I Had The Pleasure Of Creating A Very Adorable Piece For Byeolhsh57 On X/twitter This Round! 🥺💕✨️

The fandom invalidating Spider Sully because he's human and Neytiri is struggling with her feelings for her adopted son.

Canon: he's a Sully. Always has been and always will be

is the fandom alive

He's an adorable fella :))

The fact that Ekko went back in time god knows how many times again and again to get jinx to not kill herself only to end up losing her again makes me INSANE

just realized that like. everything Spider did for the people, all the pain and sacrifice he made, all the efforts he made to protect The People and the Sully's with his own life and body as their shield.

enduring torture, not saying a word, being willing to die before they scraped an image from his head. trying to detour the Recoms at the rookery, even get one of them killed, but going out of his way to give bad advice. protecting the Ta'unui the best he could, even if it could have put his own safety at risk (whether he pushed his captors to a breaking point, or became too much of a liability to be left in the field with Q, and Ardmore called for him back). witnessing so much pain with a stiff lip and thick skin. crashing the Sea Dragon, undoubtedly risking his own life but giving the Na'vi the upper hand in the battle. being so docile under Neytiri's knife, bargaining with his own life, for even a chance of his sister being safe. guiding Kiri out of the ship.

all of it. such admirable things. proving his loyalty. his capability. that he wasn't like his father, wasn't a demon. things no teenage boy should ever have to experience or go through, let alone be expected to do. things that should have him honored as a warrior.

it will all be ignored because he's saved one man. he saved the one man that loved him, no matter how terrible he was. he will be treated like the villain everyone suspected he would be, that he would become one day, all because he had mercy— even if Quaritch didn't deserve, it has be acknowledged that his crime was mercy. not being able to watch a man drown. not being able to leave him behind —because he couldn't kill his father.

Spider will not be honored or revered for everything he's done, for the scars left on his mind and body, for any of it, the second the truth is found out. and I doubt there will be many who try and understand, try and see from his perspective, try and look at things from the perspective of Spider, a hurt and neglected boy who was selfish for once in his life.

Spider was stripped of all honor, all the good he did, because of one action. one action in a life of pain and giving and giving and giving and being forced to contort himself to be palatable and non-abrasive and being put second being the designated sacrifice again and again. never knowing an ounce of parental love.

he just wanted his dad.

and like always, the fandom is the worst about it.

my schroeder/lucy headcanons

Lucy is french on her mothers side - she came to the states after ww2. she’s jewish on her mothers side and Christian on her fathers, though they mostly celebrate Christian holidays. Sometimes they do visit her aunt in the east (New York) to have Passover seders. Could def see her later finding out more about the religion and her families history <:

Schroeders family is german but he rarely speaks german at home. he only knows about german composers, and has a certain disdain for Wagner - mostly because of Lucy <3

as they grow up (18/19) and attend college, they don’t stay in touch, except when they return home for holidays. they start going out after college, when they both move to the city (New York)

Schroeder becomes a big big part of the local jazz scene and Lucy starts working either as a journalist for some small paper in the area or as an assistant in a psychiatrists office. They move together

I agree with the general #schrucy shippers who say that she fell first and he fell harder - I even would go so far that he started pining after her on college holidays, letting himself be invited to dinners by her mother, visiting Linus to see Lucy..

That’s all I got for now <:

Have this cute little idea I had for the spouses friend group

Phillip knows how to make perfume and does so using the plants he grew. He makes them when he (almost always) accidentally grows too many of his plants and sells them in his nursery as a side gig along with cologne, and pet friendly perfumes.

It started out as a bet between Michael and Phillip back when they were rooming together in university. Penelope had just become their roommate and Phillip as a welcoming gift grew her some of the roses that share her name. As always, Phillip accidentally grew too many.

"They smell really good," Penelope said as she picked up one of the roses. "Imagine it as a perfume!"

"Would they make a good perfume though?" Michael asked.

Phillip snapped his head towards Michael. "Watch yourself Stirling, those are fighting words talking about my babies!"

Penelope was taken aback; she had never seen Phillip that fired up. Michael grinned; he loved getting his friend this riled up.

"Oh, wanna bet?" Michael asked. "If you can make a perfume, a good one, out of your left-over plants than I will behave for a month."

Phillip raised an eyebrow. "A whole month? Even when you get bored?"

