#it should also be noted i know barely anything about TES lore so this will be a learning experience for me and Edward both | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dejabluebabygirl · 2 years ago

Text

I See You - Chapter 1

Miles Quaritch x Fem! Na'vi OC

Summary: Vira Te Wou Auhew’ite, an albino Na'vi and future Tsahìk of the Tayrangi Clan, The Ikran Riders of the Eastern Sea, keeps needing to save the demon Miles Quaritch at Ewyas command. When she's given a sign to try to teach him The People's way, both she and Miles struggle with their growing feelings for each other.

Authors note: All Na’vi speech will be in BLUE because I honestly don't think I can keep trying to translate forever lol so whether the phrase is written in Na’vi or in English, just imagine its like jake who is now sooooooo used to the Na’vi language it's like English lol.

I looked up how Native Americans used to tell years part the most common answer I could find was the moon but Pandora is a moon so a year from Vira’s POV will be referred to as a “full sky cycle” so that's a full 12 months. For a month I’m going to refer to it as just “cycles” or “short cycles” unless anyone has a better suggestion!

Vira is also sister to Ikeyni (which is talked about in this chapter, https://james-camerons-avatar.fandom.com/wiki/Ikeyni ) but since she’s really not overall important to the movie lore I don’t think it matters much so I'll be taking liberties with the Tayrangi Clan Clan since honestly, James Cameron has left it all pretty bare bones, at least what I can find online.

I added a tag list if anyone wants to be added please just let me know! I didn't expect such a response on the prologue so thank you so much for being so kind! I cleaned up my manic writing so hopefully, you'll like this chapter, Chapter 2 is already partially completed too! Suggestions, prompts, and ideas are always welcome but can't be promised!

Oh and credit to @milknhonies for the idea to just bold the English after Na’vi, they’re the person I saw do it and their writing is amazing for Quaritch and I need to stop reading their stuff so I don’t borrow things on accident : ‘ )

Rating: T I think, nothing I would deem too spicy

Warnings: Canon typical violence, strong language/swearing, mild mentions of mating/sex, nudity, chase scene, aggressive behavior, some manhandling, and I guess manipulation too? I'm bad at this : ' )

Words: 5,797

Chapter 1

Vïra had a nearly sleepless night beside the sky demon, after she’d said it was Ewya’s will he live, he did not push her for more answers. She had sewn up his face in silence and soon after he’d fallen asleep against the tree. She’d found herself a small, soft patch of grass at his side and tried to get some rest. Close enough that she would hear if he needed anything but not close enough to touch,

In truth, Vira was tried. Tired of being away from home, tired of thinking she knew what Ewya wanted. She’d left her home twice now, trying to do what the great mother asked of her but it was hard when all she gave to Vira was brief images, flashes of the future when her kuru was attached to the large, white mushroom that thrived in her villages Glade of Echos. Their most sacred space to connect to Ewya.

She knew she should be thankful, the great mother was speaking to her in her own way but it was a burden to keep traveling far from home to save a demon. To see the destruction he left in his wake.

For reasons unknown to her, Ewya wanted him alive.

In total Vira had only ever received three visions from the great mother. She always saw things from her own eyes, things yet to pass. Her first as a child she had seen Toruk Makto come to their village, she seen so clearly her sister, Ikeyni riding off to war with the Sky People on the backs of their Ikrans. When she’d told her mother and sister they had laughed, thought it was merely a child playing a game but a day later Jake Sully, the dream walker who became Toruk Makto, came to them. Her sister flew off to battle without hesitation.

The second was when she saw the demon falling on the back of his royal blue Ikran. Falling from the Ikran rookery in Ayram alusìng used by the Omatikaya clan, she’d been shown in it in one of her visits to the clan. She saw she was on her gold Ikran Stiwi, diving down beside him, shouting at him to use Tsaheylu in English. The pink Na’vi fled from home right then and there and flew straight to the floating mountains. She perched on a cliff face and waited for the demon to fall and did as Ewya showed her.

Vira had gotten an earful from her mother for taking off without telling anyone and promised not to do it again. But she would. She did it again, she’s done it this very afternoon. She’d gone and connected her kuru to the large white mushroom and saw the demon flying on his Ikran, going down into the forest, then in a flash, she saw herself bandaging up his wounds. She knew what she needed to do and left immediately, following the coast of the eastern sea south for hours, closer to where the Metkayina villages were.

Then after feeling like she had traveled south forever, she saw the large royal blue Ikran going down into the woods just as she’d seen. She pursued on Stiwi, leaving her in a nearby tree as she quickly and quietly climbed down to observe the demon before assisting him. For being in such pain, he’d spotted her much quicker than she’d excepted.

For now, Vira laid and tried to focus on her breathing, the calmness of her breath, the softness of the grass and ignore the strange feeling from being around the demon. The weird pull that pooled her stomach. It got worse when she touched him, she had a hard time not thinking about how his hard, muscled abdomen had felt under her nimble fingers. She’d help heal Na’vi men amongst her clan but they had never made her feel like that. Her face and ears felt hot at the thought of changing his bandages tomorrow.

The feeling had gotten even worse when he’d grabbed her kuru, an act that both scared her and made her heart beat loud in her chest.

She’s never been touched in such a manner by anyone, let alone a male Na’vi.

Let alone a demon.

Went it just felt like Vïra had fallen asleep, she was awoken by a sharp tug on her tail. She screamed as pain shot up her spine as she was dragged over to the demon from her sleeping place. Her fingers left marks in the soil as she tried to get away but he was too strong.

“Morning princess,” the blue sky demon quipped, her pink tail still wrapped around his knuckles, he flashed a fanged smile.

“Not princess,” she grumbled while attempting to snatch her tail back. He held it tight for a few moments but let it go without warning after she gave a few hard tugs, causing her to fall back on the ground.

“Sorry about that sweetheart, just pulling your tail a little.” He let out a chuckle, amused with himself.

She made an annoyed noise but tried her best to remember her manners. He was a demon, she shouldn’t expect kindness but she’d do right by the great mother. Get him healed, send him away.

“Vira Te Wou Auhew’it,” she said adjusting herself as she sat back up, placing a hand on her chest as she gave her name. The demon looked at her like she grew extra limbs. “Vira is okay.”

“Miles Quaritch.” he cracked a small, fanged smile that she wasn’t sure if altogether friendly or threatening.

She repeated his full name back to him, testing it on her tongue.

“Just call me Miles, Vira.” He couldn’t quite say her name correctly with his accent but he tried, she let out a giggle and covered her mouth, flushed with embarrassment.

“What?” He asked, his ears down in disappointment he couldn’t hide.

“Your saying is off but it is okay. Your language was not easy to learn either. Still struggle.” she reassured him with a small, kind smile he didn’t deserve.

–

Vira left the alien to go find them some food and gather water after she’d checked his bandages, there wasn’t much she could do for his injuries, even as a future Tsahìk, there was a limit to her abilities. Maybe the Sky People would be able to do more, after regaining some more strength he’d be able to leave in the next day or two and she could go home.

The prospect of returning home filled with her excitement and nervous energy, after many years of prodding mother had finally gotten her to accept a betrothal, it was deemed that they would mate before Ewya in 2 short cycles of time when the seasons changed. It would be mating season then and while they could mate at any time, Vira has always hoped to make the bond during this sacred time.

Vira was an other amongst her people, while she was a part of the tribe, their leaders' sister and daughter of the Tsahìk but she was just different. Different in more than just her pink coloring but in her mannerisms and thoughts. Throughout her whole childhood Vira was quiet and inquisitive, she liked the arts and the songs of the past, always seeking knowledge. She didn't mind spending time alone and away, they were a tribe but she was happy to have solitude with Ewya in the Glade of Echos or to stay home making jewelry rather than playing games. When she wanted to be included or tried, she would be picked on for her looks, stature, or being strange. Many nights she remembered crying in her mother's arms, asking why Ewya had made her so different from everyone else. Things got easier as she aged, more of The People realized she was a valuable scholar and would be a good Tsahìk someday. Vira had made many friends with the women of the village, they found her sweet and easy to talk to, and they thought it funny to make her pink face pinker by talking of mating acts. Vira was quick to love those who gave her kindness and she especially found ap lace in her heart for the younglings she would teach when she was in the village.

But what Vira truly wanted from her tribe she could not have, acceptance was one thing but a heart match with a Na’vi man she felt was not in the stars for her. She knew the gazes of males danced over her pink skin every mating season since she came of age. Many worried her coloring would pass on or were concerned with how small her stature was, making them keep their distance. They didn’t even try to get to know her.

Vira could not deny that she was petite, small for even a Na’vi woman, some of the younglings girls in their teen full sky cycles were already as tall or taller than her. Many of The People thought small stature meant a sign of weak Na’vi children. The thought made her sad.

