[ronwestbreeze]

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[captainzutara]

Everyone is, of course, entitled to their own takes, but I, personally, have always shipped Zutara because I actually do see it as a soft and endearing ship. Yes, initially there's an obvious roughness in their enemies stage. Zuko is harsh and battered and Katara has a lot of growing to do as a person and bender as well. But, I think that's something I really admire about their characters and love about the idea of them coming together as a romantic pairing.

They both fix themselves (mostly Zuko, Katara just grows) for themselves and become better people on their own accord. Neither would be "fixing" the other. They'd be coming together as two full, albeit broken in many ways, people. They're strong, determined individuals with steadfast goals and hearts of gold. Yes, they're both stubborn and passionate and firey, but I don't think this means that they'd be "clashing" or "fighting" all the time, despite their tempers.

In the canon glimpses we get at the end of Book 3, and a bit before that, like in CoD, they are working well in tandem. They support each other as equals, hear each other out, respect each other, uplift each other, and seem to be just what the other needs in times of strife. They have a lovely story in canon of enemies to friends, I just also would have really enjoyed delving into that next step of developing them into lovers.

So in my personal interpretation of how Zutara would go, I do see them having far more fluffy moments and functioning together as a healthy relationship. I see their conflicts as normal, everyday ones that healthy couples have from expressing themselves openly without fear. I don't see them having huge blowouts over things often. And, on the rare occasion they would, brought in from outside forces, I think that because of the deep, mutual bond and understanding they have, they'd work through it together and come out stronger in the end.

I like them being a warm, happy couple together because they've both been through hell and back in the show as kids, and the least they deserve is to have a happy, loving family together. I also think that makes the most canonical sense with the personalities of their characters. As I read the characters and show, I see them as working well together and having the fabric of a longstanding, healthy marriage that would grow old together. That is genuinely how I interpret their relationship based on the groundwork we see in the series.

I'm not doing it to try to prove to antis that ZK "really is healthy or good", that's genuinely how I see the ship. I like the tumultuous enemies to friends to lovers saga that gets them there with enemies fighting on other sides of the lines to eventually come together. But, in my genuine interpretation and also enjoyment, they work wonderfully and beautifully, and healthily in tandem.

I love hurt/comfort ZK fics where outside forces come in. I think that, too, would be realistic to their story. Any tension like that would test any relationship, platonic or romantic, but I see, in the end, Zutara, as best friends and lovers, winding up stronger on the other side because of those things, not fraying at the edges.

And the fandom is vast, so ofc interpretations will vary, as will creative explorations just for the sake of such, but I think there's so many loving, "fluffy" versions of Zutara existing as a couple because that is genuinely how the bulk of the fandom interprets their relationship post-canon based on what we do get of their canon friendship. A lot of ZK shippes see this as the logical conclusion of the two characters coming together based on what they watched, myself included. I do it to please no antis, it's why I like the ship and what I see in it. I think it's the prevailing, more popular interpretation of the ship, not because of "antis pressuring ZKs" but because that's genuinely the prevailing fanon reading of the characters and how their relationship would be based on the groundwork.

I'm sometimes personally defensive against antis and combat with these things bc it's genuinely what I see in ZK for the past 15ish years. Not that anyone should bother or care what antis say. They want to moralize and use faux activism in shipping to tear people down who disagree with them over minor fictional tastes. Their beliefs are irrelevant.

But, all this being said, if some people do enjoy the more toxic version of B1 Zutara, then by all means, it's not going to be my cup of tea, but I hope you have a great time reading and writing it. If someone wants to do a dark AU, even, then have the time of your life. That's what fiction is about, delving into those themes and exploring them. And if you want to use Zuko and Katara as your dolls to do so, then have fun! It's not going to be for everyone, and it doesn't have to align with canon personalities or anything. It's for fun and creative expression, and I encourage people to write whatever the hell they want, whether me, antis, or anyone else likes it or not!