Michael nodded. Penelope's jaw dropped. One thing she quickly learned with living with these two is that getting Michael to behave when he's bored often required the wrath of his mother, and even then his head of the family cousin would often just give Michael a slap on the wrist, or Michael will sweet talk his way out of it. Now don't get her wrong Michael doesn't blow off responsibility when he needs to do it but there has been more than one rule made because of him.

It was a deal too sweet for Phillip not to take and the pride of his plants were on the line.

Phillip shook Michael's hand. "Deal."

After doing the research the boys agreed to giving Phillip six months to extract the oils from the plants, mix them together, and let the perfume age in an airtight bottle before trying it. Based on their living space and what materials he could get Phillip decided to use the enfleurage methods to extract the oils. On a sheet of glass he laid down a thin heated layer of coconut oil with a small amount of beeswax. Letting it cool Phillip proceeded to place the petals of the roses in it before setting it between a wood frame. He would then change out the petals once or twice a day until he got the desired fragrance.

Determined to win this bet Phillip even paid one of the art students to design a decorative bottle for him to put the perfume in. The glass was the same shade of creamy pink as the flower with small wires and jewels wrapped around it to form a butterfly.

"Done," Phillip said as set down the bottle in front of his friends.

Penelope picked up the bottle and sprayed a little on her wrist. "Oh, this smells delicious!'

Michael takes Penelope's wrist and sniffs. "Damn, now I have to behave for a month!"

To be honest all option are possible.

The least dramatic one would be that one of the sully figure it out. Preferably, Lo’ak or Kiri. The most dramatic would be that Spider tell them AFTER they discover Quaritch is alive.

We could even have one thing were the whole movie happen, and there’s an evolution between Neytiri and Spider’s relationship and at the end of the movie we could think that they relationship is getting kinda good.

But then Spider feel guilty and confess to saving Quaritch at the very end of the movie.

One of the things I'm most excited to see in Avatar 3 is how the Sullies will learn that Spider saved the life of Quaritch.

Personally, I believe that Spider will tell them himself. I'm just not sure whether he'll confess before or after they learn Quaritch is alive. If he tells them before, I think the Sullies would be a bit more forgiving since they'll have time to process and accept that Quaritch survived, but if he keeps it a secret until after they'll be more likely to react badly since they'll still be struggling with the shock that Quaritch is still out there.

I don't think Quaritch will tell them himself because he'd be afraid of them, specifically Neytiri, reacting badly and possibly hurting Spider. However, I could see a scenario where Quaritch is trying to talk Spider into coming with him and Spider refuses, so then Quaritch tells one of the Sullies how he's still alive in an effort to make Spider feel like the Sullies hate him now and he has no choice but to qo with Quaritch.

There's also a possibility that both Spider and Quaritch will keep their mouths shut and one of the Sullies will guess what he did, but I feel like this one is less likely to happen since the family was so distracted with rescuing each other from drowning that they didn't pay much attention to Spider disappearing for awhile.

But this is all just my two cents on it, I'd love to hear what everyone else thinks!

[contains Bridgerton book series spoilers]

I’m going to try to be careful with my words because my intentions are never to upset anyone especially members of a fellow marginalized community that I personally don’t belong too. I am disappointed in the rewriting of Francesca’s story. A big part of her book is her deep love for John Sterling and struggle with infertility. She loved John more than anything and when he died she mourned for yearsss and only rejoined the marriage market because she desperately wanted kids of her own after losing their child. I understand queer representation is important to those in the LGBTQ+ community, but there are many books about LGBTQ+ love that Netflix could adapt into a show or movie. Heartstopper is an example of one they’ve adapted and I’ve seen so many people who love and resonate with that show. Or an alternative would be to make Eloise lesbian/bi because it would make more sense. There’s very little representation in media for women who struggle with infertility and I’ve heard from many women whose favorite book was Francesca’s because of how they related to her struggle. Not only that, but they made her immediately develop a crush on Michaela when in the books it’s Michael who immediately falls for Francesca upon meeting her and he struggles with those feelings when before and especially after John dies. To make Francesca have feelings for Michaela completely diminishes her love for John that makes her mourning so strong. Michael also has a big internal conflict with inheriting the Kilmartin estate after John’s death. This also takes representation from women who have lost their husbands while pregnant with their child(ren). Majority of the people I know who are upset about it aren’t upset because of Francesca’s sexuality but because of how it throws away her whole story. One of my best friends is a black woman who is bi and has read all the books and before I even finished part 2 she was texting me upset because she herself has had a miscarriage and loved Francesca’s story.