She'd heard story after story, song after song that talked about how pure and sure the love of a heart match would be but it was not meant to be for her.

But she could have children to love and care for.

Lately, Vira no longer felt the drive to hold out hope for a heart match, she had been holding out for but after 20 full sky cycles and Ewya did not grant it to her despite all her prayers. She knew it was time to start a family and have many children. When she’d helped the women of her village give birth and she held their babes in her arms for those few brief moments before giving them back to their mothers, she knew that was a love she craved. Vira had traveled far and wide amongst the clams and gained much knowledge, seen all their sacred animals, and observed many rituals. She felt fulfilled in this sense, learned all she could from The People, and was ready to finally stay home and take her fledgling Tsahìk duties more seriously. She’d gone to her mother after helping with a birth last cycle and asked her to inquire about betrothal matches,

Huärì had been the best match her mother returned to her with, he was a great hunter and great warrior. Much like her he had held off looking for a mate for some time but he was much older than her with 45 full sky cycles passing since his birth but he was still strong and capable. He was also kind to her and told her she looked like the eclipse sky, she knew he would provide for her and their future children. They would be content together and maybe they would grow to love. Surely they’d love the babes they had together.

Stiwi Viras Ikran, flew swiftly over the top of the jungle, bringing her towards the sea. She had not brought a bow or spear to hunt with but her net had been attached to her saddle. She would dive with her Ikran and bring their fill of fish, as she had done many times at home.

Maybe with some food in his belly the demon would also be less irritable. Why one so miserable was serving of Ewyas grace made her head swim.

—

Miles spent most of his time laid up against the tree, he’d tried using his neck communicator once Vira had left, hoping with being closer range to Bridgehead City and the RDA that something would go through but it didn’t, the thing was busted. He hastily ripped it off his neck and chucked it angrily into the foliage. Fucking junk.

The Recom Na’vi pulled his tank top back on but left his vest discarded, he couldn’t be bothered with it right now. He managed to stand and move around the clearing enough that he was able to take a leak and pat his dark blue Banshees head. He felt woozy though, weak. Either from his extended trip under the sea from fighting Sully or just needing food and water as the pink Na’vi told him, he couldn’t be sure but decided to rest would be the best way to save up some strength. He situated himself back against the tree and slept like the dead.

Quaritch woke up, bleary-eyed and disoriented to the smell of fish roasting over a small fire. The sunlight was deteriorating and Vira busied herself, stoking the flames and taking great care of the fish. He was a little surprised she didn’t tuck tail and run away from him, he hadn’t exactly been kind to her even though she’d done nothing but try to help him. She was pluckier than he first pegged her for.

“Smells good, Tiny.”

Vira’s pink ears perked when she heard his voice, dropping everything to check on him, asking about his wounds and his pain. She gently lifted up his shirt and checked under the leaves she’d patched him up with utmost care. Her small digits traced the stitches gently that she’d placed in his face, she left goosebumps in her wake as she muttered softly to herself in Na’vi. He was just taken by surprise by the gentleness in the most brutal environment known to man, that was all.

Miles was equally surprised by how much of what she was saying he actually understood what she said to herself, ‘strong heart, energy flow, no infection.’ He supposed he had Spider to thank for that, a little pang of sadness bloomed in his chest as he thought of his son. As he thought of all the events over the past few months, even in his relentless pursuit of Sully he’d felt quite close to the boy. He cared about him, and loved him as much as he could, even if he wasn’t really his father, they’d certainly formed a strange but strong bond over the months they were together. It didn't change that he had a soft spot for the kid. He’d taught him more about the Na’vi the science pukes ever did.

“How do you know all this healing stuff?”

“Mother is Tsahìk.”

“And where’d you learn English”

He watched her scrunch up her nose and brow in thought, her tail thumped against the ground a few times, trying to find the right word.

“Mother's sister, she taught our people.”

“Aunt, your mother's sister is your aunt. Where did she learn English?”

“Grace Augustine's school.” a sadness swelled in her orange eyes. “Aunt is gone now, she died in war against the Sky People when my sister fought with Toruk Makto”

The words hung in the air. Did she know exactly who she was dealing with? Did she know he was the one that led the assault against her people? The reason her family member died? He ignored it.

“Your sister, huh?”

“Yes, she is Olo’trykan. She is great leader. I will be Tsahìk one day.”

That meant her sister was a clan leader and she would be their shaman, speaking to that damn tree god Grace herself had always been going on about. Said tree god that according to Vira, wanted him alive.

“So you are a pretty little princess,” Miles said with sharp sarcasm dripping from his words.

Vira half-heartedly bared her little fangs in his direction. “Not princess.”

He barked a laugh that strung his ribs at her little display, he didn’t know if he understood what a princess was but she didn't like being called it. That meant he'd never stop.

After she’d finished her examination she came back with a large leaf full of cooked fish for him to eat.

“Irayo” Thank you.

She looked a little startled at him for using her natural tongue but gave him a little smile as she got herself a few fish to eat. “kea tìkin.” No need to thank me.

They ate their fill and she put the fire out and disposed of the bones and scarps by feeding them to the Ikrans. She said it was to not attract the attention of the forest critters, no food or lights in the jungle after dark. He watched the two Ikrans with interest and she pat their heads and fed them. She seemed experienced with them. His royal blue Ikran one look a nasty snap at her gold one, asserting his dominance when they were introduced but they seemed to get along alright after, they even went up into the trees to nest together.

Vira came to sit near him, it didn’t go unnoticed by Miles how she’d angled her body so she was facing him, keeping her pink tail out of his reach. She was sharp, he’d give her that.

Miles and Vira chatted on, going back and forth and a mishmash of Na’vi and English. He found she very curious about the sky people and learned was from the Eastern sea. They traded little scraps of information to each other by bioluminescent light. She’d come a long way from home to save him. He surmised she was a teacher or some kind of academic since she was not Tsahìk yet. She spoke of how she often spent time traveling to other clans, learned their ways, and brought them back to her people, it was why she’d been in the Ocean Na’vi village that day he’d burned their huts. She’d been there to observe the Tulkun and tell her people of their bonds with the reef dwellers and sing their songs upon her return. Nothing was written, all knowledge was passed by word of mouth or song.

He’d told her how he was a warrior for the sky people, holding up his five fingers in the air to emphasize the point that he was not wholly Na’vi. Her orange eyes seemed captivated by them like they were the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. So strange and alien from her own four-fingered hands. Quaritch also told her of his pursuit of Toruk Makto, which she’d known anyways, clearly hearing him on the beach. He told her about his near drowning, her orange eyes sparkled in awe that he survived and flew all the way to this very spot. He tried to give her as little information as possible but enough to keep her hooked while she prattled on, happy to chat.

She passed him a crude, animal hide water bottle and he drank his fill, water dripping down his chin to his chest and shirt. Her orange eyes were downcast after that, Miles supposed he must have been quite the looker for a Na’vi as he watched her pink face and ears darken in the bioluminescent light of the forest. Maybe that would be useful later.

“Tomorrow I will take you to the river to clean, ” Her eyes were still politely averting his gaze. “Then you can leave the day after, your strength will return then.”

The idea of leaving the day after tomorrow and heading back to the RDA was promising, they could double-check his wounds and he could go back with a better, more prepared team to take out Jake Sully. That was his prime directive afterall, that was the mission. But he couldn't shake the feeling that leaving Vira felt like missing out on a golden opportunity to learn the savage's ways, the little pink Na’vi was by far the most cooperative he’d dealt with in either of his lifetimes. He’d learned some things from Spider, gained some insight but he wasn’t sure how much of the information was reliable, he’d been loyal to Sully all those months even though they bonded. Vira had loyalty to her own tribe. Toruk Makto was nothing to them except someone they went to war with over a decade ago, just a memory for her.

He knew needed to live, eat, and breathe like the enemy and learn all he could about their ways. That's how he would take Sully down.

—

There was no violence when Vira woke up the next day, the demon's eyes were still closed and he was breathing softly. She quietly sat up and stretched her long pink limbs and stared at Miles while he slept. He didn't seem so demon-like when he slept, Miles seemed so much like any other Na’vi but maybe a bit bigger, more muscled, and with more fingers too.

Vira’s mind and eyes drifted down to his large and strong 5 fingered hands, peacefully folded in Miles's lap as he snored softly. She thought of how just those hands seemed to be able to hold her in place, by either grabbing her own hands or her tail, how much power did the alien hold in his body? It send a little shiver down her spine and heat bloomed in her cheeks, just like last night when she’d seen the water drip down from his mouth onto his broad chest. It was a feeling she really didn't understand like there was a dozen tiny kenten flying in her belly.