I like a lot of ETL too, but not all for some of these same reasons. I think some things being described here fit other popular ETL ships that I, personally, am not a fan of for those same reasons, but that's okay. Not everyone is going to enjoy the same things, so if someone wants to interpret ZK more along the toxic or tension-laden lenses of those ETL ships, that's 10000% fine, and I hope they have a blast doing so in both!

I'm pro exploring any themes in fiction with any fictional characters you want! And I'm pro not feeling ashamed or like you have to defend that to anyone. But all that being said, I think most Zutara shippers are in this same boat, and do just genuinely interpret the characters in a softer light, more mature, understanding relationship that would have mature conflicts that are able to be worked out because of how innately they respect and understand each other.

I genuinely think their canon characters and relationships spell out a mutually loving, fluffy, teasing, playful, deep, trusting, respectful, genuine, admiring, caring, and longlasting marriage. That's why I write those things, love reading those things, and enjoy those things in my ZL stories, and I think others would agree.

Some people might not favor this interpretation (which is fine!) but I think it's so prevailing because it is so widely adopted as the most likely for the characters and what ZK shippers genuinely want to see, not in any kind of attempt to make content that appeases to antis or to show antis they're wrong or "water down" ZK to antis or from feeling defensive from them… it's just genuinely what most ZK shippers want and what the majority interpret the ship as.

[ronwestbreeze]

hazard | 1 | burnt eggs

pairing: avengers x reader (platonic) summary: Lila leaned forward on her knees, eyes wide again. “Is that your organ story? Do you have dead parents also? Cooper says a real superheros ususaly have dead parents.” “…Um, no. But maybe we should stop listening to Cooper, yeah? Also, it’s origin story, not organ.” or It was an accident, really. She didn’t mean to fall into another universe and get superpowers. And she sure as hell didn’t mean to join a not so perfect team who lowkey hate each other. And yet, we’re here. ( post-TASM 2 / Age of Ultron - Infinity War ) word count: 1.7k author’s note: hi!!! while I’m working on yggf, i’m gonna start posting my marvel fic here after watching the trailer for doomsday! hope you guys like it! i’m actually rewriting it from an OC to a reader currently!

buy my a coffee!

“I will only ask you this one last time.” A heavily accented voice growled. “Where. Did you. Come from?”

There was a tightness in your throat, just as tight if not tighter than the restraints wrapped around your wrists.

A soft whimper and a croak later, you spoke, “I don’t remember.”

He hummed, as if truly disappointed by the answer. “Well, that’s a shame, dear. And you seem quite distraught about it too. Perhaps…” His cold fingers brushed along your cheek. You jolted away almost instantly. “…Perhaps, I can help with that.”

The man stepped away, but he didn’t leave the room. There wasn’t much to make out of the room, not with a bright light blinding your vision and straps wrapped around your forehead, preventing any movements from looking around.

“Wanda, be a dear.”

Before you could realize what he meant or figure out who this Wanda person was, something in your mind caused it to slow and grow hazy. Something slithered into the depths of your swirling thoughts, something grabbed at your murky memories and pulled them forward with sure and steady fingers.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was a flash of scarlet.

The image replayed itself over and over again. It wouldn’t leave your dreams.

It was always the same every time. 

She was falling. Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling. 

And he was reaching for her, flying down the clock tower, desperately trying to catch her. To stop her before she...

You squeezed your eyes shut and covered your ears before your best friend would hit the ground with a sickening crack. Dying instantly.

Back then and even now, if you believed if you had closed your eyes, then all the bad things would go away. 

You were nine years old again, trembling in a child’s bedroom, trying to ignore the wall shaking from your father’s booming voice. Trying to will the tears to stop when the front door slammed shut, leaving the cold house with nothing but silence and your mother’s desperate cries for his absent ghost.

Maybe you could’ve comforted your crying mother. But instead, you were nine years old, staring at the door that would never open again that night.

