My Pathetic Family

I love the idea of the posh and wealthy Bridgerton siblings falling for their spouses in the spouse friend group au. Penelope and Simon constantly have to translate. They have a running competition about whose Bridgerton is the poshest. Eloise is offended at first until Philip points out that for his birthday she bought him first edition versions of some of his favorite books.

Eloise: Well I certainly wasn't going to give you a 2nd or 3rd edition! (shudders).

Philip: Just for that remark, you get another point.

OR

Sophie (staring at the ring Benedict is proposing to her with): I can not wear that thing.

Benedict: I told Anthony that I should have gone up a carat size!

Sophie: Ben, I'm pretty sure they could see that rock from SPACE! There is no way in hell I can wear that on my finger while working.

Benedict: Oh then that's no problem! I can reserve the store for us tonight to pick out a proper one! (turns around to call the jeweler).

Sophie proceeds to add two points to his score.

OR

Penelope (opening Colin's fridge): Colin, why do you have four kinds of cheese in your fridge?

Colin: I know it's sad but the store was out of the good Brie and Wensleydale so I'm a bit short today.

Penelope: I'm adding a point for every cheese in your fridge plus the two you mentioned.

This ask reminds me of @newtonsheffield lavender haze au, which I highly recommend.

I'm going to be completely honest I haven't thought that far into their relationships or the au in general, but I love the thought of the spouses only group chat just keeping score of whose Bridgerton does the most rich people posh shit. Anthony is currently in the lead. Daphne has the lowest score only because Simon won't add points for certain things because he has done some of those things. The others have to call red cards on him sometimes and then give Simon points. The Bridgertons never know their actual scores because their lovers will sometimes add points without telling them.

I have thought about how the two groups officially run paths.

I am also going to slightly redact one of my statements from my previous post. Michael and Francesca are friendly with one another. They were distantly acquainted at best when she was dating his cousin but when they got engaged and John later became sick, they bonded into a friendship. He doesn't know the rest of them though.

Lady Danbury throws a charity ball, and the boys have to go since they are the heads of their families. They beg and bribe to bring the girls as plus ones because going alone is just asking for matchmaking mamas to throw their daughters at them. The girls finally agree when Simon reveals that it's a masquerade ball so their faces will be covered.

Well guess who was also at the charity ball.

The group kind of splits off once they're at the party. Gareth and Lucy go raid the desert table before Lady Danbury pulls them to the side.

Standing next to Lady Danbury is a middle-aged woman with two others, her children most likely.

"Gareth, Lucy, this is Lady Violet Bridgerton and her children Gregory and Hyacinth," Lady Danbury introduced.

The group talked for a little while, mainly about the four in university and how their studies were going. Lucy didn't miss though how Gregory kept sneaking looks at her.

At one point Gregory whispered something to Hyacinth who only smirked at her brother and held out her hand. Gregory rolled his eyes before placing some money into the outstretched hand. Hyacinth counted it before nodding.

"Gareth I do love this next song coming on. Come dance with me." Without waiting for answer Hyacinth dragged Gareth off.

Violet only smiled and nodded. "Oh yes the next dance is so much fun. Lucy you must join in."

"Oh, I don't know the steps," Lucy said. Gareth how dare you leave her alone with his matchmaking grandma.

Lady Danbury taps her cane to the floor. "Nonsense! Gregory can lead you can't you boy?"

Gregory nods, holding out his arm for her to take. "Of course. Shall we?"

Phillip pulls Penelope off to go see what plants are around the conservatory.

"Look at all these plants Pen!" Phillip sounded like a kid in a candy shop. He excitedly pointed to some Penelope roses. "Here's your flower!"

Penelope giggled. "You know Pip I think you take the term wallflower to a whole new level."

"Hush Pen."

As Phillip continued to show her all the different plants, Penelope couldn't help but feel like someone was staring at her. Which was weird, she was never noticed at these things growing up. Discreetly Penelope began to look around and oh no. Here she thought she be unrecognizable now. The last thing she needs is for a scene to happen and her mother find out she's here.

Penelope grips Phillip's arm gaining his full attention.

"Pen?"

"I think I've been found out."

Phillip fully turns, blocking most of Penelope's small frame out of sight. "Your mother?"

"No, the Bridgertons." Penelope gestures.

Phillip follows and sees a young woman Penelope's age and a man about Michael's age. "Which ones are they?"

"Colin and Eloise."

Phillip looked back down. "Weren't you close with them?"

