So I realized the camera makes them look blurry and the colours a bit lighter but at least this gives you an idea. They are much better in real life, as tattoos usually are
My right arm has a horse. A Finn horse with four daisies (forth one is up behind the ears) I have really difficulties to get a pic that really shows it well but believe me, it is freaking awesome when you see it in nature. This one has been with me now six months or so, made in Denmark and cost me a small fortune but it was worth it. I am really selective on tattoo artists and spent lot of time to find one who can make nice and realistic horses. Fun fact: Daisy is Denmark’s national flower while Finn horse is Finland’s national horse breed (also the only one…) We wanted to have some linking here :)
Two first pics are from when it was healing after second session and last one is from today
On my left arm I have my first tattoo. This one I planned for years and it was made in Finland about two years ago. First pic is from last year and Denmark hadn’t been added yet so it is missing there. Others are from today.
It is not just random flags, it is literally a way I have took for horses so every country I have lived in (minus Slovakia, where I did nothing with horses). The most significant ones are accompanied by a small symbol; Finland with snowflake because I used to work in Finland during winters and spend summers abroad, Hungary with acorn as it was The First One and started this all (the tattoo artist was thrilled about acorn), Germany and Belgium are without as first one I spent only two months and I wanted to leave Belgium empty to remind me about my mistakes, Austria has Edelweiss because those are everywhere where I lived and my Austrian friends used to tell a story about men going to mountains to pick up Edelweiss for their ladies, Sweden got a crown because of the decisions and discoveries I made there and Denmark has a little heart because Danes are freaking obsessed about hearts and there I finally understood what exactly I am.
You might notice that Denmark’s colours are not strong enough… It has been coloured only once (other have been done three times) because I was in Finland only one week when we did it. I am going to visit the artist again when I go to Finland and have it coloured for second time.
I asked an approval from my friends from each country before I made the tattoo. Using symbols like this is serious thing so I wanted to make sure they accept it. So far everybody has been excited.
My next tattoos: I am planning to have a Gotlandsrusspony on my upper chest (right side) from the same artist that did the another horse, hopefully. And I want to have flowers on my leg. Not any kind of flowers but those I see all the time in horse pastures. I have asked the one who did my horseshoes to do that one. I also thought about getting a sleipnir with viking style and swan with old Finnish style, but you know, tattoos are expensive and I actually prefer to have them only on my legs, arms and chest because I tend to lose and gain weight all the time so I am afraid they would stretch on other places.
Tattoos are quite common in Nordics and I have never got any negative comments on them. Actually opposite of that; people come to talk to me because of them and show their owns! And I am a teacher trainee and it has never been a problem. Many of my co-workers and professors at Uni also have tattoos.
it’s always amazing to watch adults discover how much changes when they don’t treat their perspective as the default human experience.
it’s been well-documented for a long time that urban spaces are more
dangerous for kids than they are for adults. but common wisdom has
generally held that that’s just the way things are because kids are
inherently vulnerable. and because policymakers keep operating under the assumption that there’s nothing that can be done about kids being less safe in cities because that’s just how kids are, the danger they face in public spaces like
streets and parks has been used as an excuse for marginalizing and regulating them out of
(by the same people who then complain about kids being inside playing video games, I’d imagine.)
thing is, there’s no real evidence to suggest that kids are inescapably less safe in urban spaces. the causality goes the other way: urban spaces are safer for adults because they are designed for adults, by adults, with an adult perspective and experience in mind.
the city of Oslo, Norway recently started a campaign to take a new perspective on urban planning. quite literally a new perspective: they started looking at the city from 95 centimeters off the ground - the height of the average three-year-old. one of the first things they found was that, from that height, there were a lot of hedges blocking the view of roads from sidewalks. in other words, adults could see traffic, but kids couldn’t.
pop quiz: what does not being able to see a car coming do to the safety of pedestrians? the city of Oslo was literally designed to make it more dangerous for kids to cross the street. and no one realized it until they took the laughably small but simultaneously really significant step of…lowering their eye level by a couple of feet.
so Oslo started trimming all its decorative roadside vegetation down. and what was the first result they saw? kids in Oslo are walking to school more, because it’s safer to do it now. and that, as it turns out, reduces traffic around schools, making it even safer to walk to school.
so yeah. this is the kind of important real-life impact all that silly social justice nonsense of recognizing adultism as a massive structural problem can have. stop ignoring 1/3 of the population when you’re deciding what the world should look like and the world gets better a little bit at a time.