The pink Na’vi figured now in the morning glow was as good a time as any to go and gather from the jungle, to fly Stiwi back to the ocean today would be foolish when she’d need her to push back home tomorrow. No, she'd save her Ikrans strength and collect food from the forest. Ewya would provide.

Vira walked the forest paths quitely gathering the bounty the great mother provided, easily filling her bag with Yovo and Tìhawnuwll fruits that were so ripe she was sure they would burst with sweetness. They would both go to bed again with full bellies, each ready for long journeys. Ready to go home.

It was midday when she returned to camp, bag, arms, and hands overflowing with bounty. Miles still slept, Vira rolled her orange eyes. He like a baby, slept all day, made too much noise, and would be useless in a clan. Except maybe he could be used to carry heavy things. She giggled at the thought of him being forced to pile firewood back home as she placed the fruit next to him.

Miles' yellow eyes cracked up at the sound of her laugh, which made her smile more.

–

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly, Vira led Miles to the river to drink their fill and bathe. When she’d given him a small bundle of herbs she’d bound together on her morning excursion so he could clean himself properly and remove the salve from his wounds, he had given her a look of confusion. She explained her best in a mix of Na’vi and English while doing washing motions. He seemed to understand as he began taking off his sky people clothing.

Nakedness was not shameful to the Na’vi but Vira couldn’t help but turn her head away when he began to remove his pants. She got up and walked towards the jungle while he cleaned himself, stomach aflutter as she heard the water splashing with his movements. For the briefest of moments, she thought to look back for a moment but held back the urge to peak. Her face felt flush again and wondered if she was getting ill. Back home she’d bathed many times with men from her village, as long as it wasn’t mating season there was no harm in the act. But Miles made her feel different, he was of the sky people, not a true-born Na’vi, she told herself it was just her natural curiosity getting the better of her. Was a demon’s body different than the others she’d seen?

Vira jumped when she felt his blue hand, large and heavy on her shoulder, she’d heard him get out of the water but hadn’t realized how close he was. Miles was half-dressed and wet with only his pants on. She took in just how much larger he was than her as he took beside her for the first time. The top of her head only just reached his shoulder. She felt her face flush a deeper shade of purple.

“Waters fine Princess if you want to get in, I’ll watch your six.”

Vira didn't understand exactly what he was saying but she understood it was her turn to get in the water, she headed towards the bank and reached behind her neck to do the animal hide ties of her beaded breastplate, its edge lined with Ikran teeth and clearwing sheddings from Stiwi. Vira went to set it on the bank behind her and saw Miles was watching her, standing relaxed against a tree with his arms folded over his broad, fully covered chest.

“Mìn.” Turn.

She made a rotating motion with her hand and he still didn't move.

“Ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen before sweetheart, just making sure your little pink ass don’t get eaten on me.”

Vira rolled her orange eyes but didn't argue with the large blue demon. He was more likely to get eaten than she was but it was the last night she had to deal with him, with his sharpness and hubris. She turned her back to him and undid the small leaf covering on breasts and undid her tweng, keeping her tail between her legs to protect her scared place. At home she wouldn't have cared, back home there was no need for modesty but his yellow eyes felt intrusive. He was an other, he was not part of The People.

She wadded into the river and plunged herself beneath the crisp, clean water.

Any member of the Tayrangi Clan was just as comfortable on the back of their Ikran in the air or swimming in the sea. They were a coastal clan and utilized both the forest and sea both to their advantage. From a young age, they were all taught to swim and to be as comfortable in the water as they were on land.

Vira did everything quickly as she bathed. Normally she took her time and enjoyed her time in the water but with Miles's eyes burning into her back she felt the need to move, like prey under the eye of a skilled predator. She washed her hair and her body quickly with the herbs, quickly wrung out her long white curls, and quickly dressed so they could quickly return to their camp.

She met Miles's gaze once fully dressed. “Sreton’ong soon must get back.” Dusk.

–

Back at camp Vira gave Miles of the tihawnuwll fruits while she began to peel and dice the yovo’s. As she’d suspected when she’d picked them up, they burst the minute he tried to bite into the supple purple flesh. She laughed at him as blue juice dribbled onto his hand and down his chin, freshly washed and already dirty again. Definitely like a baby.

He shrugged his massive shoulder, unashamed of his mess, and continued eating, making undignified slurping sounds, determined to get every ounce of sweetness. She knew she should have scolded him for being too loud, that he’d attract the wildlife to their camp, but the sounds made Vira feel uncomfortable. Those sounds made her skin crawl and her stomach flip. Those sounds nearly made Vira nearly cut herself. It didn't go unnoticed.

“Jesus, give that here.” He barked, lazily resting against his tree, one leg sprawled and the other with his one keen up with his strong forearm eating on it, hand extended for her to pass the fruit. He looked so comfortable in the forest that she forgot for a moment he was an alien wearing the face of her people until her three fingers brushed against his four as she handed over the fruit.

There was no conversation, just silence as Vira watched Miles make quick work of the fruit. She was focused on his hands, the hands of a demon. Surely five fingers was too many, it would be clumsy and awkward but he was agile as a Palulukan with the horrible metal knife. Didn’t he, didn't these sky people know that Ewya forbade the use of metals from the ground? But she forgave the sin to watch his hands move skillfully like great blue Kali'weya.

“Hand me some leaves to put these on,” Miles ordered and she obeyed gathering several large leaves to serve the chopped Yovo fruit on.

Before long you were both sitting against the tree, enjoying each other company, exchanging stories as you had the previous night. He was nicer today, and more enjoyable, you’d maybe even miss him and his stories of the sky people a little bit when he was gone. Today he told you of the great and terrible machine arachnids that made their large, tall, metal dwellings in minutes.

Vira was hanging onto Miles every word as she bit into a tihawnuwll that promptly exploded over her. She hissed in irritation and flattened her ears in embarrassment, she’d been so captivated by the story she’d forgotten of their ripeness,

Miles laughed at her, his fangs gleaming in the glow of the jungle.

“Looks like you made a mess of yourself too, Tiny,” He tried to hand her a leaf but she batted it away out of humiliation.

“No, no, I’ll wash in the river. It's not far.”

Vira, a shade darker than normal, got up quickly and started to walk.

“I’ll come with ya.”

She just wanted a moment away, to clean the stickiness from her skin, to let the heat dissipate from her cheeks, to not hear her heart pound in her ears.

Vira flicked her pink tail in irritation and it hit his leg. The pink Na'vi was so surprised that he was already behind her and keeping pace that she stopped dead in her tracks, making him knock into her from behind. She nearly lost her footing.

She whipped around to face him and lashed out.

“You? You make too much noise, always making messes, like a baby, not knowing what to do. Useless Skxawng.”

He understood enough of what she was saying to know did not like it.

Not one bit.

–

Quaritch quickly backed the little pink na’vi against a tree trunk, her head hit the back of it with an audible thunk. She was surely seeing stars when her big doe eyes looked up at him, his face contorted in anger as his large blue arms caged both sides of her head and his legs on either side of her.

Why her mood soured so quick he couldn’t say but he wasn’t taking lip like that from anyone, let alone some petulant little native.

He leaned his massive Recom body down so he was eye to eye with her.

“Now, I’d say I’ve been pretty damn nice to you today so I won’t be having any of that” he gritted at her, his fangs gleaming in the low bioluminescent glow of the forest. “So I’m gonna need you to quit being so damn ugly, sweetheart.”

She hissed at him, barring her pearly white fangs like the little savage she was. Her pink face all puffed up and angry like a wet house cat.

This hadn’t been how he planned to have this conversation with Vira. He’d planned simply to ask her to teach him, she’d seemed to actually enjoy helping him with Na’vi and talking about the culture but she wasn’t playing nice tonight so neither was he.

“Now here how this is going to go,” he drawled, not backing away from her. “Tomorrow you’re not going home, you’re staying with me and you’re going to teach me everything about the Na’vi, do you understand me?” It was an order not a question.

She didn’t like that.

He saw defiance grow in her orange eyes like a roaring flame. It was that same pluck that made her bold enough to come back to him and take care of him earlier when he was cruel. Quaritch had seen enough faces all twisted up and angry at him that practically see what she was thinking about doing and he had to snuff that shit out.

Miles leaned in so they were nearly nose to nose. “If you spit on me Princess, I swear to whoop your ass so hard you’ll be just as blue as any other goddamn Na’vi.” He growled

Her eyes widen in fear and her features softened, he watched her throat bob as she swallowed hard. Miles backed his face away a few inches, taking her change in demeanor for compliance.

But he blinked and suddenly she wasn’t in front of him anymore.

He looked down as Vira dove between his leg, she’d dropped all her body weight, sliding down the tree, and was now making a break for it by diving between his wide open legs. He tried to stomp on her pink tail as it disappeared between his lower limbs.