Maybe you could’ve gone after him, chasing his car as it disappeared down the street, screaming, shouting, begging him to stay. Begging him to choose you instead of freedom.

Instead, you were nine years old. Stripped of nothing but utter shame. Regret. Useless.

You could’ve stopped her. Gwen Stacy was a stubborn woman born from an equally stubborn father who was the former chief of police. You could’ve convinced her to let Peter handle it, to let him save the day like he always did.

But no. You were eighteen years old. Curled away in a corner, just a few feet away from where your best friend’s body laid. Eyes screwed shut, hot tears streaming your face, and ears covered.

It’ll go away. It’ll go away. It’ll go away. It’ll go away.

Wails were what startled you out of your silent chant. It was then your eyes snapped open on instinct and upon seeing Gwen lying still and limp in Peter’s arms, the realization fell upon your bruised shoulders. Breaths short and a strained cry leaving your lips.

You could’ve stopped her. But instead you were nine years old again. Frozen. Hiding away. Useless.

Time was different for those who were dabbling between shock and the unyielding, unforgiving wave of grief. One often forgets their surroundings. The other forgets, only for a moment, that they are not alone. That they are not the only one grieving.

Through the river streams of tears, you realized that they were still at the bottom of a destroyed clocktower with distant sirens rattling your brain. Peter had looked up at you as if it were the first time he noticed you there, briefly coming up for air of his own ocean.

You stared at each other but neither of you considered one another. You felt as if you were staring right through him; there was nothing you were looking at. You were staring and doing everything in your power to not have a panic attack.

It was an inevitable truth that the body had to be left here. You never truly considered that when Peter quietly grabbed you and swung the both of you out of the clocktower before the police could arrive on the scene. It didn’t set in until you arrived at your apartment that Gwen Stacy was gone. That Mrs. Stacy had lost yet another person she loved not only a year after losing her husband. That Peter had lost his first love. That you had lost your best friend.

Peter, as soon as you were in your apartment, as soon as you closed the balcony curtains, the world couldn’t see that Spider-Man had fallen to his knees in your living room.

He hadn’t put his mask on after leaving the clocktower. It was sheer luck that no one was paying close attention while you had been swinging through the city. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. Not since the death of his uncle. He was silent in the way that the room went dead quiet around him as well. Nothing in the room dared to make a sound. His head hung low, shadows practically covering most of his face.

You quietly walked over to him and knelt to the floor next to him, watching as silent tears slid down his cheeks.

“I was too late.”

Up until this point neither of you had uttered a word ever since leaving the clocktower. But even now, you had no clue what you could say. What does anyone say to something like this?

“I was too late.” He whispered, shaking his head. “This is all my fault, I should’ve...I could’ve...” He cut himself off with a sob.

You hugged his arm gently, resting your head on his shaking shoulder. Words betrayed you and died away almost instantly. All you could do was comfort him. You had to do something. Anything.

For awhile, the two of you stayed like this. Time was irrelevant. The night had become day. You had still yet to say anything. Eyes droopy but never closed unlike Peter who practically cried himself to sleep, his head currently lying in your lap. Still on the floor with your back against the edge of the couch. Staying in this crumpled heap of sorrow.

It wasn’t until the early morning sun broke through your curtains did you become restless. Which was humorlessly ironic considering you never once slept.

So, after gently replacing your lap with a soft pillow for Peter’s head, you went to the kitchen and allowed your hands do whatever they wanted. Having a part time job at a diner while going to school didn’t give you a lot of food options in the kitchen, but you worked with what you had.

Which ended up being microwaveable pancakes and a dozen eggs. You could work with that. There was even enough to make for Peter when he woke up. And so, for the past hour, you had kept yourself busy and moving. Cleaning the kitchen, making a cup of coffee, and the organizing the fridge.

By the time you were cooking the eggs, Peter had woken up.