After 392847234 years, a mini comic set! :D I felt like I wanted to draw them enjoying something after finishing the Secret Endings //crie ((took a bit long bec i wanted to try drawing lots of clutter for the BG like in Sims aaa))
YOOSUNG: The Sad Gamer - Unintentionally recreates a sim version of his sad life but with better stuff. Makes his sim-self play simLOLOL ZEN: The HD Narcissist - Maxes out all graphic settings. Downloads thousands of custom content to make his sim look better & spends hours on customization JAEHEE: The Escapist - Sends her sim-self to vacations that she can never enjoy in real life (im crying). Also, Cabana Boy Sim Zen ~ JUMIN: The Micromanager - Achieves financial success in-game by turning off free will and micromanaging every action of his sim. + Cats SEVEN: The God Modder - Exploits every cheat code and develops mods/hacks for the game ++ creates sim versions of others to annoy the crap out of them UNKNOWN: The Sadist - DELETES ALL THE POOL LADDERS MC:The Serial Sim Dater - Makes sim versions of others for ♥~ romance ~♥
V: ((I had a V one but the file crashed and I have redraw from scratch – will update later; idk pls give me motivation HAHA jk omg))
Hey, Tumblr! We hope the week two prompts for Mental Health Month are treating you well. In the spirit of the theme, posting it for each other, we wanted to celebrate one of the most helpful communities out there: yours. You’ve helped shape Tumblr into an incredible community for support. To take a look into exactly how it’s flourished over the years, we teamed up with Fandometrics (@thefandometrics) to bring you some sweet, sweet data.
How you talk about mental health
Discussion around #mental health has steadily grown year over year since 2013, with a 248% uptick of original posts and reblogs made between 2013 and 2016. In that same time span, original posts and reblogs about#therapy increased 29%. Much of that conversation was rooted in real people sharing real stories. Emotional and honest stories, like how therapy can help you better understand your life, how to say good-bye to the wrong therapist, or the difficulty of making the sometimes daunting decision to begin therapy for the first time.
There has also been a significant rise in people seeking ways to take care of themselves. The self-care movement has seen huge increases in searches (733%) and original posts (567%) between 2013 and 2016. Over the past six months, we’ve seen total engagement (searches, original posts, reblogs, and likes) around the #self-care tag spike with correlations to holidays and events in the news:
240% increase the day after the US Presidential Election
321% in the days following Christmas and Hanukkah
561% in the days leading up to the Inauguration, and
342% in the days following Valentine’s Day.
Anatomy of a post
To get a better understanding of what the public-facing conversations consist of, we looked at the top posts for the #mental health, #positivity, and #self-care tags from the past few years. We noticed a few trends that continued to appear over and over again:
1. Have a Positive Mental Attitude- Prime yourself
at being always comfortable and confident that u can do a lot better at
studying. Remember that you are studying things that will prove to be valuable
in real life.
2. Prepare your Work Space- Look for a place in your
home or bedroom where u think u can study and maintain concentration in your work.
Have materials stocked up and in place before your study. This way, u can
finish your work without any interruptions.
3. Avoid Cramming- study an hour a day even when
there’s no homework. Scan your notebooks and do a little advanced reading of your
textbooks. You can also research through the internet to learn more about the
topics u are covering in school. I suggest google scholar, it’s like
google but for students, it has the citations, and filters results so that only
helpful outcomes appear.
4. Do projects with more enthusiasm and
creativity- Don’t be afraid to think of new ideas or ways to present your
homework or projects. Teachers always give additional points to students who
show great effort in their works. SO, don’t be afraid to do something original,
do something that hasn’t been done before.
5. Raise Your Hand- Be active and establish a
friendly attitude towards your teachers. Offer to help them out in checking
some work, filing papers or just carrying their things. Little good things add
up in the end for that extra effort grade, and they’ll always remember you as a
very helpful student.
6. Enjoy Reading the Latest News- Find
connections or associations with your life as a student, as a child, as a
friend, or as a citizen. Certain reports would always ask for u to react so
better be ahead with current events which you may be affected with.
7. Listen to Your Teacher, take a few notes- In
my experience, the more i copy and take down notes, the more i get lost in the
lecture. It is best to listen first and understand before u jot down any
important keywords. Yes, use keywords, simple doodles and arrows to make
associations. These will help u remember all concepts mentally.
