Here's The Full Body Version Of This Fanart

Spider will be, at least ever so slightly compared to other humans, respected. he protected the clan. the Na'vi.

I am currently bouncing off the walls thinking about Spider forging his own path and creating his own family of misfits and outcasts, both Na'vi and human.

Instead of remaining caught between two worlds that refuse to fully claim him, Spider chooses to carve out his own space—his own home—among outcasts who, like him, never fit into the structures of either the RDA or the Na’vi. These outsiders were either set aside or left.

Imagine this blue-striped human quietly slipping away one night, leaving behind Hell’s Gate and the Omatikaya with nothing but a pack slung over his shoulder and a determined heart. He treks deep into the wilds of Pandora, following instincts honed from a past life, seeking others like him—those abandoned, cast aside, or seeking something greater than survival under someone else’s thumb.

At first, it’s only three of them—Spider, an ex-RDA scientist who defected, and a Na’vi warrior shunned by their clan for challenging tradition. Together, they build a home high in the mountains, tucked between floating cliffs and waterfalls where neither the RDA nor any hostile clan can reach them easily. They hunt, they craft, they survive—and then they grow.

More come. A lone Na’vi mother with her child, fleeing persecution. A human engineer who sabotaged RDA equipment before running into the wilds. A pair of Na’vi twins whose father was an avatar and whose clan cast them out for it. Orphans. Runaways. The lost and forgotten.

Spider becomes their leader, not because he craves power, but because he understands their pain better than anyone. Together, they thrive and live free, far from the chaos of their past. They build something beautiful—a village woven into the mountains, suspended on bridges of vine and wood, with glowing bioluminescent lanterns lighting the bridges and paths at night. Their home hums with laughter, music, and the quiet, unshakable bond of a family built by choice rather than blood.

And when Spider finds orphaned human children—abandoned by war, unwanted by both sides—he takes them in. He raises them as his own, refusing to let another child endure the loneliness and rejection he once did.

By the time anyone realizes what he’s done, his little village is no longer little. It is a thriving community of hundreds, a sanctuary for those without a place. The RDA cannot touch them. The Na’vi clans leave them be. Some fear them, some scoff at them. Others—those who have known suffering and loneliness—seek them out, hoping to start anew. Eywa graces them all with her many blessings, and for the first time, Spider finally has a place to call home. And when the day comes that war reaches their doorstep, Spider stands at the front with his newfound family, no longer a boy without a home but a leader, a protector, a brother to those who were once lost like him.

We got a wind trader!!!!!!

And a clan name!

And a new ship!

i hate when top wildlife predators are just lil babies teeny tiny babies

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.

Olo'eyktan Neytiri

Poor Ttrong is holding back his friends from killing stupid metcayin teenagers😅

Seriously, the guy is the only voice of reason in this firestorm.

He's just like:

Oh, hell no guys!

And poor Oare hung face down on the ground.😆 Her little brother can be cruel, right?

so this happened to me today

An old commission of Jake Sully✨

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My commission sheet!

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