#posts afflicted with a strange sickness

[strangesickness]

most devastating thing that can happen to a person is when you read a fic and its life changing showstopping incredible so you check the authors page and they have like 40 works posted and youre like omg! but then you see that 39 of those are for voltron or something else you do not care about </3

[ngage2003]

Hey! So, I want to bring up a fascinating detail to me in Marble Hornets that I feel people often ignore, that being just how long the Operator has been around for.

This is something initially shed light on by Alex's creepy story he tells Jay while he puts off killing him for the fifteenth time in Entry 38, because he is super straight or whatever.

I want to point to how the ideas posited here ties together with supplementary material from Troy Wagner's project, ECKVA though, all to tell us a bit about the Operator as an entity.

⟦content warning: mention of eye trauma, mention of assault⟧

For those who need a refresher, here is a quick summary of what happens in Entry 38.

It starts with Alex is leading Jay deep into the woods, saying he is taking him to something specific, a "there." Jay takes the camera from him after awhile, and asks what "there" even is, at which point Alex begins to talk.

"How much do you know about this area."

When Jay replies nothing, Alex continues, barreling on.

"When I first moved here, I remember hearing a story that, back in the 1800s, they thought this place was blessed because everything would grow so fast. They would take their worst criminals, murderers and child molesters, and they would put them on trial before God out here. They would tie them up to the trees and the idea was that they would get stretched out, kind of like a rack. They never fed or gave them water though, so they would just die of dehydration."

Wow, ok, cool story, Alex. Jay thankfully asks what we are all thinking next.

"Why are you telling me this?" "They never cut down the bodies. They would just burn the whole tree with them still on it. They stopped doing it though after the kid went missing… and he finally turned up in the area where they would do the trials. He had been dismembered and strung up."

After this point, Alex stops his ghost story, but I want to focus on what actually is being said here, as I think it provides interesting insight into how long the Operator has been around.

Before we get into that though, I need to tell you all about something from ECKVA, Troy Wagner's project.

See, an important part of ECKVA, is this pixelated game called "LOUSE, a trip through rot," which was primarily played through a twitter account where people voted on options, but the start of it can be found here for your reading pleasure, and the rest on the @SHawkins1926 twitter account.

While I highly recommend ECKVA purely for its cinematic aspects though, I won't make you go watch it for this post, as I won't get too much into it here as a lot of it is confusing and kind of heavily symbolic, which leaves so up to interpretation. All that being said though, there is some dialogue that I want to make note of.

See, in this game you play as a "Pilgrim" at "the beginning of the Rot," where you are pulled between this living, segmented force named the Rot, and another force named the Blot which lives in your left eye. The former is overwhelmingly widespread, and accented with this false affection and almost divinity, as it speaks with a sort of degrading tone and often references themes of infection. The Blot is meanwhile harsh and sort of cold/stoic meanwhile, an antithesis to the Rot's affection and hunger which acts like a disappointed adult.

As the game progresses, our character meets several aspects of the Rot and watches many things become infected by it. They want to stop it, but many times the creature claims in response to this that it is endless.

Now, stick with me here, ECKVA is in the Marble Hornets universe confirmed, and LOUSE is very abstract and strange, but I believe that "the Rot" represents the Operator, for many reasons, including but not limited to: ⠀⠀⠀• The fact Brian routinely used the word "rot" in his anagrams for the Operator ⠀⠀⠀• The use of the term "infected" for people afflicted by the Rot, a term/idea also used to talk about people afflicted by the Operator's sickness in Marble Hornets ⠀⠀⠀• The segmented nature of the Rot being somewhat similar to the segmented nature of the Operator, which exists as at least two parts (the aforementioned, but also the Ark) due to the scale of its self and general paranatural nature.

The game routinely tells us though that the Rot has been here a long time, and sure the title of "pilgrim" doesn't line up with the idea of what Alex said as his ghost story coming from the 1800s, true, but his story isn't about when they started hanging people from the trees, just when they stopped.

I believe the Operator has been around for a lot longer than we as the audience might originally think, its infection somehow reaching through Rosswood for centuries now, causing paranoia in the locals like it does in our protagonists and gorging itself off sacrifices until a freak accident and subsequent panic caused people to move away from it, something that could have coincided just with the changing culture and the gradual increased ease of transportation and the spread of information.

This led to the Operator having to change tactics, and focus its efforts to get foods on specific victims, which probably isn't honestly too different as I wouldn't be surprised if in the past it led to some of those crimes, those murders and the like, as we have seen it wear away at and ruin people!

I think this lens makes the Operator a lot more ominous in a lot of ways, as while LOUSE characterizes it as a conscious thing, it still feels very animalistic, especially with its ties in the game to hunger and consumption.

I don't know, tell me your thoughts :-)

[theshiftanlibrary]

┈◦•◦❥•◦ | In their ways...

SYNOPSIS: Uh oh! It seems you have fallen ill! Not to worry dear prefect, they will look after you, albeit in their own ways.

CHARACTERS: Riddle Rosehearts; Leona Kingscholar; Azul Ashengrotto; Jamil Viper; Vil Schoenheit; Idia Shroud; Malleus Draconia

TAGS: Fluff; Established Relationships; Hurt/Comfort; Sickfic

He couldn't help his smile. You were just too cute. Few would beg to differ, what with your snotty nose and whistling breaths, but they wouldn't dare defy the Queen. Lest they lose their heads. He probably shouldn't allow you to take him as your personal pillow, after all he had so much to do. But... A rest won't hurt him. And even if it weren't for you, Trey would have forced his rest.

Stupid Ruggie... That soup he gave you should have worked an hour ago. Yet, here he is, still suffering through your little whimpers. The twitching stopped though and so did the tossing and turning. So, small wins for now. He probably should have taken you to the infirmary already, but it's his nap time and he's not going to lose his (favorite) pillow. You were the perfect size for cuddling too, what with your small back fitting perfectly into his chest as his arms cradled you so. Tch... Stupid herbivore, why'd ya have to go and get sick?

The little coughs from the couch pulled at his heartstrings. A strange thing to feel while also simultaneously hooking a poor unfortunate soul into one of his contracts. But his heart still sang whenever he sees you resting on the couch in the VIP room. You were quite sick and loopy when you first plopped down into the couch, so in his benevolence, he draped his coat over your form. Nothing will come bother you here, he'll ensure it.

The chicken soup is taking too long, he muttered to himself. Your skin burnt as hot as the desert sands, which was concerning to say the least. Even Kalim's fevers weren't this bad. What made it worse had been the fact that you came into the Scarabian kitchens with the fluffiest blanket Kalim had gifted you and your frame still shivered through all those layers. He silently thanked the Sevens for giving him the time to look after you too, since Kalim had been at the Light Music Club. He'll dedicate his life to you should you let him.

He couldn't bring himself to scold you. Your bleary eyes and red skin told him all he needed to know. A nasty flu afflicted you and you came to him for help. He's quite flattered. Normally, he'd start applying skin care products while listening to your latest escapades but today he simply tucked you into his bed. After your soft scratchy voice asked him so nicely, how could he refuse? Besides, washers were there for a reason. He left you to rest as he dashed around for flu remedies. At least he would have if it weren't for your whines, begging him to stay for just a little longer.

His hands kept readjusting themselves on your form, making you groan at him as you tightened your grip on his neck. He was sure you could hear his heart beating out of his chest, after all you did nuzzle yourself into his neck and hair. Speaking of his hair, he was also pretty sure you saw the pink glow from under your closed eyelids. His hair never shined so brightly before. But Ortho left him to get some medicine for you, which is cool. KK, GG. But he's gonna get KO'ed if he hears another contented squeak from you.

Your weight had been quite a relief upon his chest. He started to worry when he heard your scratchy voice politely asking him to cuddle you. He obliged, of course. Your form curled itself into a ball as he held onto you to trace every dip and divet he could find with his fingers. Your skin burned hot, indicating your fever. A voice very similar to Lilia's scolded him for not taking you to the infirmary, but he couldn't bring himself to move. After all, humans needed to rest when they're sick, yes?

A/N: Ani not posting Genshin content?! More likely than you think. Anyway, I wrote this when I was sick. So most of what the reader has, I had. Fever, runny nose, the whole works. And can you spot who are my favorites? 👀 And I redid my formatting, if you couldn't tell. what am i saying it's been so long since i posted a fic

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 21 Shade

(You can all blame @voidsentprinces and one of their posts for inspiring this one cuz I sure as heck am. Spoilers through Dawntrail.)

-

In the colorful forests of Kozama’uka, a strange movement of light green catches my eye. For a moment, I imagine.

“This one finds this forest so lively! Will these ones feast soon with the bright feathered ones again?”

It was a trick of the light on banana leaves. The shade of our little courageous one is gone again.

-

We’re still in Kozama’uka, but the roar of the waterfalls is below instead of above, and we’re trying to reach out to the bandits harassing the Potsworn.

I think of a boy with gold hair and an eager smile, no longer wearing blue. “You gave me a second chance, and I’ve never regretted it. We’ll find a way to help them, too!”

I blink, and realize the only resemblance in the bandit before me is that he’s young and blond. The shade of our foolishly brave boy is gone again.

-

I cross the bridge to Shaaloani, with its hot, dry plains rolling into the distance, eventually leading to grasslands in the northeast and craggy hills in the west, toward what was Yyasulani.

A Landsguard officer speaks an order, but in familiar tones, a comrade to his men. His voice stirs a memory, and my mind wanders again.

“We’re a long away from Quarrymill, but this reminds me in some ways of home. I bet you still hear thanks enough whenever you go back.”

I look at the soldiers laughing with each other before dispersing to their duties. The shade of our revolutionary captain is gone again.

-

The sky always seems so close in Worlar’s Echo. The Yok Huy see a few more traders these days. I’m watching the moon cross the sky when someone lights a pipe, the smoke wafting past my nose. Comfortable as I am, I’m halfway to dreaming already.