8. Keep Notes on Index Cards- I use personally
use the smaller oxford ones, they are more portable honestly pretty aesthetic..
9. Watch TV Wisely- Yep you heard it, TV, when
watching TV I sometimes pick up points which may seem relevant in my life. They
sometimes even have something to do with what’s happening in class at the
moment so, always initiate conversation about the latest shows and issues you
have watched. Don’t be afraid to argue and defend your opinions.
WHY IS SUGA’S HAIR SUCH A BIG DEAL? (HAIR TIMELINE)
Suga’s hair alone can turn people insane. I am not exaggerating, just look at Yoongi’s fans state after they found out he was going blue for Love Yourself HER’ comeback. YES! it has such a great impact so this post is here to show you this legend’s hair journey. Let’s get started, shall we?!
Pre-debut: He had this cute “I am a trainee” haircut but still looked so cute. At the time whoever saw Suga thought he was the one who acts fragile and all cute in the group (little did they know)
Bandana & Smokey eye
2Cool 4Skool - 2013: All we could enjoy was his dark eyebrows as for his hair it was all hidden under a bandana (That’s the thing with Suga, you can’t get both)
Turn it into a bow
O! R U L8, 2? - 2013: The hair was finally revealed, but the bandana was still there as for the eyebrows … let’s not talk about it or yoongi stans will start sobbing
Skool Luv Affair - 2014: White skin Suga went brown hair Suga and it was such a harmonious and sweet look
Dark and Wild - 2014: Suga was literally DARK & WILD no better description than that. He was spitting fire, breathing fire and being FIRE. He was like a volcano in eruption!
The Most Beautiful Moments in Life pt.1 - 2015: Ok! this was when Suga started having the same hair color as their albums (even if they denied it) And this color was so cute he looked like a Rap fairy
DOPE - 2015: BLONDE MIN YOONGI! A LEGEND. PERIOD.
The Most Beautiful Moments in Life pt. 2 - 2015: He didn’t look real with that color. He was so magical!
Young Forever - 2016: The members jokingly called him grandpa. Meanwhile, his stans turned into ashes because he was just so irresistible.
AGUST D - 2016: Yes he was blonde before. No, it is not the same thing. It’s like he became MORE dangerously attractive. His aura was no joke.
Back To Black
Wings - 2016: Black is one of the colors that suits him the best and he looks anything but basic with it. He can turn from a handsome nerdy genius
To a “you will dream of me with eyes both closed and open”
Love Yourself HER: We still don’t know what kind of history this color on yoongi will write but we are sure it will be one that no one will forget
Suga had some crazy hair dye work done too
Some bright colors
And went back to brown for a good part of 2017 until recently where he was blonde as a transaction color before turning blue
It’s surprising how Suga can pull off these colors so easily. What’s even more remarkable is how with each shade comes a new persona to light that we can’t help but fall in love with. Yoongi is a man full of appeal and surprises so we end up anticipating more every time. Let’s also hope his scalp is ok or we will sue BigHit anytime!
Kara Danvers vs. Kara Zor-El and the importance of Lena Luthor
I don’t know if anyone has written anything about this yet, but I have a theory about why Lena was the only person Kara was soft with on episode 3x01.
It’s nothing mind-blowing, to be honest, and I’d just like to say that while I totally believe Kara needs time to heal, she should not be snapping at those who love her.
Everyone else in Kara’s life besides Lena knows she is Supergirl; when they look at her, they see the hero they’ve put on a pedestal, and they expect more, they expect better of her – even though they’d probably never admit to doing so.
The Super-friends need her to be Kara Danvers AND Supergirl, regardless of how hard being Supergirl actually is on her.
I believe deep down, Kara is saying “Kara Danvers” was a mistake not because it was (and is) what allows her to have real connections in life (after all, it wasn’t Kara Danvers who Mon-El fell in love with, it was Kara Zor-El; between the two of them, there was never the pretense of secret identities), I believe she’s saying that, because when she is Kara Danvers, it allows her to see she isn’t enough anymore: the world needs Supergirl, and her friends and family need her to be both.
And while it’s always Kara Zor-El who always has to sacrifice part of herself, who has to make tough decisions, it’s Kara Danvers who feels the weight of those choices; it’s Kara Danvers who feels the burden of being Supergirl (and it would explain this line since, once again, it wasn’t Kara Danvers who dated Mon-El, but Kara Zor-El).