You paused, watching him squint his eyes open and then suddenly shoot up from the floor, looking around the room frantically. Calling your name.

“Right, here, Pete.”

Peter turned as you moved out of the kitchen, spatula in hand. He was staring at you now, both relieved, confused, and panicked.

“I couldn’t sleep and decided to make some breakfast.” You gave a small smile, hoping to ease the tenseness in his shoulders even though you’d never had that type of effect on him. Instead, he only frowned. His eyes downcast and away from yours. “Don’t worry! I made enough for the both of us. Scrambled hard, right? Or are you one of those weirdos that likes it wet?” You were trying. You had to do something. Anything.

“No, I can’t.”

You frowned but expected the reply. “I’ll leave some anyway. I don’t think it’s a good idea to not eat in this state. I’ll just make a plate and set it aside for you—”

“No. I can’t.”

It was the way he said that made you realize what he meant. You gripped the spatula tighter, breaths quickening, “Peter?” You watched him grab his mask from the floor and begin pacing. “Peter, please—”

The way he said your name. The way his voice shook. The way he looked at you now. As if you were something fragile. He shook his head, eyes glass. “I can’t do that to you.”

“Don’t do that, Pete.” You argued. “Don’t push me away, okay? We can’t do that to each other. You’re my best friend, right?” He didn’t look at you. “Nothing can change that, alright? I won’t let it—”

Peter continued shaking his head, “Yes, you will.”

“Damn it, Peter! I fucking won’t—”

“This is exactly how it happened! This is exactly how she...” Peter’s voice wavered, hand running nervously though his hair. “I-I let her in, I got her involved. I broke a promise and now she’s...she’s...” He started looking around the room in panic, like he realized just where he was. “I-I can’t—I shouldn’t be here.”

Peter pulled on his mask and rushed toward the balcony. You ran forward, eyes blurring. “Peter, wait!”

But he had already leaped off. You could see the web sling across the city, away from your apartment.

A sob shook your body as you sunk down onto the wooden coffee table, muffling your cries into your arm. All of last night’s events finally came hitting like a violent wave.

You could’ve comforted your crying mother.

You could’ve stopped Gwen.

You could’ve begged Peter to stay and tell Spider-Man to leave just once.

Someone who is easily ignored. Easily left behind.

You could’ve done something. You could’ve done something.

So, fucking useless.

A blaring sound from the smoke alarm reached your ears. The stove had been left on for too long.

And when you numbly got up to turn it off, you saw that the eggs for you and Peter were burnt.

[ronwestbreeze]

hazard | 1 | burnt eggs

pairing: avengers x reader (platonic) summary: Lila leaned forward on her knees, eyes wide again. “Is that your organ story? Do you have dead parents also? Cooper says a real superheros ususaly have dead parents.” “…Um, no. But maybe we should stop listening to Cooper, yeah? Also, it’s origin story, not organ.” or It was an accident, really. She didn’t mean to fall into another universe and get superpowers. And she sure as hell didn’t mean to join a not so perfect team who lowkey hate each other. And yet, we’re here. ( post-TASM 2 / Age of Ultron - Infinity War ) word count: 1.7k author’s note: hi!!! while I’m working on yggf, i’m gonna start posting my marvel fic here after watching the trailer for doomsday! hope you guys like it! i’m actually rewriting it from an OC to a reader currently!

buy my a coffee!

“I will only ask you this one last time.” A heavily accented voice growled. “Where. Did you. Come from?”

There was a tightness in your throat, just as tight if not tighter than the restraints wrapped around your wrists.

A soft whimper and a croak later, you spoke, “I don’t remember.”

He hummed, as if truly disappointed by the answer. “Well, that’s a shame, dear. And you seem quite distraught about it too. Perhaps…” His cold fingers brushed along your cheek. You jolted away almost instantly. “…Perhaps, I can help with that.”