Oh Strange Striped Boy, Where Do You Call Home? ─ Adventures of Rebirth; A visit from Tsahik (Chapter 1)

After six years of growing and patience, Spider can finally fit into an exopack, and, for the first time in his life, he will step out into Pandora, into Eywa.

Spider's entry into Eywa is like a rebirth, and a rebirth is cause for celebration, so Mo'at comes to spruce him up for the day and bring him some gifts.

Set six years after Spider's birth/"The Birth of a Strange Boy". Spider is being somewhat communally raised between Max, Norm, and Mo'at. Mo'at is the one who's nearly adopted him, but Max and Norm take care of him while he's at Hellsgate.

It took five long years of waiting, six, in the long run, for Spider to take his first steps out onto Pandora. Days and days of pouting at the airlock, begging to be let out. Far too many sleepless nights spent staring out windows at the stars and asking when when when? He wanted out. He wanted to be free. He wanted to dig his toes into Eywa’s earth and feel Her winds in his curls.

He wanted to feel the sun on his skin, and not through a window. Norm had told him it burned, that it was different than just feeling it through the windows. He wanted to know what that felt like. Wanted to feel warm after being stuck in the cold metal of Hellsgate for so so so, very very, super duper long.

Norm also told him he was dramatic. He didn't agree. Had huffed and puffed about it. Many, many times.

But today was the day. He was going outside. He had practiced and practiced and practiced putting on his exopack and changing the canisters and the battery and they made sure it fit snugly. So he was going to be let outside. Tsahik had even come to see him just after Eclipse fully broke and the sky lost its golden tinge, shifting to soft blue, her smile old and wise as soon as she entered the airlock, despite her distaste for Hellsgate, and she scooped him up and placed him on her hip when he came running to greet her, feet padding against the hollow sounding metal tiles.

“I see you, ma’yawntutsyìp,” she smiled, dropping a satchel off of her shoulder, letting it fall to the floor carefully, so her now free hand, one nearly as large as his torso, could tuck his wild golden curls back, her thumb tracing his forehead stripes affectionately.

She still remembers the day she had first set eyes on him all those years ago, having heard whispers of him from Jake after the war’s end. She insisted on seeing the infant immediately. She could not believe a human born in this prison could have been so deeply altered by Eywa, but the tales had been true. She remembers how tiny he had been, at least compared to her, many told her he was good-sized for a human baby. Sometimes she still can’t believe it though, not until she traces the stripes of the flat curve of his nose or sees those telltale fangs in his smiles.

He never hid his blessings, far from it instead he reveled in them. Besides his numerous accessories, he only wore a loincloth, which normally matched with the two boys he considered brothers, Neteyam and Lo’ak, her grandsons, and occasionally a simple top he would either steal from Kiri, her granddaughter, when she outgrew them or ones he made with her when someone had gathered the supplies for them, which put his stripes on full display. And he wore his braid proudly, always playing with it or rebraiding it. Even with his eyes and his fangs, he was always wide-eyed and excited, smiling for all to see, as if to cast their bright light on the world.

She was happy to know Spider was not alone in this world, he had siblings, even if they were not bound by blood or parentage, but by spirit. Especially considering those children were her own grandchildren. It felt right. She trusted Eywa’s intentions.

“Hi Tsahik,” the child giggled back, ears perked up, rosy with the blush blossoming from his fanged smile, his baby teeth still somewhat blunt, before touching his fingers to his forehead, and fanning them back towards her, “I see you too,” he imitated, wiggling a little in the elder’s arms.

Mo’at, as usual, was beyond amused by his excitement. He was such a cheerful child considering he had been locked in this box for years and years, even if for his own safety, she marveled at his bright spirit. She doubts many could burn so brightly after years of being smothered in this cold, unliving, person. But he still was. He was bright and golden and warm and full of life.

“You will meet your Mother today, are you ready, ma’evang?” She looked at him with a serious but soft look on her face. She was far from worried for him, she trusted him to hold his own and had no fear, just as she trusted Eywa to protect the boy, but she knew she should ask. It would be proper with any other child.

