🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
Andulka
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gracie abrams
#extradirty
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Cosmic Funnies
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
Mike Driver
Claire Keane
tumblr dot com
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Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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EXPECTATIONS
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
seen from Singapore
seen from Tunisia
seen from Australia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Ecuador
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from Ecuador
seen from Kosovo
seen from Tunisia
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@fandom-shipping-bi-addict
my friend just told me that there's a secret second dashboard that solely contains posts from people you've turned on post notifications for, and when i click the link in the messages it opens it within the tumblr app, so the tumblr app also has a secret second dashboard for post notification blogs, and the only way to access it is to open the link for it within the app.
i literally love tumblr
20260801 oc art + sketch
I hate that ‘bad dream’ just means ‘nightmare’ instead of ‘shitty quality dream.’ I had a bad dream last night. It wasn’t scary it just didn’t make a lot of narrative sense
They weren’t lying when they said that as an adult you have to fight for your life to practice your hobbies
They also weren’t lying when they said that when you fail to do so your soul shrivels up inside your body and dies
Must've been something else than
Michonne and Rick Grimes THE WALKING DEAD
hii, i love your avatar character x family works. could you do something with the sully's & a chronically ill/disabled sibling/child? like maybe disabled like jake for extra angst.
The Little Girl Who Could Not Run
Story:you were born with a disability
Note: guys i enjoyed writing this sm and it's my favorite story for now
Tags:@whiskles @shaheea @yoko7658 @nacihe @astrid-ash @gaiestguyever-to-exist @justmare @karma-reader @qardasngan @gmmcfarland04 @rainyreina31 @ottergirl @zenyboytheoneanonly @cmalass @tubby23 @cantaloupesoda@bluecookies-and-ink @mcfeemarvel41-blog @miawolfo @th3realslimb1tch @werschitz @user153639937 @beka-gr33n @angiebeersblog @occasionallyfreshhound @h4loglowxx @kklovescookies @neteyamsrealgf01 @victoria2054 @stiveroon @minqxchae @dusty-boo @lvlypinkesworld @sunmoonsweets @werschitz @deepangelpartykid @aloverofanything @sleep-all-day-everyday @coloredsenses @theendlessvoidofdarkest @kittyslayercute @shxniq @celestialsonglines @iloveotters101 @javajuava05 @kittyslayercute
When you were born, the Sully family had already been blessed with two boys.
Neteyam had come first, steady and bright-eyed, and then Lo'ak, loud from the very beginning, always kicking and squirming whenever Jake tried to hold him still.
So when Neytiri became pregnant again, neither of them had expected how desperately they would want a daughter.
Jake had joked about it constantly.
“A little girl,” he would say, resting his large hand against Neytiri’s stomach. “Just imagine. After these two little demons? We might actually get a peaceful child.”
Neytiri would give him an unimpressed look.
“Peaceful? From you?”
“Hey. I’m peaceful.”
“You are never peaceful.”
Jake would grin.
And when you finally arrived, there had been so much happiness.
A daughter.
Their little girl.
Neytiri had held you against her chest for hours, barely allowing anyone else to take you. Jake had sat beside her, staring at your tiny face with an expression neither of his sons had ever managed to bring out of him.
“She’s perfect,” he whispered.
Neytiri smiled tiredly.
“She is.”
Mo'at had been there too.
She had examined you carefully, as any healer and grandmother would. At first, there had been nothing obviously wrong. You cried, you ate, you slept. Your little hands moved. Your eyes followed voices.
But as the months passed, Mo'at began to notice something.
Your legs did not move properly.
They were not simply weak because you were young.
They did not respond.
When other babies began kicking their feet and pushing themselves forward, you couldn't.
Mo'at tried everything she knew.
She used herbs. Massages. Gentle exercises. Traditional treatments passed down through generations. She prayed to Eywa and spent long hours beside you, trying to find something—anything—that might help.
But nothing changed.
Your legs remained still.
Jake understood before Neytiri truly allowed herself to.
He had lived a large part of his own life unable to walk.
He knew what it meant to depend on someone else to get from one place to another. He knew what it felt like to watch people move freely while your own body refused to cooperate.
And he knew the world wasn't always kind to people who were different.
One evening, when you were still small enough to sleep curled against Neytiri's chest, Jake sat outside their marui with Mo'at.
“There's nothing you can do?” he asked quietly.