“Foolishness. We know what it is now, hardly deserving the veneration bestowed upon it for so long. And you surely have better things to do than mourn the likes of me.”

I turn to protest, but now I am fully awake and see the pelupelu merchants smoking and haggling. The shade of our spiteful witch is gone again.

-

There’s a sense of responsibility to the people afflicted with levin sickness, especially the children. I make sure that Oblivion is getting the families everything they need. I visit the first boy we met with this illness, and offer a treat of real fruit juice from the farms. It’s a good day, and he smiles as he sips, his mother smiling through her tears as he manages the straw.

“You learn to take what moments of happiness you can get. You figured out how to help the light afflicted and the tempered; this too will be defeated in time. But find the little victories where you can meanwhile.”

I look up from the boy’s bed. It’s just him, his mother, and me in the room. The shade of our fierce carer is gone again.

-

I’m still awake in the pre-dawn hours, so take a mug of mate with me to the end of the boardwalk to watch the dawn. The endless blue of the water, with the light piercing into my eyes, makes me remember a similar sight at the end and start of everything.

“There is no true challenge in this land. ‘Tis a wonder you are not bored. But you always have found meaning and pleasure in people and their small matters.”

The sun continues rising and the city wakes. The shade of my antagonistic mirror is gone again.

I finish my mate, return to my cabin, and go to bed.

-

They come and go, these ghostly memories. Some not as much as they used to, since that journey into the aetherial sea. Perhaps their aid and that last chance to say goodbye made a difference.

Maybe I am simply sentimental.

“The burden of heroes and leaders,” one of my newer ones says. “We spend all our time fighting for their lives and happiness, and feel it keenly when we fail them. Yet they helped to shape us, and so stay with us. And we strive to do better by those who come after them.”

I look up, but the shade of that heroic father is gone, the echo of his boisterous laugh ringing through his city’s streets, in his daughter’s own laughter. She waves to me now, her brother, her nephew, and our comrades with her. They are all exuberant and bright and alive, with so much possibility ahead.

I laugh as I wave to my friends.

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the third part of our hurt/comfort rec list for you! You can find part one here and part two here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word.

1) Wanna Feel the Edges Start to Burn | Explicit | 6,111 words

Harry gives him a gentle smile. “Feeling a little bit better?” Louis nods tentatively. “I think so yeah. Thank you so much for being so kind, but you really didn’t need to do this.” He lifts his unfortunately still shaky hand and runs it haphazardly through his hair. “It was just a spilled tea, I totally overreacted. I’m a bit embarrassed to be honest.” Harry scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Don’t be. I saw the whole thing, that guy was way out of line. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Louis gives him what he’s sure is a watery smile. “Erm thank you. I wouldn’t normally admit this to a stranger, but you’ve already seen me cry today so what the hell?” He forces himself to let out a weak laugh. “The thing is, my period is due any day now and sometimes the birth control pills make my emotions go a little haywire. I think that’s what happened.”

2) Quietly Our Hearts Beat | Explicit | 7,539 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be ready by AO3 users.

Louis and Harry in the universe of ‘A Quiet Place’.

3) Waiting | Explicit | 10,517 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

4) All This Delusion In Our Heads | Explicit | 15,088 words

After Harry and Louis break up, they cope with it in very different ways. What will happen when Harry keeps calling his ex over when things go wrong in his life, but Louis just can't take it anymore?

5) Just My Style | Explicit | 15,443 words

Harry is sick, and the only thing that might help him is the pheromones from his mate--problem is, he hasn't got a mate. Louis' just been disowned, and taking part in a medical study where he has to cuddle with some strange alpha seems to be his only option for earning a bit of cash. The hippies and Omega Rights campaigners are busy changing the world--but all Harry wants is a chance to live.

6) How You Sleep At Night | Mature | 15,568 words

The one where Louis thinks he got left because he might be too much to handle, but then Harry appears in his life again.

7) Somebody's Got Your Trainers On (It's You) | Explicit | 28,000 words

Louis hasn't thought about Harry since half an hour after the shift started, when Krystle told him that she was binging Gogglebox last night and therefore didn't get enough sleep - a sure reminder of Harry’s temporary Gogglebox obsession. Five hours isn't much without thinking about someone, but that's as long as it gets. Louis came to terms with that two years ago. When Harry walked out the door with his stupid New Balance trainers and never looked back.

8) Let Me Carry Your Weight | Explicit | 28,633 words

Louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. On his journey to better himself, he meets Harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

9) Compass to my Soul | Teen & Up | 31,439 words

Note: This fic does not have smut, but it's omega Louis, so we included it.

Harry Styles, alpha, is 1/4 of the perfect pack, and 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time touring the world with his best friends and family. Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don’t notice him.

10) Stuck On You | Explicit | 33,983 words

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

11) A Common Place Affliction | Not Rated | 36,508 words

“You should go home,” Louis muses, and Harry can feel the omega crouch down to become eye level with Harry, poking his cheek with a dainty finger. Harry lifts his arm, taking a peek at Louis’ face. Louis looks tired, he notes, but not exhausted, and there’s an eyelash stuck to his cheek. Harry doesn’t hesitate to lazily reach out and thumb over his cheek. “Can’t,” Harry croaks, blindly twisting his hand around to grab at Louis’ offending finger and just holding it. “C’mere. Take a nap with me,” he asks after a beat, opening an eye to look at Louis. Louis raises an eyebrow. “M’not going to nap with you in the middle of the ER, H.” Sighing, Harry squeezes the young nurse’s finger. “Nobody cares.” He knows they do; they’ll annoy nurses and probably worry patients when they catch sight of a nurse and surgeon sleeping on the job. Let alone in the middle of the emergency ward hallway. Harry can hear the complaints now: ‘these are the people we’re supposed to trust with our lives?’

12) To Paint A Symphony | Explicit | 40,583 words

Despite being a wedding painter, Louis has never had quite an optimistic outlook on marriage life. Love, sure, he’s a hopeless romantic and he longs for a sweet partner, to feel adored and cherished, but a part of him will forever doubt that love can last forever, a spark never lasts long, after all, so he paints because strokes of paint can remain forever and unchanged if looked after properly, cared and cherished the way he wished he could be, safe from an unsure future. Harry, on the other hand, as a performer and lyricist, indulges in pleasure. He loves love, never wastes a moment, never hesitates, always so sure of what he wants. Songs come and go on the radio, sometimes forgotten, sometimes transcending generations, the way people leave, and others stay. He never thinks of a future because he only ever lives in the present and he never was egocentric enough to think he could make a real impact and his art could outlive him. At a wedding under summer skies and surrounded by endless sea, two seemingly polar opposite lovers meet, and perhaps one learns to let himself feel and fall, and the other lets himself hope and cling on.

13) Wild Hearts Run Free | Explicit | 42,979 words

Harry is an alpha who is harbouring a dark secret, one that has forced him into self-imposed isolation, far from civilization and far from temptation. Louis is an omega who has fought the predispositions of his secondary gender his whole life and suddenly finds himself cast aside by his beta partner, leaving him to question his place in the world. When fate and Mother Nature conspire to trap the two strangers together, will Harry’s worst fears be proven, or will Louis find a way to break down his walls and lead him into the light?

14) This Glass House | Mature | 43,012 words

While deployed, Alpha Harry gets injured by an IED explosion, leaving him to deal with severe injuries in its devastating aftermath. During his road to acceptance and recovery he learns with the help of Louis and their children just how important family can be for the mind, body, and soul.

15) Hold Me How the Deep Night Has | Explicit | 48,018 words

Louis Tomlinson needs a change. Stuck in a cycle of going to the job he hates, spending time with his friends, and avoiding the one man he hates most in this world, Louis' in desperate need of something new. So when he discovers an abandoned notebook on the way to work, the decision is easy to take it for himself and begin a journal amidst the empty pages. What can't be expected are the words that appear overnight directly beside his own, written on the same day 400 years in the past. What are the consequences of a magical connection between two men of different centuries? And who, among it all, is the mysterious E who only exists on the other side of Louis' journal?

16) Made For Lovin’ You | Explicit | 52,637 words

The one where a quick, horny decision ruins Louis��� summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate. The one where a quick, horny decision ruins Louis’ summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate.

17) Gallery Of Us | Explicit | 55,778 words

Harry knew what he was doing in life, everything laid out in black-and-white, each day pleasantly predictable. Cue lively art student, Louis, trying to find his place. An almost insufferably happy person who sometimes forgets to hide the way they feel meets the person who is diligent enough to notice and determined to make a difference.

18) Untamed Hearts Align | Explicit | 55,795 words

For as long as Louis has known her, Lady Margaret Tomlinson has had two aspirations for the remaining years of her life. The first was to out-dress the Duchess of Kent at every soirée and gathering. The second was to marry off her omega nephew to the most honorable – and highly ranked – alpha suitor she could find. He does not expect for her to arrange a marriage between him and the crown prince, and he certainly does not expect to fall for him. Everything changes when Harry disappears.

19) I’ve Got You | Explicit | 62,988 words

As a reward for saving the king's life, Harry is offered omega Prince Louis' hand in marriage. Neither of them has any interest in the union going forward, and so they concoct a plan to prove to the king that they are far from a perfect match.

20) You're Umami Baby | Mature | 87,429 words

Harry is a chef who never experienced umami until he meets his new dishwasher, Louis.

21) Echoes & Omens | Mature | 100,707 words

Echoes of the dead come in many forms. Their imprints forever tied to the ones who'd killed them. Louis Tomlinson is able to track the dead using their echoes, they call to him. He's used that gift to aid Scotland Yard in their investigations, with the hopes of studying Criminology at Cambridge University. He's lived a life of privilege and good fortune as a Marquess, son of the late Duke Tomlinson, with his life mapped out since day one. Until two terrible truths are revealed. One, he's adopted. Two, his biological parents are London's most notorious serial killers. Against his family's wishes, Louis travels to Chicago to uncover the truth of their incarceration. Much to his dismay, his biological mother's Lawyer, Harry Styles, wants to take his case. Together, they work to uncover what really happened all those years ago, but perhaps more is revealed than they could've ever anticipated. Trapped in a whirlwind of portents and omens, Louis and Harry find themselves pitted against an enemy they'd not foreseen.

