, past the woven homes and hanging bridges, where the land sloped downward toward the trees. He had been tending to his weapons when you had found him, lingering nearby, waiting. He knew better than to think you would stay silent for long. He glanced at you, raising a brow. “What does what feel like?”

Your gaze flickered to the distant trees where the ikrans nested. “Riding.”

Neteyam huffed, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to his bow. “There are no words for it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He smirked despite himself, pulling the bowstring back to test the tension. “Maybe not. But it is true.”

You sighed, dropping down onto a rock beside him. “You always say that when I ask something you don’t want to answer.”

That wasn’t true. Was it? His hands stilled for a moment. Perhaps it was. Because sometimes you asked things that had no explanation.

Like how he knew where to step in the trees without looking.

Like how he could feel the presence of another without seeing them.

Like how he could sense the forest breathing, living, shifting all around him.

You wanted to understand, even the things that had no words. Because humans did not see the world the way he did. But you were trying. And it was getting harder to pretend he didn’t notice. Neteyam exhaled slowly, his eyes drifting toward the trees in the distance. “It is like... becoming part of something greater than yourself,” he said, voice quieter than before. “Like hearing a song for the first time and somehow knowing the words.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. But when he glanced at you, you weren’t laughing. You were just watching him, your expression unreadable. For a moment, you looked like you wanted to say something. But instead, you only nodded, your fingers curling around the fabric of your pants.

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. And that was the most dangerous part of all. Because he had never thought he would find comfort in a human’s presence. But when you were there—just there—he did.

(2 years and 5 months ago)

Neteyam exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as he listened to the forest breathe around him.

Patrolling gave him space to think. Away from the village, away from responsibilities, away from the weight of what he was supposed to become. Out here, he was just himself—feet light against the damp earth, bow in hand, senses attuned to the quiet rhythm of the wild. Which was why the sound of human voices in this part of the forest made him freeze.

His ears twitched, catching the faint hum of conversation ahead. Carefully, he moved through the foliage, his body instinctively blending into the shadows of the trees. He didn’t expect to find humans here—not this deep, not where the paths faded into untamed land. But there they were. The xenobotany team. His eyes scanned the group, noting their gear, their careful movements. And then—his shoulders tensed.

You were here. You were crouched near a cluster of plants, your exo-mask reflecting dappled light as you scribbled something into a notebook. Your hair had come loose from its usual tie, strands falling across your face as you concentrated. Neteyam frowned. You weren’t supposed to be this far into the forest. “What are you doing here?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, head snapping up. But the moment you saw him, your expression shifted from surprise to something brighter. “Neteyam!”

Your happiness at seeing him was immediate, unguarded. His ears flicked at the sound of his name on your lips, and he ignored the strange warmth that stirred in his chest. He crossed his arms. “It is not safe here.”

You blinked at him before glancing around. “We’re fine,” you said, pointing toward the soldiers stationed a few feet away, their guns slung over their shoulders. “We have protection.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightened. Sky People and their weapons. They relied too much on them, thinking they could control what they didn’t understand. A gun would not stop the forest from turning against them if it wanted to.

You must have noticed his disapproval because you quickly added, “I’m just helping the others record data. I’m not doing anything dangerous.”

He huffed, his tail flicking. “Being here is dangerous enough.”

You only smiled at that, completely unfazed. Then, as if the entire conversation had already shifted in your mind, you said, “Oh! I want to show you something.”

Before he could respond, you were reaching into the bag slung across your body, pulling out a small, weathered notebook. Neteyam watched, curiosity outweighing his irritation, as you flipped through the pages. The sight of your notes was familiar now—sketches of plants, markings of their Na’vi names, careful observations in a language he was starting to recognize as yours.

Then you stopped on a page and turned it toward him. His breath caught.

An atokirina. It was drawn in careful, deliberate strokes, its delicate tendrils captured with a reverence that surprised him.

“I saw one earlier,” you said softly. “Just for a moment. It landed near me before it floated away.” Neteyam stared at the drawing, at the way you had tried to capture something so sacred with only ink and paper. Deep down, he knew what it meant. A woodsprite did not appear without reason.

Eywa’s presence. A sign. A message. But what was Eywa trying to tell you?

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you were watching him, waiting. Expecting... something. He didn’t know what to say. So he only nodded. “You saw something rare,” he murmured. Your smile widened, pleased, and you carefully tucked the notebook away.

Neteyam exhaled, glancing toward the trees. The weight in his chest had not disappeared. If anything, it had grown heavier. Because the longer you stayed in his world, the harder it became to believe you weren’t meant to be here.

(2 years and 3 months ago)

Neteyam had lost count of how many times you had followed him now. It had started months ago—you're trailing behind him, asking endless questions, always looking up at him with those wide, curious eyes. At first, he had tolerated it. Then, somehow, without realizing when it happened, he had come to expect it. And now? Now, he didn’t know how to go without it.

He had noticed the moment you left Kiri’s side earlier. He hadn’t turned to look, hadn’t acknowledged your approach, but he had known. He always knew. You were behind him now, weaving through the village paths with light, eager steps. You had no hesitation anymore, no uncertainty in the way you moved through this world. Not like before.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

Neteyam exhaled through his nose, adjusting the strap of his bow across his chest. “I am going to check the training area.”

You hummed. “Then I guess I am, too.”

He shook his head, but the corner of his lips twitched. He had given up on telling you to go somewhere else. You never listened. A moment of quiet passed between you, only the sounds of the village filling the space. He expected your usual questions—about the Na’vi, the village, Pandora itself. But instead, your voice came softer. More thoughtful.

“What is your favorite time of day?”

Neteyam slowed his steps just slightly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “What?”

You tilted your head, repeating, “Your favorite time of day. Morning, afternoon, night?”

No one had ever asked him that before. He hesitated, considering. “Dawn,” he said finally. “Before the village wakes. When the sky is still dark, but the world is awake.”

You smiled, as if pleased by his answer. “That makes sense.”

He frowned. “Why?”

You shrugged. “You’re always the first to wake up, right? And you like quiet. You get to have a moment just for yourself.”

Neteyam blinked. You weren’t wrong. You tilted your head, watching him. “Okay, next one.”

His ears twitched, and he huffed. “How many of these questions do you have?”

“As many as you let me ask.” His tail flicked, but he didn’t stop you. “You never go where the others go.” Your voice was light, thoughtful. Neteyam glanced over his shoulder. You were a step behind him, your head tilted in curiosity.

“I do not need to be where they are,” he said simply.

You hummed as if considering that. “You like being alone?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I like the quiet.”

Your lips quirked up slightly. “Then why do you let me follow you?”

Neteyam exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Because you do not listen when I tell you to leave.”

You grinned, not at all deterred. “That’s not an answer.”

He glanced at you again. Your eyes were bright, expectant. He sighed. “You are… not loud.”

It was a weak answer, but you seemed pleased with it anyway. You walked in silence for a while, the forest stretching endlessly around you. It was peaceful. Easy. Then, after a few moments— “What is your favorite fruit?”

Neteyam blinked. “What?”

You repeated the question, tilting your head. “You know, your favorite. The one you always go for first.”

He frowned slightly. “…Tumpasuk,” he admitted after a pause. “When it is ripe.”

You nodded, filing the information away in that strange mind of yours. “And your ikran? What’s her name?”

He hesitated, but only for a moment. “Tawkami.”

You smiled, rolling the name over your tongue like you were testing it. “That suits her.”

Another pause.

“What’s something you’re bad at?”

Neteyam let out a short laugh. “Nothing.”

You snorted. “That’s a lie.”

His smirk deepened. “I am not bad at anything important.”

“Oh? So you’re bad at unimportant things?”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “That is not what I said.”

You grinned. “Still. I want to know.”

He rolled his eyes, but for some reason, he thought about it. Then, reluctantly, he muttered, “I am bad at carving.”

Your brows lifted. “Really?”

“My father is good at it,” he admitted, glancing ahead. “So is Lo’ak. But when I try, the lines are never right. The wood does not listen to me.” You let out a soft hum, like you were committing that to memory. He knew you were. It should have been irritating.

It wasn’t. You asked him more.

What’s your favorite food?

Who was your first ikran ride with?

When was the last time you did something just for yourself?

And then—

“When are you happiest?” Neteyam’s steps faltered. He didn’t answer right away. You didn’t press him. You just walked beside him, looking at him the same way you always did—like you saw him, not the warrior, not the perfect son.

Just him. He inhaled, glancing toward the sky, toward the place where the clouds drifted endlessly. And he thought—

Now.

He did not say it. He found himself smiling. Just a little.

But you tripped over a root a second later, barely catching yourself before you fell. Neteyam huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to steady you. “Pay attention, tawtute.”

You looked up at him, laughing at yourself, and that strange warmth returned to his chest. This. This was why he let you stay. Being with you was beginning to feel like riding his ikran. Like freedom.

When he flew, when he was in the sky, nothing else mattered. Not his duty, not his expectations, not the weight of being his father’s son. Up there, he could breathe. And somehow, you made him feel the same. Even just for a moment.

(2 years and 1 months ago)

Neteyam glanced back over his shoulder, ears twitching as he listened to your exaggerated huff. “This path is ridiculous,” you grumbled, pushing aside a thick vine. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

He smirked but didn’t slow his pace. “You ask that every time.”

“And yet, every time, the answer is never reassuring.”

Despite your complaints, you followed him without hesitation, your smaller frame weaving through the dense foliage, careful but determined. You had seen this plant on your datapad days ago, its image glowing on the screen as you turned it toward him, eyes bright with interest. He had recognized it immediately and, without thinking, had told you he could show you the real thing.