The albino Na’vi was behind him, sprinting into the forest, ghosting a glowing trail at her heels.

He followed hot on her trail, within seconds he could see her. Vira was small and agile but her coloring made her light up like a Christmas tree in the glowing woods. His strides were impossibly big compared to hers, she couldn’t outrun him, even with his broken rib. Did she really think she was getting away?

But she kept going kept trying, even when he got so close her tail brushed his abdomen, she tried to pick her pace and take a different twists and turns but she couldn’t get away. Not from him. Quaritch swore he could smell her fear with his Na’vi nose, there was no mistaking he’d find her if she tried to hide.

The Recom Na’vi watched her break through the brush into a clearing and then just stop, for no rhyme or reason that he could see as he stared at her between branches. She was just stopped dead in her tracks a few feet in. Miles watched as her head slowly moved in all directions, wild white hair gently swaying. Was there danger? Was this surrender?

He took a deep breath to regain some composure and to try and get his pain under control, his blue and pink nose flaring as his left side bloomed with fresh pain from the pursuit. He broke through the foliage behind her and saw what she was staring at.

It was dozens, no, hundreds of little white floating lights.

He took a few steps closer to her and she didn’t move, she was mesmerized by whatever they were.

“I’ve never seen so many,” Vira breathed, back still to him.

“What are they?” He asked as one floated down towards him and illuminated his face. It was almost like a jellyfish crossed with a puffball dandelion that’d gone to seed back on earth.

He smacked the thing.

The albino Na’vi turned around, her stupor seemingly broken. He thought she was going to chastise him or yell or bolt again but she was calm. Not at all what he had excepted after he just chased her through the jungle. She was serene and unafraid.

“Gentle, they are pure” She instructed in a whisper. Her two small pink hands gathered up one of his large blue ones and had him open his palm, guiding it toward the glowing tuft. It floated into his hand.

“What are these things?” He asked again, normally not one to ask nicely twice but they were so beautiful, in an alien way, Miles forgot to be annoyed about repeating himself. His ears went flat and he furrowed his brow as he pulled it closer to his face to observe. She released his hand as yellow eyes filled with wonder at it.

“Atokirina” Miles’s eyes moved from the bright little light to her as watched her pause to think of the English. Viras face scrunched and tail twitced as she thought. A few more tufts floated down onto his arms and shoulders.

“Seeds of the Tree of Life, a sign of Ewya.”

Quaritch stood there still as a statute, if he moved he feared he might spook Vira and she’d to run off again, with the pain searing into his side he did not to chase her anymore. As he stood there more and more of the seeds kept landing on him until the only part of him not covered in them was his face. Vira seems content to sit there and watch the scene unfold, the Recom Na’vi could see she had tears in the corners of her orange eyes as she looked at him. He felt ridiculous covered in them, all the while the little pink savage was having some kind of religious experience. Utterly ridiculous. They were just seeds. Glowing, floating seeds.

“Did you mean it? That you wish to learn our way? To learn to be N'avi?” She spoke soft and looked into his eyes with such earnest it was almost painful.

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. He needed to learn their ways, maybe not for the pure reason Vira probably hoped for but it was the truth the he desired to learn.

“Ewya help me,” she murmured what sounded almost like a prayer and started up into his eyes. “I will teach you, Miles.”

At her words, every single seed that landed on him all at once released themselves and floated up into the trees. His yellow eyes followed them as the bobbed away towards the tree tops.

It was beautiful and unexplainable.

Prologue - Next Chapter

Master List

Side note: Vira is only 7'8" just FYI, the average height for Na'vi is 8' to 10' so she's small. Here's the height comparison chart for Vira and some other Avatar Characters! I used https://www.heightcomparison.com/

Tag List: @bandomonia

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calliecat93 · 3 years ago

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ST: TNG S6 Watchthrough Episodes 14-17

Face of the Enemy: Troi has been kidnapped and forced to look/pose as a Romulan officer. Why? The one responsible isn’t saying, but to say that she’s unhappy would be an understatement. As it turns out, Troi was abducted by a part of the resistance from Unification and they need a Starfleet officer in case their current plan goes south. They even mention Spock… IDK if I can see him approving of an abduction but maybe they just forgot to mention that he disapproved that part… then again I guess it makes logical sense. Eh, whatever. So… this is by far the best Troi episode that they’ve done thus far. She was kidnapped yes, but she is NOT playing the damsel-in-distress. She’s not victimized. She’s not sexualized. She’s not forced into a poorly conceived romance or undergoes anything gross/f*cked up. She has to act the part of a cold-hearted authoritarian among a ship of Romulans and she is freakin’ badass. Especially when she decides that she’s had enough going and thoroughly tells off her kidnapper N’Vek and that he will listen to her. 100% perfection. They even managed to make her empathic abilities useful. Did putting her in the uniform cause this? Did they get it out of their systems in Man of the People? IDK but I am all for it! It was also an awesome look into the Romulans and the going-ons on their ship, something we haven’t really gotten since TOS’ Balance of Terror, and all the Romulans are done very well. N’Vek kidnapped Troi but he did it for his cause and is a great morally grey character, and the female Romulan Commander Toreth is an excellent antagonist. Plus it’s nice to see more of the resistance and to see them within the Romulan ranks. It was an excellent episode and I freakin’ loved it~! Thank you show for giving Troi the badass episode that she deserves (even if it was this late in the show's run), now keep it up! 5/5.

Tapestry: Two Q episodes this season? Hell yes~! So… Picard dies. Welp. Q decides to take this to give Picard an offer: go back in time and undo his greatest regret, the incident that caused his artificial heart that he told Wesley about in Samaritan Snare. Back when he was a hot-blooded rebel who got himself into a fight that got him stabbed in the heart. In doing so, he now has a chance to correct all the wrongs and settle all he regrets in his life since that day. So up to this point, Q’s episodes since Q Who, while still entertaining and interesting, had been more light-hearted. Q still came off as an all-powerful being (Deja Q aside which him not being was the plot point), but his antics had been more comedic or light-hearted in comparison. In this episode, he’s acting like a trickster as per usual, but again more with the purpose to teach Picard a lesson. Why isn’t made very clear aside from maybe he just likes Picard (take that however way you’d like), but it’s nice to see this version of Q again while still utterly stealing the show. Picard got to undo the event… but would it have really turned out any better had it not happened? Would not making mistakes, having regrets, and making all the supposed ‘right’ choices when he should have had truly made a better impact in his present? That’s the funny thing about life, it’s easy to look back and go ‘if I had done this one thing differently, it would have been better’ and te desire to correct it is very powerful. But with mistakes comes the ability to learn. To grow. To mature. You’ll always have guilt and regrets, but you have to accept that this is what you chose and go about your life. Picard is a man full of thrown-away opportunities, pain, and so much more… but it also caused him to become a strong leader, intelligent, a risk-taker, and even with all his faults become a better person in his present day. Now obviously he doesn’t actually die, but he sure as Hell learned the lesson. The life he would have lead would have been unsatisfying, his old regrets replaced with new ones, and been unfulfilling for a man like himself. Now he can truly value the one that he has and the people in it. This was a fantastic episode. It’s crazy how Picard went from one of my least favorites to now one of my absolute favorites. His development and growth from a strict, aloof authoritarian to a much more reasonable father-like figure and much more humbled man and the captain has been excellent, and this episode just helps further that. The only real complaint is there’s not much time devoted to showing how his crew ended up without him, but that’s minor and doesn’t take anything away at all. Very well done~! 5/5.

Birthright: Okay, guess we got a second two-parter… and apparently it crosses over with DS9. Didn’t see that coming. But alrighty, I’m game~!

Part One: So the crew is on Deep Space 9 to assist in repairs of some incident involving the Bajorans and the Cardassians that I guess I’ll find out about when I get to the show. While there Worf is approached by an alien who informs him that his dead father? He may not be dead after all, having been kept in a Romulan prison. Worf doesn’t take it well. He ain’t the only one having daddy issues. While working with DS9‘s CMO Dr. Bashir, Data gets knocked out has a vision of Dr. Soong (a much younger one than in Brothers). Normally Data can’t dream so he’s pretty taken aback by this. So as a first part, this was pretty good. It sets up Worf’s plot well with him deciding to break into the Romulan camp to find out the truth and rescue the Klingons there. Data’s plot is overall nice. He’s never dreamed before so him trying to track down why is very understandable, especiallya after Picard suggests that he quit going through facts and try a more creative outlet to get his answers. So what happened? As it turns out Dr. Soong made it so that when Data reached a certain cognitive point, he would obtaint he ability to dream and he made an AI version of himself to talk to him. I guess he would have explained this to him in Brothers had Lore not shown up/had he not died. It was a really touching moment. Soong’s still not exactly the most ideal parent, but his AI copy seemed legit proud of how far Data’s come. Is it out of ego, legit parental pride, or both? That’s up for you to decide. As this is my first look at Bashir… so far I don’t have too manys torng opinions. he seems to act more liek a Science Officer or Engineer han a CMO, but he is cute and so far liekabe. He’s curious about Data, but doesn’t dehumanize him like Maddox in The Measure of a Man did, if anything he notes Data’s more human-like elements like being able to grow hair than any of the nuts and bolts. He seems pretty well liked from what I’ve seen int he fandom, so I’ll see how that holds when I reach DS9 but I like him so far. I do have some issues, but that more impacts the Overall so I’ll save it for there. So we end with Worf discovering his father’s true fate… and he’s informed by the Klingons there that he’s never leaving the camp. Welp. How will Worf get out of this one in Part 2? We shall see. 4/5.

