I Finished Sketching Common Enemy Part 2!

I finished sketching Common Enemy part 2!

I'm so excited and proud of myself! I'm now gonna take a little break from drawing, and maybe I'll finally answer some of those awesome writing prompts people have sent me. Then I'll get started on line art and coloring. I'll keep you guys updated on my progress as I finish each page.

Also, I sent the whole thing to my boyfriend so he could proofread it. He's not an artist, but he's good at spotting errors, like if I accidentally draw a thumb on the wrong side of the hand or something. Instead of giving me any constructive criticism, the mofo just sent me this:

Now I can't unsee it 😭

She was a ✨f a i r y✨

fairy kiri for a collab im doing w my friend :33 also letting yall know im lowkey gonna turn this into a multi account 🙏🙏

hard agree on them being besties. I love watching interviews with Jack Champion and Bailey Bass interacting, I hope their chemistry will carry over to the big screen. And I love how you drew Tsireya's top!

“You hear that sound Tsireya?”

“What sound?”

“The sound…of Aonung shutting the hell up. It’s amazing.”

Giggles “Truly~”

.

Not my best work , but I felt the need to push “Spider and Tsireya besties” agenda and post this :) their friendship would just WORK ok

.

(DO NOT repost my artwork on any platform, with or without credit. I DO NOT give my consent to do so.)

Hi, can I ask how old you are? If you don't want to reply, just ignore it, I'm just curious how many of us are of a similar age, because I noticed that the most active people in this fandom are around 20-29 years old (I'm 23) and sometimes I wonder what causes it

I don't feel comfortable sharing my exact age, but I'll say I'm in my early 20s, so I fall into the age range you're talking about, and yeah, I've noticed that most of the Avatar fans I've interacted with seem to be in this range.

I think part of it isn't so much that Avatar appeals to people in their 20s, it's moreso that we're all on tumblr. Tumblr's demographics have aged since its heyday so I think most of its users are young adults now. If you go on Tiktok, you'll find lots of teenage and child avatar fans, and if you go on reddit's r/Avatar you'll find a slightly older mix of adults. I don't really use twitter and instagram as much, but I'm sure you'll find different age ranges there.

So the cause is just the website you're using to interact with Avatar fans.

Can you write a snippet of Quaritch following through with his version of “an old school ass whipping”

Nothing too serious because I don’t think he’d abuse Spider but I do think he’d be the type of parent to resort to physical discipline if pushed enough.

In the exchange between him and Spider, Spider does not seemed alarmed with fear and is actually a little cheeky. I think he’s used to adults just letting him get away with things.

I think it’s be interesting to read Spider’s reaction to an adult/authority figure disciplining him (whether physical or some other punishment) for not following instructions rather than just checking to see if he has not been harmed.

It doesn’t have to relate to him running off which is where Quaritch uses the threat. It could be anything.

Okay, so I know you requested me to write about Quaritch disciplining Spider, but I’ve seen that explored a bunch of times before, and honestly, after what I wrote in Blood Is Thicker Than Water, I’ve kind of gotten a bad taste in my mouth for writing disciplinary scenes involving Quaritch. Idk why, but your ask gave me inspiration for a scene of Jake disciplining Spider instead, and it ended up taking a pretty different direction than your request. Sorry that this isn’t exactly what you requested, but I wanted to write something that I haven’t seen explored by other writers before, so I hope you still enjoy it!

Lucky Number Five (6k words)

One.

Two.

Three.

Jake counted the children in the marui, and then he counted them again. Tuk napped in the back corner of their home, nestled among her blankets. That was one. Lo’ak stood at the entrance of the marui, waving goodbye to Tsireya. That brought the count up to two. In the center, by the cookfire, Kiri helped Neytiri chop fish and vegetables for a stew. That made three.