22) You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime | Explicit | 113,444 words

Giving up and letting them think they're right were never valid options in Louis Tomlinson's mind. In a society full of prejudices, finding a family and being accepted, also seemed like an unrealistic utopia. Louis sets out to do what no other of his kind ever has before and in doing so, he finds love, friendship and more about himself than he thought he would.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[queenoffishingandcookies]

Starscourge (Quick Post taken straight from my notes):

I’ll probably come back to flesh it out later, but for now you get this.

:)

STARSCOURGE:

Little is known of the Starscourge, other than the fact that it appeared several times in the past as a recurring pandemic. Generally, it is believed that the disease is spread by demons, but the origins of it - the very root cause - is unknown. It is also unknown how demons spread it - whether it is by venom, saliva, blood, or even the miasma they emit upon death and decay.

Originally, and in more rural locations, it is known as the Vanishing Phenomena or ‘curse’, as those unable to be healed of the affliction disappears as it reaches its final stages.

Upon first being afflicted with the scourge, if through inhalation of miasma, a person shows little symptoms. Within the first forty-eight hours to seven days however, they will begin to grow agitated by bright lights, and perhaps show signs of insomniac tendencies.

Steadily, they will also gain a fever, one very difficult to lower which gives them further cause to avoid bright sources of light, which are often very hot.

It should be noted that, as the fever rises and they grow more inclined to darkness, victims of the starscourge will also tend more and more to seek out meats, rather than dairy or vegetable products.

As time passes, those afflicted by the starscourge can grow increasingly distant, and irritated with other people - even their own loved ones. In later stages, they can even grow violent - either unintentionally or very intentionally. They may even harm themselves, scratching and biting at their own skin.

As their agitated and aggressive behavior worsens, many choose to self-isolate in a bid to regain control over themselves, or in the worst case scenario, protect their loved ones from their selves.

At any given stage, a person’s veins will begin to darken to a deep black color. Patches of their skin darken with strange black patches or rashes - often starting with the back, hands, and feet - that begin to spread over the body.

In the final stages, no one is quite sure what happens. It seems that those who develop the starscourge simply vanish. The most common theory is that they are driven mad, and leave their homes in a disoriented state - and most likely, quickly meet their ends to either wildlife or the daemons that infected them as night falls.

Other theories state, perhaps, that the bodies suffer from spontaneous combustion. In several cases, clothes last worn by the sick are found badly damaged, and often covered in strange black substance.

[josephseedismyfather]

WIP Music Monday

I was tagged in today's post by @inafieldofdaisies, thank you so much friend! 🥰

The rules: Post a song that is relevant to your WIP or inspires it. I’m also including the lyrics.

Afflicted.

If it stayed, I'd never leave it If that turned around I'd grieve the special dirty things That we used to talk about I mean that loving you is strange And adored by me throughout Oh no, it's you again

Someday soon, you'll find that someone Waiting for the chance to beat you Drooling on the set to feel you Blessing you with every kiss

Tying yourself to me Stitch up my emptiness 'Cause you're the death of me So precious loving the thrill Tying yourself to me Stitch up my emptiness 'Cause you're the death of me So precious, loving the thrill

Such the patient one who needs me The spoiled one who wins So shocking, where's your sense? Don't you know I hate you, oh Unsatisfied, you little girl

Tying yourself to me Stitch up my emptiness 'Cause you're the death of me So precious loving the thrill Tying yourself to me Stitch up my emptiness 'Cause you're the death of me So precious, loving the thrill

Rolling dice and seeming queer Bastard love, a sick affair Let's see what new disease you'll fetch I mean, that fucking you is strange And adored by me throughout Oh no, it's you again Blessing you with every kiss

So precious, you know this hate of mine exploded I'm so deranged you know, I will never be the same

Parenesis.

The lights go out and I can't be saved Tides that I tried to swim against Have brought me down upon my knees Oh, I beg, I beg and plead Singin' come out of things unsaid Shoot an apple off my head And a trouble that can't be named A tiger's waiting to be tamed, singin'

You are You are

Confusion that never stops Closing walls and ticking clocks Gonna come back and take you home I could not stop that you now know Singin' come out upon my seas Cursed missed opportunities Am I a part of the cure Or am I part of the disease? Singin'

You are You are You are You are

You are You are

And nothing else compares Oh, no, nothing else compares And nothing else compares

You are You are

Home, home, where I wanted to go Home, home, where I wanted to go Home, home, where I wanted to go Home, home, where I wanted to go

Untitled John WIP.

Here I lay Still and breathless Just like always Still, I want some more Mirrors sideways Who cares what's behind? Just like always Still your passenger

Chrome buttons, buckles and leather surfaces These and other lucky witnesses Now to calm me This time won't you please Drive faster

Roll the window down this Cool night air is curious Let the whole world look in Who cares who sees anything? I'm your passenger I'm your passenger

Drop these down Then put them on me Nice, cool seats There to cushion your knees Now to calm me Take me around again Don't pull over This time won't you please Drive faster

Roll the window down this Cool night air is curious Let the whole world look in Who cares who sees what tonight? Roll these misty windows Down to catch my breath and then Go and go and go just Drive me home and back again

Here I lay Just like always Don't let me Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go Take me to the edge

Tagging, with apologies for doubles and no pressure as always: @wrathfulrook, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @trench-rot, @ladyoriza, @cassietrn, @redreart, @hotmessteaparty, @g0dspeeed, @v0idbuggy, @insanityofvaas, @simplegenius042, @malefiquinn, @strangefable, @noodlecupcakes, @neverthesameneveranother, @chazz-anova, @aristomal, @ocdemon-747, @milesnotshur, and anybody else who wants to share. Tag me! 😘

[invisibleicewands]

Nye review: Michael Sheen stars in a surreal take on the NHS origin story

It would have been so easy to make Nye a straightforward hero story: Michael Sheen resplendent in the title role of the underdog son of a miner smashing political elitism to found the NHS. Instead, Sheen spends this intriguing, dream-like play shuffling about a hospital barefoot in baggy pyjamas, haunted by flashbacks to the morphine highs of his career.

Writer Tim Price and outgoing National Theatre artistic director Rufus Norris have turned this welfare state origin story into a weird, sometimes baggy reverie, enlivened with poignant biographical insights. At first, Sheen is touchingly delighted to be treated by the public health system he helped dream into existence, a vision as beautiful as the sunny-hued daffodils on each bedside table. But the mood soon darkens as he’s lost in post-operative hallucinations: the sadistic schoolteacher who beat him for his stammer, the black lung-afflicted miner father who – ironically – he couldn’t or wouldn’t help.

It’s a bit of a tired theatrical set-up, to have an ageing famous figure reliving his life in convenient vignettes. But although the text periodically sags, Norris’s direction keeps things nimble and strange. Nye’s first trip to the library is a thing of wonder, with Beauty and the Beast-style living bookshelves.

beckoning him into a world of learning. The town council meeting where he makes his first, Revolutionary France-inspired political manoeuvres unfolds on tables made of hospital beds, patients still in them.

Accordingly, Sheen plays Nye with a touchingly boy-like sense of gentleness and wonder: but sometimes this performance is at odds with what we’re told about this obstreperous, stubborn, womanising political operator. It’s hard to believe that his wife Jennie Lee (Sharon Small) would surrender her own political career to him, or that postwar PM Clement Atlee (a sinuous Stephanie Jacob) would see him as such a dangerous rival that the only way to neutralise him was to give him the Minister for Health and Housing.

The actual founding of the NHS feels like a rushed misstep here, too. Nye’s showdowns with the doctors are staged a bit like he’s confronting an intergalactic alien council, their looming masked faces dehumanising the actual people who make the NHS possible. The coda is hurried, too, with an underexamined, unfair-feeling scene that suggesting Jennie Lee was to blame the political failures of Bevan’s later years.

Norris and Price are clearly reluctant to end on a note that feels too heartwarming, too rousing. This is the polar opposite of the NHS section in the 2012 Olympic opening ceremony, all happy kids bouncing on hospital beds in pyjamas. But sometimes, it’s hard not to wish for a bit more of that optimism –for an insight into the postwar mindset shift that turned socialism from a quaint minority interest into an urgent, collective political mission. Instead, Nye‘s emotional punch comes from its hushed parallels with the present day, where the NHS – like its founder – lies sick in bed, battling for its life.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

The Capture of Light

In a tiny village on the outskirts of Pharos, a boy suddenly falls ill and collapses. A duo of travelers passing through decide to put a pause on their plans in order to find a cure for the mysterious sickness. As their journey progresses, they realize the boy is not one isolated case, and that the sickness' prevalence is far greater than they imagined. Together, they travel from town to town to save the afflicted, joined on their quest by a feisty teenage bodyguard-for-hire, who possesses the strange ability to manipulate solid light.

I don't know if anyone remembers that original story I wanted to post... but I'm going to be starting it soon! This is a quick drawing of the main cast.

I'll be starting to post chapters on my side blog I created for it, @captureoflight, in about two weeks from now (optimistically), and hopefully update every two weeks from that point on (also optimistically).