The man stepped away, but he didn’t leave the room. There wasn’t much to make out of the room, not with a bright light blinding your vision and straps wrapped around your forehead, preventing any movements from looking around.

“Wanda, be a dear.”

Before you could realize what he meant or figure out who this Wanda person was, something in your mind caused it to slow and grow hazy. Something slithered into the depths of your swirling thoughts, something grabbed at your murky memories and pulled them forward with sure and steady fingers.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was a flash of scarlet.

The image replayed itself over and over again. It wouldn’t leave your dreams.

It was always the same every time. 

She was falling. Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling. 

And he was reaching for her, flying down the clock tower, desperately trying to catch her. To stop her before she...

You squeezed your eyes shut and covered your ears before your best friend would hit the ground with a sickening crack. Dying instantly.

Back then and even now, if you believed if you had closed your eyes, then all the bad things would go away. 

You were nine years old again, trembling in a child’s bedroom, trying to ignore the wall shaking from your father’s booming voice. Trying to will the tears to stop when the front door slammed shut, leaving the cold house with nothing but silence and your mother’s desperate cries for his absent ghost.

Maybe you could’ve comforted your crying mother. But instead, you were nine years old, staring at the door that would never open again that night.

Maybe you could’ve gone after him, chasing his car as it disappeared down the street, screaming, shouting, begging him to stay. Begging him to choose you instead of freedom.

Instead, you were nine years old. Stripped of nothing but utter shame. Regret. Useless.

You could’ve stopped her. Gwen Stacy was a stubborn woman born from an equally stubborn father who was the former chief of police. You could’ve convinced her to let Peter handle it, to let him save the day like he always did.

But no. You were eighteen years old. Curled away in a corner, just a few feet away from where your best friend’s body laid. Eyes screwed shut, hot tears streaming your face, and ears covered.

It’ll go away. It’ll go away. It’ll go away. It’ll go away.

Wails were what startled you out of your silent chant. It was then your eyes snapped open on instinct and upon seeing Gwen lying still and limp in Peter’s arms, the realization fell upon your bruised shoulders. Breaths short and a strained cry leaving your lips.

You could’ve stopped her. But instead you were nine years old again. Frozen. Hiding away. Useless.

Time was different for those who were dabbling between shock and the unyielding, unforgiving wave of grief. One often forgets their surroundings. The other forgets, only for a moment, that they are not alone. That they are not the only one grieving.

Through the river streams of tears, you realized that they were still at the bottom of a destroyed clocktower with distant sirens rattling your brain. Peter had looked up at you as if it were the first time he noticed you there, briefly coming up for air of his own ocean.

You stared at each other but neither of you considered one another. You felt as if you were staring right through him; there was nothing you were looking at. You were staring and doing everything in your power to not have a panic attack.

It was an inevitable truth that the body had to be left here. You never truly considered that when Peter quietly grabbed you and swung the both of you out of the clocktower before the police could arrive on the scene. It didn’t set in until you arrived at your apartment that Gwen Stacy was gone. That Mrs. Stacy had lost yet another person she loved not only a year after losing her husband. That Peter had lost his first love. That you had lost your best friend.

Peter, as soon as you were in your apartment, as soon as you closed the balcony curtains, the world couldn’t see that Spider-Man had fallen to his knees in your living room.

He hadn’t put his mask on after leaving the clocktower. It was sheer luck that no one was paying close attention while you had been swinging through the city. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. Not since the death of his uncle. He was silent in the way that the room went dead quiet around him as well. Nothing in the room dared to make a sound. His head hung low, shadows practically covering most of his face.

You quietly walked over to him and knelt to the floor next to him, watching as silent tears slid down his cheeks.

“I was too late.”

Up until this point neither of you had uttered a word ever since leaving the clocktower. But even now, you had no clue what you could say. What does anyone say to something like this?

“I was too late.” He whispered, shaking his head. “This is all my fault, I should’ve...I could’ve...” He cut himself off with a sob.