Mo'at's expression was gentle, but sorrowful.
“I have tried what I know.”
Jake looked toward the doorway.
Inside, Neytiri was sleeping with you tucked beneath her chin.
“She's gonna grow up.”
“Yes.”
“She'll see her brothers running around.”
Mo'at didn't answer.
Jake swallowed.
“And she's gonna want to run too.”
“I know.”
That was the part that frightened him.
Not that you couldn't walk.
But that someday you would understand that you couldn't.
And he knew exactly how painful that realization could be.
---
By the time you were five, you understood enough to notice.
You understood that Neteyam could run.
You understood that Lo'ak could run even faster when he wanted to.
You understood that your legs were different.
You just didn't understand why.
That morning, the boys were outside racing each other through the clearing.
“Bet I can reach the tree first!”
“You always say that!”
“Because I always win!”
“You don't!”
Their voices were full of laughter.
You sat nearby, watching them.
Your hands rested against the ground.
You wanted to join them.
You always wanted to join them.
So you tried.
You pushed yourself forward, using your arms to pull your body along. You managed a little distance before trying to lift yourself.
Your arms shook.
You pushed harder.
For one wonderful second, you were almost upright.
Then your legs gave you nothing.
You fell.
Your hands hit the earth.
You stared at them.
Neteyam stopped laughing.
“Hey.”
You ignored him.
You tried again.
Your arms strained.
You pulled yourself up.
And again, you fell.
Lo'ak immediately ran toward you.
“Don't!”
You snapped at him.
The boy froze.
You hated that tone in your own voice, but you hated even more how quickly everyone rushed toward you whenever you fell.
“I can do it.”
Lo'ak looked at Neteyam.
Neteyam's expression softened.
“We know.”
“I can!”
“I know.”
“Then stop helping me!”
Your little voice cracked.
That made Neteyam go quiet.
Lo'ak looked genuinely hurt.
You tried again.
And fell again.
This time you didn't get back up.
You sat on the ground, breathing hard, staring toward the trees where your brothers had been running only moments before.
Jake had seen everything.
He approached slowly.
He didn't immediately pick you up.
That was something he had learned over the years.
Sometimes you didn't want to be carried.
Sometimes you wanted to know that you were allowed to be angry.
So Jake crouched beside you.
“You okay, kiddo?”
“No.”
Jake nodded.
“Yeah.”
You rubbed your face.
“Why can't my legs work?”
Jake's heart broke.
He had known the question would come eventually.
He sat beside you.
“Sometimes bodies just work differently.”
“Why?”
“Because that's how they are.”
You looked at him.
“Can you fix them?”
Jake's eyes lowered for a second.
“No.”
Your face crumpled.
Jake immediately reached for you.
“But listen to me.”
You didn't answer.
“You don't have to have working legs to be strong.”
“I wanna run.”
“I know.”
“I wanna run with Neteyam.”
“I know.”
“I wanna run faster than Lo'ak.”
That got the smallest smile from Jake.
“Okay, now that's ambitious.”
You gave him a watery glare.
“I'm serious!”
“I know you are.”
He touched your forehead gently.
“And maybe you won't run the way they do. But that doesn't mean you're gonna sit around and watch your whole life pass you by.”
You stared at him.
Jake smiled.
“Your old man knows a thing or two about that.”
---
Jake became determined that you would experience everything he possibly could.
If you couldn't walk through the forest, he would carry you.
And he did.
Constantly.
He would sling you onto his back, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and take you deep into the jungle.
“Where are we going?”
“Secret mission.”
“Where?”
“Can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because it's secret.”
“That's stupid.”
Jake would laugh.
“Wow. Five years old and already disrespecting your father.”
You'd giggle against his shoulder.
And that was exactly what he wanted.
He showed you the places where the tiny glowing creatures gathered at night. He carried you down toward the water and let your feet touch the cool surface. He took you high enough into the trees that you could see the forest stretching endlessly beneath you.
Sometimes he simply sat with you.
Your little body curled against his chest while he pointed toward animals moving through the undergrowth.
“See that?”
“Where?”
“Over there.”
“I don't see it.”
“Behind that leaf.”
“That leaf?”
“No, the other leaf.”
“There are a thousand leaves!”
Jake laughed.
“Okay, okay. My bad.”
You eventually spotted it.
Your eyes widened.