He just nodded, “want out,” he whined, throwing himself against her, sagging into her hold, quite dramatically, continuing to whine, “I’m soooooooo bored,” and squirming for a few moments, before settling, “Can you braid my hair first? Don’t want it to be messy… wanna look nice,” he got quiet, looking away, as if he felt foolish.

“Of course child,” she hushed, moving to sit by the window, not wishing to be far from Eywa and her land, kneeling on the floor while she sat Spider on the windowsill. “Why else would I meet you here, other than to pretty you up, hmmm?” her fingers started to run through his curls, taking out the tangles, huffing a laugh as his ears twitched as his hair tickled them. “I brought you something I think you will like, but they are a surprise, you have to be patient while I braid.”

The boy just giggled out a little “ok”, wiggling a little, but staying still enough for her to work on his hair. It had gotten quite long; his curls went well past his shoulders, while the thick black hair that sprouted from the large black birthmark on the nape of his neck, had grown to touch his hips.

She worked his curls till she could part his hair level with his temples, separating the top layer from the thicker bottom layer, with the strands just beside his ears included so they didn’t hang over them. She then halved that section down the middle, and French braided either side till about halfway down, before bringing the loose ends together and tying them tight with a leather cord. The boy liked his hair free but not unruly and in his eyes, the volume of curls suited him.

She worked carefully and meticulously. It was hard with her large hands, but after years of doing this, she had gotten quite good. She rarely pulled or snagged, and each intricate style or technique became easier with time. Now, it was truly no problem; she could do it with her eyes closed, but she was careful nonetheless.

They chattered all the while. Spider told her about his past few days since her last visit, about the lessons he had to sit through with Max and Norm, about Jake bringing her grandbabies to visit and the antics they got up to—

“‘Teyam forgot that we aren’t supposed to run into the lab when people are in there, so I jumped super duper far and tagged him right on his tail before he could get in trouble, so he turned around and chased me,” he boasted cheerfully, “and then to make him feel better, cause he’s a little bit of a sore loser, I let him tag me back, but told him to stay away from the lab so Norm doesn’t come and scold us.”

“That’s very kind of you, little one, I’m sure Norm and Neteyam were very appreciative,” she smiled.

The boy shrugged a little, “maybe,” he replied, pausing for a moment, “I can’t wait to play tag with him outside, it’s going to be great. We can run wherever we want, as long as we stay in the village, and he told me there’s this creek we can go to, and we can go fishing!”

“Yes you will, ma’yawntutsyìp, you will, very soon.”

—and he asked questions, ones he had asked dozens of times before, about the forest and the village, and she gladly answered just as thoroughly as she had the first, second, and hundredth times. She told him about the trail from Hellsgate to the village. She talked about all the animals they might see. She told him about all the important people he might meet. She told him anything she could think of.

As she worked, she placed an assortment of beads and feathers from a case in her satchel in front of the boy, allowing him to hand them back to her when he pleased, and added them in. He had some he kept in more permanently, but she thought this was enough of an occasion to spruce it up. And in the end, his hair was full of orange and red beads, and plenty of feathers of similar colors.

“Red is my favorite color, just like yours right?,” he asked, playing with the crimons beads of her shawl while she braided his overgrown baby hairs into little loopy braids and tied them up into his larger braids, using red feathers to hide the twine.

“That it is, ma’evang, that it is,” she smiled, “I’ve always liked it, it’s very bright and and mighty, like you, tsamsiyutsyìp.”

The boy giggled, hiding his face in his hands, “thank you Tsahik.”

She had long stopped trying to get him to call her by her name or some other less formal term. It seemed like ‘Tsahik’ felt like a term of affection in his young mind, and it is what he preferred to call her, and she wouldn’t force him to stop. And it was, quite frankly, adorable, anyway, so she was even less insistent on that front.

When she finished with his curls, she braided his ‘kuru’, gathering the thick black hair in her fingers and smoothing it so it looked nice and sleek, just like how Spider liked it. He didn’t have a true queue, but on instinct, she was immensely gentle, as if there was something to snag there outside of hair.