Now, here you were, deep in the forest where even most of the other scientists rarely ventured. He should have questioned why he had offered in the first place, but he didn’t want to think about that. Finally, the trees thinned, revealing the pond ahead.

You gasped.

Neteyam watched as you stepped past him, your boots sinking slightly into the damp earth as you took in the sight before you. The water was a perfect mirror, reflecting the vibrant greens and soft purples of the forest canopy. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, catching on the surface and making the ripples shimmer like liquid gold.

But he knew you weren’t looking at the water. You were looking at the flower.

The Toktorayl floated atop the pond, its petals wide and soft, pulsing gently with a bioluminescent glow even in the daylight. Its roots swayed just beneath the water’s surface, moving with the current as though it were breathing. Your eyes were wide, filled with unguarded awe. “It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Neteyam felt a strange tug in his chest. He turned away before he could dwell on it, stepping toward a huge fallen tree trunk near the water’s edge. He sat down, letting his legs stretch out until his feet touched the cool surface of the pond. But his gaze drifted back to you.

You knelt at the edge of the pond, your fingers hovering just above the water as if you wished you could touch the flower but knew better than to disturb it. The filtered sunlight cast a warm glow over you, illuminating the curve of your cheek, the slope of your nose. Your skin look softer in this light. Almost golden.

His eyes traced the way strands of your hair had slipped loose from your usual tie, catching the sunlight like fine threads. The gentle rise and fall of your breath. The way your mask reflected the water’s glow, but not enough to hide the brightness of your eyes. You were always looking at the world as if it was something to be discovered.

And for the first time, Neteyam found himself looking at you the same way. The thought made his stomach twist. He forced his gaze away, back to the water, to the ripples spreading from his submerged feet. It was strange. How much he noticed. How much he wanted to notice.

*

You sighed as you climbed onto the fallen tree trunk too, gripping the rough bark for balance. It was wide enough to sit comfortably, but not so much that there was room to stretch out. Neteyam glanced at you from the corner of his eye as you settled beside him. Your legs, far too short to reach the water, dangled over the edge. After a moment, you kicked them lightly, the motion almost absentminded.

A slow smirk pulled at his lips. “You are like Tuk,” he said, voice laced with amusement.

You shot him a look. “What?”

“When she sits like this, she does the same thing.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Well, sorry for having short legs.”

His smirk widened, tail flicking. “Not your fault you are so small.”

“Not my fault you’re unnaturally tall,” you shot back, bumping his arm lightly with your elbow. He chuckled, shaking his head. Silence stretched between you, but it was not uncomfortable. It never was.

He had learned this over the past months—how easy it was to exist beside you. You didn’t fill the quiet with unnecessary words, didn’t demand things from him the way others did. Instead, you just were. And somehow, he had come to crave that. Still, the ease of it sometimes unsettled him. He didn’t understand why you were here, why you followed him when you could be anywhere else. With someone else.

Why did he let you?

Sometimes, that invisible pull between you—the one neither of you ever spoke about—frustrated him. With a slow inhale, he leaned back on his arms, letting his face tilt toward the dappled sunlight above. His legs remained submerged in the cool water, a contrast to the warmth spreading over his skin.

For a moment, he allowed himself to just be.

The sounds of the forest surrounded you—the distant calls of ikran overhead, the rustling of leaves as small creatures moved through the undergrowth, the soft lapping of water against the trunk. His ears flicked instinctively toward every sound. His tail swayed in a slow, lazy rhythm behind him.

And then— He felt it. Your gaze. Steady. Intent.

It wasn’t the kind of look he got from others—people who measured him as the future olo’eyktan, as Jake Sully’s eldest son. It was different. Like you were seeing something else entirely. He kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore the warmth curling in his chest. But the longer you looked, the harder it became to pretend he didn’t feel it.

Neteyam kept his eyes closed, letting the warmth of the sun soak into his skin. He should have ignored it—the weight of your gaze, the way it lingered. But he didn’t.

Instead, he cracked one eye open, just enough to catch the way you were watching him. Your head was tilted slightly, eyes following the slow sway of his tail, the flick of his ears. You weren’t just looking at him—you were studying him. He let the silence stretch for another breath before speaking, his voice low and amused. “Why are you staring at me?”

You startled, your whole body tensing as if you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Your gaze snapped away, cheeks flushing slightly as you turned toward the water. “How did you know?” you mumbled, barely audible.

His ears flicked lazily. “I always know.”

You huffed, curling in on yourself slightly, clearly flustered. For a while, you said nothing. You just watched the pond, your fingers idly tracing patterns on the bark of the trunk. The water reflected the sunlight in rippling waves, golden flecks dancing across the surface. Every so often, some kind of Pandoran fish leapt into the air, sending small ripples outward before disappearing again.

Neteyam stayed quiet, listening to the rhythm of your breath, the steady beat of the forest around you. Then, finally—

“I was just thinking.” Your voice was soft, contemplative.

Neteyam turned his head slightly, studying your profile. He didn’t ask what you were thinking about. Something in your tone told him that, if you wanted to say more, you would. So, he just nodded, exhaling slowly, and let the quiet settle between you again. For a while, you didn’t speak.

You just watched the forest, eyes tracing the way the sunlight filtered through the canopy, the way the leaves swayed in the gentle breeze. The world around you moved in quiet harmony—creatures shifting in the undergrowth, birds flitting from branch to branch, the water lapping softly against the shore. Neteyam let his eyes drift closed again, letting himself sink into the moment.

“Did you ever think that your life could be different?”

Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if you weren’t sure you should ask.

Neteyam’s eyes opened slowly. His first instinct was to brush it off. Of course not. His path had always been clear. He was Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan—firstborn son of Toruk Makto, future olo’eyktan of the Omaticaya. His life was not something to be questioned. It simply was. But the words wouldn’t come. Because maybe—just maybe—he had thought about it.

In the quiet moments. In the rare spaces where he wasn’t just a warrior, a leader in training. In the stolen pockets of time where he was simply himself. Like now. Like when you were beside him.

He turned his head slightly, studying your expression. You weren’t looking at him—your gaze was still on the forest, your hands resting lightly on the bark beneath you. But there was something in your posture, in the way you asked, that made him wonder if you had been thinking about it, too.

His tail flicked, slow and thoughtful, as he considered his words. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure what to say. Neteyam exhaled slowly, watching the ripples in the pond as he considered his answer. Did he ever think about his life being different?

The truth sat heavy in his chest, unspoken for so long that it almost felt strange to acknowledge it now. But you were waiting, patient as always, asking him questions no one else ever did. Finally, he spoke. “I do not know,” he admitted, voice quiet. “Sometimes, maybe.”

You hummed in reply, a soft, thoughtful sound. You didn’t press, didn’t demand more. You just let his words settle between you, accepting them as they were. Your feet kicked lightly in the air, a slow, absentminded movement. You still weren’t looking at him, your gaze lost somewhere in the shifting greens and golds of the forest.

“What was your childhood like?”

Neteyam blinked. His ears twitched at the unexpected question, and for a moment, he was caught off guard. Most people asked about his training. About the responsibilities placed upon him. But you weren’t asking about that Neteyam. You were asking about him.

The boy before the warrior. Before the expectations. His throat tightened slightly. You wanted to know him. Neteyam stared at the water. His childhood.

He had never thought much about it—not in the way you were asking. His memories were not separate pieces but a path leading to where he was now. Training. Responsibility. Becoming the warrior his father needed him to be. But there were other memories, too.

Ones that weren’t about duty. Ones he hadn’t spoken aloud in a long time. “I was… happy,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “At least, I think I was.”

You turned slightly but still didn’t look at him, letting him speak at his own pace. “I grew up with my siblings always at my side. Lo’ak was always causing trouble. I had to pull him out of it, even when we were little.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “Kiri was different—quieter but bold. She saw the world in a way no one else did. Tuk… Tuk was just Tuk. She made everything brighter. She is like sunlight.”

He paused, his tail flicking lightly against the log.

“I remember climbing the trees before I was supposed to. My father would scold me, but my mother always said I was just like him. I remember the first time I caught a fish with my hands—I thought I was ready to be a great hunter. But when I tried to show my father, it slipped away. He trained me from the moment I could hold a bow. And she made sure I knew what it meant to be Omaticaya. To be a son of this clan.”

You laughed softly, and he found himself smiling at the memory. For a moment, he forgot to guard his words. “I used to think I had all the time in the world. That I could just… be.” His smile faded slightly. “But things changed. They always do.”

You finally turned to look at him then. And when you did, you were smiling. Not out of amusement or politeness, but something softer. Something real. Like you saw the honesty in his words and valued it. And somehow, that was enough to make the weight in his chest feel just a little lighter. He cleared his throat and looked away.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, the distant call of a bird overhead. Then, you spoke. “I had a good childhood too,” you said, your voice quieter now, thoughtful. “Even though Earth was—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Even though it was dying.”

Neteyam’s brows furrowed slightly, and he turned his head to look at you again. You were still staring at the pond, at the way the sunlight flickered across its surface. “It was different,” you continued. “Everything was different. The sky was dull, the air was heavy.” You gestured vaguely toward the water before you. “Nothing was untouched. The world was… dead.”

Neteyam listened, unmoving. He had heard about Earth before. From his father, from Norm, from the others who had come from there. But hearing you say it, hearing the distant nostalgia in your voice—it was different. You took a slow breath.

“But I was happy.”

His ears twitched. You looked at him now, your lips curling into a small, wistful smile.

“It was home.”