Part Two: So what the heck is going on? Well, Worf’s father is infact dead, but there were captured Klingons. As they weren’t able to die with honor nor could they return home as it would dishonor their families (Klingons prefer death to capture), they chose to remain in the camp and live out the rest of their lives there. So now Worf is among multiple Klingons, the vast majority of which know nothing about their heritage, culture, and customs and had it outright demonized. To them, the lives they have are the norm and they have no desire to change it. Worf may have been out of touch with Klingons due to being raised on Earth, but at least he can explore it and get in touch with it. The ones in the camp? They can’t do that. They’re essentially in a gilded cage. Yeah, there's the argument that they achieved peace between Klingons and Romulans… by imprisoning said Klingons and demonizing their culture to them with the older Klingons allowing it. Though it seems it’s also because of broken spirits and the dishonor they’d have faced otherwise which is worst than death to them. There’s even one girl, Ba’el, who is half Klingon, half-Romulan… and despite what gets said I don’t get the sense that her parents' union was a fully consensual one. This was pretty good. Worf has found a group that like him were out of touch with their heritage, and he is now able to educate them and guide them. With all that’s happened and his struggle to be a true Klingon and find his way, this was really nice to have. He’s still clinging onto his hatred of Romulans and this episode isn’t going to help it dissipate, but at least it was addressed and Ba’el being upset at being judged due to how she was born was very much justified. Heaven knows that the themes here are still very much relevant in today’s time. Worf’s guidance pays off in the end and at last, they can be free. The younger Klingons have a rough road likely ahead of them since we know that Klingon society isn’t exactly the easiest to get through, but at least they have a chance at freedom. It was a very strong Worf episode and it was great to see~. 4/5.

Overall: Okay, so overall… it’s pretty uneasy. The Worf parts are good.. As I said, it was nice to see him in a position to give guidance to a group even more out of touch than he is. It was very wel done. The issues are mainly with Part One. We have this plot where they go to DS9… and we are barely there. We have Dr. Bashir… and only him. None of the other characters. We don't even see O’Brien despite him having transferred to DS9 at this point. Maybe the actors were busy sot they could only pick one but it kinda makes doing a crossover cheap. Bashir doesn’t even get a lot to do, you could write him out and very little would change. On the upside this means that viewers who haven’t watched DS9 won’t be confused nor would DS9 be required viewing, but it also kind of defeats the purpose of bringing DS9 in. It’s essentially just window dressing. Data’s plot, while nice, is completely dropped in Part Two. It feels like they were required to do a two-parter, didn’t have enough of the Worf plot to fill it out, and came up with the Data dream plot and using DS9 to fill it out. The crew also don’t really do anything in either part. As such, aside from getting Worf into the place he needs to be, Part One feels irrelevant. As such, I can’t give it a perfect rating. It was still good, but as a two-parter Part One bogs it down, but still allows for Part Two to happen. Overall, pretty good. 4/5.

#st watchthrough

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number5theboy · 4 years ago

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The notes I took while reading the comics are under the cut. These are not my ordered thoughts, just thoughts I had while reading. I’ll write something more coherent a bit later, once my thoughts are sorted better than these

APOCALYPSE SUITE

Diego repeatedly stabbed a Caravaggio, which just personally offends me. Also @ Reginald the fact that you left a Caravaggio in reach of your KIDS, who have KNIVES, is just as insulting. Someone save that Caravaggio since anything and anyone else is beyond saving

“Inexplicable resemblance to an Ingmar Bergmann extra” askjdsgbkdsbhsd Gerard sir that is so oddly specific. Is Reginald an Ingmar Bergman fan. Is that what you’re trying to tell us. Or is Klaus just a silent movie type

Right off the bat, the comics universe is so much more interesting than the show universe. They have boxers who beat up squids like??? Give us an adaptation with the comic world, preferably animated

The kiddos were all born to “mostly single women” dsbksdgbksdgbdsg??? Did the magical alien thingamajig check their relationship status first?

“Inventor of The Televator, The Levitator, The Mobile Umbrella Communicator, and Clever Crisp Cereal” dgdsghsgdhjsdkjhg Reginald names his inventions like Dr. Doofenschmirtz from Phineas and Ferb

Also the page that reveals/introduces Reginald is SO good, just the panelling and the action tells you so much. There’s dead bodies and excavations and masks in addition to text. It’s great.

“The Day The Eiffel Tower Went Berserk” is an EXCELLENT hook to a story

“It’s your Eiffel Tower, it’s gone insane and must be stopped at all costs.” Dksgdhjbkgsdhjbdsghjb the show could never

This comic keeps disrespecting cool art. Why is it doing that to me. Don’t let the musée d’orsay get robbed

Okay, luther came through for me on that

Dsdhlsdghlgsdhldsh the siblings arguing while the Eiffel Tower is falling apart around them had me cackling

“WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE” dsbdgsbgsdbdgsbklsd okay diego

“And just as I suspected – ZOMBIE-ROBOT GUSTAVE EIFFEL!” hello I need at least three comics of back lore on this. Why does luther have that hunch. Why is Gustave Eiffel a zombie-robot. How did we get here. Please I want answers

The missing line on the ‘e’ of ‘touché’ makes that dramatic moment way less dramatic and more funny ngl

Oh but you can be bothered to put the accent aigu on ‘séquence’

“And while you lost the Eiffel Tower, you saved Paris.” I am laughing too hard by this point. How dare this be a barely brushed upon adventure. Please I need to know more about zombie-robot Gustave Eiffel

Te Ben-robot makes me emotional and “Only my father calls me Number One”? ouch.

Also for the record, I love Luther’s design SO much

“Hello your father is dead. Please audition for my orchestra for revenge. Many thank. Bye.” Okay Conductor, whatever floats your boat, I guess

“and something worse is coming” dbhsdghbjgshbjsgbjhkgf okay Five, whatever floats your boat I guess

Allison immediately coming in with the ‘I know everyone blames you for Ben’s death, Luther, but honestly, who the fuck knows?’ dsbgbhdgshbsgdhkbj

Klaus has such an entrance and I honestly didn’t know that Claire was a comic character

The introduction to the apocalypse comes SO the fuck out of nowhere, but grumpy little Five with the ‘I knew I shouldn’t have run away from home’ speech bubble? Awesome

Also just genuinely interesting that Five truly hated Reginald and was aware of these feelings

The apocalypse introductions in the show and the comic are going for different feelings but they are both equally devastating, which is a nice touch

Also someone give show! Five a sword

Comic Diego is a fuckboy, and that’s obvious from a hundred paces

Apparently Grace makes me sad in any incarnation

Okay but the backdoor of the Icarus in the show is lifted straight out of the comics

I love the Conductor’s design so much, and his introduction is so good

Oh my god someone get a language checker, The Orchestra Verdammten doesn’t even make grammatical sense

I love the Conductor, he is so extra and just the concept of a piece of music that destroys the world…….it fucks so hard

This comic just throws wild shit at you and expects you to keep up

Just read the instructions Dr. Terminal gave his bots. Is he okay.

Why does Dr. Terminal want to eat Finland. Please I need to know what’s going on in that head of his

Gabriel Ba has excellent comedic timing

Five is a bitch and I love him

Diego hiding in a haunted house…….what a drama queen

Klaus is so fucking funny oh my god

Diego is so hilariously bitter towards Vanya. No need to destroy her like that, asshole

Love how Diego single-handedly brought about the apocalypse. What an idiot.