I hope those who are interested will enjoy it. :)

[calebwittebane]

im not gonna lie, there are people i follow who often make posts that are preddy funny and who often have good opinions, but whom i find unpleasant and annoying and generally unkind, and whom i kind of really hate. its not a hatefollow because i do enjoy many of their posts but i hate them as people and anytime something mildly bad happens to them im like LOL :).

thankfully i am not mutuals with them because if that were the case, the close proximity would cause their body to be affected by that hatred, even if they werent aware of it, or knew but didnt care. but the malice would slowly poison and ruin them, and they would start to become sick. they would feel as though someone had been adding antifreeze to their food and drinks. ethylene glycol and so on and so forth. but they wouldnt make the connection between the illness and the malice of mine that they were being afflicted by. their hair would begin to fall out in clumps, they would experience light-headedness and nausea and increased body stench, they would begin to regularly experience sleep paralysis, they would see mysterious red marks on their skin that would quickly fade away.

unable to think of their condition as anything other than them being infested with demons, and consumed by fear and desperation, they would eventually turn to some real out there pseudoscientific woo Soul And Body Healing bullshit peddled by a guy with a youtube channel and a popular tiktok account. they would purchase tons and tons of his supplements and read all his books, and become invested in the belief system to a shocking degree, still tormented by the disease. all the fans followers friends family and folks at home would have a hard time recognizing them at this point. 'what happened to the goodposter we knew and loved?', they would ask, and ultimately all distance themselves from them one by one.

already holding a new propensity for conspiracy theories, the blogger would take this as a sign that the fools were all simply threatened by their recently mastered forbidden wisdom, and fall deeper into the rabbit hole of fringe internet spirituality. they would eventually become an obscure type of flat earther, believing in an astronomical model so strange that other flat earther would scoff at them and accuse them of making them look unserious.

a viral video would emerge of the blogger approaching some young people in the street, vigorously lecturing them about the mobius strip earth, with the sun being a round hole carved in an enormous egg made of black obsidian that we are all trapped within that shields us from the brilliant divine glow the rest of the universe is bathed in. supposedly, humanity had shattered the egg before, freeing the earth from its prison, however an unhealthy diet (containing dairy and plant oils) causes humans to emit invisible particles that float up into the atmosphere and above, where they solidify into the obsidian shell. many commenters would point out the tshirt the blogger was wearing, depicting an absurdly muscular man breaking out of the obsidian egg, with text above saying "W.H.A.T.: We Hatch Again Together".

humiliated and scorned, the blogger would make the decision to abandon their brethren at least for some time, and retreat into solitude deep in the woods. they would sustain themselves on acorns, the youtube guy supplements, and whatever birds and rodents they managed to find. no longer in close online proximity to me (and no longer online in general), they would quickly start to recover from their illness, and (not incorrectly) attribute that improvement to their hermit lifestyle far away from those poisoned by dairy and plant oils.

one day, a bear would attack them. against all odds, newly full of vigor and powered by years of pent up anger, they would emerge victorious from the encounter. they would skin the bear and start wearing its pelt like a fursuit, giving them the appearance of a somewhat deflated bear with eerily human movements. emboldened by this experience, they would make the decision to return to their preaching, and travel from the wilderness to the nearest populated area.

having arrived in a small town, still wearing their hard-earned fursuit, they would cause widespread panic. not sure how to approach the issue just yet, and weighing the possibility of leaning into the bear thing regardless to add some extra dramatic flair to their sermons, they would walk into a convenience store to get some soda. the cashier would immediately flee and call 911 from a safe distance, reporting a horribly fucked up bear casually strolling into the building, so even if the blogger had any money, they would not be able to pay for the soda, absolving them of this responsibility.

they would take a generous sip of the cold refreshing soda they had so dearly missed during their time in the wilderness. unfortunately, the effervescent sugary drink would unexpectedly interact with the supplements and acorns still in their system, causing a violent chemical reaction. the energy released as the byproduct of said reaction would be so great, it would cause their body to disintegrate in a burst of blinding orange light.

as their body faded away, they would smile serenely, knowing that although they did not manage to convince everyone they had spoken to, they had sown the seeds of knowledge among them, and that even the arrogant nonbelievers would eventually start seeing the signs. there is hope for humanity, that it would one day break out of the obsidian shell, and regain the long-lost enlightenment and magic. they would feel that they have done well.

some time would pass absently--seconds or centuries, one could not tell. to their shock, they would realize that their consciousness has not been extinguished by death. suspended in endless void, they would try to scream, yet their efforts would be in vain.

then, another change would occur--they would begin to experience a tingling sensation, seemingly psychological rather than physical. cell by cell, they would regain a physical form, and their senses would all at once return to them as they awakened. their surroundings would snap into focus. they would be surrounded by otherworldly tall green structures, curved and swaying lightly. their field of view would span 360° on every axis, their eyes situated on flexible stalks. they would then realize--they have been reborn as a slug.

all because they had roamed too close to the powerful confident beautiful gentle unemployed brown-eyed bloggeress whose righteous ire they had earned despite her peaceful nature. all because they did not heed the signs. by then they would have learnt their lesson, but by the time they earned another lifespan as a human, the internet would be no more, replaced by a mass malfunction of amazon brain chips giving those affected constant visions of various ai generated rule34 pictures of the hex maniac that jeff bezos had saved on his hard drive at the time the disaster struck

[strangesickness]

every time i remember that richie is technically an axe murderer i get struck with the desire to write IT fan-fiction

[t-lane-writes]

The mars idea? That sounds new, o_O!?

Yup. This title caught the attention of all three of you. :) Tagging @echo-bleu and @drippingmoon for this reply as well.

So now I will say a little more about characters of this story. They are brother and sister, kind of like in "Peripheral" (don't know if any of you watched, I loved the first season, although, the ending wasn't very satisfying).

Like I said in the previous post: "A character arc where the character who did terrible things..." Reminds us of someone, Hith? ;) I'm still searching for a way to explore that characterization bit.

So, this is some backstory:

The Graham family was piss poor, but Damis got a chance of a well paid job. He’d be allowed to take his family with him -- and support them -- as a bonus. And have an adventure! On Mars. Awesome, right? So he took his mother and his ten-years-old sister Charlie and off they went to find a new life on a strange planet.

Damis's job was with the military. Essentially police, who brutally squashes any attempts at rebellion from the Martian settlers – including his mother and sister – but he’s not fully in control of his own actions, due to the “haptic-like” (that's the Peripheral thing) system integrated into his body. When he’s all used up after ten years of service, he’s returned to his family, who now live in conditions worse than poverty – it’s actual slavery.

Only then he learns who he was actually fighting against, and it fucks him up even more. He’s essentially useless, but his mom and Charlie take care of him. Several years later, mom gets sick – the same thing that afflicts most of the Martian colonists sooner or later. This forces Damis to pull himself together. He still can’t quite do a lot of stuff (agoraphobia? or something like it. Anxiety.) But he tries to help wherever he can.

I think I will start the story from some rebellion attempt where Damis took active part, to show the bad stuff he did, not only talk about it in retrospect.

[thenightlymirror]

I have finally silenced the notes on the bird math post, for a funny reason, so that I would have a normal dopamine feedback response with this app.

Sick shit.

Sofia, I forget if I used some other name before, thinks it’s weird I go to Quaker-church, which I always refer to as Quaker-church so that people know the difference. She made a funny face. It’s one of two funny faces of hers I’ve collected recently.

The other was when the president of the granite company stopped by, and never meeting him before, I jumped out of my chair and hugged him. Bipolar’s gonna happen, one way or the other. I was very excited to meet him, because there are two guys at that company named John, and I had no idea who the hell was who. Those people never introduce themselves. And then people go, Oh, John was here, did you see him? No. No I didn’t. Faces un-engraved. I explained this all to him. He kept asking “Are you in sales?”

She did her best to cringe in such a way that it would contort the empty space between her side of the room and mine, and maybe twist my mouth shut.

I showed her that I finally figured out how to type out this woman’s name in Assyrian.

We sit together at lunch sometimes and she reminisces about when she was a foodie. (She’s a vegetarian now. No processed foods.) I challenged Harper to eat sardines with me my first week back, and that made some kind of impression on her. So we talk about exotic meals as we eat our Soylent of the day.

Harper and I never eat together. I’ve gotten into this strange habit of buying her lunch. I suppose it’s a kind of fawning gesture. There was some humiliating incident where I tried to pawn my Jimmy John’s gift card on her on her birthday, however long ago, and she was catastrophically annoyed. Which says enough, I think. But for some reason, she’s relented, and when I’m throwing on my coat to run out for Culver’s, I ask, “You want anything?” And she says yes. She either gets cheese fries, or when she’s actually hungry, chicken tenders with BBQ sauce. She’ll sit at her desk by the lunchroom door while I eat my sandwich alone.

I justify it to myself a few ways. One, there must be one person you choose to be kind to, out of practice if anything. I’m am afflicted with some kind of ingratitude that I can’t quite explain. Maybe nothing from me could ever really be worth anything. A gift from me is a sort of affliction in itself. That’s not entirely false. Also, she never eats. The women in the office gossip about how skinny she is, and it’s jealousy, mostly. I never watch her eat. She could save every bite for her gf and I wouldn’t know the difference. Not sure it makes a difference.

Sofia planned a potluck for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. She’s trying to make the place less toxic. And despite the poisonous people involved, it was a smashing success. It took me a while to decide what to do, but I made a vegetarian chili, with impossible meat and soyrizo, 5 different kinds of peppers. Spent 6 hours reducing it on the stove. Froze it, thawed it, warmed it in the instapot on the lunchroom counter. It was loved. A genuinely beautiful day, I’d say. I was anxious about it for days, that something must go wrong. I’m just incapable of doing anything nice. But everyone loved it. Even Big Jim had some before he Irish-goodbyed.

I had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, so I stole all Phyllis’s turkey and stuffing for myself. A huge tray of it. Still sitting in my fridge, honestly. That’s how much. And to fair, I never felt without. Despite my constant awareness of how orphaned and pathetic it must look.

Harper was excited and talkative. I try not to write about her too much. I find it indulgent. Writing is a way of reliving, relitigating. If you have a few nice things in your life, you can’t clutch them, you have to let them be what they are.