Neteyam’s fingers flexed slightly against the bark. And for the first time, he realized something. He knew who you were on Pandora. He knew your voice when you laughed, the way your eyes lit up when you discovered something new. He knew how stubborn you were, how you followed him even when he pretended not to want you to. He knew you were kind, curious, fearless in ways most humans weren’t. But he didn’t know your past. Didn’t know what you had left behind. Didn’t know what had shaped you before you ever stepped foot on this moon. And for some reason suddenly, he wanted to know.

*

Neteyam studied you for a long moment. You had told him you were happy on Earth. But how could that be? From everything he had heard, your home was nothing like this—no forests, no sky untouched by human hands, no true connection to the world around you. How could anyone be happy in a place like that? Before he could stop himself, the question was already leaving his lips. “What was your life like?”

You turned your head sharply, eyes widening in surprise. He could see the hesitation flicker across your face, like you hadn’t expected him to ask. Like maybe no one ever had. But then, after a pause, you smiled. “My life?” you echoed, glancing back toward the water. “It was… different.”

Neteyam leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees as he waited for you to continue. You exhaled, as if sifting through old memories.

“My parents were good people. Busy, but good. They worked a lot, so I had a lot of freedom growing up. Maybe too much.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I was reckless. Always getting into trouble. Climbing things I shouldn’t, sneaking into places I wasn’t supposed to be.”

Neteyam huffed softly at that. “Sounds familiar.”

You grinned but didn’t deny it. Then, your expression softened. “But my favorite memories were with my brother.”

His ears twitched slightly at the shift in your voice.

“We used to sneak onto rooftops at night,” you continued, tilting your head as if you could still see those distant nights in your mind. “The sky was always this dull, greyish color—too much pollution. You couldn’t see the stars. But we used to lie there and imagine what it would look like if the sky was clear. If we could see the stars the way they were meant to be seen.”

Neteyam felt something strange twist in his chest. You had grown up beneath a sky without stars. Without the forest. Without the breath of a world that lived the way Pandora did. And yet, you had dreamed of it. “I used to wish,” you said, voice quiet now, “just once, that I could see a real forest. Not the artificial ones in the zoos or on screens. A real one. Something untouched.”

You laughed then, shaking your head. “I never thought I’d have to leave everything behind just to see it.” Neteyam didn’t know what to say.

You had left your home, your family, everything you knew. And yet, when you looked around, when you marveled at this world, you never seemed bitter about it. You had found what you were searching for.

And for the first time, Neteyam wondered if maybe—just maybe—Eywa had brought you here for a reason.

*

“Is it difficult to meet your father’s expectations?” Neteyam’s breath caught, just for a moment. His gaze shifted to you, searching your face. Your voice had been soft, careful, like you knew you were treading into something heavy. Something personal.

He turned away, staring down at the water instead. You had asked so many things today, but this… this was different. For a long time, he didn’t answer. He watched as the ripples in the pond smoothed out, as the faint reflection of the trees above shifted with the wind.

He thought about all the answers he could give—No, it is my duty. No, I was raised for this. No, I do not think about it.

But none of them felt true. Before he could find the right words, you spoke again.

“Because from what I see—” your voice was lighter now, teasing, but not unkind—“how hard it is for us—humans—to comply, it can’t be easy for you.” You chuckled, an honest, knowing sound.

And for some reason, that made something in his chest loosen. Neteyam exhaled slowly. You understood more than you let on. More than most did. Neteyam didn’t answer you. He didn’t have to. Because when he met your gaze, when he saw the quiet understanding there, he knew—You already knew his answer.

Even when he couldn’t say it. He swallowed, looking back toward the water, watching the way the sunlight flickered across its surface. Then, before he could think too much about it, he asked—

“When did you know you wanted to come here?”

You blinked at him, surprised by the shift. For a moment, you didn’t answer. He could almost see your thoughts shifting, pulling you back to a time long before you ever set foot on this moon. Then, you took a slow breath. “Humans discovered Pandora over a hundred years ago,” you began, your voice quieter now. “By the time I was born, people had already been coming here for decades—to learn, to take, to destroy.”

Your hands curled slightly against the bark of the tree trunk, and you glanced down.

“I know what the humans before me did. What they took from your people, from this world. I understand why we’re hated. And… I don’t blame you for it.” Neteyam remained silent, watching you closely.

You exhaled, then continued.

“When my little brother and I were kids, we saw these old holovids about Pandora.” A small, wistful smile tugged at your lips. “We couldn’t believe it. That somewhere out in the universe, there was a moon with floating mountains and glowing forests.”

You huffed softly. “And more than that, we couldn’t believe that there were ten-foot-tall blue aliens living there.” The moment the words left your mouth, you winced. Your head snapped toward him, your expression instantly apologetic. “I mean—” you cringed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Not aliens. That’s not—I didn’t mean—”

Neteyam raised an amused brow, biting back a smirk. You sighed, visibly flustered. After a pause, you cleared your throat and continued.

“The first time we saw how small humans looked next to the Na’vi, I decided.” You glanced at him, your voice steady. “I told myself that one day, I was going to get here. I was going to see this moon with my own eyes.” Your fingers traced idly at the bark beneath you. “And now… here I am.”

Neteyam watched you for a long moment, taking in the weight of your words. You had come all this way—not to take, not to destroy, but because you had dreamed of it. He wasn’t sure if he was the one teaching you about his world— Or if you were teaching him something about his own.

Neteyam hummed at your words, a low, thoughtful sound deep in his chest. His tail swayed idly behind him, the slow rhythm betraying the fact that he was still thinking about what you had said. About how you had dreamed of this place before you had ever set foot on it. About how you had come here not because you had to—but because you wanted to.

His golden eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, watching the way the light caught in your hair, the way your fingers absently traced the bark. Then, before the thoughts could take root too deeply, he turned his head away. Silence stretched between you again, but this time, you were the one to break it.

“Do you fear something?” Your voice was quiet, careful. It wasn’t the question itself that caught him off guard—it was the way you asked it.

You weren’t talking about predators. About battles. About physical dangers. You meant something else. Something deeper.

Neteyam exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the water again. He had never really spoken about this before. Not to Kiri, not to Lo’ak, not to anyone. But you were waiting. And you had given him your truths. He could give you this.

“I fear…” He hesitated, then tried again. “I fear not being enough.” The words felt heavy, but also strangely freeing. His fingers curled slightly against the rough bark. “I was born to lead, to be strong, to always do what is best for the people.”

He swallowed.

“I know my duty. I have never questioned it.”

He paused, watching as a leaf floated down from the canopy above, landing softly on the pond’s surface. “But sometimes, I wonder…” His voice lowered. “What if I fail?” The words felt strange on his tongue, like he wasn’t supposed to say them out loud. Like speaking them made them real. His ears twitched slightly. “I have trained my whole life to be the leader my father needs me to be. To be the son my mother expects. But what if—”

He exhaled, shaking his head.

“What if that is not enough?” His tail flicked once, a restless movement. Then, after a moment, he chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “It is foolish, I know.”

But when he finally turned back to look at you, there was no mockery in your expression. No judgment. Only understanding. And somehow, that made his chest ache more than anything else.

Warmth.

It was a subtle thing, a gentle pressure against his thigh. Soft, small fingers resting against his skin. Neteyam barely had time to process it before your voice came, quiet but firm. “It is not foolish.” His ears flicked, his gaze snapping to you. You were smiling—not teasing, not dismissive, but something real. Something certain. “Maybe I’ve only known you for a year,” you continued, your eyes steady on his, “but I’m sure as hell you’ll be a great olo’eyktan for your people.”

The words settled deep inside him, deeper than he wanted to admit. But before he could say anything, you seemed to realize what you had done. Your fingers twitched, and you quickly pulled your hand away, placing it in your lap as if you had touched fire. Then, after a small pause, you added, almost offhandedly—too offhandedly— “Even if a human’s words don’t count as much.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Neteyam’s chest tightened.

You looked down, your gaze falling to the water below, as if watching your own reflection ripple beneath the surface. “I used to fear too,” you admitted softly. “Fear that my parents were going to be disappointed in me.”

Your voice was quieter now, your fingers curling slightly against your lap.

“They wanted me to become a doctor,” you sighed. “It was understandable. On Earth, there are lots of sick people. It could have been an easy source of money. A stable life.” You inhaled slowly, then exhaled, your shoulders sinking slightly. “But I knew I wanted to come here.”

Neteyam watched you closely, the way you seemed lost in your own memories. You had made a choice—one that had taken you far from everything you knew. And for the first time, he thought about what that must have meant for you. For the girl who had once laid on rooftops, staring up at a sky with no stars— Who had left behind an entire life just to see the world he had always taken for granted. Neteyam hesitated before speaking.

“You said you wanted to come here.” You didn’t react at first, your gaze still fixed on the water below. “To see this place.”

He studied you carefully, searching for something—anything—in your expression. But there was nothing. No flicker of emotion, no shift in your posture. Just stillness. His tail flicked slightly. “But you never talked about your family,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “Why is that?”

This time, you reacted.

Not with words, not with a look, but with the way you swallowed, the way your fingers clenched against your lap before releasing again. You turned your head slightly, looking away. Then, you sighed. Neteyam instantly regretted asking. The air between you felt different now—heavier. He knew that feeling. Knew what it meant when someone carried something too painful to touch.

He almost wished he could take the words back.

Just one minute.

One breath.

But after a long, endless moment—

“They died.”

Your voice was steady, but something about it made his chest tighten. You took a slow breath, as if choosing your words carefully. “Right before I got my approval from the RDA.” Neteyam didn’t move. You weren’t looking at him, your gaze fixed somewhere distant, somewhere unreachable. “It was a car crash,” you continued, voice flat, emotionless. “Just a moment. And they were gone.”

