I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
Love Begins
Origami Around
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Product Placement
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
ellievsbear
d e v o n
occasionally subtle
tannertan36
Xuebing Du
tumblr dot com
RMH
AnasAbdin
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
DEAR READER
#extradirty
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@fairylyn
Kiri is seen as spiritual, misunderstood, a child of Eywa.
Spider is seen as a traitor, a wannabe, a mistake.
Kiri grieves and people feel for her.
Spider survives and gets judged for it.
They’re both children. They both lost everything.
But only one is forgiven.
Ask yourself why.
Why does Kiri get sympathy, but Spider gets blamed?
Both are kids caught between worlds. Kiri is called special, spiritual, misunderstood. Spider? He’s called a traitor, a wannabe, a mistake.
Kiri gets space to grieve. Spider gets judged for surviving.
It’s unfair. And honestly, the fandom needs to talk about it.
They said Kiri was special—Eywa’s daughter, gifted, beloved by the forest.
They never said anything about Spider.
When Kiri was hurt, everyone ran.
When Spider was taken, no one followed.
She was surrounded by love, wrapped in protection, called “daughter.”
He stood outside their circle, always almost family—but never quite.
They forgave her outbursts, her questions, her strangeness.
They punished his existence.
He smiled with them, bled for them, betrayed his own blood to save them—
And still, he remained the boy with no people, no place.
The forest never whispered to him.
And neither did they.
He kept Tuk safe.
He led Quaritch away.
He protected Kiri.
He bled for the Sullys.
But when the war was over —
No one spoke his name.
No one asked if he was okay.
He vanished.
And they let him.
Kiri didn’t have to ask for love.
It was there the moment she opened her eyes.
She was held, protected, chosen.
Spider tried.
He waited.
He gave and gave… until he had nothing left.
And still, it was never enough to become one of them.
Spider never asked to be part of their world — he just wanted to belong.
He followed their rules, spoke their language, loved their forest.
But when the time came to choose, they hesitated.
Kiri was one of them by essence.
Spider was there by effort.
And somehow, effort was never enough.
When Neytiri held a knife to his throat —
He forgave her.
When Jake left him behind —
He understood.
When Kiri got comfort and he got silence —
He accepted it.
Because if Spider ever dared to speak his pain,
He’d be “ungrateful.”
“Dramatic.”
“The son of a killer.”
So he said nothing.
And they took his silence as peace.
Kiri was welcomed before she spoke her first word.
They called her gifted, special — a child of Eywa.
Spider was watched, judged, weighed. He wore the wrong skin. He carried the wrong blood.
She walked with bare feet on sacred ground.He waited outside.
Not because he wanted less.
But because they gave him less.
He wore their paint.
He spoke their language.
He knew their ways.
But he was always the human.
Not one Omatikaya stood up for him.
Not when Neytiri called him a demon.
Not when Jake left him behind.
Not when he was taken.
They let him live among them.
But never with them.
They brought Kiri to the Tree of Souls.
They asked Eywa to bless her.
They called her a gift.
But when Spider cried under the same tree,no one listened.
No one called him anything.
They said Kiri was special.
They said Spider was dangerous.
They said Kiri had a purpose.
They said Spider was a burden.
Funny how two children can grow up together
and still be treated like strangers.
One bathed in light.
The other buried in shadow.
Jake told his family to run.
Neytiri called him a demon.
Neteyam followed orders.
Kiri got saved.
Lo’ak said nothing.
Tuk was too young to know.
They all watched Spider get left behind.
And yet you tell me —
He was part of the family?
Kiri was born in mystery.
Spider was born in shame.
Kiri was protected.
Spider was left behind.
Kiri was embraced by Eywa.
Spider was ignored by everyone.
And yet—
Spider never resented her.
He stood by her when she cried.
He followed her when no one else believed.
He protected her even when he was bleeding.
But they still looked at him like he didn’t belong.
Like he wasn’t one of them.
Like he never could be.
Neytiri screamed when she saw him.
Not out of fear — but rage.
She put a blade to his neck.
Threatened to kill him.
This wasn’t a stranger.
This was a boy who followed her family into exile.
A boy who saved her daughter.
And still —
She never called him “son.”
But you expect him to stay loyal?
Kiri was taken.
Jake came for her.
Neytiri came for her.
The family came for her.
Spider was taken.
They ran.
One was a daughter.
The other was a burden.
But sure — tell me again how they love both the same.
He called Spider a stray.
Not son. Not family.
And when war came, he didn’t hesitate.
He ran.
He left.
He never looked back.
If that’s love, then it’s a cruel kind.
The truth?
Spider was never Sully.
He was never theirs.
Just someone who happened to be there.
Until he wasn’t.
They never asked him what he liked.
What scared him.
What he dreamed of.
They saw the scars and assumed they knew the story.
They saw the name and thought that was enough.
“Son of Quaritch.”
That’s all he ever was.
Not the boy who laughed under the trees.
Not the kid who held his breath swimming with ilu.
Not the child who whispered songs to Eywa when he couldn’t sleep.
No.
To them, he was just a shadow of a man he never met.
A punishment.
A reminder.
They never gave him the chance to be more.
He didn’t fit anywhere.
The Na’vi called him “demon.”
The humans called him “feral.”
Both saw something wrong in him.
He wasn’t blue enough.
He wasn’t clean enough.
He wasn’t enough.
When he ran with the Na’vi, he was always just a step behind.
When he walked among the humans, he was always too wild.
They gave him no home, no name, no future.
So Spider made himself small.
He learned to laugh quietly.
To cry silently.
To take up less space.
Because if no one was going to make room for him,
then maybe he didn’t deserve any.