“Jake!”
“I see it.”
“No! Look!”
“I am looking!”
“It's moving!”
“I know!”
You grabbed his face and turned it toward the animal.
“Look!”
Jake burst out laughing.
“Okay! I'm looking! Eywa, kid.”
Those moments mattered more than he could explain.
Because Jake refused to let your disability become the only thing you knew about yourself.
You weren't the daughter who couldn't walk.
You were his daughter.
You were the little girl who loved glowing insects and hated bitter medicine.
You were the child who asked approximately three hundred questions every morning.
You were the one who stole Lo'ak's food and then blamed Neteyam.
And you were the one who could make Jake Sully smile simply by reaching for him.
---
Neytiri struggled differently.
She loved you fiercely.
But sometimes that love frightened her.
She knew the world.
She knew how cruel other Na'vi could be.
She knew children could be careless and adults could be worse.
She worried about the day you would be old enough to leave the safety of your family.
So she taught you everything she could.
She took you hunting.
At first, Jake had nearly lost his mind when he found out.
“You're taking her hunting?”
Neytiri looked at him.
“Yes.”
“She can't—”
Neytiri's eyes sharpened.
Jake stopped.
He knew that look.
Neytiri crossed her arms.
“She has arms.”
“I didn't say she didn't.”
“She has eyes.”
“I know.”
“She has hands.”
“Baby, I know.”
“Then why are you speaking as if she cannot learn?”
Jake opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Neytiri raised an eyebrow.
“That's what I thought.”
You were sitting nearby, watching them.
“Can I hunt?”
Both parents turned toward you.
Jake sighed.
Neytiri smiled.
“Yes.”
And she meant it.
She didn't make you feel helpless.
She taught you how to hold a bow.
How to position your hands.
How to listen for movement.
How to observe an animal before deciding whether it was worth pursuing.
When you struggled to sit comfortably, she changed your position.
When your arms became tired, she let you rest.
When you became frustrated because you couldn't do something the way Neteyam did, she corrected you gently.
“You do not have to hunt like your brother.”
“But Neteyam is good.”
“Yes.”
You frowned.
“I want to be good too.”
Neytiri touched your cheek.
“You will become good in your own way.”
You looked down at the bow.
“Will I be a warrior?”
Neytiri went quiet.
Then she leaned forward until her forehead touched yours.
“You will become whatever you choose to become.”
---
And when you were tired, Neytiri would bring you home.
Sometimes you fell asleep before she even reached the marui.
She would carry you inside and settle you down carefully.
Then came the part you loved most.
Your hair.
Neytiri could spend hours braiding it.
She would sit behind you while you rested between her legs, patiently separating strands.
You were rarely quiet for long.
“Is this one pretty?”
“Yes.”
“What about this?”
“Yes.”
“What about this?”
“You have asked me that six times.”
“Because I want to know.”
Neytiri smiled.
“It is pretty.”
“Can you put beads in it?”
“Which beads?”
“The blue ones.”
“The blue ones?”
“Yes.”
“Those are your brother's.”
You immediately turned your head.
“Neteyam!”
Neytiri caught your face and turned it forward.
“Do not move.”
“But—”
“Do not move.”
You huffed.
Neytiri continued braiding.
Sometimes you would ask her questions about when she was young.
Sometimes you'd ask about Eywa.
Sometimes you'd ask why Lo'ak was so annoying.
Neytiri always answered.
And sometimes, when she thought you weren't paying attention, she'd simply look at you.
Her fingers would slow.
She would brush your hair away from your face and kiss the top of your head.
You didn't know that she was sometimes afraid.
Afraid that you would grow up believing that you were less than your brothers.
Afraid that you would resent your body.
Afraid that someone would hurt you because of something you couldn't control.
But Neytiri also knew something else.
You were stubborn.
Very stubborn.
You had inherited that from both of them.
---
Neteyam was protective of you almost instinctively.
He would bring you things from outside.
Flowers.
Pretty shells.
Feathers.
Interesting pieces of bark.
One day he came running into the marui and dropped a handful of flowers into your lap.
“For you.”
You stared.
“Why?”
“Because I found them.”
“That isn't a reason.”
Neteyam frowned.
“It is.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You could give them to Mom.”
“I don't want to.”
“Why?”
“Because they're yours.”
You smiled.
“Thank you.”