A pause.

“In a matter of seconds, I lost everything.” The forest seemed quieter somehow. Like even the wind had softened to listen. You sighed again, your eyes drifting toward the trees, watching the leaves shift in the breeze. “I always thought I should’ve been with them that day,” you murmured. “If I had followed the path they wanted me to, I would’ve been with them.”

Neteyam barely breathed.

“I was at the RDA headquarters,” you added, voice hollow now. “Studying my ass off. Doing everything I could to manage to get here.” Then, you let out a small, bitter laugh. Neteyam had never heard you laugh like that before.

*

He watched you. The slow, steady rise and fall of your breath. The way your fingers tapped lightly against your thigh, like there was something unsaid beneath your skin, waiting to spill out. You were thinking. About what, he wasn’t sure. But he could sense it—just like he could sense when a storm was brewing on the horizon, when the wind shifted before the rain. He didn’t push.

You would tell him if you wanted to.

“Do you ever get tired of being responsible for everyone?” The question was like a stone dropped into still water. Neteyam’s body tensed slightly, but he didn’t move.

Did he ever get tired? The weight of expectations had been on his shoulders since the moment he could walk. He had never questioned it. Never allowed himself to. It was not a burden—it was simply who he was meant to be.

And yet—

There were moments.

Moments when he saw Lo’ak running through the trees without a care, Kiri lost in her own world of discovery, Tuk laughing freely at the simplest joys.

Moments when he wanted to step outside of his duty, just for a breath, just for a moment— And be. But that was not the life he had been given. So he swallowed it down. Like he always did. Minutes passed, and he still hadn’t answered. Beside him, you shifted slightly, then sighed.

“You don’t have to answer,” you said, your voice gentle.

When he turned to you, you were already smiling, soft and knowing. Like you understood why he couldn’t say it out loud. Like you already knew his answer. Neteyam inhaled slowly. And for once, instead of burying it, instead of swallowing it down— He let the truth slip free.

“Yes.”

His voice was quiet, but firm.

“Sometimes I do.”

You nodded at his answer, a knowing smile playing on your lips. Like you had known all along. Like you had only wanted him to know it, too. Neteyam exhaled, his gaze drifting back to the water. He wasn’t sure if admitting it made the weight any lighter, but it was strange—to have someone look at him, really look at him, and see it. See him.

Then, after a few moments, you spoke again.

“You know, I used to get overwhelmed too.” Your legs swung absently in the air, your shoelaces bouncing with every kick. You watched them, as if fascinated by the way they moved—like a shadow following your own rhythm. You shrugged. “If I don’t work hard enough, they’ll send me back to Earth.”

Neteyam’s ears twitched slightly, his head turning toward you. You glanced at him, just for a moment, before looking away again. “If I’m not useful to the RDA, they’d terminate my contract.” You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms. “Fuckers.”

The sharpness of the word made Neteyam’s lips twitch, but he didn’t interrupt. You let out a breath, shaking your head. “I studied my whole life to get chosen by them,” you said, voice quieter now. “And now, I have to prove myself every single day.”

Then you laughed—soft and breathy. But there was no humor in it. Neteyam’s tail flicked, something unsettled stirring in his chest. You had worked so hard to get here. You have fought to earn a place among your own people. And yet, you were still fighting.

Still proving yourself. He knew what that felt like.

And for the first time, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—you were not so different after all. You shook your head, as if shaking off the weight of your own words, and when you looked at him again, your expression was different.

That same smile. The one you had worn the first time you stepped into his village, wide-eyed and full of wonder. The one that had irritated him once, back when he thought you were just another human passing through. Now, it made something in his chest loosen.

“But enough of this puny human’s sad story,” you declared, your lips curling into a smirk. Neteyam raised a brow at your sudden shift. “I’m not that interesting,” you added, tilting your head slightly. “Especially if I’m next to you or someone else from your village.”

Neteyam huffed, shaking his head. He could feel the change in your energy, the way your spirit had already lifted, like the serious conversation from minutes ago had never existed. You were like that.

Moving between emotions with an ease that almost fascinated him. Then, you leaned forward slightly, your voice dipping with curiosity. “Is it true that the warriors dip their arrowheads into venom to make their kill faster?”

Neteyam blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift in topic. For a moment, he simply stared at you, trying to determine if he had heard correctly. You looked at him expectantly, completely unbothered by the fact that you had gone from sharing something deeply personal to asking about poisoned weapons in a matter of seconds.

His ears flicked, amusement flickering across his features. “Of all the things you could ask,” he murmured, shaking his head.

You just grinned.

Neteyam exhaled through his nose before answering. “Some do,” he admitted, his tail flicking lazily. “It depends on the hunter and the prey. Certain poisons make a kill faster, cleaner. Others… not so much.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “Not so much?”

He smirked. “Some poisons are meant to incapacitate—not kill.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “You mean… like paralyze them?”

Neteyam nodded.

You let out a low whistle, shaking your head. “Remind me to never get on a Na’vi’s bad side.”

Neteyam chuckled, his smirk deepening. “I think it is too late for that, tawtute.”

You gasped in mock offense, shoving his arm lightly. “Hey!”

He only laughed, his tail flicking against the tree trunk. The heavy conversation from earlier still lingered somewhere beneath the surface, but for now, it was replaced by something easier. Something lighter. And Neteyam found that he didn’t mind it one bit. He glanced toward you, his gaze lingering longer than he meant it to.

You didn’t notice. You were too mesmerized by the few Yerik across the pond, their slender forms dipping low as they drank from the water. Your eyes followed their movements, quiet, awed. Like you were seeing something sacred. And maybe, to you, it was. He had seen this look on you before—this quiet reverence, this complete presence in the world around you. It was one of the things that had started to unsettle him the most.

Because you saw things. Not just with your eyes, but with something deeper.

And at some point—without him even realizing—you had started looking at him the same way. Neteyam exhaled slowly, his fingers curling idly against the rough bark beneath him. A year ago, he would have sworn he’d never speak to you more than necessary.

He would have kept his distance, fulfilled his duty, and let you remain an outsider in his world. And yet, now— Now, you are here.

Far from the village, far from the human outpost. Talking about things he had never spoken about before. Letting you ask questions he had never dared to ask himself.

When had that changed?

When had you changed?

Or maybe—

Had he? He still didn’t know why Eywa had placed you in his life. He had spent too much time trying to understand, to make sense of it. But maybe it wasn’t something to understand. Maybe it was something to feel. Maybe it was about seeing.

About having a life beyond his never-ending duty. Neteyam’s gaze softened, a small, unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips. He still didn’t know what this feeling was, didn’t know where to place it—this strange warmth in his chest, this quiet pull toward you. You were far too small compared to anything he knew.

And yet, the way you had woven yourself into his mind, into his life, into the quiet spaces he had once kept to himself— It was terrifying.

(2 years ago)

Neteyam stepped into his family’s kelku, shaking off the lingering tension from the day’s training.

But…

He saw you. You were sitting cross-legged on the woven floor, a mess of tangled grass in your hands, your brows furrowed in frustration. Kiri knelt beside you, effortlessly weaving the long strands with practiced ease, her fingers moving in quick, fluid motions.

You, however, were struggling. Neteyam leaned against the entrance, watching silently as you huffed, attempting once more to bend the stubborn grass into shape. But the material resisted your efforts, slipping from your fingers at the last moment.

You let out a quiet groan, your shoulders slumping. Neteyam felt the corners of his lips twitch. You were always like this—so determined, so desperate to understand things that had no logic, no precise method you could study or analyze. Some things had to be felt.

Learned through patience, through instinct. But you had never been good at patience, at least outside of your job. And for some reason, that amused him far more than it should.

Since your talk at the pond, something has changed between you. He couldn’t quite name it, but it was there, lingering beneath every glance, every quiet moment shared between you. And despite himself, he couldn’t suppress the pull he felt toward you. 

He stepped forward. “Is that supposed to be a basket?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Neteyam smirked as he approached, glancing down at the poorly shaped attempt in your hands. It was lopsided, the strands uneven, some already fraying at the ends.

“I am not sure it can hold anything,” he mused. “Perhaps a single fruit, if you do not move too much.”

Your eyes narrowed. Then, before he could react, you threw the half-finished basket at him. Neteyam caught it with ease, raising a brow as you scoffed.

“You know, there are people who can’t be talented in everything,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Unlike some.”

Your squint was exaggerated, your annoyance barely masking the amusement lurking beneath it. Neteyam let out a low chuckle, turning the misshapen basket over in his hands. It was terrible.

But, somehow, he liked it.

(1 year and 11 months ago)

The rainstorm had come fast. One moment, the sky was its usual deep blue, and the next, dark clouds had swallowed it whole. The rain had started slowly—fat, lazy drops plopping onto the village roofs, tapping against the leaves. But then the wind picked up, and suddenly, the heavens had split open. Sheets of rain hammered against the trees, sending waterfalls cascading off the woven platforms, soaking everything in sight.

The humans had been caught off guard. Neteyam had watched them scramble when it became clear they wouldn’t be able to return to their outpost in the near future. The storm was too strong, the paths too slick. Which was why you were here. Sitting cross-legged across from him, huddled beneath the family kelku’s woven canopy, warm and dry.

Unlike him. Neteyam exhaled sharply, reaching for a length of twine to restring his bow. His hair was still damp from earlier, loose strands sticking to his skin, dripping onto his shoulders. He ignored it, fingers moving expertly as he tied a careful knot. He could feel you watching.