It had been a week since the battle at Three Brothers Rock, but Jake still had to bite back the instinct to look for number four. His heart told him to count again; told him that if he checked just one more time he would see Neteyam tucking the blankets tighter around Tuk, or playfully teasing Lo’ak, or asking Neytiri if she needed any more help with dinner, but his mind knew better than his heart. No matter how many times he counted, there would never be a number four.

However, he was still missing a number. Jake didn’t know when exactly he started doing this, but at some point in his parenting career, he’d assigned a number to each of his children, and that number was the order in which he would always check on them based on the likelihood that they would need adult supervision. Maybe it was just his way of keeping track of so many kids, or maybe it was some leftover instinct to “sound off” from his Marine days. Whatever the case, the system worked for him. As the youngest and most delicate, Tuk was always the first child he checked on. Coming in second place was Lo’ak, the resident trouble-maker. Number three was Kiri, more responsible than Lo’ak, but still prone to making trouble of her own on occasion. Neteyam, as the oldest and most mature of the bunch, was number four, the last child he checked on because he was the least likely to be in trouble.

One, two, three, four. Jake had sounded off the mental count thousands of times over the years whenever he needed to make sure all of his children were accounted for. But the count didn’t always stop there. Sometimes, not most of the time, but sometimes there was a fifth child on the list, tacked onto the end more out of courtesy than anything.

Jake counted again just to be sure.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Number five was missing.

“Where’s Spider?” He asked the question so suddenly, that it startled everyone. Tuk peered out sleepily from her blankets, and Kiri and Neytiri gave him confused looks from across the cookfire.

“Huh?” Asked Lo’ak as he came to sit down next to Tuk.

“I asked where Spider is. I told all of you to be back home before sundown. It’s almost dark, so where is he?” He directed his question at Kiri, figuring she would be the most likely to know, but all she did was shrug.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning. I’ve been helping Mom and Ronal in the healing marui. I think he said he was going to help Lo’ak with his chores.” She said before turning her attention back to chopping vegetables.

The casual way she answered the question irritated Jake. If Spider wasn’t back by now, it either meant he was willingly disobeying Jake or he was in some kind of trouble. Why was Kiri acting like it was no big deal? His tail started to twitch in frustration as he rounded on Lo’ak. “Have you seen Spider?”

His question came out harsher than he intended it to, making Lo’ak jump slightly. “Uh… yeah, I hung out with him earlier, but he went off with Rotxo in the afternoon. I think he was gonna teach him to spearfish or something?”

“You think?” Jake repeated exasperatedly.

“I dunno, I wasn’t really paying attention.” Lo’ak said, sheepishly playing with the beads on the ends of his braids.

“Yeah, cause you were too busy looking at Tsireyaaa—“ Tuk giggled in a singsong voice.

Lo’ak threw a blanket at her. “I was not!”

An irritated huff left Jake’s lips as he got to his feet. “I’m going to go find him.”

“Ma Jake,” Neytiri’s voice stopped him in his tracks, “dinner is almost ready. Stay and eat with your family. I’m sure the boy is fine.”

“No, I told everyone to be back here before sundown. It’s sundown and he’s not here, so it’s not fine.” Before Neytiri could get another word in, he left the marui, tail lashing behind him with anxiety.

He rushed through the peaceful village, passing Reef Na’vi settling into their homes for the night. The setting sun painted the sky a deep orange, and a chorus of insects created a soothing symphony for the evening. Everything was so calm, surely nothing was really wrong, right? Despite what he tried to tell himself, images of Spider hurt or dead kept flashing through his mind. He was so consumed with his worries that he nearly ran right into Rotxo.

“Oh! Hi, Jake!” Rotxo greeted him cheerfully once he recovered from nearly losing his balance.

“Rotxo, sorry, didn’t see you there. Have you seen Spider?”

“Yeah, I was teaching him how to spearfish by the diving hole. I think he’s still there—“ Rotxo had barely finished pointing in the direction of the diving hole before Jake was off, making a beeline for it.