Neteyam immediately brightened.
Lo'ak, meanwhile, had a very different approach.
He treated you like his partner in crime.
If you couldn't chase him, he'd come to you.
If you couldn't climb after him, he'd climb down.
If you couldn't reach something, he'd get it and then pretend he'd struggled terribly.
One afternoon, he tossed a fruit into your lap.
“There.”
You looked at it.
“What's this?”
“Food.”
“I know it's food.”
“Then why'd you ask?”
“Why are you stupid?”
Lo'ak gasped.
“Mom!”
Neytiri called from across the marui.
“What?”
“She insulted me!”
Neytiri didn't even look up.
“Then perhaps you should stop annoying her.”
Lo'ak stared at his mother in betrayal.
You burst into laughter.
And Jake, watching from nearby, smiled.
That was what he wanted.
Not pity.
Not constant sadness.
Just a childhood.
A real one.
A childhood where your brothers annoyed you, your mother braided your hair until you complained, and your father carried you into the forest just because he knew you wanted to see something.
Your legs might never run.
Jake couldn't promise that.
Mo'at couldn't promise it.
Neytiri couldn't pray it into existence.
But they could make damn sure you understood that your life was never going to be defined by what your legs couldn't do.
And Jake would keep carrying you through the forest for as long as you wanted him to.
Even when you were older.
Even when you were strong enough to tell him you didn't need him.
Because every time you wrapped your arms around his neck and whispered, “Take me somewhere,” Jake Sully would smile.
“Where?”
You'd point toward the trees.
“Anywhere.”
And Jake would answer the same way every time.
“Yeah, baby girl. Anywhere.”
___________________________________________
Guys i wanted to say something.
This person on tumblr is writing weird things such as "tuk × loak", "jake × neteyam" "ronal × tsireya" and yeah straight up pdf.
Pls report them
The Daughter Neytiri Could Not Look At
"Only I Get to Annoy Her."
Story: you were born in the sully family, with five fingers, and a skin Like humans, so neytiri was never able to accept you (part 20)
Plot: bullying and a protector
All parts here
@whiskles
@shaheea
@yoko7658
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@gaiestguyever-to-exist
@justmare
@karma-reader
@qardasngan
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@splatashajumpinoff1226 @sarentuinmyheart
@gmmcfarland04
@rainyreina31
@ottergirl
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@cmalass
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@bluecookies-and-ink
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@deepangelpartykid
@aloverofanything
@sleep-all-day-everyday
@coloredsenses
@theendlessvoidofdarkest
@kittyslayercute
@shxniq
@celestialsonglines
@iloveotters101
@javajuava05
Several weeks had passed since the Sullys arrived in Awa'atlu.
Training was still exhausting, but it no longer felt impossible.
You could finally stay on your ilu for more than a few seconds. You still fell—often enough for Lo'ak to tease you about it—but now you climbed back on without anyone telling you to.
Even Aonung had noticed.
He still made comments whenever you lost your balance, but they had become less cruel. Instead of trying to humiliate you, they sounded more like challenges.
"You leaned too far."
You looked over your shoulder while wringing seawater from your braid.
"I know."
"You hesitated."
"I know."
"You almost had it."
"...I know."
He rolled his eyes.
"Then stop saying 'I know' and do something about it."
You simply shrugged before climbing back onto your ilu.
Aonung watched you for a second longer than he intended before swimming after the others.
---
Later that afternoon, after training had ended, everyone made their way back toward the village.
Tsireya and Kiri walked ahead, talking quietly about different sea plants, while Lo'ak and Rotxo argued over who had fallen into the water more times.
You had wandered a little behind the group.
A woven basket hung from your arm, filled with herbs Ronal had asked you to collect on your way home.
You slowed near a cluster of flowering plants growing between the rocks, kneeling to inspect them.
Aonung noticed.
"What are you doing?"
Without looking up, you answered, "Looking."
"At rocks?"
"At herbs."
"They all look the same."
You plucked one of the leaves carefully.
"They don't."
Before Aonung could reply, a voice called from farther down the beach.
"There she is."
Three Metkayina teenagers, a little older than Aonung, approached.
One of them looked at you with obvious curiosity.
"So this is the forest girl everyone's talking about."
Another tilted his head.
"I thought they were exaggerating."
"They weren't."
His eyes lingered on your pink skin.