Dr. Pogo deserves the world

The Vanya reveal of powers is a bit. Uh. Underwhelming. Love the Frankenstein set-up tho

The art, man……..it’s so good

Comic Luther is SO savage holy shit

I love you Mister Conductor, but please stop butchering languages I know, thanks

I knew he was gonna die, but I am still hurt. Please bring him back, he’s the best character in this

“I don’t know where to begin…But I suppose I should start with the Kennedy assassination.” Okay five you drama queen

Allison is a bitch, and I mean that as a compliment

Honestly these Five and Vanya are made to be enemies, it’s great

HELL YEAH YOU GO KLAUS

This wraps up a little too nicely. Where did the moon boulder go

DALLAS

Sagfdghjasfkjghdsfjhksfhkj it opens with a ‘by the way, I’m still dead’ from Pogo

I can’t believe TUA directly inspired Night at the Museum 2: Battle of the Smithsonian

No seriously, I knew about sentient monument Abraham Lincoln but this entire scene FUCKS

Dsbksgdbhsgbhksgdhbkj Celebrity Surgery, the big popular reality TV show, I’m laughing

Luther and Klaus are both such messes jeesus, even if Klaus is coping better

Allison immediately kidnaps Vanya and exposes her to all the horrible shit she caused?? Dbgbhjdgkjhbgdhkj I love these versions of the characters

While Show!Diego is Walmart Batman, Comic!Diego is Walmart Rorschach

I thought I got the gazelle speech but now I’m just confused

It literally is an epiphany AND WHAT GOT HAZEL AND CHA-CHA SENT ON HIS ASS I’M

CACKLING

Also that one wordless Hazel and Cha-Cha panel……..so good

Five is a communist lmao Diego

Luther and Diego arguments are tedious in both versions

I hate the Marilyn Monroe ape scene. With a passion. It is so cursed

Also show Hazel and Cha-Cha were partners that grew apart. I think comics Hazel and Cha-Cha are in love

I am every killer ever. That is one cute puppy.

Also Klaus and God is great in every universe

Dsjfghjdhjdgjhbdgbjhkdbkjhgb Five’s face when he is outfoxed

Why do dream!Luther and Allison have am ape cyclops daughter

I love the Luther&Klaus dynamic

This is just a remix of Watchmen

I have no idea why they suddenly know what Five is up to, from the corpse of a Commission agent. What.

Wait now they can use corpses as time travel devices. What.

Okay, Klaus accidentally blew up the world. Cool?

I am so confused

Now Diego Klaus and Luther are fighting vampires in Vietnam and hurling mummies through the bush. Okay.

So Pogo always knew what kind of disasters they’d turn into? Dskbgdsbkhsdgbkgsdkh

THE WHOLE JFK ASSASSINATION ARC IS AMAZING

HOTEL OBLIVION

Hotel Oblivion really just presents a cockroach on a plate to you, huh

Reginald’s aesthetic is seriously so much cooler than he deserves

EVIL IS THE NAME OF THE FIRST PART OF HOTEL OBLIVION?!? I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE MR. AIDAN GALLAGHER

Five is a hired gun now?!? Man, that dude cannot catch a break ever

“TV is a healthy alternative to dying” esjkdsgbkgskbhdsgkbes

Who is Luther’s Japanese bro?!?

Also I just kind of really like the Luther&Diego dynamic in the comics

The show robbed us of Allison helping Vanya recover. It robbed us of Vanya getting injured in the first place, so what recovery, but still. This is incredibly sweet

God, all the villains in this universe are so intriguing. Except for Knock-Off-Adrian-Veidt, I keep forgetting that Perseus exists

“I’m a haunted house.” Is so metal as a self-descriptor

What the FLYING FUCK is Klaus doing there

Giant chicken?

The Enterprise???

“What are you doing?” “A report. I’m really interested in capitalism.” Djhsgjgskjvsevksevjesvjsefjv maybe Diego is right and Five is indeed a communist

“I know what it feels like to be unloved. I was born an object, and never treated as anything but.” It really was that bad, wasn’t it?” “For the both of us, yes.” B R U H

Evil Grace is fun

I love Allison and Five and their relationship so much

Five is interested in the stock market??

I am way too emotionally invested in whether Murder Magician and his baby make it out of there

Oh I CANNOT believe their romantic loves for their SISTERS is what unites them. I hate this.

What on earth is going on with Perseus and the flying head of Medusa

Alive Ben 😊☹

I am an idiot for not making the Perseus-Medusa connection sooner.

The Eiffel Tower now looks like the love child of the actual Eiffel Tower and the Atomium.

And now the Dr. Manhattan knock-off is here

God I love Allison so much

What the fuck is Pereus on about

Terminal eats a zoo

Scientific Man borders on plagiarism I’m sdhbgshsvjhksfvjksdjhkdsj

No no no no no not the Murder Magician

This whole baby arc makes me so soft

HELL YEAH LUTHER

Well this ended on a cliffhanger

#Lizzie reads the comics #i mean i made the notes might as well share them #i made progressively less because i really got into some of the parts of dallas and hotel oblivion

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peachyteabuck · 5 years ago

Text

saints can’t help me now

summary: I will tell you the mystery of the woman and of the beast that carries her, whose name has not been written in the book of life from the foundation of the world. Kings give their power and authority to the beast, and those who are with him are the called and chosen and faithful.

pairing: forest god!thor x reader

words: 4,642

trigger warnings: dub con, attempted sexual assault, vague biblical allusions that seem quite out of place in such a pagan context

notes/other: this was done for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘s in the dark challenge + my prompt was “shh, it’s okay. it’ll only hurt a little.” this is also a part of @spacelabrathor‘s forest god anthology bc te amo forest god thor.

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

There are drops of truth in every legend, however flimsy or warped. A lie doesn’t come from nowhere, lore isn’t rolled off tongues without pretext. Little children don’t lie in their sleep, in the middle of the night; they don’t lie without purpose (or the illusion of one). Behind every threat is certainty, behind every falseness a reality.

You’re smart enough to understand this, to trace the oaks back to their roots. When a villager begged for refuge from a storm and whispered to you to heed warning about some deity that had been cast away from his throne, you listened – and never traveled too deep into the deep woods. Gods are never meant to roam such an unholy place as this, which its ravenous terrain and its isolating nature and its punishing climate. Gods prefer the busy cities, the lovelier farms, perhaps even their own homes on a planet you don’t know of. An almighty being? In a space such as this? You merely laugh at the thought. Such an image is not one that inspires hope or wisdom or rebirth, rather one of a spirit thrown from its rightful place, rightful palace. Such a spirit would be vengeful, vindictive, deceitful, despiteful, unprincipled, unforgiving.

When a merchant took your money and told you of a divine man who hunted without care, you listened – and kept your cat in whenever the sun was not at her highest. Woodland creatures you rehabilitated and travelers looking for rest were sequestered within your walls until you felt it was safe. If you had to leave your home (as you often did) you refused to travel alone, preferring to starve than die at the hands of some ruthless beast. The light of day, the heat from a fire, the illumination from a torch – you trusted it all to keep you from a harm you felt was preventable.

When a fortune teller read your cards and spoke of a demiurge who threatened the peace of your home, you listened – and used every moment of every step as a way to prevent conflict. You gave what you could of whichever soul asked for it, you never disturbed the ground, you kept to yourself. Your voice remained undersized, your movements diminutive. A camp four miles away called you wee, the fortune teller called you cautious, you called it survival.

But none of that, nothing you had done or prepared or pushed to the forefront of your mind seemed to matter as you were being chased through the thickest set of trees you’d ever seen by a pack of wolves (werewolves, no less) who had spotted a way to broaden their gene pool and stalked you til dusk. Each press of your bare feet to the hardened ground forced bits of bark and bone into the callous flesh; normally you’d wail at such anguish, but the blood pumping in your ears drowns out any of your nerve’s attempts at reaching your bran. While you wince at each point of contact, the pain never seems to come.

From behind you their howls of laughter hit the trees and then your eardrums, a reminder that for them this is a game. Their idea of said game going poorly is if they do not catch you, if they cannot drag you back to their settlement as a token of their hard work.

It seems as quickly as your hunt for food had gone sour you’re plucked from the freezing ground and tossed into a barren field, slammed into the ground as your shoulders continue to rise and while your heart continues to beat at a rabbit’s pace, your eyes moving faster than the organ as they take in the scene in front of them.

Your thoughts are quick, like the blood in your veins.

Rolling hills. Crops. Yellow Crops. Deep yellow crops. Corn? Dead crops. Still cold. No snow. Yes ice. Stones, under you. Small stones. Broken stones. Bad dirt. Bad crops. Bad yield. No settlements. Sky dark. Feet hurt. Still cold. Feet really hurt.

The distinct sound of a boot digging into the ground makes you turn around, knife in your corset drawn with a shaking, aching hand.

In front of you, a man. A man in shoes meant for winter. A man dressed in dark clothes. A man with a large chest that rises slowly, slowling, slower. A man with golden skin, as deep as the flora around you. long, dirty beard. A man with long, dirty hair. A man with a set of horns that curl like a ram but peak like the blade in your palm. A man who towers over you. A man who looks less like a man as your eyes focus, but his form doesn’t become clearer.