So why would Kara renounce “being human” to be the very thing that weighs her down? The way I see it, and what the show constantly tells us, is that Kara and those around her truly believe Kara Danvers and Kara Zor-El are two separate entities, so if Kara stops being a Danvers (if she stops being human), she won’t have to feel the pain that being Supergirl brings her.
But ultimately Kara knows she can’t let that happen, because then we’d get Red!K Kara – and this episode is the closest thing we’ve seen of Kara behaving like Red!K without being infected by it.
And here lies the importance of Lena Luthor (and the importance of Kara keeping her secret identity from her).
I was going to ramble on, but Katie McGrath herself can explain my thoughts on this:
When Kara is with Lena, she is reminded of the good aspects of being human; she is able to relax, take a step back and tell herself that it’s okay to feel, it’s okay to doubt oneself, it’s okay to make mistakes, because she sees all those things reflected back to her on Lena.
When Kara is with Lena, she’s allowed to simply be. And for someone who carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, I can’t imagine how important that must be.
And I think that’s why Kara couldn’t bring herself to snap at Lena, because somewhere in the back of her mind she knows fracturing or potentially ending her friendship with Lena would ultimately shatter her last real connection to Kara Danvers (and her humanity).
Kara can’t break Lena’s heart, because she would be breaking her own.
I thought this city would be a perfect place where everyone got along and anyone could be anything. Turns out, life’s a little bit more complicated than a slogan on a bumper sticker. Real life is messy. We all have limitations. We all make mistakes. Which means, hey, glass half full, we all have a lot in common. And the more we try to understand one another, the more exceptional each of us will be. But we have to try. So no matter what kind of person you are, I implore you: Try. Try to make the world a better place. Look inside yourself and recognize that change starts with you.
I’ve been listening to a lot of The Adventure Zone lately, and I’m still laughing at this quote. While it should probably be “abra-ca-fuck-you” I just think it looks better with a “ka” lmao. The thread around the lettering is gold, but it doesn’t show very well outside of real life.
This was supposed to be a super quick doodle for Valentine’s Day because I needed an excuse to draw the otp in my two fav sweaters but I spent way too much time on it and it still looks super sloppy. It took me 15 min to realise that I wouldn’t be able to draw Roy’s eyes closed tonight so I opened them wth?? Happy V-Day everyone!
In spite of everything I love
Harley Quinn but, damn, writers treat her so badly. I swear, the temptation to
make her actually stupid must be terrible because it’s so often implied, or
explicitly stated, that she slept her way through school. First of all, it
does not work like that. Second, she’s
not a therapist or a psychologist, she’s a psychiatrist, she’s a fricking MD
and a damn young one too. Managing pre-med and collegiate gymnastics that she
relied on to keep her scholarship? Harley is fucked up, but she’s not the dumb
blonde she plays. (also stop making her stacked, she’s a gymnast. she is 4’11”
of pure muscle and is not top heavy)
If you want a good Harley
backstory it’s simple. She’s ADHD but medicated and slightly robotic because of
it. I want to take special care not to demonize meds but, rather, people’s
disapproval of neurodivergence and a lack of focus on what is best for a
patient rather than what is most convenient for others. So, maybe, around ten
years old Harley is a hyperactive space cadet who’s brilliant at tests but
sloppy at coursework, who would be a gymnastics prodigy if she could actually
focus on technique and put in practice time instead of fooling around. Then the
meds come and it’s actually really cool because she can do the things she needs
to do instead of just wanting to do them, doing something else entirely, and
getting in trouble. People are proud of her, she’s proud of herself. But now
there are expectations. Family and teachers and coaches overschedule her, find
worth only in her success and don’t care about her mental health at all as long
as she’s performing and castigate her when she does fail. Fuck if you don’t
internalize that. But she doesn’t look unhealthy and she’s doing amazing. She
actually has to choose between the Olympic trials and continuing her grad
studies. She probably has some issues with self-harm but it either doesn’t look
like self-harm or is well covered up.