The longer it took to reach the hole, the faster he went, so he was practically sprinting by the time he reached it. Jake skidded to a stop on the rocky edge of the hole, startling a few small marine ikran into flight. He frantically looked around for any sign of Spider, but the whole place was deserted. The hole was dead still except for the steady undulations of bioluminescent seaweed dancing in the current, and the swaying of the mangrove branches up above. All he could hear was the gentle sound of waves lapping against rock and the occasional cry of a marine ikran. No sign of number five.

“Dammit!” Jake hissed under his breath. His ears flattened against his skull and his tail thrashed like an angry snake. Now he didn’t know what to do. None of the other children seemed to have any idea where Spider was and Rotxo was his last lead. Awa’atlu’s atoll was a massive area full of hiding places, and Spider was one little human. He could be anywhere.

Just before he made up his mind to start searching somewhere else, a soft sound drew his attention. Down the side of the hole directly to his left, a familiar dreadlocked head surfaced amongst the bioluminescent seaweed.

“Spider!” He called, sprinting across the rocks towards him.

At the sound of his name, Spider turned. Underneath the sheen of his mask, his face split into a wide grin and he started swimming to meet him, a child-sized Metkayina speargun in his hand. “Hey, Jake! What’s up?”

Jake knelt on the edge of sea rock and hauled Spider out of the water by the strap of his exopack as soon as he was in reach. He quickly checked Spider over for any sign of injury or damage to his equipment. As far as he could tell, there was none.

“You alright? Where the hell have you been?”

Spider’s grin faded as he took in the panic in Jake’s body language. “Yeah, I’m fine, I was just practicing the spearfishing stuff Rotxo taught me.”

Jake’s shoulders sagged and he let out a deep sigh as a surge of relief overwhelmed him. It lasted for a grand total of five seconds before it was replaced by a rush of anger. He hadn’t been this scared and angry since Lo’ak had gotten lost beyond the reef.

Jake seized Spider by the shoulders and shook him. His voice came out in a low snarl. “What the hell is the matter with you, boy? Have you just been fucking around out here this whole time?”

Spider’s eyes went wide and he tried to recoil, but Jake’s grip was too tight. “Jake, I— wait— did something happen?”

“You almost gave me a heart attack, that’s what happened!” Jake snapped as he got to his feet.

“Jeez, relax, I’m fine, see? Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Spider said as he gathered up his speargun and stood. Before Jake could get another word in, Spider turned on his heel and started walking away.

Jake’s ears went flat against his skull in a mix of shock and anger at the blatant disrespect. Not even Lo’ak in his most rebellious mood would dare to walk away from him when he was being scolded. It took a lot of effort to keep his voice level. “And where do you think you’re going, young man?”

Spider stopped and glanced back at Jake with a bewildered look on his face. “I’m getting back in so I can keep spearfishing?”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, are you now?”

“Yeah?”

“And what about dinner?”

“I’ll eat later.”

“And when were you planning to go to bed, huh?”

Spider shrugged. “I dunno. Whenever I guess.”

Without another word, he turned his back on Jake again and got ready to dive into the water. The sheer disrespect almost made Jake laugh. He ended up hissing through his teeth instead. “Get your ass back over here. Now.”

Before Spider had a chance to disobey him again, Jake crossed the distance he had put between them in a single step and seized him by the arm.

“Jake, what—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” Jake cut him off by roughly steering him in the direction of home with a firm hand on his shoulder. The action was familiar to him. He’d done it to Lo’ak a hundred times after his troublemaking escapades. In fact, he was already mentally planning the lecture and accompanying punishment for disobedience he’d give to Spider once they got home. It was going to be nearly identical to the one he’d given Lo’ak after he’d scared everyone by getting lost outside the reef. Maybe Spider’s attitude would improve after a day of being stuck inside the marui doing chores. “You’re gonna march your butt back to the marui and—“

His eyes widened in surprise when Spider jerked his shoulder out of his grip and twisted away from him.

“Get the hell off me!” Spider yelled. He backed away from Jake, one hand covering the shoulder he had grabbed.