The man is the first to speak, his lips thick and turned up into a sinister looking smile.

“What’s a little thing like you strolling alone in these woods?” His voice flows like honey with each step of gravel as he circles you. You’ve seen vultures spot prey with less purpose as his gruff laughs bring thick clouds of condensation, which fill the air between you and him. “Big, mean wolves prowl these very woods, looking for cute little things like you to prey on.”

You try to swallow what little spit remains in your dry mouth, but it seems the only thing in your throat is a thick knot of fear. Stuck in place from terror alone, each cell that makes up your body is more frozen than the ice hanging from the bare branches above you.

“I- “you’re momentarily distracted by a twig snapping in the distance. “I’m not that small!” The man (if he even is a man) laughs, loud enough to make you flinch (of course that’s all I can do, you curse yourself. Can’t run away, but can flinch at some fucking laughter.) “In these forests you are. You’re a pretty little toy for all the packs that try to stake their claim here. It’s useless, they’ll never succeed, but that sure doesn’t stop them from trying.”

Your heart beats faster than you’ve ever felt before, each painful expansion of your ribcage syncing with the blood pounding in your ears. “Wh-what happened to them?” He cocks an eyebrow. “What happened to who?”

You speak again, a little louder. “What happened to the packs, why haven’t they laid claim to this territory?”

His broad chest shakes as he chuckles at your insolence. “Because I already have.”

Your heart quickens again. “But you’re only one man,” another twig snap, another sound ignored as a different kind of fear rises in your abdomen. “How can you overpower those powerful packs, they’ve formed a coalition – the village hasn’t stopped talking about it – there’s at least a hundred of them altogether, I-”

An answer comes after a beat of heavy silence, though the tension of waiting seems better than the truth that comes all too quickly. “Because yappy puppies can’t usurp a god,” he hisses.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.

Thor, the god you’ve been petrified of since you were a child, has been the guard of this forest and everything in it for a millennium. In like fashion to other sprawling hills and tall trees, he beckons in the seasons and calms the bears into hibernation and tells the snow when to melt. Thor is the life of the forest, attuned to the air every living breathes day in and day out. Yet he’s incomparable to his benevolent siblings, hungrier and more desperate and willing to throw away his duties to sink his jowls into anything unpardonable. This god is jaded, exhausted of the mind-numbing monotonous work of running the home of so many creatures; like knife dropped in the dirt, he threatens even the ones who step careful as marksmen watch their targets.

For a few moments you think your mouth will release a quip, a sarcastic response that would get you killed, or worse. Somehow your lips stay still, warming as each pant releases hot, white puffs into the cold night air.

There’s fear in your eyes and it permeates the air around you. The god’s nostrils flare as the pheromones hit his nose. In a far corner of your brain you wonder what it smells like – such a strong emotion. Is it thick and sweet? Does it coat his tongue the same of when you bake fresh bread? Or is it deep and revolting – the smell of one’s soul decomposing before the corresponding body’s gone cold.

He steps closer.

You wince. “Please- “

He laughs like he’s watched a child fall to the ground in a field. “What? Are you scared?”

The word leaves his lips much slower than the others, like thick syrup in his mouth. Guess your fear is a much sweeter scent than expected.

“Should I not be?” The defiance in your voice comes like the wolf that bursts through the thinning trees behind you.

With the air knocked out of your lungs and each muscle stunned into inertness, there’s not much you can do but watch the god as you’re dragged away while two wolves trail behind you.

The grey sunlight fades as the flora becomes thicker, and for a hundred or so yards you feel as if your life is crumbling around you. But soon with the shadows from the trees comes the realization of familiarity.

Their faces – their snouts, eyes, ears, fur – they’re one you’d seen before. They’re the same ones from the small fairy circle down the way from your cabin, where you’d been trying to find something to eat besides dry mint leaves and crunchy bread.

These aren’t the wolves from the coalition near the village, these aren’t those nasty wolves who steal and plunder and take without end, these aren’t the wolves who chased you into the arms of the god who previously stood before you.

This is something worse…so much worse.

You’ve housed some of them, their yellow eyes and pink snouts have been fixtures of your spare room – you’ve stitched their paws and rubbed salve into their poison ivy rashes and brushed matts from their thick fur.

As one of them jumps on top of you – one you recognize from the scar you’d helped heal after a hawk had attempted to take out his eye – you can feel another pry your arms flat above you and two others hold your legs apart.

His long, wet tongue traces from your shoulder to your temple, his snout breathing hot air onto your feverish skin.

“I’ve been waiting to do this,” his voice is muffled, as if you’re talking to a person resting at the bottom of the sea. “Oh, I’ve been waiting to do this since I saw you and your brow furrowed with worry at that wound the wicked bird left upon me.”

He nudges under your jaw, grazing his sharp teeth across the fragile skin above your jugular as he pants.

If your hands were free, if your lips could move, you’d push him away and call him some mutt in heat, spit in his face and kick him away and run until you could not see the wretched creatures and they could not see you and the distance would make you forget everything that had and would happen and you never would have to think of their paws clawing at your body again and…

And…

“Stay the fuck away from her,” the god from before snarls from behind his teeth. The wolves, now thrown more than a hundred yards away from you, are nearly frozen in fear and realization that their plan has taken a toll for the worst. Your hands dig into the earth in an attempt to gain footing, but you can barely hold yourself up on your elbow as your vision spins. “If I find you again I will rip your heart from your thoracic cavity and leave you all to be found by the rest of your pitiful kind, do you understand?”

The wolves do not nod, but they also do not stay. Within an instant, you find yourself blessedly alone and then cursedly close to the very thing you fear the most.

“Why don’t I take you back home?” Thor whispers, watchful as you finally pick yourself up from the mud and moss. Bits of twigs and leaves and crushed bugs litter the light fabric, but you make no effort to remove it from your person – none of that matters when he locks eyes with you, blown pupils glittering with something you can’t place.

Still, with chest heaving and hands shaking, you lead him back to your homestead.

It’s not a long trek through the woods, yet Thor’s breath is audible like a deer sprinting from a pack of canids. You question nothing, though, absolutely nothing as you lead him on the winding, invisible path that leads you less than a stone’s throw away from the entrance.

You don’t say anything as you pull away, not a promise nor gratitude nor acknowledgement of his actions. The silence from you is met with Thor tugging your back to his front and wrapping your arms around you.

“I think you should thank me,” he coos. In the window of your dwelling is your cat, eyes wide in fear as she paces. She knows something is wrong, something bad is happening. But she doesn’t know how to fix it. “For protecting you.”

Some parts of you – maybe a few ribs, the bottom of your spine, your dry mouth – know what he wants. Behind your eyes you see images of you, him, your large bed. Of your small, begotten frame under his large form as he takes what he desires.

Some part of your brain, the logical side, knows you should feel fearful at this massive beast laying you down onto your worn, soft sheets. The other part, though, feels a particular heat flood your center and between your legs.

“And what is it that comprises such appreciation?” you ask, still facing your home as the god lingers behind you. Your breath – already shaky and shallow – hitches as one of his clawed fingers pushes aside your thick hair to expose the smooth skin of your neck. He places such small, light kisses there that for a moment you believe it was simply whispers of wind from the night, but once sharpened teeth graze your heartbeat you’re aware of the affections being his.

“Oh, little pet,” at his words your eyes shut on their own accord, and your bottom lip finds itself between your top and bottom teeth in the same fashion. “We both know what I want.”

You gulp, trying to find verbal footing as he begins to kiss down the back of your neck to the top of your spine. For a moment you try to speak, but it seems with each attempted sentence his hands move closer and closer to undoing the ties that keep your shift from falling off of you.

The god leads you into your home with a large hand pressed into the small of your back, and into your bedroom as if he had been there before, as if he had memorized the hallways in your home from years of spending time there; as if he was some constant fixture of your household.

The yards and yards worth of fabric from blankets and pillows alike have only ever smelled like you; pockets of your pesky familiar here and there maybe, but nothing that cannot be overpowered by a good night’s rest. It’s a comfort after a long day, something familiar and comforting.

As Thor lowers himself onto the edge of your bed you fear the stench of him will never leave you. A candle of doubt in you wonders if this is a bad thing.

With no hardship he pulls you to him, like a suitor inviting a debutante to be a partner in a waltz – though, this feels less like a dance as each second passes, your heavy breathing akin to a kidnapping than some public displays unadulterated affection.

“It’s cold out here in these woods,” he whispers to you. His hot breath sends shivers down your spine as his hands pet over your shaking form. “I must admit, it would be nice to have a toasty little thing like you to help keep me warm in such a chill.”