“Not too tight?” she asks periodically. He always says no, because she was careful. But she checks in again and again every time anyway. And with that, a final piece of cord, his hair was finished, and she was quite pleased with her work. “I think you look quite stylish, ma’yawntutsyìp,” she murmurs, “very proper for your big day.”

Spider jumped up at that, springing to crouch close to the window on all fours, something that looked both odd and overly natural on his tall, lithe, lanky frame. He crouched like a Na’vi would, but at first glance, he looked ever so slightly too human for that to look right. It still caught Mo’at off guard despite all her time with him.

She watched as he inspected his hazy reflection with a pleased look. “Perfect!” he cheered after a few moments, jumping off the sill and wrapping around her legs, “thank you,” he murmured against her.

She patted his head gently, careful of the beads, not wanting them to hurt his scalp, “you are very welcome my child, now, are you ready for your gifts?” she smirked, watching as he popped up and down excitedly.

“Yes yes yes yes!” he cheered, his golden hair bouncing, the feathers fluttering and beads clicking.

“Ok ok, ma’yawntutsyìp, ok,” she steadied him, a hand on his shoulder, “sit, and I will bring it to you,” she spoke softly but firmly, waiting for Spider to obey, still wiggling, something that seemed like a permanent state of being for the rowdy six-year-old, before reaching for the satchel she had left by the airlock doors. “I believed you needed some simple things before you ran out into Eywa’evang,” she said softly, kneeling beside him once more.

She opened the sachet and pulled out a few items; a folded fabric bundle, a small knife, a smaller bag, and a small bow accompanied by a small quiver of wooden arrows.

Spider watched on with curious awe, his head bobbing and weaving to try and see everything up close, but he was patient, hands kept in his lap, fiddling with the little songchord on his belt to keep from touching the other items before he had permission.

“You will train with this bow, it’s simple, and you are allowed to make mistakes with it, so you can learn how it can become damaged, so you don’t make the same mistakes with your proper bow, and when you are ready, you will carve your own from the remains of our Hometree, and make your own arrows,” she explained, handing the bow to him. It was small, made of common wood and string, a head shorter than Spider. A good introduction to the tool.

But Spider looked at it as if it was made of pure gold from Eywa herself. He marveled at it, even though there was truly nothing to look at. It was plain, not even painted or mounted with a grip. His fingers traced the wood, over smooth edges and hard knots, over the lacing, and down the taught edge of the string.

“Pretty,” he whispered.

“Very,” she agreed, even if she did not see the same beauty he did, “when we get to the village, you can practice with Neteyam, he got his bow a few days ago, and maybe you two could convince Kiri to help you gather some supplies to decorate them, yes?”

The boy nodded, “I can’t wait, it’s going to the best, ‘m gonna get to spend all day with them, and we’re gonna go on so many adventures. And I’ll get really good with my bow, so I can keep them safe. Better than ‘teyam even! Cause he’s my baby brother, and I have to be better so he’s safe,” he rambled, hugging the bow tight, “but he can be second best, I just need to be this much better,” he pinched his fingers tight, holding them close to his eye to show just how much better he needed to be, “not a lot, just a little.”

“I’m sure you will, child,” she nearly cooed, heart swelling at the sight of his determination, “and what about Kiri or Lo’ak, when they get their own?”

“That’s up to ‘teyam how much better he thinks he needs to be, but maybe this much” he shrugged and held his fingers just a little apart like it was obvious. Children were so sweetly simple. Especially this one. It endeared her to no end.

“I think that is a good amount,” she agreed, smoothing his cheek with a soft huff of laughter, before turning back to the items she had set out, picking up the tiny little hooked knife– the blade made of an opaque amber, intricate red lacing holding the red-dyed hide and bright tan and black braided sinew grip to the handle, a little orange feather hanging off the end –placing it in his tiny little palm, “this is very sharp, you can use it to forage and hunt, but also to protect yourself, as long as you use it very carefully, ok?”

“Ok Tsahik,” he nodded, inspecting it carefully, pressing his finger to the edge of the blade, careful not to cut himself, but rather feel the blade’s edge, to feel its strength and thinness, before feeling over the rest of the blade, at the little curves and edges made from carving.

“And you will need somewhere to carry it,” Mo’at murmurs, opening the bundle of cloth, “I had Norm give me this strap,” she presented an exopack strap, it was mostly plain, outside of a leather hilt fixed to the chest half of the strap, “it needs more work, but this is a start, so you can wear your blade at all times.”