"I've never seen a Na'vi look like that."
You stiffened but kept your eyes on the herbs.
You had heard comments like that your entire life.
The third teenager laughed quietly.
"Are you sure she's even Na'vi?"
"Maybe the Sky People forgot to finish painting her."
The three of them laughed.
You tightened your grip on the basket.
It wasn't new.
It still hurt.
One of them took another step.
"No wonder she hides with the Tsahìk all day."
"I heard she can't even ride an ilu properly."
"Maybe she's better off back in the forest."
Before you could answer—
"Enough."
The single word cut through the laughter.
The three teenagers turned.
Aonung stood a few steps away, arms crossed.
His expression had completely changed.
The lazy amusement he usually wore was gone.
One of the boys raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Aonung didn't move.
"I said enough."
"We're joking."
"So?"
"Since when do you care?"
"I don't."
He answered so quickly it almost sounded believable.
"They're guests."
One of the boys laughed.
"And?"
"And you're embarrassing yourselves."
The smile slowly disappeared from the boy's face.
"We're just having fun."
Aonung's voice became colder.
"Then find someone who enjoys your idea of fun."
The group exchanged confused looks.
This wasn't like him.
One of them smirked.
"Interesting."
"What?"
"You've spent too much time around the forest girl."
Aonung's ears twitched.
"Leave."
"And if we don't?"
For the first time, Aonung took a step forward.
"You'll find out."
Silence settled over the beach.
After a long moment, one of the teenagers scoffed.
"Whatever."
The three turned and walked away, muttering quietly to each other.
You watched them disappear before looking at Aonung.
"...You didn't have to do that."
He kept his eyes on the path ahead.
"They were annoying."
You smiled faintly.
"So are you."
"I know."
There was a brief silence before you spoke again.
"...Thank you."
Aonung shrugged as if it had meant nothing.
"They were wasting everyone's time."
You knew that wasn't the real reason.
But you didn't push him.
---
The next morning, Aonung was helping Tonowari repair fishing equipment near the docks.
Rotxo walked over carrying a coil of rope.
"I heard what happened yesterday."
Aonung didn't look up.
"What about it?"
"You defended her."
"I told three idiots to leave."
Rotxo grinned.
"You never tell people to leave."
"They were bothering a guest."
Rotxo raised an eyebrow.
"You've called her 'forest girl' every day since she arrived."
"So?"
"So... why are they not allowed to?"
Aonung tied another knot before answering.
"Because."
Rotxo waited.
"...Because what?"
Aonung finally looked at him.
"They don't know her."
Rotxo blinked.
"And you do?"
Aonung paused.
He thought about your quiet "thank you."
About how you always came back after falling off your ilu.
About the way you carried herbs for Ronal almost every afternoon.
About how you never complained, even when people stared.
"...More than they do."
Rotxo smiled to himself.
"You like her."
Aonung nearly dropped the rope.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"I do not."
Rotxo folded his arms.
"You defended her."
"I was stopping idiots."
"You noticed she was upset."
"I noticed they were loud."
"You walked over before she even said anything."
"They were in my way."
Rotxo laughed.
"You've got an excuse for everything."
Aonung shook his head.
"I don't love her."
Rotxo only smiled wider.
"I didn't say you loved her."
"..."
"I said you liked her."
Aonung opened his mouth to argue.
Nothing came out.
Because, for the first time...
He wasn't entirely sure Rotxo was wrong.
A drawing of mine for no reason
in the midst of capitalism, fanfiction and archive of our own are always unconditionally and endlessly free. love, joy and passion, shared among human beings, are always unconditionally and endlessly free
Imagine if you met someone who can't eat watermelon. Not that they're allergic or unable somehow, but they just haven't figured out how to do that. So you're like "what the hell do you mean? it works just like eating anything else, you open your mouth, sink your teeth in, take a bite and chew. If you can bite, chew and swallow, you should be able to eat a watermelon."
And they agree that yes, they do know how to eat, in theory. The problem is the watermelon. Surely, if they figured out where to start, they'd figure out how to do it, but they have no clue how to get started with it.
This goes back and forth. No, it's not an emotional issue, they're not afraid of the watermelon. They can eat any other fruit, other sweet things, and other watery things ("it's watery?" they ask you). Is it the colour? Do they have a problem eating things that are green on the outside and red on the inside?
"It's red on the inside?"