When Arkham accepts her, fresh
from her residency, it’s not a mistake. The woman is amazing. All they can see
is a mountain of achievements rather than the seething ball of nerves,
self-loathing, and imposter syndrome boiling just under the surface. That’s
when Joker comes in. He’s got the Hannibal Lecter shtick down. Where everyone
else sees an intelligent driven young woman he sees a frightened overwhelmed
girl who is working her hardest to convince the world she’s anyone other than
herself. Sending her into a nervous breakdown would be too easy so he doesn’t even
bother. Instead he’s open with her, almost friendly. The other doctors are
amazed, Harley is amazed, she’s not done anything particularly revolutionary
but, for the first time in forever, it looks like the clown prince of crime is
showing progress. He unravels her and it’s a challenge, she flinches back and
gets very serious when he comes too close to the real Harley under the
professional. Still, soon she’s questioning everything. She doesn’t even really
like her co-workers. She hasn’t had a real friend in years. She’s forgotten how
to have fun. Did she ever want this to be her life or did she just do it for
other people? It starts so slowly that it looks, at first, like she’s getting
better at self-care. Maybe something totally silly one weekend, a trampoline
park where she can enjoy the way her toned body moves without stressing out
over landings, a face painting booth at a street fair, some garishly colored
downright tacky decoration that clashes with her sensible apartment. Suddenly
she realizes how much she hates knowing the difference between cream and ecru.
The beigeness of her life is repulsive. She hates the person she’s pretending
to be even more that she hates herself which is really saying something.
After her weekend of freedom she
would have called in sick if it wasn’t so suddenly important to see him. The
relief she feels at talking to one of Gotham’s most infamous supercriminals is
disturbing but it is relief and she’s been swallowing a slow-motion panic
attack for hours. She admits, though she shouldn’t, that she took his advice
about doing something fun and he teases her, what would straight-laced Doctor
Quinzel do for fun? Did she realphabetize her sock drawer or buy a new
clipboard? It’s not important to impress him, it’s really not. He’s dangerous,
cruel, and he looks so proud when she admits that she bought a lamp shaped like
a lawn flamingo. The only mistake, he says, is that she should have stolen it.
She hopes the wicked thrill it gives her doesn’t show on her face. It does. She
almost even laughs. He likes it when he can make her laugh and she likes it
when he likes things.
It’s wrong and unprofessional,
the relationship she develops, and she knows it but her whole life she’s been
so high strung. Nothing she’s done has been for her, she’s not sure she knows
how to really do selfish things anymore, but he knows the selfish things she
needs to do. It feels good when she follows his advice even when it’s small
things like the rainbow striped socks she wears concealed under her very bland
slacks and sensible shoes. She’s so happy, almost giddy, and he loves her
happiness, he loves her, he loves the real her that she’s had to beat down and
hide for so long, the her that even she isn’t able to love. She is able to love
him, though, and since he loves her she’s able to love herself for him, to
protect and nurture something so important to him.
When the choice comes between
her old self, the tedious endless labor of making the world proud, and Him, the
spectacular man that brought color into her life, it’s not even a question.
She kills Doctor Harleen Quinzel, she throws away the version of her that let
herself burn just for medals and hollow accolades. She embraces Harley Quinn
and it’s so much a part of her nature she can’t even see that she’s still
living her life for someone else’s approval, except this time that person is a murderous
clown. She hasn’t let her hair down, she’s just put it in pigtails instead of a
At five, he named every single peacock. Every. Single. Peacock. Lucius called him foolish. Narcissa smiled. Both choked on their tea when during a light lunch in the garden, one peacock pecked another aggressively, and five-year-old Draco sprung up on his chair and shouted, “Bad Severus! Bad! Time-out!”
He grew up a lonely child - doted on and loved, but lonely. There was the occasional visit from his father’s associates and their children, mostly Crabbe and Goyle, but they were more pawns than friends, bigger, dumber children to boss around.
Later (too late), he’ll realize this and will learn regret for what could’ve been, if he had actually treated them like friends.
He played pretend often as a child. Usually, he was the prince, the hero. But sometimes he was the dragon, wrecking everything in his path.
He can’t function without coffee in the morning.
He cries when Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt declares him not-guilty and freed of all charges.
The manor becomes a thing of fear and horror to Draco after the war, his memories of home forever tarnished by Voldemort’s presence, by the monstrosities that happened there. He can’t show his face in the Wizarding World without fear of being ambushed, or, at the very least, looked upon with hatred and disgust. He starts visiting a muggle village near the manor, where nobody knows him or his past and he can be anyone.