“cool, thank you Tsahik” he murmured, his attention having moved from inspecting the knife to inspecting the strap and hilt, placing the blade in it and then taking it out several times, little fingers feeling every detail, before he began thinking, “it needs beads, and stain, this color is icky,” he commented to himself, “Norm said I could paint my exopack if I’m careful around the filters,” he looks to her, “can you show me how to make them?” he asked with a smile, scooting closer.

“Of course, ma’yawntutsyìp,” she replied, patting his back “What colors should it be?”

“Mmmmm….. Blue!” he shouted after a moment of thinking, “I can make it all stripey, like you and Kiri and ‘teyam and Lo’ak!” he giggled, cutting off his ramble of what might be the name of every Na’vi he knew.

“Blue is a very nice color,” she agreed, shaking her head at the boy's antics fondly.

“Mhm mhm,” he hummed, eyes tracking towards the rest of the cloth bundle.

She smirked, placing it in his lap to look through. He pulled out a new loincloth, one made of a finer deep brown, almost black, hide than his other loincloths, this one as much less meant for play and roughhousing, though it would likely see it anyway, but for formality, celebration. The main belt, made from the same hide, just braided into a thick band, wrapped around his waist, while thinner belts held back and front flaps together lower down his hips, and dripped in beads of amber and turquoise, and little feathers of yellow and blue. Long braided fibers that were more tufted near the end lined the sides of either flap, the fibers ranging from red to orange to a light tan color, more saturated at the top, and duller near the bottom.

His eyes went wide, his voice a soft whisper, like there were no words on his mind, just pure glee. He leaned close, piling into her lap as a ‘thank you’, hugging her arm for a moment, not even reacting when her tail came to wrap around him instinctually, eyes still fixed on the intricate item, before he broke into thank yous, jittering with excitement, “thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you Tsahik!!!” he bellowed, “did you make this?” he asked, looking up at her.

“Of course I did, ma’yawntutsyìp,” she smiled, patting his cheek, “who else could make such art?”

He shrugged, “you and Mrs. Sully are both really good,” he replied, before focusing back on the loincloth, “It’s so cool and fancy, I love it.”

She smiled at the fond comment he made towards her and her daughter. The boy held love for her Neytiri, even when she struggled to hold much fondness for him. She would come around one day, she was trying to anyway, and Spider was so good about it, even though he was young. He loved her despite the distance between them.

“Good. now keep looking, there’s more,” she prompted.

Spider nodded, keeping to his spot in her lap, eyes hesitantly leaving the loincloth he still held in his lap, before picking up a matching top. It was simple, and much more decorative than functional. It was a simple braided choker with beaded strands that hung down to armbands for either arm, both lined with little teeth and claws she had collected over the years, fitting for the little boy full of spunk. He showed it the same level of awe and care as the previous article of clothing.

“Kiri helped me with this one,” Mo’at informs, showing him the bicep cuffs, “she braided in beads left over from those friendship bracelets you all made together, see,” she pointed to the multicolored beads; Kiri had chosen soft green beads, Neteyam had pick jagged stormy blue ones, and Lo’ak had chosen rough black ones, while Spider had chosen shiny brown and orange beads that glowed when the light shifted over them.

“I like it,” he smiled, “they look pretty together.”

“She knew you would,” she assured, “was quite insistent she add her own touch.”

Then there was a braided shawl, a thick piece of hide was where his shoulders would be, while the rest was made of a thin but sturdy twine in a net-like fashion, and the edges were lined with little beads and feathers as well. Mo’at had gone all out for him, this was a big day, nearly the same as if it was his birth, which she had missed by many months. This was a rebirth. An entry into Eywa’s world. She had to spoil him rotten, she couldn’t help it.

“This is to protect your shoulders, the sun will be very harsh on your young skin,” she murmured softly, pulling a braided case made from old shell pods, opening it to expose a thick white cream, “make sure you apply this, all over, but mostly on your face and shoulders, every day, at every meal you spend outside, to protect your skin, yes?”

“Yes Tsahik,” he grumbled, already unhappy with it, because, for some odd reason Mo’at doubts she will ever find the reason for, children loathe suncream, even those who only need it sparingly.

“And wear your shawl when the sun is high, you will regret it if you burn down to the bone,” she warned.