For a moment, all Jake could do was stare at him in shock, mouth slightly ajar. Then he closed it, tightening it into a sharp, angry line. Never in all his years as a parent had one of his children dared to use such language at him, especially not when they were already in trouble. “What did you just say to me, boy?”

“I told you to get the hell off me.” Spider repeated boldly, heedless of the hole he was digging himself into.

“Alright, that’s it!” Jake stormed towards Spider with a snarl. “I was gonna go easy on you, but since you want to have an attitude, we can do this the hard way.”

Spider scurried back to stay out of reach, but his retreat wasn’t a sign of submissiveness. If anything, Spider puffed up just as angrily as Jake. He hopped up onto a nearby mangrove root so he could better look him in the eye. “Attitude? I’m just minding my own business and you’re all pissy at me for some reason!”

“Minding your own business?” Jake repeated with a scoff. Even when Lo’ak got in trouble he had the sense to own up to it instead of lying about it. He jabbed an accusatory finger towards Spider’s chest. “You know damn well what you’re doing. I don’t know why you think you get to stay out past curfew all of a sudden, but the rules haven’t changed just ‘cause we left the forest.”

Spider threw his hands up in frustration. “Bro, what are you talking about?”

“Playing dumb isn’t going to help you! You’re out past your curfew and there’s going to be consequences.”

“What fucking curfew?” Spider yelled so loudly that it made Jake recoil. His voice cracked hard mid-sentence, and Jake suddenly realized that the tone he’d mistaken for disrespectful was actually scared and confused. 

Jake's first instinct was to yell right back, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. He put his hands up in a calming gesture, and when he finally spoke, he managed to keep his voice civil. “Spider, this morning I told you and Lo’ak and Kiri to come back before sundown, remember?”

Spider’s brows knit together in confusion. He was still on edge, but he relaxed slightly at seeing Jake calm down. “You told Lo’ak and Kiri to come back. You didn’t say it to me.”

“Spider,” Jake had to take another calming breath to keep from losing his cool again. He couldn’t tell if this was genuine confusion or some bizarre attempt to get out of trouble, but either way he figured more yelling wouldn’t solve the situation. “You were standing right between Lo’ak and Kiri when I said it. Why would you think I wasn’t saying it to you too?”

“Why would I think you were? I’m not one of your kids.” 

“I— well— no, you’re not, but you still have to follow the rules. Back when you lived in Hell’s Gate with the McCoskers, could you just wander off whenever you felt like it?”

Spider squinted at him in confusion. “Uh… yeah, I could? I did that all the time.”

Now it was Jake’s turn to squint. “You didn’t have a curfew with the McCoskers?”

“I mean, maybe when I was like, really little, but not that I can remember, no. And besides, I haven’t lived with the McCoskers since the RDA came back, remember? It’s been almost two years since then.”

For a moment, Jake was almost stunned into silence, but he recovered from his surprise and changed tactics. “Okay, forget the McCoskers. Think about when we lived in High Camp. You had a curfew then.”

“No, your kids had a curfew, but I didn’t. Don’t you remember how Lo’ak was always jealous?”

“I—” Jake frowned. Now that Spider mentioned it, he vaguely remembered Lo’ak begging Jake to extend his curfew because of something to do with Spider. “But Norm and Max and everyone, they made sure you got home and ate dinner before dark, right?”

“Norm and Max were always super busy. It’s really hard to keep human life support running out there. They didn’t have time to babysit me; they had to keep the lights on.” Spider shrugged like it was no big deal. He must’ve noticed the shocked look on Jake’s face because he quickly added. “Jake, relax. I’m a tough kid, remember? I know how to get my own dinner and I know when to go to sleep. I was fine.”

“Oh, Eywa…” The realization finally hit Jake. Spider’s confusion was one hundred percent genuine; he really didn’t understand why Jake was angry at him for staying out at night. Jake pressed his hands to his lips and took another deep breath. He sat down on the mangrove root and patted the spot next to him. Spider still looked a little nervous, but he sat down next to Jake anyway. His legs were far too short to reach the sandy ground below, so they swung in the air halfway down Jake’s calves, making him look much younger than he was.