The more time he spends around muggles the more he realizes his parents were wrong - how could anyone who could create all of this without magic be useless or unintelligent? And the nice girl at the coffee shop who smiles at him every day and asks him how he is when she doesn’t have to, could just hand him his coffee and move on, can’t be a waste of space, she just can’t.
Lucius finds out where he’s spending his time. They get into a huge fight - their only real fight because Draco had always been a good son, he prided himself on being a good son. It’s the first time he ever raises his voice to his father. It’s the first time his father strikes - truly strikes - him, open palm, across the face, and something that had already been frayed between them breaks in two.
Draco leaves home.
He returns to Hogwarts to get his NEWTs because he’s already starting off on the bottom rung with Death Eater stamped on his back - uneducated will be the death of him.
He learns to hate the name Malfoy and repels everything to do with it.
He joins healer training after Hogwarts, with so many ‘Outstanding’ N.E.W.Ts behind him, St. Mungo’s can’t turn down his application.
But that doesn’t stop his trainers and co-workers from making his life an absolute hell, doing everything they can to make him quit. That doesn’t stop the looks they and the patients alike give him, distrust and disgust. He does not quit. He works harder than he’s ever worked at anything in his life because he’s finally found a purpose, a real purpose - to make others feel a little less broken than he does on a daily basis, to fix them because he doesn’t know how to fix himself.
It’s not redemption. It’s not an apology. He just wants to help, be a better him, for once in his life.
And yes, the first time a patient pukes on him, he almost quits, because puke in his shoes, but he doesn’t.
And he’s brilliant at it. He destroys at healer training. Becomes the greatest healer St. Mungo’s has. And suddenly, people aren’t avoiding him any longer, but asking for him, requesting him.
He earns the title of Potions Master - a very prestigious, difficult title only awarded to the best.
He creates potions not only for St. Mungo’s, but also for smaller, free clinics, for people who can’t afford St. Mungo’s.
He single-handedly revolutionizes healing potions as the wizarding world knows them.
He carries lollipops in the pocket of his healer robes for children patients.
He has a son - Scorpius Hyperion - who takes the last name Malfoy, just like he had when he came into this world.
He stops hating the name Malfoy and instead decides to change what it stands for, make it more than it ever was. Make it a name his son can be proud to own.
Anyway, your bio is hypocritical. Just like people are free to write whatever they want, we are free to criticize it however we want. It works both ways.
People are free to write whatever they want and you are free to criticize whatever you want about their work.
But you are not free to criticize however you want. You’re not free to attack a person’s moral fiber or existence because you don’t like their fiction. you’re not free to decide whether or not the creator was ‘allowed’ to write the fic based on their personal experiences or identity or race.
You’re not free to insult them, harass them, shame them for their content, go about defaming them, threaten them, post nasty things about them, speculate about their personal lives, or otherwise use ‘criticism’ as an excuse for intimidation, abuse, and ad hominem judgement of people whose power to influence the world through their fanfiction is no greater than your own.
My bio reads as follows: “everyone is free to write whatever they want. others are free to dislike it - but not free to defame a fanwork as evil because it squicked them.”
Fiction is different from real life because it’s a place where humans can explore the rules and experiences of real life without being restricted by reality or what would be ‘realistic’. We can imagine ourselves having happy endings to abusive relationships. We can date Mr. Dangerous without actually dating a dangerous man. We can experience the guilt of committing murder without actually murdering somebody. We can experience violence without getting hurt. Fiction lets our curious minds explore, lets us own and better understand why we allow morals to dictate our real lives, and gives us power over bad experiences because we can close the book or the browser or the e-reader anytime we like and never look back. When we start judging fiction on its moral merits and demand fiction only depict ‘moral’ things, we start down the road to censorship. And restricting fiction won’t make immoral or terrible things stop happening in real life.
‘This is evil’ is not criticism. It’s a moral judgement, and fandom is fucking full up on that. take it elsewhere.
Imirrim-Chæma-Thiridion had answered a distress call. It had probably been stupid on xir part, but what was done was done.
A small ship, even smaller than xir, had crashed on a barren but breathable-to-most-species moon in the system of Hyaldnar. Xe had been making a delivery for xir mentor when xir communication system picked it up, and since xe was barely past adolescence, the journey of not even five rotations was making xem bored and seeing a crash site would be exciting. After all, it was probably an automated distress call, nothing could survive a crash to a rocky moon.