All that was well over a week ago. Made a potato soup today from a hambone that’s been in my freezer for over a year. I gave myself food poisoning last December and I’ve basically been terrified of cooking outside my comfort zone ever since.

I tried explaining to Sofia, when you’re fat, everyone is always gawking at you imagining you being some kind of pervert for food. So, you repress all enjoyment of it. I hate food. But I don’t. It becomes complicated.

[kelmenton]

Life updates & musings | April 2025

Top surgery, festivals, and the change in venue

How are we all enjoying late spring? It’s been a little while since I posted a general update. I’m still getting used to blogging, I suppose. When I’ve blogged in the past, it has had a particular theme or goal – I was required to start and upkeep a blog for my MA, for example, but I mostly posted about the research I was doing at the time. I don’t have the same time on my hands to devote to Viking literature (a tragedy), and mostly I am in workshops or writing or. Watching the world burn. Y’know.

Anyway, my point is that I’m not always entirely sure what it is I want to post here. I’m happy to write about traditional publishing and getting an agent and practical stuff like that; and I’m happy to share little snippets of poems and short fiction that I don’t have another home for. I’m not so great at talking about (gestures vaguely) myself.

This is an affliction I have suffered from since forever, which is inconvenient, because it seems that along with selling your writing you are also supposed to sell yourself.

People want to know the artist, not just consume the art! I too am guilty of trawling through the internet looking for podcasts and interviews that my favourite writers have done over the years. I suppose I just forgot that, should I publish a book, I would also have to present some sort of form of Me that people can read and listen to and watch. A form that the public can consume.

Traditionally I would not have considered myself fit for public consumption, but whatever. I’ve been told that I am off-putting and not a little strange. That’s down to my autism, I’m guessing, coupled with my trans gender and general queerness. What fuckin’ box are you supposed to put me in? How are you meant to talk to me and/or about me?

But I’m sure there are folks out there who are also unsettling, or enjoy perusing the strangeness. So, uh, here we are! I will do my best.

I am raising money for top surgery

A fun fact about Ireland is that TGEU found we rank dead last in transgender healthcare in the EU. Okay, that’s not a fun fact. There really isn’t a way to bring levity to the situation, is there?

In Ireland we do have a National Gender Service, but it still treats transgender people as mentally ill, non-binary folks do not exist to them, and I’d rather tear my eyes out than explain to a doctor that masturbation habits have no bearing on your gender. I feel like a doctor should know that. I feel like any human being should know that. I mean just think about that statement for like four seconds.

Even if I did go the public route for transgender healthcare in Ireland, it wouldn’t matter. First, I’d have to lie and pretend to be a trans man, and reinforce weird gender expectations (“I am definitely a man because I like sports and the colour blue, please treat me like a sane person”), but also there are no top surgeons in Ireland. Zero. Nada. You have to go abroad.

Isn’t that great? Super affordable? Humanising?

I have been dreaming of top surgery since I was 15. I used to take out my shitty little laptop and watch grainy YouTube videos of transmascs giving post-op updates, showing off their scars with big toothy grins.

Good for them! I would think, and then wonder why I felt a sick longing in my stomach.

A few years ago, one of my dearest friends gifted me this badge. I have treasured it since, keeping it in a little purple organza bag, waiting for the day I can wear it.

It has an illustration of a post-op chest, with the crescent moon scars, and reads: Glad I got that off my chest. (Those with keen eyes and/or good memories will see that joke even made its way into A Fix of Light).

I just don’t have the nearly €8k it would cost to fly to another country, have surgery, and stay in a B&B for 3 weeks to recover enough to fly home.

My pride has stopped me from crowdfunding until now. I hate posting about my inability to fend for myself. I hate asking for money when money is so tight for almost everyone right now. But it’s been over a decade since I first wished this wish, and it’s a very strange and lonely feeling, not being at home in your own body. It’s tricky to tolerate. So I’m swallowing my pride and my manners and my sense of decorum and I’m asking for assistance.

Here’s the link to my Ko-Fi, in case you have some mad urge to help me out, or want to share it.

I’m doing some events!

I am thrilled and delighted and kind of amazed to say I have events at both the Cork World Book Festival and West Cork Literary Festival this year!!

Both of these events will be free to attend, but you do need to book your spot!

Being an author with a book out in the world is not like being a musician with a song out on a streaming platform – I have no idea how many books I’ve sold, how many people have read Fix, and whether they’ve liked it or not. That’s fine by me. I think I would drive myself round the bend constantly checking numbers like that (though I do often check Cliffords’ Spotify lol) and in my humble opinion reviews are for other readers, not for me.

I say all of this because I don’t know how many people will be interested in listening to me chit chat about A Fix of Light!!! So I have made a plan: I will chat a bit about the book, but I will also chat a bit about writing in general. I am not very practised at talking at people, moreso talking with or to them, so I’ll make sure to leave room for a bit of back-and-forth or questions-and-answers. I might also go absolutely wild and do a little creative writing exercise with everyone!!

My point being: this is exciting. To be invited in the first place is surreal. On the micro, personal level, I am amazed to be in this position; 18 months ago I was so sure my writing was dead in the water and I was impossibly far from my dream. I’m cheering for my teenage self who got off their ass and actually did the work. Especially when you consider all the hormones and angst and whatnot, lol.

But when I pull back and consider the bigger picture, too, my heart squeezes with a bittersweet hope. Many environments are not very friendly or hospitable to queer/trans and/or autistic people – so it is not lost on me the significance and importance that an artist who looks like me is attending events as big as these.

It’s good to remember, I think, and to take a moment to acknowledge the kindness, especially when everything seems so grim. There are fellow writers and librarians and festival organisers and readers who will champion you and will champion diversity and inclusion. Hope is a verb, hope is an action, hope is something you have to do and tend to, same as love. Don’t forget to count all the little things that feed your hope!

Hey, this isn’t Substack, what gives?

Ah, yes. So you’ve noticed.

I’d just started to get into a groove on Substack when I realised that some of the site’s principles conflicted with my values. Like, treating hate speech as an extension of free speech, à la Meta. Then I read ismatu gwendolyn’s post about why she was leaving Substack (I believe you can read it on Threadings, now, but it’s behind a paywall!) She pointed out that Substack’s so-called “anti-censorship” policy meant that people could post and even monetise racist tirades.

“It’s part of the cultural discourse!!” “It’s freedom of expression!!! Free speech!!!”

No! It’s actually just racists jumping on any chance they can to Be Racist Especially In Public and For Money.

And, yes, whatever, there is no perfect platform, but there are better and worse platforms. I have tried to find one that is, hopefully, better.

For now, anyway. Marginalia may end up hopping around the internet. Please bear with me while I try to figure out this new fangled system!

Best,

Kel x

Subscribe to Marginalia

[alexghegg]

My Stories

Originals

"Truth, Beauty and Metallurgy" - Science Fiction

Free to read or listen to the audio version read by Yours Truly, also in the Amazing Stories Best of 2023

“I don’t regard the universe as owing me things I can easily understand.”

An expedition to investigate signs of intelligent life on a new planet forces the humans to re-evaluate their own presumptions.

"Fossils, Fog and Flippers" - Science Fiction

In the anthology "Beneath the Misty Surface" from 518 Pub.

"A weird kind of indignation rose up in me. I was starting to think there was something wrong with me, and all this time something was stealing my fossils!"

A scientist examining fossils on an alien planet's foggy coastline is troubled by some unknown force in the mists.

Fanfics

The Encanto Revenant - Disney's Encanto - Horror, Mystery

Rated: T

A seemingly natural and timely death in the community is followed by an outbreak of a strange affliction and terrifying events.

Sleep, Mara Dearie, Sleep - She-Ra and the Princesses of Power - Hurt, Comfort

Rated: T

Entrapta stumbles across the mortal remains of Mara, the previous She-Ra. The Best Friends Squad organize a formal funeral for her.

Ain't Misbehavin' - Hazbin Hotel - Hurt/Comfort

Rated: T

An expansion on how Princess Charlie found a wounded sinner and helped her begin a new afterlife

Kiramman Sick Days - Arcane: League of Legends - Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Rated: G

Caitlyn comes down with the flu, and she and Vi take the chance to get away from it all at the Kirraman family chalet. Post-canon but written before season 2 released

Midnight Waking - Arcane: League of Legends - Romance

Rated: G

Caitlyn wakes up and worries. One-shot.

Heart of Honour - Star Trek: the Next Generation - Adventure

Rated: T

Episodes in the career of Kirana, daughter of K'Var, officer of the Klingon Defence Force

Syberia: Down the Tunnel of Dreams - Syberia - Adventure

Rated: T

Kate Walker returns from Syberia, and begins coming to terms with what she's done, and what it means, while dealing with the enemies she's made on her way. Set after Syberia 2.

Most of the Way to the Moon - Bubblegum Crisis - Action, Hurt/Comfort

Rated: M

An unexpected opportunity is brought to the Knight Sabres to strike back at the system that put them through their recent crises and break the power of some of the future's most depraved power players.

The Art of Madness - Steven Universe/the Magnus Archives crossover - Horror

Rated: G

Statement of Garnet - no last name given - regarding a scroll briefly in her possession. Original statement given November 14, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Blood, Water and Hock - She-Ra and the Princess of Power/Killjoys crossover - Adventure

Rated: T

The Best Friends Squad's post-war road trip has brought them to the Quad.

The Harlequin's New Clothes - Batman: the Animated Series - Hurt/Comfort, Thriller

Rated: M

Harley Quinn completes rehabilitation and gets an exciting new job ahead of the Christmas season.

[juicefield]

Meyp Skxawng Neteyam X Avatar!Reader: Part 1

A/N: I included the epilogue in this post so I could just delete the last post. Neteyam is 20 in this and there will be no NSFW content in this fic. It is not set in the far future as I reference bits of culture from the 2000s (mostly because this fic is essentially about culture, Na'vi and human and how they clash with each other and unfortunately I don't know about human culture in 2170 so I just used stuff from our time). Also this is set in high camp. I love the Metkayina, but I've always loved the forests of Pandora since I was young.