You had been fidgeting for the past few minutes, shifting slightly, tucking your legs beneath you. Every so often, you’d open your mouth as if to say something, then hesitate. He raised a brow.

“What?”

You blinked, then shook your head.

“Nothing.”

Neteyam hummed, unconvinced. A beat of silence. Then—

“You know,” you said slowly, tilting your head, “your hair is kind of a mess.”

Neteyam frowned, ears twitching. He lifted a hand to his braids, feeling where the strands had loosened from the rain, the damp weight of them resting against his shoulders. It wasn’t that bad. You must have seen his unimpressed look because you grinned.

“No, seriously. It’s bad. Like—battle damage bad.” 

Neteyam rolled his eyes. “The storm was worse than expected.”

“I can tell.” You leaned in slightly, studying his head like you were analyzing something critically wrong. “Your little warrior braids are all over the place.”

Neteyam scoffed, shaking his head. “They are fine.”

“They are not fine,” you countered. “You look like you lost a fight with a banshee.”

He huffed, turning back to his bow. “I will fix them later.”

“Or…” you said, stretching out the word, mischief flickering in your eyes. “I could fix them for you.”

Neteyam froze. Just for a second. You must have taken his silence as permission, because suddenly you were shifting onto your feet, standing up, moving closer, reaching toward him with small, delicate fingers. Neteyam leaned back immediately, narrowing his eyes. “No.”

You laughed. “Oh, come on.”

“I do not need your help.”

“You obviously do.”

Neteyam’s tail flicked in warning. “I can do it myself.”

Your grin widened. “Yeah, but I can do it better.”

Neteyam scoffed. “You do not even know how.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “Excuse you. I do know how.”

Neteyam gave you a look.

“Okay, well,” you amended, “Kiri tried to teach me once.”

Neteyam smirked. “I have seen your attempts at weaving.”

“That was different.”

“You tangled the fibers so badly that Kiri had to cut them apart.”

You groaned, dropping your head back. “That was one time!”

Neteyam chuckled, shaking his head. But before he could protest further, you scooted closer. He stilled. You were right there. Too close. Your knees bumped against his side as you reached up, fingers hovering near his temple, waiting. “Just let me fix one,” you said, lips quirking. “If I ruin it, you can make fun of me forever.”

Neteyam exhaled slowly, weighing his options. He could refuse. He should refuse. But the way you were looking at him—expectant, teasing—made it impossible. He muttered something under his breath, then reluctantly lowered his hands, giving the smallest nod. Your smile was blinding. “Stay still,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Then, gently—so gently—you reached for his braid. Neteyam clenched his jaw.

Eywa.

Your hands were warm. Small fingers brushed against his scalp as you carefully unraveled the ruined braid, working through the damp strands with surprising care. His ears twitched at the feeling, something foreign curling in his chest. No one touched him like this. His mother did, when she tended to his hair as a child. Kiri sometimes, if she was feeling particularly annoying. But this—

This was different.

You were close enough that he could see the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you bit your lip slightly as you focused. Close enough that he caught the scent of rain on your skin, the faint traces of whatever strange human soap you used. The firelight flickered against your features, casting soft shadows along the curve of your cheek, through the glass panel of your mask.

Neteyam swallowed. He should not be thinking about your cheekbones. You huffed, frustrated, trying to smooth out a particularly tangled strand. Your fingers brushed against the base of his ear, and Neteyam almost flinched. His tail twitched violently behind him.

You noticed.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, as if you had just made the greatest discovery of your life. “Does that tickle?”

Neteyam scowled. “No.”

You smirked. “It does.”

“It does not.”

You narrowed your eyes, grinning like you had just won something. “Interesting…”

“Do not.”

You wiggled your fingers threateningly. “What would happen if I—”

Neteyam grabbed your wrist before you could even try. His large hand circled around your thin wrist so easily. You gasped, eyes wide in exaggerated offense. “Neteyam!”

He exhaled through his nose, tightening his grip slightly. “You are impossible.”

You just grinned. For a moment, you stayed like that—your wrist in his grasp, your eyes flickering between his face and his hand, something unreadable in your expression. Then— “…You’re really warm,” you murmured.

Neteyam stilled. The words were so soft he almost thought he imagined them. But you were looking at him now, really looking at him, your usual teasing energy replaced by something else. His heartbeat picked up. The air felt… heavy. He should let go. He should let go.

Instead, his grip lingered—just for a second longer than necessary. Then, abruptly, he released your wrist, looking away. “Are you finished?”

You blinked, snapping back into focus. “Oh! Right. Yeah, yeah.”

You made quick work of the rest of the braid, fingers moving more carefully this time. When you were done, you pulled away, sitting back with a pleased look on your face.

“See? Perfect.”

Neteyam reached up, fingers grazing the newly woven braid. It was… decent. He hummed. “It will do.”

You scoffed. “Wow. You’re welcome, your highness.”

Neteyam smirked. “I did not say thank you.”

Your jaw dropped. “You are insufferable.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. But later that night, as the rain continued to fall, Neteyam found himself touching that braid— Again and again. And even though he knew it was just hair, he couldn’t help but think—It felt different now.

(1 year and 10 months ago)

Neteyam didn’t know why he was here. His patrols never took him this close to the human outpost. There was no reason for him to be here. No threat, no duty. And yet, here he was. His steps were silent as he moved through the dense foliage, keeping to the shadows, his golden eyes scanning the small group of scientists in the clearing ahead.

There you were.

Sitting on the ground, cross-legged, your datapad in one hand and a small instrument in the other, completely immersed in whatever you were studying. Strands of hair had fallen loose from your usual tie, and you absently tucked them behind your ear as you worked. Neteyam exhaled slowly. He didn’t understand this.

Didn’t understand why he had ended up here today, why his feet had carried him in your direction instead of somewhere else. You were just a human. Just a human. He had more important things to do. He remained hidden, watching you from a distance. He thought he was sneaky enough. Years of hunting had taught him patience, how to blend into the world around him, how to move unseen.

But then—

You turned. And smiled.

It was wide and bright—brighter than the twin suns overhead.

And Neteyam’s heart stuttered.

“I knew you were there,” you said, grinning as you looked directly at him.

Neteyam blinked, stepping into the clearing with a frown. “How did you know?” he asked, his ears flicking in irritation at being caught so easily.

You only shrugged, tossing your hair over your shoulder with an easy movement. “I just did.” Then, your expression changed. You tilted your head slightly, looking at him like you were about to tell him something secret, something only meant for the two of you.

Neteyam’s body tensed slightly as you leaned towards him just a little despite your size difference. And before he even realized what he was doing, he found himself leaning down, just enough to hear your whispered answer. “I don’t know,” you murmured, your lips twitching. “Maybe I’m a Na’vi hunter in disguise.”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, straightening immediately. You burst into laughter, clearly delighted by his reaction. And despite himself, despite everything— He smiled at you. It was so easy to do. Why? 

You crouched back down, returning to whatever work you had been doing, your laughter still lingering in the air. Then, casually, you asked, “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in the village and be a perfect leader?”

Neteyam’s lips parted slightly, but no answer came. Because he didn’t know. Why was he here? Why had he chosen this path, today of all days? Why had he let himself be pulled toward you when there was no reason to be?

Somehow, you must have sensed his hesitation. Because before he could even attempt an answer, you glanced over your shoulder, your voice softer now. “Either way, I’m happy to see you.”

Neteyam’s breath caught. You said it so simply, so easily. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like his presence meant something to you.

And for the first time, he wondered if maybe—just maybe— He had come here because, deep down… He had wanted to see you, too.

(1 year and 9 months ago)

You didn’t hear him. Neteyam had been watching you from the thick branch above, waiting, studying. You were alone, cross-legged against the trunk of a massive tree, your head tilted slightly as you gazed at the forest around you.

Just watching. He didn’t understand you sometimes. Most humans were never still. They talked, they moved, they always did something. But you—you could just be. And yet, that doesn't mean you should be here.

Alone.

He exhaled through his nose and leaped down. The moment his feet hit the ground, you screamed. A sharp, startled sound. You scrambled slightly, your hands pressing against the dirt as you looked up at him with wide eyes. Neteyam straightened to his full height, towering over you. Your chest rose and fell quickly, your exhale shaky. “What are you doing here?” he asked, sharper than he intended.

You blinked at him. Then, instead of scolding him for scaring you—or worse, looking afraid—you smiled. A soft, small thing. “I just wanted to be alone,” you said, shrugging.

Neteyam frowned, his ears twitching. That wasn’t a good enough answer. “Where are the other humans?”

You turned your head slightly, your gaze flicking toward the right as you thought about it. Why did you have to think about it? Then, finally— “Back in the outpost,” you answered.

His frown deepened. That was not the answer he wanted. “You should not be alone,” he said, his tail flicking in irritation. “You are small.”

You scoffed. Then, to his utter disbelief, you laughed. “Neteyam,” you said, amusement lacing your voice. “I am fine.” Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you tilted your head up at him. “Or what?” you teased. “The mighty warrior would be sad if a viperwolf dragged me into its den?”

Neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. You were infuriating. And yet, his lips twitched. You looked up at him, waiting. Neteyam held your gaze, his tail still flicking sharply behind him. Then, gently, you smiled. “Don’t worry, I was fine.”

His ears twitched.

Fine?

You were alone in the middle of the forest, completely unprotected, with no one around except the creatures lurking in the shadows. Yet you smiled at him, as if his concern was unnecessary. His tail flicked again, betraying his frustration. You noticed.

Your lips twitched slightly before you continued, “I was here a few times. And it was always peaceful. Even safe.”