But there xe was, standing in front of a crumpled and burned wreck and the very much alive creature that had crawled out of it after perceiving xir pod landing. Imirrim cursed xir rotten luck, now xe would have to help the poor thing. Xe had been planning on just sight-seeing the wreck a bit, maybe later contact whatever species it had belonged to to tell it had crashed, if only to look good in front of xir mentor.
After a while of the creature gawking and baring it’s teeth at Imirrim, xe recognized the species as human, the fifth longest living space-faring species. Still, xe belonged to the second longest living, and Thalmors like xemself could outlive five humans each born at the moment of the previous one’s death. What had especially stuck from xir exobiology and alien anthropology lessons was humans’ way of expressing their emotions in strange and backwards ways, and their sheer capability to holding grudges. Great.
Imirrim approached the human slowly. It was approaching xem right back, still showing it’s teeth like it was attacking, but but humans expressed their emotions backwards, so that was good, right? Besides, the human was wounded and limping, and xe could outrun it if things went bad.
“Finally someone answered my call,” the human -a male, xe guessed- said as Imirrim was close enough. “I’ve been here for a week and I’m running out of water.”
A week? How was he alive?
“Oh, where are my manners,” the human said and extended the less damaged of its upper limbs towards Imirrim. “I’m Thomas Warren, from the human colony on Clyzma Al Carrim, farmer by profession.”
Imirrim carefully extended a cheliped to mimic the greeting, and did xir best not to flinch when the human grabbed it and shook it. “I am Imirrim-Chæma-Thiridion from planet Skismin, apprentice to the Grand Navigator.”
“It is very nice to meet you,” Thomas said and shook xir cheliped some more before finally letting go. “You mind taking me off this rock?”
Imirrim shifted xir weight from a foot to another to a third. “Sure.”
“Great!” Thomas said and pulled his lips even further back, revealing even more teeth, more than could possibly fit comfortably into a mouth that small. “I’ll be right back.” He limped back into the small shipwreck.
Imirrim was regretting this. It wasn’t customary to help strangers, especially from other species, since there was no telling what they could do. Humans had a reputation of being unpredictable, especially when wounded. And this ‘Thomas’ was covered in wounds, some looking much too severe for anyone to possibly survive.
Thomas emerged from his wreckage, carrying something that was clearly important if he was willing to retrieve it from a wreck while severely wounded. “So, Imirrim, was it? Where are you headed?”
Imirrim led the human to xir pod and helped him climb over the threshold. “Back to Skismin. You can get better help there.” If he stayed alive that long.
“Lovely, you’re a real life saver,” Thomas chuckled. “I’ll owe you one.”
To Imirrim’s surprise -and relief- Thomas did not die during the two rotations’ travel back to Skismin. He talked xir auditory membrane off and after a while filled the pod with the faint stench of alien blood, but all things considered he wasn’t the worst passenger. Once xe had docked the pod back on Skismin and had helped Thomas and his bag of belongings (which turned out to be an assortment of small possibly decorative items, data storage devices, clothes, and even a few ordinary rocks one could get anywhere but that were apparently ‘cool’) to the nearest emergency clinic, Thomas turned to xem one last time.
“If you ever find yourself in a bad spot, call me,” he said with a serious expression xe had come to recognize during their time at the small pod. “I owe you my life, just call and I’ll pay you back.”
Imirrim stared after him for a long while before turning away and heading to tell the Grand Navigator that hir delivery was received and thanked for, and to tell xir mentor about human Thomas Warren.
After xe had told hir what had passed, Imirrim asked one last question. “Master, what does it mean when a human says they 'owe their life’ to someone?”
The Grand Navigator’s age-reddened crest rose curiously. “Like you probably know, humans are known for holding grudges and for being almost insensibly loyal. While they keep in mind all wrong that has been done to them, they do not forget a good deed done to them either. 'Owing one’s life’ means you have done something to them that they regard highly of, usually the saving of a life, and that they will do anything in their power to, as they say, 'return the favor’. Did this Thomas say this to you?”
Imirrim nodded. “Right before he went with the medical staff, he said he owes me his life, and all I need to do in a time of distress is to call him and he will come.”
The Grand Navigator raised hir upper chelipeds in a sign of pride. “You have done well, my apprentice. To earn a human’s favor is a feat of great bravery and compassion. One day, you shall become a fine and daring Navigator, like the explorers before us.”