You hugged his arm gently, resting your head on his shaking shoulder. Words betrayed you and died away almost instantly. All you could do was comfort him. You had to do something. Anything.

For awhile, the two of you stayed like this. Time was irrelevant. The night had become day. You had still yet to say anything. Eyes droopy but never closed unlike Peter who practically cried himself to sleep, his head currently lying in your lap. Still on the floor with your back against the edge of the couch. Staying in this crumpled heap of sorrow.

It wasn’t until the early morning sun broke through your curtains did you become restless. Which was humorlessly ironic considering you never once slept.

So, after gently replacing your lap with a soft pillow for Peter’s head, you went to the kitchen and allowed your hands do whatever they wanted. Having a part time job at a diner while going to school didn’t give you a lot of food options in the kitchen, but you worked with what you had.

Which ended up being microwaveable pancakes and a dozen eggs. You could work with that. There was even enough to make for Peter when he woke up. And so, for the past hour, you had kept yourself busy and moving. Cleaning the kitchen, making a cup of coffee, and the organizing the fridge.

By the time you were cooking the eggs, Peter had woken up.

You paused, watching him squint his eyes open and then suddenly shoot up from the floor, looking around the room frantically. Calling your name.

“Right, here, Pete.”

Peter turned as you moved out of the kitchen, spatula in hand. He was staring at you now, both relieved, confused, and panicked.

“I couldn’t sleep and decided to make some breakfast.” You gave a small smile, hoping to ease the tenseness in his shoulders even though you’d never had that type of effect on him. Instead, he only frowned. His eyes downcast and away from yours. “Don’t worry! I made enough for the both of us. Scrambled hard, right? Or are you one of those weirdos that likes it wet?” You were trying. You had to do something. Anything.

“No, I can’t.”

You frowned but expected the reply. “I’ll leave some anyway. I don’t think it’s a good idea to not eat in this state. I’ll just make a plate and set it aside for you—”

“No. I can’t.”

It was the way he said that made you realize what he meant. You gripped the spatula tighter, breaths quickening, “Peter?” You watched him grab his mask from the floor and begin pacing. “Peter, please—”

The way he said your name. The way his voice shook. The way he looked at you now. As if you were something fragile. He shook his head, eyes glass. “I can’t do that to you.”

“Don’t do that, Pete.” You argued. “Don’t push me away, okay? We can’t do that to each other. You’re my best friend, right?” He didn’t look at you. “Nothing can change that, alright? I won’t let it—”

Peter continued shaking his head, “Yes, you will.”

“Damn it, Peter! I fucking won’t—”

“This is exactly how it happened! This is exactly how she...” Peter’s voice wavered, hand running nervously though his hair. “I-I let her in, I got her involved. I broke a promise and now she’s...she’s...” He started looking around the room in panic, like he realized just where he was. “I-I can’t—I shouldn’t be here.”

Peter pulled on his mask and rushed toward the balcony. You ran forward, eyes blurring. “Peter, wait!”

But he had already leaped off. You could see the web sling across the city, away from your apartment.

A sob shook your body as you sunk down onto the wooden coffee table, muffling your cries into your arm. All of last night’s events finally came hitting like a violent wave.

You could’ve comforted your crying mother.

You could’ve stopped Gwen.

You could’ve begged Peter to stay and tell Spider-Man to leave just once.

Someone who is easily ignored. Easily left behind.

You could’ve done something. You could’ve done something.

So, fucking useless.

A blaring sound from the smoke alarm reached your ears. The stove had been left on for too long.

And when you numbly got up to turn it off, you saw that the eggs for you and Peter were burnt.

[ronwestbreeze]

Today, July 15th, is my birthday, and I received a television as a gift from my mother (at least I'll be able to spend the money I was saving to buy it on something else).

To celebrate, I'm rewatching Avatar, and now I've found myself terribly nostalgic for "You're gonna go far." God, how I love this story.