Neteyam’s frown deepened. Safe? You thought this place was safe? You had no instincts, no natural awareness of the dangers hidden beneath the beauty of the forest. He had spent his whole life learning how to listen to it, how to sense the smallest shifts in the air, the softest disturbances in the leaves. You had none of that.

He muttered something under his breath in Na’vi, shaking his head.

You didn’t react—didn’t understand the words—but when he muttered tawtute, your eyes brightened slightly. Then, instead of looking offended, you smiled again. His tail lashed once behind him. Before he could say anything else, you tilted your head and asked, as if you hadn’t just been arguing—

“How was your day?”

Neteyam blinked. The sudden change in topic threw him off balance. For a moment, he could only stare at you, caught between lingering frustration and something he couldn’t quite name. You just waited, patient, watching him with those same curious eyes. And he found himself answering.

“My day?” Neteyam repeated, arching a brow at you. You nodded, completely unbothered by the shift in conversation, as if you hadn’t just been laughing at his concern. He exhaled, shaking his head. “It was… fine. Nothing special.”

Your smile widened slightly. “Nothing special?”

Neteyam huffed. “Training, patrols, the usual.”

“So, running around the forest, scaring away potential threats, and looking perfect while doing it?” you teased, tilting your head.

He smirked. “That does sound about right.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed.

Neteyam watched you for a moment before asking, “And you? Why did you want to be alone?”

You hummed, thinking. Then, with a bright smile, you said, “I don’t know, I just wanted to listen to the forest. I love how alive it is.” Your eyes lit up as you spoke, your hands gesturing slightly, as if trying to grasp something intangible. Neteyam didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t that.

He blinked, watching you with a mix of curiosity and something else—something he didn’t want to name. Sometimes, he doesn't understand you.

You weren’t Na’vi. You had no connection to Eywa, no way to truly feel the world around you as he did. And yet… Somehow, you did. Somehow, you felt it anyway. If you had been Na’vi, you would have been deeply connected to Eywa. He knew it. You would have been strong among his people. A hunter, maybe. A healer. A tsahik.

His tsahik.

The thought struck him so suddenly that he nearly stood up on instinct. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself still. It was a dangerous thought. Yet… It wasn’t bad.

Neteyam exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the ridiculous notion. You were just a human. That was all.

And somehow, only being a human seemed… enough. Still, he crouched down next to you, studying you as if he could understand you just by looking. You noticed, of course. You always did. “What?” you asked, tilting your head.

Neteyam smirked. “I am just trying to see what kind of creature chooses to sit alone in the forest, thinking it is safe.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “A creature? That’s a little rude, don’t you think?”

Neteyam hummed, pretending to consider. “Maybe.”

You scoffed, bumping his knee lightly with yours. “For your information, mighty warrior, some of us like peace and quiet.”

“You? Quiet?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I do not believe it.”

You gaped at him. “Excuse you, I can be quiet.”

Neteyam gave you a look.

Your lips twitched. “…Okay, maybe not all the time.”

He smirked. “Not ever.”

You gasped again, shoving his arm playfully. “Take that back.” He only laughed, shaking his head.

“I cannot. It is the truth.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re terrible.”

“And you are still too small to be alone in the forest,” he countered smoothly.

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Let it go, Neteyam.”

Neteyam just smirked, his tail flicking lazily behind him. For all your stubbornness, you didn’t realize that you had already won something far more important. Half a year ago, he wouldn’t have sat here like this. Wouldn’t have let you pull him into these easy conversations. Wouldn’t have wanted to. But now? Now, he wasn’t sure how to go back.

(1 year and 8 months ago)

Something wasn’t right. Neteyam could feel it. He sat outside his family’s kelku, absently sharpening the tip of an arrow, his movements precise, controlled. But his mind was elsewhere. You weren’t here.

Again.

The humans had come to the village today, just as they always did, hauling their equipment, speaking in their strange clipped words, taking notes on things they would never truly understand. But you weren’t with them. Just like last time. And the time before that. It had been almost a week since he had last seen you, and for some reason, the thought unsettled him more than it should.

You always came. Twice a week, sometimes three. Without fail.

Even before—before he had let himself see you, before he had stopped pretending that you were just another human passing through— You had always returned. No matter how distant he had been. No matter how he had tried to push you away.

So why weren’t you here now? For a moment, the thought crept in— Had he done something? No. That was impossible. If there was one thing he knew about you, it was that you were stubborn. Even when he had tried to keep you at a distance, even when he had been sharp with you, cold, dismissive— You had always come back.

You had never let him scare you away.

And now, suddenly, you were gone? His grip tightened slightly around the arrow.

“She is sick, you know.”

Neteyam’s head snapped up. Kiri stood nearby, arms crossed, watching him with an infuriating knowing look. His brows furrowed. “What?”

Kiri shrugged. “I heard the humans talking. She is sick.”

Something in his chest twisted. Sick? You were sick? He sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “What kind of sick?”

Kiri smirked, stepping closer. “I don’t know. Maybe her weak human body finally gave up on her.”

Neteyam glared. Kiri only laughed, shaking her head. “Relax. It’s nothing serious.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “Then why is she not here?”

Kiri tilted her head.“They ordered her to rest.”

Neteyam’s tail flicked in frustration. He didn’t like this. You were always here. Always bright, always talking, always—present. And now, suddenly, you were confined to the outpost, sick, and he had only just now found out? Kiri grinned, clearly amused by his reaction. “You look worried, ma’tsmukan.”

Neteyam scowled, shaking his head. “I am not worried.”

Kiri only hummed, a knowing glint in her eye. He ignored her. But still—his fingers tightened around the arrow.

*

Neteyam didn’t remember deciding to come here. Yet, here he was. The forest was dark, the bioluminescent glow of the plants casting faint, ghostly light over the clearing. The air was thick with the sounds of night—distant calls of nocturnal creatures, the rustling of leaves in the wind. And beyond it, standing cold and unnatural against the wild, living world, was the human outpost.

Neteyam crouched at the edge of the clearing, hidden in the dense foliage, his golden eyes fixed on the metal structure. It was strange. Too strange. The walls were smooth, lifeless.

Nothing like the woven kelku of his people, nothing like the towering trees that breathed around him. It didn’t belong here. And yet… You did. This was your place. A place where you would be safe.

His grip tightened around the leaves in his hand. He glanced down at them, finally aware of their presence. Dark purple, thick-veined. The kind his grandmother used to crush into a bitter paste when he was a child. It soothed fevers, eased aches.

He had picked them without thinking. Neteyam exhaled sharply, shaking his head. What was he doing? Why had he come here? He had no reason to be this close. No reason to care that you were sick. No reason to feel so restless when you weren’t in the village where you should be.

Should be?

His tail flicked behind him, his ears twitching toward every sound. The outpost was silent. The humans had long since retreated inside, away from the dangers of the night. Still, Neteyam remained where he was, hidden among the leaves, watching. He told himself he was only making sure you were safe. And if that was a lie, then it was one he wasn’t ready to confront.

*

Neteyam’s sharp gaze flickered over the clearing, scanning the area outside the human outpost. There were plants everywhere. Some were small, contained in odd-looking transparent cases, while others stretched taller, their vines creeping over the edges of the metal structure. He recognized many of them—forest plants, things that belonged deep in the wild, not trapped here under artificial lights.

It was strange. The humans had taken them from their home, pulled them from the soil just to study them. They did the same with everything, didn’t they? Suddenly, a low hissing sound cut through the quiet. Neteyam tensed.

The airgate to the outpost slid open, releasing a controlled burst of sterilized air. A human stepped out, her exo-mask reflecting the dim glow of the outdoor lamps. She was young—close in age to you. He recognized her. She had been in the village once, months before you had first arrived.

He hadn’t paid her much attention then, but now, for some reason, seeing her here made him think. She moved toward a section of small orange plants, datapad in hand, completely unaware of the golden eyes watching her from the shadows. Neteyam’s grip tightened around the dark purple leaves in his palm. Why had he brought them?

The thought nagged at him, frustration curling in his chest. He knew the humans were smart—at least, smart enough to heal their own kind. They had their own medicines, their own ways of treating illness. And yet… A whole week had passed. A whole week of you not being in the village, of your absence stretching longer than it ever had before.

And Neteyam found himself doubting them. Doubting that whatever strange things they used to heal each other were enough. These leaves—he knew them. He had trusted them since he was a child. It worked. It had always worked. And now, here he was.

Standing outside the human outpost, clutching these same leaves in his hand— Not knowing why. Not wanting to know why. Neteyam’s muscles tensed. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward. The leaves rustled as he moved out of the foliage, his tall frame emerging from the shadows.

The woman froze.

Her breath hitched as she turned, her blue eyes wide behind her exo-mask. She gasped.

Neteyam saw the fear flicker across her face, the way she instinctively shrank back, pressing herself against one of the plant containers. He kept walking. His steps were slow, deliberate. Purposeful. Deep down, he knew how this must look to her—a lone Na’vi warrior appearing from the forest in the dead of night, silent and unreadable.

But he didn’t stop. The woman’s hands gripped the edge of the plant container as she stammered,

“I—I mean no harm, please don’t hurt me.”

Then, barely above a whisper, she muttered something else under her breath—something about whShe expected him to do something. Say ether or not he even understood English. Neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose.

She was scared of him. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him. Neteyam stopped.

Just a step away from her now, close enough that he could see the way her chest rose and fell too quickly, the way her fingers trembled slightly against the edge of the plant container. Her fear clung to the air between them, sharp and uncertain.

something. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand. She flinched slightly but didn’t move as he extended his palm toward her, revealing the dark purple leaves resting in his grasp.