“Spider,” Jake began. He put a hand on Spider’s shoulder and turned him so they were face to face, “you’re not one of my kids, but while we stay in Awa’atlu, you’re living in our marui. That means I’m responsible for you just like I’m responsible for Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk. So you have to follow the rules— that includes the curfew.”

Spider made a face. “I really have to have a curfew now? But why?”

“The same reason Kiri and Lo’ak and Aonung and Rotxo and every other kid has a curfew. It’s to keep you safe. If you don’t come back at sundown, I won’t know where you are or if something bad happened to you.” Jake ruffled Spider’s hair the same way he did to Lo’ak all the time.

“Nothing bad’s gonna happen to me,” Spider shoved his hand off with a scoff. “I can take care of myself. I never had a curfew before. Why do I gotta have one now?”

Jake's patience started to wear thin again. His irritation started to leak into his voice. “Because I said so, that’s why.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“You do not speak that way to me, young man.” Jake scolded.

Spider shrunk under the reprimand, but still held his ground. “Well, it is…”

Jake threw his hands up in exasperation. “What is so important that you need to stay out at night anyway, huh?”

“Uh, food? You know, that thing I need to survive?” Spider drawled with so much venomous sarcasm that for a split second Jake felt like he was talking to his father instead. “Do you think I’m out here freezing my butt off for fun? I’m trying to catch some dinner. I know it’s been awhile since you were human, but remember that humans need to eat too.”

“Alright, first of all, lose the attitude, kid.” Jake snapped. “Second of all, what are you talking about? Food? We have food at home. Neytiri made dinner for everyone.”

An ugly sound that was half-scoff, half-laugh escaped Spider’s throat. “No. Ms. Sully made food for your family. Not for me.”

“Spider, is that what this is about?” Jake’s voice softened slightly with pity. “Neytiri? Listen, I know things are… complicated right now, but Neytiri doesn’t mind if you eat what she cooked.”

“Oh, I bet she’d love it if I ate some of her cooking,” Spider said bitterly. Seeing the confused look on Jake’s face, he added, “she never cooks things humans can eat. This morning Kiri warned me she was making pincer fish stew. Do you know how toxic pincer fish are to humans? If I ate it I’d probably puke my own brains out.”

Jake cringed. “Oh… I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t realize she was making something that would hurt you. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why would I? It’s not the first time she’s cooked poisonous food when she knows I’m staying for dinner.”

“Don’t talk like that. Neytiri wouldn’t do that on purpose. She’s just been so distracted since… since everything. I promise it was just a mistake.”

“Yeah, a mistake.” Spider scoffed. “Maybe it was this time, but didn’t you ever notice that every time she heard me, Kiri, and Lo’ak were planning a sleepover that she’d make something I couldn’t eat? It’s not like she’s in the habit of making human-friendly food.”

“What— no, but that’s not—“ Jake spluttered as he tried to think of a rebuttal, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t. Since they’d gotten Spider back, all their meals were sympathy gifts from the Metkayina or were prepared by Jake. Neytiri had been too bereaved to cook, so Jake had picked up the slack. Tonight was the first night she’d cooked since the battle. Even thinking back further, back to when they lived in the forest, Jake couldn’t recall a time Spider had stayed over for dinner when Neytiri cooked. It was always when Jake cooked or when they ate a feast prepared by the clan.

Now that he was really thinking about it, he vaguely remembered an ugly argument between Kiri and Neytiri that had happened a long time ago: Kiri accused Neytiri of cooking food that was poisonous for humans on purpose so Spider couldn’t spend the night with them, and Neytiri argued back that it was too hard for her to modify every recipe she knew to make it human-friendly.

“Okay, maybe she did do that, but that was before. She always knew you could get food from somewhere else. Things are different now. Today really was just a mistake.” Jake tried to get Spider to look at him, but Spider stubbornly kept his head down and let his thick locs hide his face.