I don't know if I should watch the other movies or reread the fanfic in the middle of the night 😔😔😔

I feel like your work will be tattooed on me for the rest of my life.

watch the moviessss! i gotta do a rewatch myself! also thanks for thinking of my fic <33

[ronwestbreeze]

lowk reeds:

YESSSS LOL

[ronwestbreeze]

There’s a part of the song by Dominic Fike - Babydoll that goes “Babydoll, I can’t move on,” and that’s soooo fitting on how I feel about you’re gonna go far!! I’m hooked, and can’t stop thinking about it!!! I come back to check on updates super often!! It’s honestly one of, if not the best i’ve ever read!! Like bro you’re such a wizard!!! I hope you’re having a wonderful summer!!

oooh imma have to give that a listen! i love that! and that lyric is so devastatingly reeds AAHHHH

[ronwestbreeze]

hi!! js wanted to check in on u since its been a hot second since uve posted ^^

i'm good! just super busy! i've graduated and now i've trying to get alot of things in order while also planning on moving sometime next year! so alot is going on hahah

[ronwestbreeze]

Hey do you think that the ash people will be in your gonna go far, i know that they only showed up in the 3rd movie, but neytiri seemed to know who they were when she saw them so maybe they had showed up before?

oooh i don't know! it would be cool for them to appear but i'd have to figure out how to incorporate them with the plots i already have going on.

[ronwestbreeze]

I've been daydreaming wayyy to much about you're gonna go far and what their future may look like and just wanted to ask. You know how Quaritch and General Ardmore are after Jake, would they be after Reeds as well since the RDA wanted her for her mother's research? Hopefully that makes sense, I hope you're doing well!

if we're talking about quaritch in the way of the water and fire and ash, i don't think he'd have any vendetta against reeds only because in my lore he didn't interact much with joan. if i ever write him at all in yggf it would only be jake vs quaritch. the only way i see him going after reeds is him being scared of her when they do meet lol

[ronwestbreeze]

Hiiiiiiiiii

I'm patiently waiting 🥹

<3333

[ronwestbreeze]

Does Reeds have any special talent/hobbies? I know she has her garden but is that a special talent of hers naturally/ did she also garden on earth? (probs not with how it is) or does her gardening skills come from her job? If it's not a special talent what do you think she would be surprisingly ( surprising to neytiri, jake + tsu'tey atleast) good at?

Personally I like to think shes secretly a very good cook and she has a arts-and-crafts type of hobby. My only reasonings are: gardens make food = food can be cooked  +  nobody would suspect the creative side of Reeds  + She seems like she prefers simplicity rather than the adrenaline rush of a hunter/warrior

well as you can already see she's got a bit of a talent for archery as is hinted from the latest chapter! also, gardening, and yeah, I can see her cooking pretty well!

also pottery. helps with her anxiety. back on earth she has alot of mishapened bowls and cups she made lol

[movie-gifs]

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS — 2003 | Dir. Donald Petrie

[saintprey]

@unsettling-type-of-vibe said raven girls and they're lesbians

[chuwenjie]

So stoked to share the official trailer for the Avatar Aang movie, now releasing JULY 25th on Paramount+!!

I’m so proud of our crew and honored to have been a part of this.. for everyone who has waited to watch the official release in order to support the artists and animators, I just want to say thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart - it truly means so much!!

[ronwestbreeze]

i’m so excited to see reeds bond with her own ikran. you just know she will love that ikran to death and talk to it all the time. like people do with their pets, just saying anything and everything. i’m excited to see how the bonding process will go, if it will be similar to what we saw with jake in the first movie. you’re writing is amazing babe ❤️

yesss! i'm really excited to get to her ikran! she will love her irkan for sure

[ronwestbreeze]

A question about Your Gonna Go Far, is neytiri pregnant with loak because aren't kiri and loak about the same age?

yes she is!