"You know after that huge fight with Mama I basically ghosted everyone, I knew from high society including them. If they find out I'm here now they'll make a scene. There is no sublte bone in either of their bodies, in the whole family."

Phillip begins to tug Penelope along again. "Well, I guess we'll keep moving.

Michael and Sophie head off to dance.

During one of the dances you are supposed to switch off partners. Sophie finds herself practically swept away with how quick her new dance partner switched her from Michael.

"I apologize," he said. "Francesca wanted some time to talk to Michael."

Oh, Sophie knew of Francesca. She was engaged to Michael's cousin when he passed. During that time period when Michael wasn't with one of them, he was with her.

Sophie looked over her shoulder. None of Micahel's usual flintiness was there as he whispered something to Francesca.

"I say those are some lovely tattoos you have."

Sophie turns back towards her new dance partner bewildered. Did he seriously say lovely and tattoos in the same sentence?

"Who are you?" Sophie asked.

"Benedict Bridgerton," the man said.

Benedict. Sophie's knows that name too. He was in some of Penelope childhood stories. "The nudist?"

Meanwhile Simon and Kate kind of take it all in from the side lines.

"I see why you wanted all of us to come along," Kate joked as she watched all the older women look on in disappointment from seeing her next to Simon. "They look absolutely visous."

"They most certainly are," Simon said, his eyes still on the crowd.

Kate was about to say something else when a voice cuts her off.

"Basset!"

Simon turns towards the voice, the first smile he had all evening lighting up his face. "Bridgerton!"

A man the same age as Simon rushes forward and the two embrace. Behind him is one of the most elegant looking young ladies Kate has ever seen.

Bridgerton. Kate has heard that name before, but where? Maybe a story from one of the others? Bridgerton, Bridgerton, Bridgerton. Oh. "Bridgerton? As in the eight siblings who all share one brain cell?"

Shit ok. You said out loud what I was thinking. Like I love Kate, Anthony and all the Bridgertons in their own right but DAMN, sometime it's obvious they have this "main character" shield. They do the most fucked up things that would usually get them in BIG trouble for that tims but there's no consequences.

Like I can understand the mistakes and wrong doings of Marina and Penelope for diverse reason because they got some kind of consequences for their action. But like can we talk about how Daphne SA Simon and acted like the victim aftrrward? And she got ehat she wanted at the end. Anthony and Kate didn't have the balls to be honest with themselves and Edwina and the only thing they got was like a week, maybe two, of bad reputation and avoidance from the ton. And then they got married when they ruined a marriage the QUEEN herself organize?!

Why I will never ever take Bridgerton fandom or mainly any tv/film fandoms seriously especially the Bridgerton one because they genuinely like trash toxic disgusting characters like Eloise Anthony Kate Daphne but hate Marina Edwina Colin and Penelope and the only reason they like Kate is because she’s their self insert girl to be with the hot nasty white boy they fancy Anthony and the only reason they dislike Colin who’s perfect and the best man brother wnd Bridgerton in that whole show is because he’s Penelope friend and love interest it’s clear as day they whole fandom hatred for them is based on racism misogynior and fatphobia because you can’t tell me you genuinely like Daphne who’s a se*ual assaulte* (which btw people hate Alison in UA for as they should but they deem her as the devil worst most evil human ever that was kissing too but daphne does a whole SA rap*e but she don’t get the same energy Daphne don’t even get any energy about in fact she gets nothing is because what she did was towards a poc character so it don’t matter right and things only matter when poc/woc characters does anything or just breathes in the wrong direction or towards a yt character right they are

deemed satan sporn crucified fandom love to put woc/poc character on high standards then white characters who can just live life and do all mistakes without facing consequences or remotely anything even if it’s literally sexu*ul assaul* or crimes like plz be fr and don’t get me started on them like having understanding sympathing and making all the excuses in the world for daphne even tho she’s sexua* assaulte* but they hate Marina for doing what was best for her children and herself there’s absolutely no understanding no sympathy or empathy for her and the life she’s lived which was so sad and cruel in fact she’s lived the worst life but they have no understanding for her but can easily do for other characters who’s lived a spoiled happy privileged life like the Bridgertons but nothing for the poor sad heartbroken girl in that society being not just any girl but a woc and not a rich woc that is protected by love or money like say queen Charlotte duke was in that era