Although the writing in this fanfiction is my own, I do not claim any ownership of Avatar, Avatar: The Way of Water, or any of the subsequent medias. All rights go to James Cameron and the producers.

You can find the other parts here:

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Synopsis: Today is your twentieth birthday on Pandora. You look back on your life in reflection as you think about the future and your place on her.

Neteyam X Fem!Avatar!Reader 6.6k 1st person POV

The Na'vi say that every person is born twice. The second time is when you earn your place among The People... forever.

A tired yet youthful Jake Sully, now known as Jake Tsyeyk te Suli  or the mighty Toruk Makto, droned on from the blue tinted computer screen staring back at me. Once again, I found myself watching the videos he left behind. I know I shouldn't torture myself, that this fantasy I've had since I was a child was nothing but that... just a fantasy. I could never get the second chance he got all those years ago. I’ve spent years living vicariously through him and his video logs; imagining that I had become one with The People like him. I knew it was childish, but that certainly didn't stop me from dreaming about it. 

The more I watched his videos, and Grace's videos, the more I longed to see this world that I find myself stuck in. That mystical magical world that was closed off from me, just outside, so close yet so far. However, I couldn't be like Spider, my strange adopted "semi-sibling" and run around like a chicken with its head cut off (this was a line straight from Norm, as I have never even eaten chicken let alone seen one), awkward and slow next to the lithe natives. I fiddled with a small puzzle Norm had brought from the old world as I listened to Jake's voice. It was a rare treat and one of the things I had as a child that was almost like a toy. Of course at this point I knew how to solve it faster than I could blink practically. As I sit there and continuously slide the locking mechanism in and out I become briefly distracted from the monitor as I feel the ridges of the plastic puzzle. It felt weird to have the thought that Spider was my brother. He certainly never acted like he cared about me much, always opting to hang with the Sullys. However, I know that he feels a certain camaraderie with me due to our similar afflictions. The affliction in question being our shared blood, vrrtep reypay, or "demom blood" flows through both of us. Unlike Spider, however, there was something that afflicted me and me alone in this new world.

The sickness. Norm and Max weren’t sure what it was, but they knew for certain it was some sort of genetic thing. Some thing that my parents had carried in both of them. "Thing". It was easier to call it a thing, easier for me to compartmentalize that way. Easier to tuck away the pain and suffering in a neat corner of my mind. It affected me in different ways. From my joints to my stomach to my legs, my body was simply weak. Back when I was willing to try reaching out to the other children, Na'vi children, I would always get made fun of for being a weak human, so once my legs started to give out on me at the age of 8 I officially swore off having "friends".

"Meyp skxawng."  A little girl muttered under her breath after my legs gave out while splashing in a pool in the cave system. Her name was Txeyu. She was one of the Na'vi that lived the closest to the labs in the back of the cave system, also about one of three friends that I had besides Norm and Max. She was one of the only Na'vi children that would hang around me, but as my legs worsened I could feel her getting agitated everytime I couldn’t keep up as we played. 

"Sorry,"  The apology that exited my mouth was out before I could even stop to think what I actually did wrong. Pulling myself up from the awkward position I was in after I had slipped and fallen to the floor I continued. "Sometimes my legs don't work so well… I mean, even for a human." The last word came out strained like if I said it loudly then everyone would suddenly realize I was an alien and demand to throw me out of camp. I knew of course that humans had the protection of Jake Sully. Realistically that could never happen, but many of the Na'vi were not accepting of our place in the clan. It had been long ago that I learned shame for being human but I remember this memory as the time I learned to be ashamed of being disabled. When I looked up there was this distinct look on the Na'vi's face. A strange mix of pity and disgust that left a pit in my stomach. The slope of her eyes and the curl of her lip are often in my dreams, haunting me. I will never forget them from that day. With tears stinging my eyes I politely excused myself and threw myself into Norm’s arms as soon as I found him. Even though I hadn't known what the words at the time meant I knew exactly what her face had meant. I was a blubbering mess and after that I wasn't allowed to play with Txeyu (or at least Norm had told me that, for my peace of mind so I wouldn’t seek her out) and I swore that I didn't need friends. 

To be fair to Txeyu, I was a weak moron. Confirmed by not only my weak body, but also my inability to stop watching the videos that the two most revered sky people had left behind. Grace was my source of entertainment since I was a child because  the humans were not concerned with bringing old world media with them to Pandora. Mostly because coming to Pandora they had not thought of babies being born in the new world, had not thought of the culture left behind. Had not thought of the difficulty these children would have with their identity, knowing almost nothing of the new world or the old. Many people had brought things with them but most cultural items had been taken by the sky people when they left. And yes, Norm and Max told me all about Earth and about movies and music and art along with the small amount of stuff they could recover from the old lab but it was nothing, nothing, compared to the real thing. To have a sense of community with people who have shared experiences, to have people that you belong to. The very thing that makes people human, or maybe not human, but the thing that is important to all life that holds empathy. 

Empathy. That, I thought, was the similarity humans had with the Na'vi. They both had empathy. What separated them, however, was more important... greed, yes, the humans were greedy despite their sympathy. I had learned as a girl that the two were not exclusive. I knew it was true in the way I wished to be Jake, in the way I longed for a world I didn't belong to. Knew that even I, a human that can hardly be called human, is not spared from this defining characteristic of greed. Unfortunately I would never get a second chance, another body, like Jake did.

I accepted this fact when I was a mere twelve years old, a particularly hard year for me. I started my menstruation cycle with only Norm and Max to comfort me. There were other women at the base, but none close enough to me for me to celebrate in the joy of womanhood. I would have turned to Kiri, but luckily for her she doesn’t have an aunt flow, like all Na'vi. What a lucky bitch. I had started bleeding and had been in the bathroom panic stricken because my first thought was that the sickness was getting worse, that the pain I felt was finally going to bleed me out and kill me. As I silently wept I accidentally knocked over the trash bin in my room. Norm had come to the door, knocking softly thrice he announced himself.

"Hey... you good in there? You've been in there a while and I heard something fall." Hot tears were stinging my eyes and I was breathing heavily, like there was a giant boulder on my chest. Hey, maybe this was one of those panic attacks I read about in the encyclopedias of Medicine and Psychology I had read? I had always been a curious child, learning as much as I could to stave off boredom. There had been a few precious fiction books left behind by the scientists before I. Please dear Eywa (I had felt embarrassed at the time to ask Eywa for help), please help me remember that boring book I prayed all while frantically trying to calm down enough for the memory to surface. Breathe. I had to breathe in and out. I've got this, I mean I'm totally dying, but I've definitely got a handle on this. Compartmentalize. Yes, I distinctly remember the book talking about breathing and slow breaths from the diaphragm, for sure, definitely... Just as I finally started to get a grip and calm down Norm knocked again.

"Come on, seriously you're freaking me out here." Well shit. I didn't get it together fast enough. I gathered myself as best I could, focusing on the cool steel below my fingertips.

"Norm, I think I might be dying." I said trying to project my tired and scared voice through the bathroom door. 

"WHAT? OH MY GOD. Shit... shit! What's wrong? What do you mean? Let me in. Please, open the door." I could hear the panic laced in his voice. The handle on the door rattled as Norm tried to enter the bathroom. 

"Stop!" I commanded "Hold on. I'm-I'm bleeding."

"Oh sweet Jesus open the door." Norm said and the door handle rattled so hard that I thought the lanky scientist might break it.

"It's... coming from down there. Don't come in, it's embarrassing!" I lamented. The quiver in my voice made Norm immediately understand.

"Oh... sweetheart that's not... um, you're, uh, not going to die. Just... clean yourself up in the bath. I'll get you clothes and then me and Max need to have a talk with you." I tilted my head at that, a million questions running through my mind. Did he know what was going on? Why did he seem so relieved? This was horrible! But, I did as was told and waited outside, fidgeting nervously.

And that my friends, is the story of my very first lesson from Norm and Max about the wonders of womanhood. Oh what a joy it was. Of course, they had been severely awkward with it. Max was slightly better, mostly because he had had sisters back on Earth so he actually knew how to use a pad. Ah pads, I think wistfully. I remember them. They were absolutely wonderful. Of course they all ran out by the time I was fifteen. Nowadays I use reusable cotton pads. Not bad, but they were a pain in the ass to make and I always seemed to lose them in the wash. Luckily, Norm is a softie, so I often convince him to help me make them with the promise of my special pancakes made from wheat bread ration. Of course, I'd always been able to get Norm to practically do anything. Partly because of my sickness and the fact that I was his little girl helped. All I had to do was say I was having a bad day and give him the eyes and bingo, my lovely full day of pad making was now cut in half. Success! Max, however, is not as easily swayed; he had always been the more logical and sensible one. I later asked them why they hadn't warned me in advance about periods. I remember laughing when Norm bashfully rubbed his neck and admitted that they simply hadn't thought about it before now.

That was how it has always been. Max was the voice of reason, the one who reminds me to eat when I need to and reminds Norm that I am stronger than I look. I appreciate him more than I even thought possible. Norm was more of the doting type, almost motherly in his spoiling of me. Always letting me a little further, a little longer than necessary in the few times that I was able to take an oxygen mask and run around by the cave as a young kid. Between the two of them I was in good hands. My mother wouldn't have left me with them when she died if they weren't worthy. And so I became their daughter. I don't call either of them dad or father or anything like that but I know that they’re my parents. I love them so, so dearly. Even when Norm ate the last chocolate bar when I was eight. Incidentally this was not long after the Txeyu situation, eight was a hard year too! A portal to hell opened in the lab that day; my sobbing was louder than the banshees on the Hallelujah mountains.