“Yeah, whatever. Can I go now? If I don’t catch a fish soon I’m gonna go hungry tonight.” Spider started to slide off the root they sat on.

Before he could slink out of reach, Jake grabbed him by the shoulders. He knelt on the hard sandy ground in front of him so they were face to face. “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying? You’re coming home with me. Now. I’ll let breaking curfew slide just this once since you didn’t understand the rules, but this is the last time you’re going out by yourself at night. If I ever catch you breaking curfew again, you’re gonna be grounded, you read me?”

“What? But how am I supposed to feed myself?” Spider cried. There was so much genuine panic in his voice that it made Jake cringe with guilt. Did Spider seriously think he would let him starve? “During the day I have to help everyone out with the chores. I won’t have enough time to find food if—“

“Spider!” Jake cut him off with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders. Once he was sure he had Spider’s full attention, he continued in a slow, clear voice. “Look, here’s the deal, kid: as long as you live under my roof and follow my rules, I will make sure you have plenty of food. You don’t have to hunt for yourself after dark. From now on, you will come back home and eat dinner with us every night before sundown. How’s that sound?”

Spider stayed quiet for a long moment, a furrow in his brow. Jake gave him a reassuring, fatherly smile, the same smile that always seemed to help his children when they were scared. He hoped that Spider was finally getting it. After a long moment of hard thought, Spider shook his head and said, “no thank you.”

Jake stared at him incredulously. “What do you mean, no thank you?”

“I mean, I’m good.” Spider grabbed Jake’s oversized hands and carefully peeled them off his shoulders. “That whole deal thing you’re offering me? No thanks. I’d rather keep my freedom.”

He tried to slink away again, but Jake stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Spider, the deal isn’t optional.”

“So you’re forcing me to follow this stupid curfew?” Spider tried to twist out of his grip, but Jake wasn’t budging. “What? Like a prisoner or something?”

“A prisoner? Jesus, Spider, I’m not imprisoning you, I’m taking care of you! Why can’t you just—” Jake cut himself off. He was going to ask Spider why he couldn’t just trust him, but considering everything they’d just talked about, it felt stupid to ask him to do that. With a deep sigh, he gently took both of Spider’s hands and lightly squeezed them.

“Okay, look at it this way. Lo’ak and Kiri have a curfew too. Why do you think they have a curfew?”

Spider stopped trying to squirm away from him, but he wouldn’t look him in the eyes either. He kept his gaze on the ground, where he nudged a small rock with his toe. His begrudging answer came after a moment, “so you know that they’re safe.”

“Yep, that’s right. We give our kids curfews because we love them.” Jake nodded. “A curfew isn’t a punishment. It’s just a rule to keep you kids safe.”

Spider kicked the rock, sending it flying into the diving hole with a small splash. He still wouldn’t look at Jake. “I’m not a kid. I’m older than Kiri and Lo’ak. I don’t need this stupid rule to stay safe.”

“Yes, you do. You’re sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds have curfews.”

Suddenly, Spider looked up at him, his dark eyes shining with an emotion Jake couldn’t identify. “So why didn’t I have a curfew when I was fifteen? Or fourteen? Or— hell, I don’t think I’ve had one since I was like ten. You say that kids need curfews, but I never had one. And it was fine. If it wasn’t fine, you and Norm and everybody wouldn’t have let it happen. So it was fine, right?”

Jake’s ears twitched downwards and it became a struggle to hold Spider’s gaze. The strange look in his eyes was almost pleading, silently begging Jake to confirm what he’d said; that it was perfectly fine that all the adults had let a teenager run around with no guardian looking after him. Jake licked his lips. It would be easy to agree with him; just tell him that the way he’d been treated was fine and come up with some bullshit excuse for why things had to change now. Spider had always gotten enough food and rest; it wasn’t like he was wasting away while the adults ignored him. Sure, he didn’t have anyone looking out for him the way Jake and Neytiri looked out for their children, but there was a war going on. They had bigger things to worry about. Spider wasn’t their problem.