being great mother doing whatever for their kids which is another thing fandoms love Portia as they should bc she was doing what was best for her kids as a mother does and should always do (my queen except when she’s cruel to pen and her sister) when she said she was mother and her team was the 3 girls the fandom call her bad bitch best mom who loves her kids as they should bc it’s true and Georgia in G&G calling her girl boss bad bitch best mother and queen thingz for doing everything for her kids and herself but Marina doing the same in time in a society where people like her poor black woman with no high status or family meant nothing who’s opinion and life and gender was seen as less, for her it’s she’s the devil trapping Colin like he still didn’t want her afterwards saying it didn’t matter to him that she was pregnant with another man baby that he loved and would’ve helped her if he knew😂 she’s manipulative trapping him all the bla bla no she was doing what was right and best for her at that time and we shouldn’t applauded her for her mistakes for doing what was wrong to towards Colin or lying to him but understand her time and life and see she was very desperate have some sympathy for god sake she made a mistake she did something wrong we see it her it but so did everyone else there and y’all have understanding sympathy for them but can’t do the same for her why?

(at least she came clean and apologized and got her consequences more then I can say for any bridgerton character that’s not Colin because they all somehow never seem to get any consequences for their actions or the things they do and the people they hurt just disappear or are the ones getting hated on or they get their happy ending with a person they hurt) but when another white woman character does that same exact thing but it’s way worse it’s girl boss) and that’s why I can’t take any fandom but especially the Bridgerton fandom seriously and don’t even get me started on the unnecessary hate Penelope Colin and Edwina get all the time sure Penelope at least did something bad once or twice or thrice and I’m not excusing her but it’s not remotely close to anything those other characters or even Eloise did and Kate Anthony get nothing even tho they are literally the most evil characters in that show along with daphne, Eloise is horrible awful cruel human but she’s not a devil just mean whiny privileged spoiled narcissistic hypocritical bitc*h and anyone that likes these characters but hate on Penelope who tried everything to save herself and her friend can stfu and anyone who hates Edwina and Colin literally the best characters in the whole universe who’s never ever done anything wrong in their lives can fcvk off good too for all I care same can Penelope Polin and Marina haters!

you are not fooling anyone with your clear and obvious racism misogynior and fatphobia at all because if you genuinely was gonna hate on characters for being cruel or doing something manipulative nasty or just pure evil you would never eveeer hate or even think off hating on Colin and Edwina and you would be so understanding empathetic and feel for Penelope and Marina doing whatever they can in world where they are poor woman who aren’t rich spoiled privileged supported by their family nor Bridgerton girls and who the world don’t just open up for them with opportunity respect an kindness

And this is more then half the fandom all of them being the same one shade of nasty liking daphn kathony but hating Colin Edwina marina and Penelope be so fr real!

I had the pleasure of creating a very adorable piece for byeolhsh57 on x/twitter this round! 🥺💕✨️ thank you for letting me be included in polinxcare4gaza 💛💚💙 We were able to raise 2.6k to help those in need and that makes me so overjoyed and thankful! Happy #polinweek2024!

Am I the only one who noticed how legit FERAL the RRB are in some of the Multiversus lines? Me and my buddy @sketchoco got so many clips of them with dog noises it’s not funny. Got Butch growling and whining multiple times, one Brick bark, and Boomer barking multiple times lmao.

Coincidence? Probably. But I still find it funny.

A small sketch of ashen teenagers. I don't think there are only three children of the age of Ttrong, Oare and Txon in the clan. And here's a squad of Pandora's tightly beaten teenagers!

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.

The actual best part of episode 7?

Ekko getting to hug his dad again and tell him the words he never got to say.

scenario based on my atla/Avatar Spider au:

The first time Spider enters the Avatar state is when the humans return to Pandora, their flaming ships bringing inferno like wildfires to Eywa's forests act like a comet, and the boy loses control, and the only way to protect him from himself was for Eywa to induce the Avatar state so his body could withstand the way his own flames reacted. He ends up in the center of some of the worst of the flames, engulfed, but shielded by a sphere of his own flames, stone, and air, as he draws water up from the soil to soften the wildfire's rage.

When the infernos die down days later, he rises from the ashes barely scathed, ready to make himself known as the Avatar, despite his fear and the hostility he knows he'll face as an "abomination to Eywa's blessings". But he doesn't care. He's too angry, his eyes and stripes still glowing, the rage of thousands of centuries of warriors and healers and mothers and fathers and devotees coursing through him.

But he is young. He has had no teachers. So his anger only takes him so far, and very few trust him enough to allow him to truly partake in the battles and planning, not within the Omatikaya anyway, seeing him as some cruel hoax formulated by the humans.