I sigh and sit the puzzle down on my desk. This was my reality lately. All I seemed to be able to do was think about the past. Perhaps because I finally realized I have no future here. There was nothing for me here, nothing except Max and Norm (and Jake, I suppose, but his visits were few and far between and he always seemed a little uncomfortable around me). When they're gone I would have nothing, be nothing. I mean sure I had friends, two to be exact, and one very annoying close acquaintance. Kiri and Tuk were the former and Lo'ak was the latter. He had recently been demoted from best friend status after breaking one of my only CDs (of course jazz CDs were some of the only music to be left behind when everyone left), even after I had told him to be careful with it when putting it in the player. 

The Suli children were the only link I had to the outside world at this point. They had become my friends purely by accident. It happened when Jake was coming to visit Norm and Max to discuss a raid. Lo'ak and Kiri had followed him, no doubt a scheme cooked up by Lo'ak and of course Kiri went along with it. They had been curious where their father ran off to every few weeks despite their mother looking irritated every time he left, promising her that it wouldn’t be long and that he'd be home before dinner. Neteyam had tried to stop them but they lost him by the retired elders hut, slipping away when he wasn't paying them express attention and was answering a question about his training posed by a well-respected elder.

On that fateful day I had actually been outside the caves for once, with Norm watching me from afar to make sure my mask was on and I was walking well enough on my own. I remember looking up at Jake, smiling, and saying hello to the friendly giant (hey, he was friendly to me). He greeted me in english then headed for the door. Behind the bushes near the cave entrance were two meddlesome ten year olds with their jaws practically on the floor. They had never seen a sky person that was so small except Spider, they guessed I must be a child too!

"Lo'ak look! I didn't know that any sky people children live here besides Spider." Kiri said, pointing to my small figure that was about fifteen meters away from them, oblivious to the eyes watching me as I picked a small bouquet of wild flowers to put in my room. 

"Yeah. But, what the hell is wrong with her legs??" Lo'ak said loudly before Kiri elbowed him in the gut. I had heard his voice that time, strange and in a language I didn't understand yet so I stood quickly as panic set in. 

"Hello? Who is there? Jake Sully is here, so you can't hurt me! He's Toruk Makto and he'll protect me!" I called out to them as the flower I was holding fell down at my side. Kiri and Lo'ak simply looked at each other, astonished that I was speaking at all, but especially since I knew their father’s title.

"Hello." I heard a deeply accented voice respond back to me in english. My eyebrows shot up when I heard it. I knew right away that it was coming from a Na'vi child. The accent was unmistakably inhuman. Not to say it was bad sounding, in fact I had always found the native accent to be beautiful. It was just different than the way humans spoke.

"Um.... who are you? Can you come out now? You're scaring me." I said to the bush that was now in front of me. I made my way over to them while they argued about whether it was a good idea to come out or not. I watched as a blue head popped out from behind the bush. I couldn't help the gasp that came out of my mouth at the sight of a little boy around my age.

"I am Kiri and this is Lo'ak." Kiri responded to me as she came fully out of the bush from behind Lo’ak, a hand wrapped around Lo'ak's forearm pulling him along. "Jake Suli is our father." My eyes widened in surprise as I suddenly felt embarrassed to have used Jake as a threat. I made my way over to them slowly, wincing when my ankle twisted slightly to the right. 

"Oh... uh-hi. My name is (Y/N). Mr. Sully told me about you... I met Kiri before but we were both babies, right after she came out of Grace… so I don't remember, I'm sorry!" I was completely unsure of what to say. Goddamnit why did I have to mention Grace? The only company I ever kept were Norm and Max with the occasional visit from the other sky people and the scarily limited friends I had as a toddler and young child. I knew, of course, through Grace's videos and Norms education of the Na'vi (specifically the Omaticayans) to be respectful in my language and not to use figures of speech. 

"The Na'vi have an extraordinary understanding of the English language already. They learn faster than my team can seem to teach them. Fortunately for them, our pronunciation is a lot less important than their language. Unfortunately for us that means a lot more of them understand us then the other way around. The only way to talk in secret around them is to use figures of speech. Unfortunately they may find this rather offensive if they call you out on it, especially when you accidentally call one of the clans best a brown noser. God, I had a hell of a time explaining that one to them."  I remember that video log with great fondness. I had only watched it a week prior for the first time after Norm finally gave approval for me to watch some of the video logs that were more personal to Grace, rather than the usual educational ones (also the ones in which she was drunk). The new blue people in front of me just stared at me with wide eyes. They could not believe I was being so bold for such a tiny thing. Finally the girl shifted and flicked her brother with her tail, breaking him out of the trance he was in. 

"Well... do you wanna play with us?" Was the only thing Lo'ak could think of to say. I shifted nervously. I hadn't played with any Na’vi since the incident with Txeyu. As I picked nervously at the dirt under my nails I let out a short sigh.

"I'm not allowed to play with you guys I think?" It came out as more of a question than a statement. These were Jake's kids, so maybe Norm would be fine with it? Plus, I noticed as they both deflated and started fidgeting with their jewelry and hair that they have hands like Norms avatar body, so that means they're like me! They also have demon blood, so they could understand me, maybe. Just as they turned around to leave after waving goodbye I called out to them. 

"Actually, I think Max and Norm would be okay. If it's Jake's kids. He's a good guy so you guys must be too!" I cringe remembering my naivety. Luckily I was correct, they were "good guys"... and we have been good friends for years now… except when they break my things! I sighed and walked over to the mangled remains of my precious jazz CD. I had already tried gluing the pieces back together. CDs really didn't work that way though, so I tried recording myself singing the songs but I could never sing the way the woman on the CD did so eventually I just gave up. Luckily this gave me the genius idea to record all the remaining CDs I had in case another unfortunate alien boy decided to jam a damn disk into the computer halfway before closing it and breaking it in half!

As I flopped down onto the chair beside my desk I played Beethoven's String Quartet no. 14, 1st Movement to try to quiet my mind. I know from Norm and Max that classical music was one of the least popular genres from Earth but I always had a fascination with it. Not that there was really a choice when I had 5 CDs to my name. Crap. 4 CDs to my name. Beethoven's greatest symphonies, Etta James's At Last (previously, Rest In Peace Etta), Metallica's Black album or 5th album (I wasn't as much of a fan now, but I had some really cathartic times with that album when I was an angsty 13 year old), a burned CD titled "2005 Car Mix" with a variety of pop songs, and a guided sleep meditation music CD (I had never gotten bored enough to actually sit down and attempt to meditate with it) were the musical companions in my life. 

The only exception were occasions when the clan had a large festival or feast and I could hear the sounds of the Omaticayans singing and chanting. Those were always my favorite nights. I would often sit and weave something while I listened to hundreds of voices commune with Eywa, to celebrate a new life or one just ending. That’s one of the only past times I have that I really enjoy. Sometimes I even hum along, pretending that I was a member of the clan. I could almost smell the earthen musk that always clung to every Na'vi. Like they were really one with the forest, as if they were born of the forest. They were so natural in it, just as natural as a fish in the water. As I hum I feel the tickle of a tail brushing against my back and the heat radiating from the thighs of the two Na'vi on either side of me. A brief peace floods into my body, relaxing my muscles one by one before I remember who I am and where I am. I remember again that I was born a human on Pandora, and the dream is broken. That fantasy is not me, no matter how much I wish it so. 

I should really stop torturing myself like this. The only thing fantasizing does is fester and ferment into anger. Anger at my mother, maybe? I mean she did pass on the thing to me. Maybe at Eywa? Do I even believe in Eywa? Sometimes I swear I feel her all around me, in the plants waving in the winds or the sounds of the cave. In the dripping water and wind rushing past the mouth of the cave, dancing through the hallelujah mountains. I hear her in the banshees shrill cries at dawn, and the thanators mighty roar at twilight. Do I even have the right to believe in her? To be angry at the hand dealt to me? By being born on Pandora, does that mean that Eywa is in control of my destiny like her Na'vi children? Am I one of her children?

I ponder this as I weave on the loom that Kiri gave to me last year for my nineteenth birthday. She brings me plenty of string and teaches me new techniques every moon cycle on our ritual ‘girls night’. Although honestly she might get in trouble if anyone finds out about that. A lot of Na'vi wouldn't appreciate a sky person knowing cultural weaving techniques that have been passed down for generations through the Omaticayans: who are known as great craftsmen. My girl Kiri is a total badass though, so she still teaches me anyway. 

Kiri, Tuk, Lo'ak are the only reasons I haven't gone verifiably insane yet as I waste away on this planet. As much as I love Max and Norm, their company doesn't ever change much. There's never anything new going on with human settlement. Always the same issues that we discuss over dry, flavorless ration food. The problems of growing food in the Pandoran soil, which may be lush and fertile for the home plant species, but is absolutely terrible for Earth plants. Always some new trouble that Spider had gotten into with Lo’ak. We are always having trouble with having enough batteries for the tanks to furnish all the humans with oxygen. Yet another reason why I don't go outside. I'm a waste of resources and while Max and Norm can't admit that, I can. I know I'm useless, honestly I wish that I could be of help in even the science realm but hello, there's no school on Pandora and both Max and Norm are horrible teachers. I mean I'm smart but I cannot figure out fucking geometry on my own?! Plus the other humans didn't leave behind any lesson plans for children when they left so I'm pretty much S.O.L. 

I’m pulling a soft blue, almost feathery string through another row on the loom when I hear Max and Norm talking outside of my room in the main lab. I strain my ears but I cannot make much sense of the words I can hear.

"Jake doesn't know.... yeah... ready... think... okay jeez, Max." Eh, nothing to really worry about, I decide. Probably the same old shit in a different toilet. I tune out their talking and focus on the crescendo of one of Mozart's greatest hits before almost dropping the loom when I hear a sharp knock on the door. I get up and turn to press the pause button on the CD player before opening the door. Standing there is a very excited looking Max and a very nervous looking Norm. 