Imirrim ruffled his crest at the praise. Maybe answering the distress call wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Time went by, and Imirrim progressed from an appearance to a novice and on, up the ranks, and eventually landed a spot as the head Navigator on the long trade ship Pochella, traveling at high speeds through barely charted nebulas and dangerous asteroid fields. Xe plotted courses through the densest of rock fogs and past dangerous gravitational pulls, and not once did his calculations for the course fail.
Xe had lived many more cycles, many more than a human could ever live. Imirrim had counted- xe had kept a distant eye on Thomas Warren in case xe would ever have a need for the favor he had claimed to owe xem, but the need never came. He had died fifty-seven cycles after xe had rescued him, or seventy-two years, as humans counted time, and even more time had passed after that.
Still, even after all this time xe looked back at him for courage when daily life was hard and xir spirit was down. Xe had met and worked with humans many times now and they all shared the same spirit Thomas Warren had had, but none of them had left quite the same impression on xem as Thomas, who had smiled and joked through nine rotations on broken bones and told fondly of his family and farm back on Clyzma Al Carrim.
Imirrim had plotted a course through a particularly dense asteroid cloud, a course that would save the ship a lot of time and fuel. The ship was nearly out of the cloud when the proximity alarm went off and something clamped into the ship’s hull. The computer showed xir an approximate hologram of the something. It was a smaller and armed ship attaching itself to their ship.
The Cieruna members of the crew -small, short-lived, and feathery things with nimble hands and a sensitivity to electromagnetic fields- were screaming in terror. Pirates, they yelled, we can’t shake them off, we’re all going to die. Shush, xe said, we will not die. I’ll call for help, be quiet.
Imirrim galloped to the unoccupied communication post and sent a distress message on all frequencies. “This is Imirrim-Chæma-Thiridion, head navigator of the trade ship Pochella. We are inside the Halfway asteroid cloud. And we are under attack by pirates. Please help us.” Once the message was sent xe stepped away from the console and joined the crew in listening to the magnetic creaking of their hull in the morbid silence that had followed xir call.
The ship could not move, following the already plotted course with the extra weight and bulk of the pirate ship attached to them would be suicide, and finding a new safe route out without knowing the exact dimensions of the other ship was impossible, not to mention useless against the threat. All xe could do was hope for a miracle.
And a miracle xe got. Another proximity alarm sounded, and the computer showed an image of a charging mining pod, ten times smaller than the pirate ship and at least a hundred times smaller than Pochella. Outmatched, outgunned, it rammed the pirate ship and despite being hit by their lasers and missiles, it kept on pounding it with its grappling arms and mining lasers and asteroid bombs, everything it had. And finally, when the pod was leaking air and plasma and fuel into space, the pirate ship released its hold and retreated, engines sputtering and its hull dented and battered, and flew away from Pochella and the mad mining pod to safety of the asteroids.
“What was that? What happened? The Cieruna chirred and cheeped. “It is gone! We are saved!”
Imirrim was still looking at the hologram screen. The mining pod was all but destroyed in the short but fierce fight. Someone exited it, wearing a spacesuit and carrying something, and the pod engaged it’s barely functional engines and sped away leaving a trail of debris and smoke in its wake, until it finally exploded from the damage it had sustained a safe distance away.
Imirrim stared at the hologram for a moment, and shifted xir weight from a foot to another to a third. Xe input a code to the control panel and opened a small airlock near the creature that had saved them all. Xe set off from the bridge where xe was posted and galloped through corridors and climbed down stairs, until xe arrived in front of the airlock that had already closed and the creature that had successfully boarded the ship.
“Are you Imirrim-Chæma-Thiridion?” The creature asked. Xe nodded, all the while looking the spacesuited being up and down. Four limbs, two for walking and two for holding. No tail, short neck but a neck nonetheless. No added room for fins or spikes or crests. It was a human.
The human handed their possession to xem -a lumpy bag that both felt and looked like it had rocks in it- and pulled off their helmet.
The human was ruffled and grizzled and had spark burns on his face and his eyes were serious, but he was baring his teeth in a joyous smile. He extended a hand to greet xem and Imirrim took hold of it and shook it.
“I am Stepa Warren,” the human introduced himself. “You rescued my grandfather from a shipwreck when he was young. He spoke fondly of you til his dying day. It is an honor to meet you.”