“For (Y/N),” he said simply. His voice was low but steady.

The woman’s breath hitched. He met her eyes, unblinking, before adding,

“Crush it for her. She will be better.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Her frantic, wide-eyed panic stilled—morphing into something else entirely. Her gaze flickered between his face and the leaves in his hand, as if she couldn’t quite process what was happening. As if she had expected anything but this.

Neteyam watched, silent, as her fear began to unravel, piece by piece. Slowly—hesitantly—she reached out. Her small fingers hovered over his palm for a second, unsure, before she finally took the plant from him, the contrast between her pale skin and the deep purple leaves stark against the dim light.

Neteyam held her gaze for a fraction longer. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared back into the forest.

*

(few days later)

Neteyam heard you before he saw you. Laughter. Bright, unrestrained, cutting through the usual village chatter like a melody. His ears twitched instinctively, tail flicking as his steps slowed.

Then, a flash of movement— And suddenly, you were there. Within minutes, you had somehow slipped into his orbit, like you always did, standing before him with that unmistakable look on your face. A glowing, shit-eating grin. Neteyam crossed his arms, raising a brow. “You look better.”

Your grin widened. “Yes, of course.” You lifted your chin slightly, eyes twinkling. “I have a blue guardian angel.”

Neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Is that what we are calling it?”

You hummed, nodding with mock seriousness. “Absolutely. He appeared from the shadows, gifted me a mysterious plant, and then vanished into the night. Very mythical of him.”

Neteyam huffed, but he couldn’t stop the smirk from tugging at the corner of his lips. You were back.

Healthy.

Standing in front of him, talking too much, smiling too wide—just as you always did. And for the first time in days, something inside him settled. Like he could breathe again.

You launched into some story about how Norm had forced you to rest, how Kate had teased you about having a secret admirer after finding the plant, but Neteyam barely processed the words. He was too busy watching you. Taking in the way you moved, the way the golden afternoon light caught in your hair, the way you spoke like the world around you was yours to shape.

He hadn’t realized how much he hated not seeing you. Not until now. Then, abruptly, you sighed dramatically. “But seriously, Neteyam.” His ears flicked at the shift in your tone. You leaned in slightly, whispering like you were about to tell him some great secret. “I have never eaten anything more bitter in my entire life.”

Neteyam blinked. Then, he smirked. “It worked, didn’t it?”

You groaned. “That’s not the point! It tasted like death.”

He chuckled, arms still crossed. “You sound ungrateful.”

“Oh, I am grateful.” You patted his arm dramatically. “I just think my guardian angel needs to work on his choice of gifts.”

Neteyam let out a real laugh then, deep and unguarded, shaking his head as you grinned up at him. He had missed this.

Missed you.

(1 year and 6 months ago)

He should have been somewhere else—training, patrolling, doing something productive— But instead, he was sitting on the mossy ground, watching you work. The xenobotany team had stopped questioning it months ago. By now, they barely even acknowledged his presence.

They were used to him appearing at your side only to disappear into the forest again after a few minutes, like a shadow that came and went with the shifting light. He never spoke to them, never lingered too long—just long enough to see you, to make sure you were safe, to convince himself that he was only here because you were a human in a dangerous place.

That was what he told himself, anyway. But the truth was… He couldn’t stay away from you. And he didn’t know why. You were crouched beside a low-growing plant, fingers delicately brushing the leaves as you observed them.

The glow from your datapad cast a faint, artificial light across your face, reflecting in your eyes as you studied the readings on the screen. Neteyam should have been watching the forest. Instead, he was watching you. Then—

Your eyes flickered toward him.

Just for a second. Then back to your datapad. Neteyam’s ears twitched, but he said nothing.

A moment passed.

Then—again.

Your gaze darted toward him, then away.

Back to your datapad.

And then—

Again.

At first, he wasn’t sure what you were watching. But after a while, he noticed the pattern. Your gaze wasn’t lingering on his face. It wasn’t on his hands or his posture or his weapons. No— Your eyes followed the slow, lazy sway of his tail as it shifted side to side against the moss. Neteyam blinked. His tail stilled for a moment, but the instant it moved again, your eyes followed.

A realization struck him so suddenly that his ears flicked back against his skull. You were fascinated by it.

By him.

The thought sent something sharp through his chest, something he didn’t have a name for, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to name. You didn’t even realize what you were doing. Didn’t realize that you were staring. Didn’t realize that your innocent curiosity was affecting him.

Neteyam forced himself to exhale, looking away before you could catch him watching you just as intently. But the damage was already done. Because now, he knew. You saw him.

And that knowledge settled deep in his bones, thrumming like the distant beat of war drums, impossible to ignore. For a moment, Neteyam wondered if he had misheard you. Because there was no way you had just said— “Can I touch your tail?”

He blinked.

You glanced at him again, your expression expectant—curious—like you had just asked something as simple as can you pass me that leaf? His ears flicked up in surprise. He didn’t know who was more stunned—him or you. Because the moment the words left your mouth, your entire face drained of color.

Your eyes widened, lips parting slightly in horror, like you had just realized what you had said. “Oh, fuck,” you breathed.

Neteyam’s tail flicked behind him— Not because of your question, but because it was taking everything in him not to laugh. “I—I didn’t mean—” you stammered, hands coming up as if to physically take the words back. “I mean, I did mean it, but not like—I—you—fuck—”

Your voice had dropped into a frantic whisper as you looked up at him, terrified, like you had just insulted him, like he was about to exile you from the forest forever. Your hands clenched into fists against your lap as you sucked in a breath. “I meant scientifically,” you blurted. “For science. Obviously.”

Neteyam hummed, tilting his head. “For science?”

You nodded—way too fast.

“Yes. Obviously.”

His tail swayed again, and your eyes immediately flicked toward it before snapping back to his face like you had just been caught. Neteyam smirked. “You want to touch my tail… for science?” he asked, amused.

You swallowed thickly. “Yes?”

Neteyam didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just watched you. Watch the way you fidgeted, the way your lips pressed into a thin line, the way your entire soul looked like it was about to ascend from sheer embarrassment.

Finally, he lifted a brow, fighting back a grin. “I don’t think that’s how your science works,” he mused.

Neteyam watched as you very slowly turned away from him, your shoulders stiff with mortification, your entire body screaming retreat, retreat, retreat. His smirk widened. “What are you doing?” he asked, amused.

Without looking at him, you let out a deep, suffering sigh and muttered, “I’m going to dig a hole and become one with Eywa.”

Neteyam’s chest rumbled with laughter. A real, full-bodied laugh that he couldn’t hold back this time. Your head snapped toward him, eyes narrowed in betrayal. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I can’t help it,” he grinned, leaning forward slightly. “You are very entertaining.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I can’t believe I said that. Out loud.”

“You did,” he confirmed, his tail flicking playfully. “Quite clearly, actually.”

“I know!” you whined, tilting your head back toward the sky, looking like you genuinely wanted to cease existing.

Neteyam just shook his head, thoroughly enjoying every second of this. He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a low hum. “So,” he teased, golden eyes glinting mischievously. “Do you still want to touch it?”

Your hands flew up, waving frantically in front of your face. “No!”

Neteyam chuckled, his tail flicking once more. Liar. You were dying.

At least, that’s what it looked like. Still sitting next to him, you had buried your face into your hands, groaning softly like you were trying to will yourself into the ground, fully committed to your plan of becoming one with Eywa.

Neteyam smirked, tail flicking lazily behind him. Oh, this was too good. You had made it far too easy. Without a word, he shifted slightly, lifting his tail— Then, with deliberate slowness, let it settle right onto your lap.

He felt your body stiffen immediately. Neteyam almost laughed. Instead, he tilted his head, watching you with quiet amusement, waiting—curious—to see what you would do. A long pause. Then, slowly, your fingers parted, revealing wide, startled eyes peeking through. You blinked.

Then blinked again. Neteyam’s smirk grew. “You wanted to touch it,” he murmured, voice like silk. “So go on.”

You inhaled sharply, hands hovering awkwardly, unsure. And for a moment, he was certain you were going to refuse.

But— You moved.

A small, tentative hand reached out, fingertips brushing over the sleek, sensitive skin of his tail with the lightest, gentlest touch.

Neteyam’s entire body locked up. His breath hitched, something hot and unfamiliar searing through his spine.

Eywa.

He had never— No one had ever— This felt different.

His tail twitched under your touch, betraying him for a split second before he forced it to still. His jaw clenched. He could not react. He could not let you see what this was doing to him. Because this was nothing.

It was just a human—just you—touching his tail. It shouldn’t feel like this. But it did.

When they were children, he and his siblings had been rough, yanking and swatting at each other’s tails without a second thought. He had touched his own tail before, out of habit or necessity. But it had never felt like this. Like warmth sinking into his skin. Like something delicate. Like something dangerous. He swallowed hard, keeping his expression neutral, keeping his breath steady—doing everything in his power not to let you know.

Not to let you see what you had just done to him. You were marveling at it. That was the only way to describe it. Your expression was nothing short of captivated, eyes wide, lips slightly parted in quiet wonder as you lifted his tail ever so slightly, bringing it closer to your face as if inspecting something rare—something precious.

Neteyam swallowed hard, his ears unconsciously pinning back. Because— Eywa— You were too much. You shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Like he was something special. Like he was something worth cherishing. Your fingers wrapped around his tail carefully, gently, like you were afraid to grip too hard, afraid to hurt him.