It was fine, right?

“No.” When Jake finally answered, he couldn’t look Spider in the eyes. He kept his gaze trained on the stony ground beneath his knees. “No, Spider, it wasn’t fine. A kid’s not supposed to live like that. A kid’s supposed to have somebody making sure they come home and eat dinner and go to bed every night. You shouldn’t have had to look out for yourself like that.”

In the edges of his vision, he saw Spider’s dreadlocks sway as he shook his head. “No, it was fine. I was fine. I mean, I always knew I wasn’t treated the same as the other kids, but it wasn’t like it was bad or anything. Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk are your responsibility, ‘cause you’re their parents. I don’t have parents, so I’m nobody’s responsibility. It wouldn’t be fair to make somebody else look after me when it wasn’t their fault I was stuck there.”

Hearing Spider frantically try to rationalize his treatment only made Jake feel worse. He shrunk into himself as Spider continued.

“That’s just how the world works. You know, like, if something ever happened to you and Neytiri, Lo’ak and Kiri would have to look out for themselves too, ‘cause it wouldn’t be fair to make somebody else have to look after them.”

“No! Eywa, no, Spider! That’s not how this works!” Jake cried. Just the thought of his children living like Spider —having no one waiting on them to come home at night, staying out late to get food for themselves because they couldn’t count on anyone else to feed them— was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach. “It doesn’t matter if a kid doesn’t have parents. They still need somebody taking care of them. That’s why you had your foster parents.”

“Yeah, I guess I needed them when I was little, but I pretty much just slept in the same house as them by the time I was, like, ten or so. And they’re long gone by now. I was fine without anybody looking out for me for the past year and a half. You don’t need to start now.”

“Spider, I was…” Jake hesitated, struggling to find the right words. He forced himself to look Spider in the eyes. “I was wrong, okay. I was Olo’eyktan. When your foster family abandoned you, I should’ve done something— should’ve appointed somebody or— or I don’t know. I just shouldn’t have done nothing.”

“Jake, I was fine.” Spider protested weakly.

“No, you weren’t. Not if you think it’s normal to get food all by yourself at night.”

“It’s not?”

“No! Jesus, if something ever happened to me and Neytiri,” Jake’s voice cracked with emotion at the thought, “I would never want my kids to live like this— so it’s not right to let you live like this either.”

“Jake,” Spider seemed taken aback by the emotion in his voice. “It’s okay.”

“No, kiddo, it’s not. But I’m gonna make it okay now.” He got to his feet and held a hand out to Spider. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Instead of taking his hand, Spider backed away. His eyes darted between Jake’s hand and the spearfish he’d left lying near the edge of the diving hole. The wind picked up ever so slightly, and Jake caught a whiff of the human stench of fear coming off of Spider. He frowned. Did the thought of letting himself be dependent on Jake scare him that badly?

“Look, Jake, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think it’s better if things stay the same as they’ve always been.”

Jake’s frown deepened. “What? Do you want to be out here in the dark catching food by yourself?”

Spider grimaced. “Not really, but I just think it’s for the best. It’s really nice of you to offer to take care of me, but I know how the world works. You can make promises now, when things are peaceful, but they won’t stay peaceful forever. Once things get tough again, you’re going to put your family first. I’d rather keep taking care of myself so that when things do get tough again, I’ll already be used to it.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to that. The diving hole went silent save for the waves lapping at the rock below and the occasional hiss of his exopack. Alpha Centauri had long since sunk below the horizon, leaving them illuminated by the soft blue light of Polyphemus and his moons. Spider took his silence as an answer. He knelt and scooped up his child-size speargun before turning back towards the water.

“I’m sorry I scared you today, but just forget about the curfew thing, okay? I can take care of myself.”

