If I May Once Again Dip My Toe Into The Discourse Surrounding Greek Mythology, A Lot Of People Like To

I don't know where I'm going with this, but I wanted to try my hand at sci-fi/horror and came up with the idea of Eywa having enough and blessing Spider with the ability to turn humans into living plants or trees so that their bodies will restore what was destroyed by their bombs and fire. Spider keeps his power secret so that he'll have an easier time fulfilling Eywa's will without disruption or judgment. So far, he's doing a damn good job and with each successful death, grows stronger.

Here's just a teeny piece of what I have so far.

The first body wasn’t the worst.

Jake had seen enough death to be numb to it. But the more they found, the more that numbness cracked, replaced by something he'd forgotten.

Fear.

One soldier was still standing, his posture too rigid, too unnatural. His skin had gone pale, his veins blackened with something that pulsed beneath the surface like twisting roots. Thin green tendrils had erupted from his fingertips, curling toward the sunlight as if reaching for something unseen. His mouth was open in a frozen scream, but no sound would ever escape. His eyes, once human, had been overtaken by blooming petals as if the forest itself had bloomed through him.

Another body lay sprawled nearby, its flesh cracked open. Vines coiled through its ribcage, wrapping around the exposed bone, flowers sprouting where there should have been blood. A grotesque, living sculpture.

A warning.

Neytiri covered her mouth, her ears pinned back in horror. “This is not the work of Eywa,” she whispered, voice shaking.

Reblog daily for health and prosperity

EDDIE. EDDIE IT’S PEOPLE. EDDIE WE’RE EATING PEOPLE.

he is their big brother, he has a responsibility and a need to make sure they know he loves and adores them. and he can't always rip off his mask.

I grew up in a house where we rubbed noses to show affection, especially when you were younger, so that's what inspired this. he def nuzzles them with his mask, I feel it in my bones. he does it especially when they're sad or gotten a bump or bruise out in the forest that he's tending.

I kill you

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

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Reblog In 5 seconds for good luck

I have some thoughts about an au where Neytiri decides to adopt Spider, but with a twist. Neytiri starts off with a cold, calculated plan to mold Spider into her weapon against the demon who destroyed her family, only to genuinely bond with Spider over time and see him as her own.

-) From the moment Neytiri laid eyes on the squirming, pink-skinned demon, she felt the fire of hatred coil around her heart. He has his father’s face. The same features, the same blood in his veins—Quaritch’s legacy, staring back at her with wide, unknowing eyes and a gummy smile. Instinct screamed at her to cast him away, to have him banished to her mate's former planet, to spare her home from the cruelty of yet another sky demon. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

-) Instead, Neytiri shoved her hatred into the deepest, coldest part of herself and made a choice. She would raise him. Not out of kindness. Not out of pity. Certainly not out of any foolish maternal instinct. No, she would raise him as a weapon. An instrument of vengeance.

-) Quaritch had stolen everything from her—her father, her sister, her brother, her home, countless lives of her people. And now, she would take everything from him. She would mold his son into something unrecognizable, shape him into the very antithesis of the man who sired him. Spider would walk like the Na’vi, speak their tongue, fight with their weapons, and live by their beliefs. He would forsake the demon blood in his veins until nothing of Quaritch remained. And when the time came, she would watch the fear dawn in the demon's eyes as his own flesh and blood struck him down.

-) There are times when Jake watches her with wary eyes when she helps Spider take his first steps, when she shushes his pitiful bleatings, and when she cradles him in her arms and holds his little hand in hers. There is an unease in Jake’s stare, as if he sees the shape of her plan but does not know how to stop it—or perhaps, deep down, does not want to. It does not matter.

-) Neytiri is resolute. She has a path, and she will walk it to the end. She will strip away every trace of Quaritch’s legacy, reshape him, teach him to hate the sky people, to despise the blood in his veins. He will not be human. He will not be Omatikaya. He will be a blade—her blade. He will be hers. And one day, when the time is right, he will drive that blade into his father’s heart.

-) But like all well-laid plans, this one did not go as intended.

-) Neytiri had expected wariness. She had expected grudging respect, perhaps even a smidgen of pride that he was picking up her lessons with eagerness. What she had not expected was love. Spider is eager, desperate to prove himself. As he grows, he stumbles, falls, bleeds—but always gets back up. He grins at her when she corrects his stance, laughs when she gently tugs at his hair in reprimand, glows under her approval.

-) It should not matter. He is a means to an end. And yet, somewhere along the way, the pretending stops. She began to see him. To feel warmth towards him.

-) Not the reluctant duty of a mentor or the cold satisfaction of a hunter circling its prey, but the aching, unbidden love of a mother.

-) Somewhere between teaching him to string a bow and scolding him for climbing too high, between pressing healing paste to his scraped knees and watching him giggle as Lo’ak and Neyteyam drag him into trouble with Kiri chasing after them and Tuk toddling along, something in her heart shifts. She no longer sees Quaritch in his face and instead sees Miles—a boy as unpredictable and beautiful as the forest, as fierce as any warrior, as stubborn as herself. A child who saw her as a mother.

-) And when the day finally came that she looked at him and realized she could not bear to lose him, Neytiri understood the cruelest twist of fate:

In trying to make him her weapon, she had made him her son.