“Yes Tsahik” he continued to grumble even more dramatically.

“Now, last thing,” she pulled a small bead from the bag, it was bright blue and intricately carved with braided patterns, “for your songschord, for your first journey into Eywa.” That got her an ‘oooooooh’ as he felt the pattern. “I want you to find something else to attach with this, and place it in this pouch, along with anything else you may want or need,” she handed him a simple pouch to tie onto his belt, “and when you find it, when you know it’s the one, I will help you tie them on.”

He nodded still transfixed, spinning the bead in between his fingers, leaning back against her chest, swallowed up into her arms, her beaded shawl hanging over him, and her braid hanging in her lap, close to his own.

“Now, go get changed, call if you need help, though I have no doubt that you are smart enough to figure it out. Be quick, Jake is bringing your siblings, they will meet us soon, they’re quite excited.”

He smiled at that, “I can’t wait, they have to show me everything!” he shouts, popping out of her lap, taking the clothing and the pouch with him, tucking the bead safely inside of the latter, “I’ll be right back,” he called out to her, running towards his room.

She could only smile, the boy was something else, so wild and free and loud, but in a way that was more charming than all else. Hellsgate could not hope to contain him much longer. The elder knew that well enough.

Spider was quick, he’d gotten very good with the workings of a loincloth, this one just had extra steps, and the top went on easily enough. He unfastened his songchord off of his now piled-on-the-floor loincloth, and tied it to the belt of the one he was currently wearing, before dumping out all his little trinket jewelry his siblings had made for and with him from his keepsakes box, tying on layers of bracelets and anklets, made from anything they could get their little hands on, even a few necklaces that hung just beneath the choker. Lastly, he put on his mama’s dog tags–

He used to feel ashamed of wearing them, but Mo’at said it was good to remember her, even if she wasn’t a good guy. She was always gonna be his mama, and she just wanted the best for him. He was allowed to love her. So he did

–before stuffing some trinkets and other little supplies in his pouch, grabbing his mask, the one he had decorated with beads and feathers to hang down from the straps, and bringing it back to his Tsahik.

She smiled at the sight of him, the pieces she– and Kiri, she couldn’t dismiss her efforts –made suited him well. He jingled slightly as he ran, sliding through the halls expertly, no doubt having done it dozens upon dozens of times a day just to keep entertained. She had gotten the proportions just right, and he looked like a true little warrior. A stylish one at that. She was proud. Of him and her work.

The tans and browns in the pieces brought out his stripes, and the yellows complimented his eyes. He was sliding the exopack over his face, which pulled his hair even further from his ears, making their fluttering to get comfortable within the straps of the mask obvious. The added feathers framed his features nicely.

“I say you look quite ready to go exploring, hmmm?” she asked, standing, groaning slightly as her wearing joints protested the move, and he was by her side before she could realize it. He was too tiny to help her up but tried anyway. Because that’s the type of boy he was. “Thank you, ma’yawntutsyìp,” she murmured, “I’m ok, it just takes a moment.”

“I know…” he admitted glumly, “just wanna help anyway.”

She patted his hair at that, before moving to scoop him up, “of course you do, with that heart of gold of yours,” she wiggled a finger at his chest, tickling him slightly, “isn’t that right?”

That wiped the glum look off of his face and he looked smitten once more, “I just like being helpful!” he argued, as if there were anything to defend.

“And there is nothing wrong with that, child, not ever, it is a good thing,” she assures, watching out the window as a gaggle of small blue figures start to appear from the forest line, “now, I believe your siblings are nearly here, see,” she points out the window, “why don’t you gather your things, we will be off shortly.”

The boy hesitated at first, still clinging close, his head rested on her collar, legs curled around her waist. Spider got…. anxious…. when those in his life gave him any inkling that they would leave. Whether it be her age, or when Norm or Jake left the lab for too long, or even when Neytiri went unmentioned for too long. It worried him. It was understandable, considering how much he had lost so young, but broke her heart nonetheless.

“I am not going anywhere, ma’evang, I promise,” she soothed, rubbing his back, “my bones are just stiff, do not fret.”

“... Promise?”

“I promise,” she moves to put him down, “now go, fetch your bow, and bring that cream over here, I will not have you cooked your first day out,” she has a cheeky smile on her face, knowing that being mad about suncream will distract him from his anxieties more than anything else.