Neteyam felt his heart stutter. Your hands were so small. So soft. With each passing second, your face lit up more and more, like you were experiencing something magical, like this was the most fascinating thing you had ever touched.

And fuck— The way you touched him— Your fingers moved slowly, tracing along the length of his tail with delicate precision. Then— Your touch drifted lower, toward the dark fur at the end of it, fingers hesitating, lingering. Neteyam felt it—knew exactly what you were thinking.

You wanted to touch that too. But before you could— His tail betrayed him. The tip curled away from your reach, an involuntary movement, a silent challenge. Like it refused to be taken so easily.

You blinked in surprise, tilting your head slightly, watching as it twitched playfully in your lap—like it had a mind of its own. Neteyam clenched his jaw. Because fuck, this was—this was— Your other hand moved. Fingers closing firmly yet still so gentle around the twitching end, holding it still.

And just like that—

Neteyam stopped breathing. Neteyam’s brain is completely short-circuited. Because you—you were— “Wow,” you breathed, looking up at him with a beaming smile, as if you had just made the greatest discovery of your life. “It’s soft.”

Neteyam blinked. You were still holding his tail, fingers gently curled around it, cradling it in your hands like it was something precious. And you— You looked like a Na’vi child discovering their parent’s body for the first time, wide-eyed, fascinated, utterly enchanted by something so simple, so ordinary to him.

Except this wasn’t ordinary. Not at all.

His tail twitched, but you held it firm, running your fingers lightly along its length, watching how the fur caught the dim light. You were studying it, waiting— Waiting for him to tease you, for him to say something sharp, something smug. But the words never came. Because he couldn’t think. Instead, he just stared at you. Like he had just bitten into the sourest fruit in the entire forest.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and his chest felt tight, too tight, as if he couldn’t quite breathe right. Because you had no idea. No idea what you were doing to him. No idea how wrong it was that your small hands felt this good on his tail. No idea that if you kept touching it like that—slow and curious— He was going to lose his fucking mind.

Neteyam snapped. One second, he was frozen in place, your soft hands wrapped around his tail, your fascinated eyes locked onto him, completely oblivious to the havoc you were wreaking inside his chest. The next— He was moving.

Standing up so quickly that the shift was almost abrupt, pulling his tail from your hands with more force than he intended. You startled slightly, blinking up at him in confusion. “I need to go,” he muttered, voice lower than usual, strained in a way he hated.

He didn’t wait for your reply. Didn’t dare look at your face. He turned on his heel and strode into the forest, tail flicking sharply behind him, his jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. His heart was pounding.

Fuck.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch against his skin, the way your fingers had held him, gentle but certain, like he was something to be cherished. His stomach churned at the thought. He didn’t know why this affected him so much. Didn’t know what it was about you that made him lose control of himself, made him want things he shouldn’t, things that were impossible.

A voice broke through his thoughts.

“What was that?”

Neteyam’s ears flicked, catching the words just before he fully disappeared into the foliage. Another voice—yours.

“I don’t know, Kate.”

Neither did he.

And that was the problem.

This part has a 2. volume!

Part 18 Vol 2.: To remember (Soon I will post it)

[maxdibert]

I wished lily wasn't the reason for Severus' loyalty. The revelation of his love for her (platonically or romantically) was truly important. You have the incident that kickstarted the prophecy. Severus' switch to the order. Voldemort giving Lily a chance to choose. Severus playing an important role in the second wizarding war. All because of a friendship of two people from spinner's end.

JKR should have developed it more. I understand that she went for the twist, but when the thrill of the discovery is gone there are so many questions that are unanswered.

first, I do not like Lily as a friend. She forgives the marauders for the years of bullying, see her 'best friend' being hanged upside down and threatened to have his genitals exposed. Who the fuck does that ? Also when Harry asked if his mother knew that James still bullying Severus in the seventh year, remus answered with "she did not know too much." so she knew something...

I do not like Lily as a sister, why did she not let James know that vernon probably doesn't know anything about the wizarding world before they went on dinner. I mean wth is Petunia supposed to say to Vernon ? "Oh yeah my sister is a witch and she went to this magical school". Not the best way to make a men fall in love with you. Is Petunia even allowed to tell Vernon all of this under the secrecy law? (I'm aware that restaurant scene is not canon, but that's what I thought when I read it on the website).

I don't like the way she uses her other friends opinion of Severus and their friendship, who clearly don't like Severus, as an argument to why Severus should stop hanging out with his Slytherin friends. Why are your friends even discussing Severus?

Also, I don't like the way she idolize Albus Dumbledore. Severus' got bullied for years, and Dumbledore did nothing. Severus was nearly killed by a werewolf and Dumbledore made Severus swear to never talk about it. What did he do, he made James head boy. Yeah if that happened to me and this man was the leader of the order, I might have asked for the death eater sign up too. Ridiculous.

By making his love for her so pure and selfless, it makes me wonder why he loves her so much. We know nothing, and the things we know just make me go "bruh really.... her ? .... she would not spare a thought for you if your funeral was announced in the papers".

Listen I was never part of the cool kids, so perhaps I don't understand her. But then again, for a Gryffindor, she really is a social coward.

It makes everything so bloody tragic. I sometimes wonder if I'd wished Severus stayed a death eater in the story but then one with guilt because he started caring about the professors and children through the years of working there.

It was honestly funny to read all of this because it feels like listening to myself when I was 16 or 17. I mean, even before I was a fan of Severus—because that came with time—I had a pretty neutral opinion of the character. I didn’t dislike him because I understood his motivations, but I wasn’t particularly a fan either. And if I wasn’t a fan, it was precisely because of everything you’re talking about.

A lot of people say Severus was an obsessive incel who spent 24/7 thinking about Lily, but I never saw it that way—I just thought he was an idiot. I thought, Wow, what an absolute moron. Like, did he really sacrifice his entire life for a woman who was actually kind of a piece of shit? Did he really give up everything to protect the son of his bully and the woman who married said bully? Could you be a bigger loser? No, seriously, could you be more pathetic? Because that woman not only let him be bullied for years, she almost smiled at his bully while he was publicly stripping him. She practically blamed him for her lack of popularity because she was seen with him, and somehow, he was supposed to be grateful. She gaslit him when he tried to tell her about what his abusers were doing to him. She literally told him he should be grateful to one of his abusers. Like, this woman was a piece of shit who was just looking to climb the social ladder. She loved being Gryffindor’s golden girl, just like she was the golden girl back home, and she hated that she had a weird, ugly, nerdy friend with questionable associations who tainted her image. On top of that, she loved having Gryffindor’s rich, pureblood king fawning over her because it was yet another symbol of status—but, of course, she had to play hard to get because good girls always resist bad boys.

That’s how I saw Lily Evans (and honestly, how I still see her), and it seemed absurd to me that Severus would have given so much for her when, honestly, I would have told her to fuck off. Like, if I were Severus, I would’ve dropped her the first time she gaslit me about my abusers. But if for some reason I had still stuck around after that, the moment I saw her almost smiling at my main abuser while he was stripping me in public, I would’ve beaten her so hard she’d have lost all her teeth.

That was my mindset when I was younger, before I learned a lot of things. Back then, I didn’t know what toxic friendships were or how easy it was to fall into them. I had no idea what codependency was, nor did I understand what an attachment figure was. At the time, I grasped some of these concepts vaguely, but over the years, I not only understood them more deeply but also experienced them—both personally and through people around me.

As I got older, I realized that the fact that Severus came from a home where he felt terribly unsafe, and that Lily represented his first safe place as a child, played a huge role in his cognitive development and psyche. In some way, he was always going to be grateful to her for probably being the only good thing in his childhood. And those childhood attachments are some of the strongest and hardest to break because they’re so deeply ingrained in a person. On top of that, Lily was his friend for years, during key developmental stages, and he probably didn’t see all of her flaws—he had her idealized. He grew up in a house where violence was the norm, and his classmates at Hogwarts also treated violence as normal. Lily was different, so he simply wasn’t capable of recognizing problematic behaviors that anyone with a healthy upbringing and healthy role models would have seen immediately. Because he didn’t have those things.

We’re not talking about a character who had examples of healthy behavior, affection, or attachments—we’re talking about someone who had the opposite. So, of course, he wasn’t capable of seeing anything bad in Lily. To him, she was the good in his environment. She was his moral compass, a kind of lighthouse to guide him when he wanted to know if he was heading in the right direction. It’s even possible that he never blamed her for marrying James, and instead, just thought it was normal that she gave in—because she was so good that she could see the good in even horrible people like James. Or maybe he believed James had somehow deceived her.

Severus’s attachment to Lily is kind of like a child who idolizes their mother and is completely unable to see her flaws—even when she acts like a complete asshole—because she’s their mother. And if she does something bad, well, it’s probably the fault of the people around her, not her. That’s exactly how Severus saw Lily.

When I understood all of this, I felt like I finally understood the character and his motivations better. I think it’s important to look at it not from our perspective as outsiders forming opinions, but from his perspective as someone inside the situation—someone who was emotionally dependent on her and either didn’t see the truth or didn’t want to see it.

Over the years, I’ve toned down my discourse about Lily, but my opinion of her hasn’t changed all that much from when I was a teenager. The only difference is that now I rationalize it better. But I still think she was a self-centered social climber. The only thing that’s changed is that before, I just thought she was a shallow, frivolous person—now I give her a little more credit and think her behavior was based on an inferiority complex stemming from her working-class background and her Muggle heritage.

But that doesn’t change the core of the issue. And honestly? I think she and James Potter were a perfect match—two absolute assholes who deserved each other. In fact, I’ve never been bothered by Jily because I’ve always thought they belonged together. Equally insufferable.