"Oh my God, what is it this time?" I said recollecting a time when I had opened the very same door to them looking very similar to this moment and they had practically accused me of having a crush on Lo'ak. As if! I would never have a crush on Lo'ak. He's like an annoying little brother to me and he's always hiding my stuff just to irritate me or pulling a single hair out one at a time till I yell at him to stop. But I think that may be the reason that we get along so well, he doesn’t see me as different like everyone else does. He has always teased and roughhoused with me like he would Kiri or Spider, albeit a bit gentler.

"Hey kiddo, we just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday. We know you're finally 20! You're a grown woman now..." Norm trailed off looking wistful. Max took up after Norm, who was reminiscing like a parent would on their child’s birthday. 

"And we have something to show you! Something we have been working on for a long time now." He threw an arm around Norm to emphasize the we.

"Did you get the Rewon Tanhì that I asked for?" I asked excitedly. I had been asking them to find me a morning star flower on their expeditions and missions since I heard of them a few months ago. Kiri told me they glow in the dark even after being cut from the bush, an indigo bioluminescent glow that never fades. They're fairly rare so Max said they would keep an eye out but to not count on them finding one. I planned on an open air terrarium to use as a night light if they ever happened upon one while they were out doing research. I just wanted to bring a little of Pandora's beautiful bioluminescent night flora to me since I can’t go outside to see them myself.

"It's something a bit more exciting than that. Come on, follow us, kiddo." Max said before grabbing my wrist and pulling me forward toward the back of the lab. He seemed a little too excited and I almost tripped forward with the force of his pulling. I laughed and told him to slow down a little bit. 

"Sorry, it's just been really difficult to keep this under wraps. You have no idea how many times I almost told you. Honestly, I'm surprised Norm hasn't." Max said, chuckling as Norm exclaimed an indignant "Hey!" while shaking his head fondly.

We reached the back door of the lab that went to the actual laboratory, of which I am typically not allowed into. I'm generally very clumsy because of my issues and Max is always doing some sort of dangerous chemistry experiment that would cause some serious damage if I knocked it over. Maybe even an explosion if the right compounds are left laying around. While that might bring me some much needed excitement to my life, I still opt to just leave the lab alone. 

"It's in the chem lab?" I asked, entirely confused as to what I could possibly want to see in there. It was the most boring room in the whole building.

"Yes. And you need to close your eyes. I want it to be a complete surprise." Norm said, looking over at Max while wiggling his eyebrows like a total goof.

"Okaaaay...." I said, finding their strange demeanor highly suspicious. I closed my eyes and felt Max's large hand on my shoulder, guiding me. I could feel the warmth of it seeping into my skin as Norm, presumably, opened the door to the chem lab. The shrill shriek of ungreased steel grinding on steel was heard in the chem lab and the rustle of thick canvas-like fabric made me shift my weight to my other foot anxiously.

"Okay... come on in guys." Norm says as Max guides me in the room, making sure I don't trip as I step over the raised door frame. I was taken about 10 feet into the lab before Norm told me I could open my eyes. I blinked slowly as my eyes adjusted to the sterile white lab lights. I could only cock an eyebrow, unimpressed as my eyes land on what looks like a large tube covered in a large brown tarp of some sort. The tube had to be at least ten feet long. I looked over at Norm expectantly and a flash of recognition came on his face as he stumbled forward to pull off the tarp.

"Sorry..." he mumbled while lifting the heavy fabric off the large tube. Inside the tube is a female Na'vi. No actually, I count 5 fingers, so it’s an avatar. She was jerking and I could see her nose twitch, like she had smelled the acrid dung of a viperwolf. I realized it bared a strong resemblance to my own as I reached out to touch the glass. When I did she curled forward slightly toward my touch, almost as if she was reaching out to me as well. As she stretched out of the fetal position I saw her whole face and my world stopped. 

"No... there's no way. You guys said there was no way." I whispered looking over at Max and Norm. I couldn't allow myself to believe it until they told me through their own mouths. I had gotten my hopes crushed too many times as a child to allow myself to believe this so easily.

"Well, remember when Grace's Avatar started deteriorating when you were thirteen? And then when you were fourteen we laid her to rest? Well using her chamber and some supplies we found at an abandoned outpost we were actually able to incubate an avatar for you. That's you sweetheart." Norm said, grinning at me and gesturing to the body. 

I feel my knees tremble and buckle as a litany of emotions surges through me, falling forward slightly before Max caught me and helped me up. All I could do was bury my head in his shoulder and cry. These men, who loved me and raised me, have given me the gift of life again. I couldn't breathe so I just squeezed him and shook as the emotions and fears flew through me. I could vaguely register Norm coming up behind me to hug both of us. After a good cathartic cry we all released each other from our group hug. 

"I... I don't know how... I can't... thank you, both of you." Was all I could manage to get out as my voice trembled with emotion. Hesitantly I walked over to the avatar. "She's... beautiful." I reached out to touch the warm glass, tracing my fingers over her face. Well, I guess my face? I guess it will feel more like my face after the consciousness transfer. Her blue skin looks so radiant and soft. Unlike the Na'vi I know she looks so untouched. Almost like a child. She is free of the scarring that comes with growing up in the dangerous Pandoran forests. I admire the markings on her face, taking in all the details and tanhì, or bioluminescent freckles that spray across her face and body. Her hair floats in the blue solution cascading in waves down the gentle slope of her back all the way to her tail.

"We know. Trust me, we know how much you need this. How much you've needed this since you were a kid... and yes she really is beautiful." Norm compliments, squeezing my shoulder. 

"Now, I have to say this before you get your hopes up. We have great hope that the consciousness transfer will work, but kiddo, there's a small possibility that it might not and I need to prepare you for that." Max says solemnly from my right side. That was just like him, always ruining a sentimental moment with his warnings. 

"I know, Max. But still, the fact that you wasted all these resources on me means a lot." I said, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"It's not a waste. Don't… don’t say that, (Y/N). We would both do anything to make you happy." Max replies, looking over at Norm as he nods to me.

"So when can I go in?" I said as I finally let the excitement fill me. It was so strong that my stomach feels queasy; to the point that I feel I might throw up my wheat ration pancakes. 

"Well," Norm piped up, "we were thinking about doing a test run tomorrow. Kiri and Lo'ak are supposed to come anyway for movie night. We thought you'd like to surprise them." I nodded excitedly while smiling at them. I truly loved these two men. They were the closest things I had to parents and I'm so grateful that mom left me in their care. My chest feels so warm as I give both of them another short hug that I think it might explode out of me in a spray of rainbows and sugar. Honestly, all this lovey dovey shit was getting sickening. 

"Now let's go have some birthday food." Norm suggests while he unfolds the tarp to cover it up again. We went and ate our traditional birthday barbecue (not really because it's not cooked on a grill but we have lots of blow torches for sciencey reasons that we use to cook it). It's a decadent meal that could only be spared a few times a year, and one of my absolute favorites. After that they sang me Happy Birthday, and all-mighty Eywa was it super off-key. Soon after that I bid them a goodnight so that I can go to bed early so tomorrow will come a little faster. As I lie in bed all I can think of is tomorrow morning and the possibility of being unable to establish a neural link. 

Due to my anxiety-induced insomnia morning approaches slower than I thought physically possible. Did the suns somehow get delayed rising? Because I swear I've been in bed for two days tossing and turning. Just as I'm about to flip my pillow to the cool side for the fortieth time I hear a gentle knock on my door. 

"Hey, kiddo, it's time to get up. Figured you wouldn't mind an early start today." Max called through the door from the other side. Exhausted, I roll over and heave myself off the bed to get dressed. It takes me a little more time than usual but I finally put on some clothes and bumble out of my bedroom door. 

"Wow. So, no sleep huh?" Norm teases as he looks up from cooking breakfast. 

"Yeah, no. Too excited." I respond, rolling my eyes at him dramatically. I keep glancing at the chem lab door while I impatiently watch him cook and Max notices.

"You have to eat first. It's not ideal that you're tired for your first transfer but it would honestly be way worse if you were hungry too. So. Eat." Max demands pointedly. I sigh as Norm puts a plate down in front of me. I feel my skin buzzing while I eat the breakfast I have thousands of times faster than I ever have before. I almost choke shoveling down the eggs and veggies.

"Hey slow down. Can't have you dying on us before you can actually try." Max says jokingly. Norm pushes him with his arm. 

"Max, don't say that. That's not funny." Norm huffs, giving Max the stink eye. 

"Yeah, yeah." Max replies and I drift away from their bickering as I wait for them to finish breakfast. After we all finish Max goes through a few rules for the transfer and Norm helps me into one of the weird jelly beds used for transfers. He places the wire caging around me and turns away before I grab his shirt and tug on it through the holes of the cage.

"Norm.. Max... I'm scared." I admit.

"I know. But, you have to be brave. I know you can do it." Max said and Norm added a "Yeah, me too." I released his shirt slowly and sighed.

"I know... okay I'm ready." I say and try to relax. As I hear Max flip a few switches and Norm closes the lid I could cuss myself out. Why didn't I try that meditation CD last night?! I think as I try to steady my breathing like Max told me to. As I breathe in I see the flashes of light from the machine. Okay, ‘breathe and count backwards from 20 if you need help’ is what Max advised at breakfast.

In. Twenty.

Out. Nineteen.

In. Eighteen.

Out. Seventeen.

In. Sixteen.

Out. Fifteen.

In. Fourteen.

Just as I am about to call out to Max that it's not working I completely black out. I'm not exactly sure how to describe the experience of a consciousness transfer, how it feels or looks. I think that it feels like dying in a way. It feels like a complete separation from your body, like you are floating out of it, then next thing you know you are blinking at a blinding light ahead of you.

If you have any suggestions or feedback please comment down below or message me! This is my first fanfic in a while, so please excuse my poor grammar. And thank you for reading! Neteyam and the reader will be meeting next chapter.

@skeletondeerart