You shiver, hoping this behemoth does not mean what you think he means. Alas, as he pushes your long, wild hair to the side to expose the tender skin of your neck – your wildest fears bubble to the surface of your flesh. It’s his hands, so calloused they feel like bark, that manhandle you in the gentlest way possible into a position that makes your face burn hotter than a bonfire.

You’re in his lap now, spine pressed to sternum with him towering over you. For a moment you feel safe in his embrace, his larger-than-life stature making you feel like some protected child. It isn’t until he’s tearing at your clothes with a loud rrrrrrrip that you understand how little this creature truly cares for you. Still, it’s hard not to feel like some fragile, blown-glass vase from the village beyond the mountains, where boys with similarly rough, burnt hands create the most beautiful little sculptures you wish you could afford; an object of which is revered and magnificent, but an object of which holds neither agency nor uniqueness to the rest of the pretty things surrounding it.

It doesn’t occur, in that very moment, that there is no way this god would be cold in the thick of winter – not with heat radiating from him akin to your cat’s fur after being warmed by a particularly warm beam of sunlight. But the deity doesn’t have much need for the truth, not when he’s got your soaked cunt free from its increasingly uncomfortable confines and is tracing the slick up and down the lips between your trembling thighs.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he coos like a mother lying to her child while pulling a rose thorn from a tiny, smooth foot. “It’ll only hurt a little"

Thor’s hands are huge already, but now they seem omnipresent as he pets over your form. Part of you – the sensible part, the part that guided you through being banished from your family and made you carve out a piece of this expansive, soul-crushing forest – that wants to, or at least wants to try to, push him away; tell him no, stop, please, I’ll do anything.

But nothing, nothing but desperate whimpers, ones you wish were from displeasure, leave your lips.

“You know, gods can still starve,” you gulp as the short, wiry hair that patterns his jaw rubs against the skin of your neck and shoulders. “The fish from rivers and boars from the deeper parts of my forest quiet the growling in my gut, but there is another hunger I need satiated.”

You remain silent as before, fearful a protest would make your periled situation that much worse for pitiful little you.

He grips between your legs, palm flat against the hottest part of you, his own hand rough against your own silky folds. As you squeak from the contact Thor laughs deep in his broad chest, leaning down to nibble at the edge of your hot ear. “This piece of fruit will do,” you gasp as a single, thick finger enters your dripping heat. “I love a good juicy peach. You’re absolutely dripping for me, aren’t you?”

Again, he is met with silence. Never one to be deterred, he slips another finger into you. “Humans are so cute,” he purrs. “You all think you’re so strong, always fighting wars that never end and death that always comes. It seems the things you can never resist are a good fight, a good fuck,” a pregnant pause fills your bedroom as he crooks his fingers just right, soliciting the desperate whimper he’s wanted since he spotted you in the woods all those hours ago. “And me.”

He fucks his digits in and out you with slow motions, ones that drive you to the brink of madness. You’ve never been one to coo and moan so unabashedly, to let yourself fall apart so easily for someone who holds so much pure power over you. If you weren’t already vulnerable, you would be now – for as assuredly that the sun rises in the East and you wake up soaked in blood every some thirty days, this man, this god will look down on you and understand how little you can do to fend him, his advances, his charm, from your trembling body.

Thor lays down on your sea of blankets, leaving you feeling empty without his touch. A smug look paints his face as he waits for you to climb up his chest, but you do not move, simply peering at him with a heaving chest and feverish cheeks. Your mind wavers, wondering if his horns will tear into the fabric that paints your bed – but you do not have much time for such frivolous thoughts before they are interrupted once again.

“I wasn’t asking,” he tells you pointedly. “Now, come provide me with the sustenance I so desire.”

Sans your dress, moving up the length of his body is relatively easy. As he grips your hips and lowers you down to his mouth you wish you had some sort of obstruction, some reason to resist the god below you.

No such luck. As before, you are unimaginably vulnerable to Thor and his ways.

He begins with light kisses on the inside of your thighs, still tense and desperate to run away. Thor seems to notice this but does nothing to soothe you and your resistance – he understands much better than you how much he holds above your foolish head.

It doesn’t take long for you to forget your plan of escape, the path of freedom dissipating in the pleasure pooling from your scalp to the nailbeds of your toes. This god is nothing if not skilled, wide strokes of his tongue and nips at your innermost thigh and kisses on your sensitive nub soon having you rutting against his face like a dog in heat, like the wolves from before. Your hands try to find purchase in his wild hair, but with the horns in the way it’s easier to wrap your own fingers around the keratin masses than dig your fingernails into the scalp of the man below you.

You wonder if you’d have considered them less such wild beasts if you knew this was the pleasure they were chasing. Would have not run so quickly if you, too, understood the magic building in your core as you balance yourself against the wall your bed leans against. When Thor leaves you, would the animals accept your contrition and give you the same pleasure this god is? Or would you be left to chase a high no mortal could gift you?

It’s trail of thought cut short by him bullying three of his fingers into you as his lips suck at you, your screams filling every empty bit of air in your homestead. As your own yelps of pleasure fill your ears you cannot sort what is babble and what is tongues, what are incoherent syllables and what are pleas to celestial beings to never leave you.

These, too, are soon muffled, Thor making quick work of your mute state to flip you onto your stomach and propping your ass up toward him. “You know,” he says mostly to himself, knowing his words will fall on ears deaf from ringing. “The Christians who pass through my forest often speak of how the original woman was tempted with an apple and I never believed their silly tales.”

He pauses a moment to trace his fingertips up the ridges of your spine before grabbing at the base of your hair. You yelp, but he ignores you.

“But now…” his unoccupied hand comes down to SMACK at your ass, eliciting another squeak. “Now I feel able to comprehend how such a person could be tempted by the prospect of such delicious sin.”

Too far gone to be ashamed now, you push back against him in hopes of reprieve from your suffering. Without much further wait Thor enters you slow and steady, the one hand still in your hair while the other grips your hip. Thor’s bigger, much bigger than your fingers or the occasional drifter, and your walls and scream the unfamiliar girth.

The man behind you does nothing to soothe you, merely hissing into the cold night air. “God, you little witch,” he grunts behind grit teeth. “Maybe it was worthwhile saving you from those wretched wolves.”

Your mouth hangs open and your lips remain mute, your hands grasping at the sheets until they become impossible to open up again. Nothing, not a single sound of yours, bounces form the walls – merely Thor’s loud grunts and the sound of his skin slapping against yours. It isn’t until his fingers release your hair and move to your neglected clit that you begin to sing for him, screams out of tune and sharp but still smooth music to his ears.

“Yes,” he moans, feeling you contract around him. “Yes you temptress, cum on my cock, fuck let me bring you to your peak.”

How could anyone refuse that? Certainly not you, the spell-caster who was saved by this magnificent, sympathetic creature with a heart of gold and pure intentions. The tight coil in your organs releases with a shout from you and a deep groan from Thor, who continues to fuck into you as you collapse and become limp under his touch. He reaches he peak quickly, stilling for a moment before flipping you over again.

You move easily under his touch, dead weight instead of some feisty, feral little lamb with too much fight in her. On your back, he spreads your legs once again, moving to revere your swollen cunt and his thick seed dripping out of you.

It reminds you of when the artists in the villages step back when they’re finished with their works, admiring their handiwork and talent. You recognize that same affection of progress and of a finished piece in Thor’s eyes, the focused, blown pupils trained on the white trailing down to your sheets and the corners of his mouth turning up into a small, satiated smile. He’s some paragon of silent pride, one hand moving up and down your folds before pushing his seed back into you.

“Beautiful,” Thor whispers, kissing where you are most sensitive once more before moving to lay beside you. The world spins around you as he pulls you into his broad chest, his heart thumping dull in the ear pressed to his heaving ribs.

You say nothing to the contrary, succumbing to sleep like a babe after a long feeding.

orThor disappears just as he entered, confidently and without much fuss. You wake up alone, more alone than you did that morning, surrounded by the very scent of him. Somehow, as the sun comes over the horizon, it’s enough.

Over the next few weeks, everything mostly returns to normal. You go through the ebb and flow of your routine; watching over your territory, eyeing the dark of the night each time the wind made the trees move like children listening to songs around a bonfire. Sometimes the swaying calms you as you clutch a cup of mint tea in your trembling hands, but others it mirrors the churning of your stomach.

Tonight, it feels like both. And tonight, you bury your face in the last of him left with you while hoping you never have to see the god again.

#inthedark!challenge #thor odinson x reader #thor x reader #lukis writes stuff #kinda had a breakdown and thought abt being in the church #if god can be vengeful than i can be flowery with my language #as with all of my works this is barely proofread and i hate it #but whateva

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