Wait, they've never seen the inside? At this point you have to ask them how, exactly, they eat the watermelon. So to demonstrate, they take a whole, round, uncut watermelon, and try to bite straight into it. Even if they could bite through the crust, there's no way to get human jaws around it.
"Oh, you're supposed to cut it first. You cut the crust open and only chew through the insides."
And they had no idea. All their life this person has had no idea how to eat a watermelon, despite of being told again and again and again that it's easy, it's ridiculous to struggle with something so simple, there's no way that someone just can't eat a watermelon, how can you even mange to be bad at something as fucking simple as eating watermelon.
If someone can't do something after being repeatedly told to "just do it", there might be some key component missing that one side has no idea about, and the other side assumed was so obvious it goes without mention.
Yep.
https://drmaciver.substack.com/p/how-to-do-everything had a nice list of additional examples like this, with (non-)obvious major insights with regard to opening stitched bags, cleaning your bathroom floor, using a search engine, catching a ball, pinging somebody, proving a theorem, playing sudoku, passing as “normal”, improving your writing, generating novel ideas, and solving your problem.
If you’d asked me six months ago how to get better at something, I’d probably have pointed you to how to do hard things. I still think this is a good approach and you should do it, but I now think it’s the wrong starting point and I’ve been undervaluing small insights. [...]
I think my revised belief is that if you are stuck at how to get better at something, spend a little while assuming there’s just some trick to it you’ve missed. You can try to generate the trick yourself, but it’s probably easier to learn it by observing someone else being good at the thing, asking them some questions, and seeing if you have any lightbulb moment.
My fiance played the clarinet when he was in school. When he was first learning to play, he rented an instrument from the school to learn on. He was the last chair clarinet, had been for years, because he could not make notes that required the register key. For years, they kept making him do embrature exercises and he started to get a few notes, with lots of effort. Eventually he had to get private lessons to stay in band.
Every time he tells me this story, his frustration by this point in the story, years later, is evident. He still sounds frustrated by it, despite all the time that passed. Teachers had been giving him crap for years because he hadn't been making much progress with the instrument.
When he got to the private instructor, she acknowledged his frustration, and asked him to try to play for her. He did, and she saw all he was doing. She then did something no one else had done before. She asked him to put his mouthpiece on a different clarinet and try to play the same notes. Like magic, it worked. She looked at the clarinet he had been using and found that the school's clarinet needed it's pads replaced.
He went from last chair to first chair nearly overnight, having been taught far more techniques than typically taught at that age just to overcome the broken instrument preventing him from making noise.
Sometimes you don't need to brute force a problem. Sometimes your clarinet is just broken.
Not quite sure why the clarinet addition got me crying, but here you go people: just in case, let's get you some new pads.
The Daughter Neytiri Could Not Look At
"You Went to Her?"
Story: you were born in the sully family, with five fingers, and a skin Like humans, so neytiri was never able to accept you (part 18).
An argument /3
Tags: @whiskles
@shaheea
@yoko7658
@nacihe
@astrid-ash
@gaiestguyever-to-exist
@justmare
@karma-reader
@qardasngan
@7leo7
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@commandertorinshepard32
@splatashajumpinoff1226 @sarentuinmyheart
@gmmcfarland04
@rainyreina31
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@cmalass
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The news reached you two days later.
Not from Jake.
Not from Neytiri.
You overheard it.
Training had ended early because strong currents had made the reef unsafe. While walking back through the village with Tsireya, you passed two Metkayina women sorting shells outside one of the maruis.
"...I still cannot believe they almost fought."
"It was over the forest girl."
"The Tsahìk would not send her away."
"The mother was furious."
You slowed your steps.
Tsireya noticed immediately.
"What is it?"
You barely heard her.
"...Who?"
The older woman looked up, realizing you had overheard.
She immediately looked uncomfortable.
"...Child..."
"Who almost fought?"
The woman hesitated.
"...Your mother."
Your heart sank.
"...My mother?"
"...And Ronal."
You stared at her.
For several long seconds, you couldn't make sense of the words.
"...No."
The woman lowered her eyes.
"It happened two mornings ago."
Your breathing became uneven.
"You are mistaken."
"I'm not."
"Why?"
Neither woman answered.
That silence told you everything.
You didn't wait for another word.
You turned and ran.