And she is right, he scurries away from her grumbling “Noooooooooooo!”, hiding the bowl behind his back the second he gets his hands on it, a smile on his face, daring her to try and get it back from him.

She stalks him like a nantang would stalk a yerik, getting low, arms around ready to grab him. He’s pressed into a corner, waiting for the right chance to run. It takes a minute before he decides to try and make a break for it, sliding between her legs, but she catches him, picking up the wiggling child with ease.

“You aren’t quite fast enough yet, child, do not underestimate me just because I am an elder, my reflexes are still sharp,” she scolds playfully, holding out in front of her till his limbs sag and he gives up.

“Don’t want it, it feels yucky,” he pouts, the shell pod still in his little hand.

“You will live, I assure you,” she says finally, before sitting him on the sill, taking the pod from him, and scooping some of the off-white paste onto her fingers. The boy sniffs it, his almost feline-like nose twitching before he turns it away.

“Gross.”

“You are gross, ma’yawntutsyìp,” she refutes, “I have seen you take mud baths in the greenhouse.”

“That’s different!”

“Sure it is, that was mud, this is suncream. One of them has a benefit, and one was a mess that took hours to clean.”

The boy crosses his arms and huffs. She smeared her fingers down his shoulders and arms, and then over his ears, which he was trying to fold back so she could not reach them, but it was no yes.

“You have to take your mask off, it will not protect you from the sun.”

“I just got it on right,” he whined, leaning back against the window as if that was out of reach for her long arms.

“And you knew you needed to put this on first, I told you that, now come on, off with it, or your siblings will come in here and watch you be a baby about suncream,” she knows that’ll get his attention, “you want to be a brave boy for them, yes?”

He stares at her for a moment, then out the window at his approaching siblings, and then pulls off the mask. “Fine,” he relents, sitting up so she can easily reach his face, and she smears her palm down his face, rubbing the cream down his face gently enough to not hurt but harshly enough to make him splutter a bit.

“All done, see how easy that was?” she asks pointedly, watching the boy recover.

“Yucky,” was all he said, blowing a raspberry.

The elder shakes her head and stands, “get your stuff and put your mask back on, I doubt your siblings will have any patience to keep them from dragging you straight out that door.”

He complies with general ease, pulling his bow and quiver strap over his shoulder, gingerly easing them to hang across his chest and onto his back, and double-checks that his knife is in his hilt and his pouch is secured to his belt correctly, before scrambling across the room for the exopack component that was currently charging.

She watched as he, near expertly from all his practice, putting the different pieces together, clicking battery packs and canisters and tubes into their place, checking them over, ensuring all was well, before fixing the mask back onto his face, and strapping that too over his chest, the hilt level to his heart.

“All done!” he declared, standing proud.

She inspects him. He was clothed and his hair was tamed. He had his new bow and knife. His exopack was, seemingly, in order, though she would have Jake check it before he even stepped towards the airlock. He did seem quite ready to go.

“You have been fed today, correct?” she enquires.

The boy nods. “Max made pancakes! I even got to use real syrup, not the icky stuff we normally use.”

She only vaguely knew what he was talking about, but she nodded anyway. He had eaten, that was all that mattered, and it even seemed like he was happy with his meal this morning, instead of grumbling about mush or the like.

After a few more moments of Spider continuing to ramble on about his morning and breakfast, he stopped. His ears perked up, and he heard the outer door opening, the airlock hissing, and the giggles of his siblings.

He waited right at the door, bouncing on the pads of his toes. Sometimes Mo’at finds herself imagining what it would be like if Eywa had managed to give him a tail. She believes it would manage to become a weapon when he was this excited. It brings a laugh to her lips.

And before she thinks he can fidget out of his own skin, hands finding his songchord once more, running over the beads, a habit of his, the inner door opens, and he is all but tackled to the floor by three little blue bodies, their tails high, and voices even louder.

Her eyes meet Jake's as they share an exasperated smile and a deep breath as they prepare for what's to come.

everyone: what's your goal in life?

me: to write a story so soul snatching, so gut wrenching and so devastatingly beautiful that it leaves you crying at 3am when you have a 8am lecture/shift and it inspires people to write entire essays, to write entire fanfics, mood boards and playlists based on it.