The breeze picked up, sending another wave of human-fear towards Jake’s nose. Spider was doing a good job of hiding it, but he really was scared. It reminded him uncomfortably of people he’d known back on Earth— people who had been let down so many times that the thought of trusting someone else to care for them was terrifying. If you give someone the power to feed you, you give them the power to starve you, someone had told him when he decided to join the Marines. The Marine Corp kept him fed as long as he was an able-bodied soldier, but the minute that changed, they’d let him starve. Clearly, Spider thought he would end up starving too if he let Jake have the power to feed him. Jake had to prove to him that he meant what he said. Empty promises wouldn’t be enough.

“Spider, wait,” he called just before Spider could jump into the water. Spider looked back at him warily.

Slowly, telegraphing his movements so Spider could clearly see what he was doing, he unsheathed his knife and held it up to his dreads. Spider’s eyes widened as he carefully severed a lock of his hair.

“Jake, what are you doing? You don’t have to—”

“No. I wasn’t just making an empty promise. I’m going to take care of you from now on.” He approached Spider and knelt so they were on the same level again, and offered the lock of hair towards him. “I want to take you on as my mll’an’eveng.”

“Mll’an’eveng,” Spider echoed, staring at the hair in disbelief. It was rare a Na’vi custom done whenever a child ended up orphaned and was too old for parental tsaheylu with adoptive parents. To the Na’vi, if a child and adult never made the parental bond in infancy, then they could never truly be child and parent, but they had an exception for children who were orphaned later in life, after they’d already established a parental bond with their birth parents. Taking in a child as mll’an’eveng wasn’t the same as adoption, but it was more like a wardship or foster home, acknowledging that the child had already bonded with other parents and their new ones could never replace that bond. An adult would be bound to take care of a mll’an’eveng with steep consequences if they failed, just like there would be consequences for neglecting their own child.

“But I’m human—” Spider protested.

“I don’t care. We don’t need tsaheylu to make you my mll’an’eveng.”

“Neytiri won’t—”

“Let me worry about her.”

“Jake, I don’t know…” Spider put a hand to his own hair and wove his fingers through it anxiously.

“It’s your choice whether you want to do this or not,” Jake said, “but no matter what your answer is, I’m still going to watch out for you. I just want to prove to you that I mean it.”

Spider’s fingers knotted so tightly in his locks that it looked painful. The stench of fear was so strong that Jake didn’t need the breeze to smell it coming off of him. Jake was just about to take his lock of hair back when Spider suddenly moved. He slipped his own small knife from its sheath and sliced off a dreadlock. With slightly trembling fingers, he handed it to Jake.

The two locks of hair rested in his giant blue palm, one smooth, neat, and uniform black, the other uneven, unkempt and mottled in shades of bronze. With all the solemnity of any other Na’vi ritual, Jake took the two locks of hair and wound them around each other, joining them into one strand. Jake then used some stray string stowed away in his loincloth pouch to tie the strand around his wrist. As per the custom of the mll’an’eveng ritual, Jake would wear the hair on his wrist for the next four days as a visible declaration of wardship over Spider for all to see.

Spider let out a heavy breath as Jake finished tying the hair to his wrist, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His bottom lip trembled and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut to fight back tears.

“Hey, it’s okay, bud. C’mere.” Jake pulled Spider into a hug, letting him bury the smooth surface of his mask into the crook of Jake’s neck.

“I’m not crying.” Spider mumbled into his shoulder.

Jake tried not to laugh as he patted him on the back. “Of course not.” He gave Spider a minute to pull himself together before giving him one last squeeze and standing up.

“Alright. Are you ready to go home now?” He offered his hand.

Small, pale fingers slipped between large, blue ones. “Yeah, I am.”

Na'vi Vocab:

Mll’an: to accept

‘Eveng: a child

I combined these two words together to create “Mll’an’eveng” or “accepted child,” a Na’vi term for a child an adult is accepting as their responsibility, but not formally adopting, similar to a ward or a foster kid. This is not canon lore, just something I made up for this one-shot.

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