---
Jake had just returned from fishing with Tonowari when he heard hurried footsteps outside the marui.
He barely had time to stand before you pushed through the entrance.
Your face was flushed from running.
Your breathing was heavy.
Neytiri looked up from where she was preparing dinner.
"You are back early."
You looked directly at her.
"Did you go to Ronal?"
The marui fell silent.
Jake's expression changed instantly.
Neytiri didn't answer.
You stepped closer.
"...Answer me."
Jake spoke first.
"Let's calm down."
"No."
Your eyes never left Neytiri.
"Did you?"
After a long pause...
"...Yes."
One word.
That was all it took.
Your stomach dropped.
"You actually did it."
Neytiri stood slowly.
"I needed to speak with her."
"You told her to stay away from me."
It wasn't a question.
She didn't deny it.
"I did."
Your voice rose before you realized it.
"Why?"
"Because she is not your mother."
"I KNOW SHE ISN'T!"
The force of your reply startled everyone inside the marui.
Even Tuk stopped moving.
You took another step toward Neytiri.
"I never called her my mother."
"I never asked her to replace you."
"Then why are you always with her?" Neytiri shot back, emotion finally breaking through her composure.
"Because she wanted me there!"
The words echoed through the marui.
Silence followed.
You swallowed hard.
"When I came to her..." your voice shook, "...she didn't look at me like I was a burden."
Neytiri flinched.
You noticed.
But you couldn't stop.
"You know what she did?"
You laughed bitterly.
"She listened."
"She noticed when I was hurt."
"She remembered what I liked."
"She made time for me."
Jake closed his eyes.
He knew where this was going.
Neytiri's voice was quieter now.
"I was trying—"
"When?"
You interrupted.
"When I was little?"
Your eyes had begun to water, but you refused to look away.
"When I begged you to teach me to hunt?"
"I remember being excited."
"I thought..." You laughed softly through the hurt. "I thought maybe this time it would just be us."
Your voice cracked.
"But you sent Dad instead."
Jake looked down.
He remembered that day too well.
"I waited for years."
You continued.
"I kept thinking maybe tomorrow you'd want me."
"Maybe next hunt."
"Maybe next lesson."
"Maybe next birthday."
Your breathing became uneven.
"But tomorrow never came."
Neytiri stepped toward you.
"I know I made mistakes."
"Mistakes?"
You shook your head.
"No."
"Mistakes happen once."
"This was my whole childhood."
The words struck harder than shouting ever could.
Neytiri looked as though she'd been hit.
"I watched you with them."
You gestured toward your siblings.
"You smiled."
"You taught them."
"You held them."
"And every time I wondered..."
Your voice became almost a whisper.
"...what was wrong with me?"
Nothing.
No one spoke.
You looked directly into her eyes.
"Was it because I wasn't blue?"
Neytiri's face drained of color.
"No."
"Then why?"
"I..."
"You looked at me differently."
"You held me less."
"You barely spoke to me."
"You avoided me."
"So tell me."
You weren't yelling anymore.
Somehow, that made it worse.
"What did I do?"
Neytiri opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because there wasn't an answer that could erase years of memories.
Tears finally slipped down your face.
"And then..."
You laughed bitterly.
"The first person who actually made me feel like I mattered..."
"...you tried to take her away too."
Neytiri's own eyes filled with tears.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you."
"But you did."
You wiped your face angrily.
"You don't get to decide who I'm allowed to care about."
"I am your mother."
"You are."
You nodded once.
"But you haven't acted like one to me for a long time."
The sentence shattered what little composure Neytiri had left.
She took another hesitant step.
"I want to fix this."
You looked at her for several long seconds.
When you finally spoke...
Your voice was exhausted.
"You had years."
Then you turned away.
Jake called your name quietly.
You didn't stop.
You walked out of the marui before anyone could say another word, leaving behind a silence so heavy that no one dared break it.
__________________________________________
august will be good august will be good august will be good august will be good august will be good august will be good august will be good august will be good august will be good august will be good august will be good
My painting of Sonam’s temple for Avatar Aang. Much of the work I did on this film was developing the style for the ancient flashback sequences!
Katara took the pic
Support me on Patreon or Kofi
This would've done stupid crazy numbers as a redraw format 10 years ago.
Do you wish your parents gave you someone else's name?
The look of love Katara receives daily.
She has no idea how she survives it.