The second time he enters the Avatar state is the night the recoms lay their filthy hands on his baby siblings. He rages. Beyond rages. His power comes in the form of animalistic rage. His eyes and stripes white out. One second his siblings are held in bounds, the next they're free and he's yelling at them in a voice they don't quite recognize to run. Then he is gone, his anger quickly spent, leading to his capture, but not without fight. The recoms never expected to deal with a fire bender like themselves, let alone the Avatar.

The casualties left behind that night were his doing.

The third time he reaches the Avatar state is the night Neteyam dies. The boy was a healer, but not with water. He had no teachers to show him the way of using it to heal. He had no herbs or plants at his side that he recognized as Neteyam bled out before him. He screamed to Eywa for help, for the strength and skill to heal his brother. He pleaded for her to force him into the Avatar state so he could keep his brother from slipping away. But she couldn't save him, not this time. She wanted to, but she could not allow him to upset the balance.

Neteyam dies as Spider weakly, despite all of his might, holds an orb of faintly glowing water over the hole in his chest, as his eyes track over the burns left by over eager fire benders with no true skill. He dies as Spider screams and begs. The one time he needed his blessing, his curse, his punishment, his reward- Whatever anyone wished to call it -to do Hun why good, it could not save his problem.

Instead it comes the moment it is too late to do anything, enough rage and grief and hurt pooling in his chest as Neteyam's eyes glaze over and Neytiri begins to scream and his Father's voice begins to mock. That is when he rises to the ground in a cast of white light. He ravages the ship. He isn't alone, but he claims his casualties.

It takes a very long time before he ever allows himself to enter the Avatar state again, and he learns to never depend on it. For anything. And while his faith in Eywa is not lost, it is jaded, because she blessed him with a curse, whether she meant to or not, and couldn't even answer his one prayer.

The only reason they made Maddie a Noxian spy is because otherwise, she would've been a victim in this entire situation, and people would see how shitty Caitlyn's actions actually are.

Cait is still Maddie's superior. The power imbalance is very much there, not to mention the way she treats Maddie outside of their affair. Imagine if instead of being a 'traitor that weasled herself into Caitlyn's bed to gain her trust', Maddie was just an innocent young officer who was manipulated and used by her boss. It just makes Caitlyn look way worse, which she is, because she didn't know Maddie was a spy, so in her eyes, the difference in status didn't matter.

The writers needed somone else to be the scapegoat while Cailtyn did her thing and everyone was already against Maddie because she 'got in the way of Caitvi', which is not true by the way, Caitvi was always going to be cannon. Personally, I think it's ridiculous, but I've seen it happen time and time again in fandoms, so I'm honesty not surprised.

I am so glad to see a nuance take on their relationship where neither of them is demonised.

Especially when we uave someone like Jake who sjould kbow what PTSD is like and how to deal with it but I feel like he's just pushing the problem away abd hoping it would fix itself.

Just some reflections on Tiri idk—

It’s tragic how Neytiri doesn’t actually have any way of expressing her trauma or PTSD. The few times she tries to bring up her thoughts and concerns and inner pain, in her own way, Jake either takes offense to it or tries consoling her, when it’s not what she needs. What she needs is to be heard, to process what happened and to be given validity for what she feels. She doesn’t get any of it, so Spider inadvertently becomes her tool for that; an outlet.

Neytiri needs Spider, because he is the only person she can express her trauma through without being dismissed or sounding crazy (in her own mind at least). He becomes a way for her to, more or less safely, express distrust and anger at humans, not for what they are, but for what they’ve done and the destruction they caused, as well as fear that it might happen again, which is a normal reaction to a deeply traumatic event.

What people miss when they feverishly defend Neytiri tho, is that this isn’t a healthy coping mechanism. Spider is a living, breathing individual and a child. He and Neytiri don’t stand on equal ground, and he doesn’t owe being the vessel for her emotions. The things he says in upset, or in that argument scene in high ground, might sound like Spider isn’t getting the bigger picture yet, but how can he, when both he and Neytiri have been blindsided by people who have the education to explain to them the complexity of their emotions and the scars left behind certain experiences?

Tiri is a victim of horrible events, and more so, of emotional neglect, but she also seems to have placed herself and Spider into a relationship where her anger and trauma is projected and managed directly through him. It seems to alleviate some of her anger, temporarily, but doesn’t actually remove it. She just keeps suffering, hence she’s not in the right for this.

(Image source — @/cappedseries)

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Anyway, might delete later if I’m wrong idk.