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unholybacon355 · 6 months

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Down with the sickness

Male Reader X Mina

Word Count: 1K

A/N: Mina and you find an interesting way to use an elevator.

I wrote this some time ago, around a week after that fashion show. I had to do this. Istg i saw her with that dress at the fashion show and had to write this. And i have to recognize that In some point i wanted to do a long story, but it is what it is.

"Come on. Take it out of your pants and put it inside me.” Mina's devilish smile made your knees tremble as you pressed the elevator button harder than you should. “It's 80 floors to the hall, we have time.” She said rubbing her shoulder against your body. “Besides, I'm already wet, and you know I'm not wearing underwear. ”The tone in her voice was so lascivious it made your cock throb.

Without giving you time to answer anything Mina entered the elevator as soon as the doors opened. She walked elegantly until she stood in the middle, where she pulled up her dress, revealing her beautiful legs and that round butt that drove so many crazy. Then looking at you over her shoulder, again with that devilish smile on her lips, she leaned over and rested her hands against the elevator wall. Revealing in the process her perfectly shaved vulva.

"Fuck." Was all you could say before getting into the elevator just as the doors began to close. At the speed of light you opened the zipper and took out just your cock from inside your pants, you were already so hard that it was easy to aim and graze Mina's wet lips.

"Hard." More than a request it was an order, one that you were happy to obey even if it might cost you your job. Although the one who risked the most here was her. You couldn't compare what it would mean for a world-renowned artist to be found fucking in the elevator, on the way to an important fashion event, with what it would mean for a simple manager like you.

As she asked, you separated her folds a little with your tip, and then you suddenly shoved your cock into her vagina. The entire length in a single thrust, bouncing your balls and her buttocks in the process. You firmly took her by the hips and without wasting any more time you began to fuck her as if your life depended on it. She was so wet that she engulfed your shaft without any problem.

Mina instantly began to moan shamelessly. The sounds she makes echoed throughout the small elevator, filling it with her sweet voice and the wet noises you made as you fucked her. It was quite an experience to hear her voice on stage and then witness how it transformed into simple moans, samples of the pleasure she was feeling.

Mina pressed her butt against you looking for more friction, while you put a little more force into your thrusts. The movement fluttered the front part of her light blue dress, with details in what you could say was animal print. Of course Mina looked like a goddess in that dress, because that was what she was, and even though it wasn't like that it seemed like it had been custom designed for her. You were sure that once she left the hotel and exposed herself to the cameras, everyone was going to go crazy because of the large portion of her back that the garment left visible. Mina knew what drove her fans crazy, and she loved to use it against them.

Of course you were also crazy about her back, and everything about her, the truth is, she was a perfect woman in many ways. You wanted to kiss and leave love marks on her perfect back, but you knew you weren't allowed to. You were not her lover, much less her boyfriend or her husband, and although she did consider you a friend, you were nothing more than the personal manager she used to relief her libido.

“Gonna need to apply more perfume or they'll smell my wet pussy from miles away. ” But the truth is that she loves having men and women hypnotized by her beauty and other charms, so if they are able to smell the sex on her, that is just going to be an extra layer on her spell.

Your response was a grunt because all you could think about right now was that you didn't have much time left. The elevator had already descended sixty of the eighty floors, so the end of this session was eminently near. Without wasting any more time you wrapped your arm around her waist and used your fingers to play with her clitoris. Immediately your caresses made the muscles in her vagina contract involuntarily. Mina's response was to press her ass further into you.

“Don't you dare take it out, I… I want it all… inside me.” She was able to say between moans. For your part, you put more force into your thrusts, sacrificing speed to go as deep as you could with each thrust. You soon felt her pussy become impossibly tight around you and the spasms of her petite body revealed to you that she had climaxed. Almost instantly, without giving her time to come down from the cloud of pleasure she was in, you put your cock as deep as you could and unloaded your semen inside her, as she had demanded.

You two stayed like that, motionless for a few seconds, giving yourselves time to catch your breath before you let go of her and separated from her. A new, involuntary moan escaped that pretty little mouth when your cock came out of her pussy. With a smile on your lips, knowing you had done a good job, you put your cock back in your pants.

Mina, for her part, adjusted her dress and fixed her hair a little with her hand. By the time the elevator reached the first floor and the doors opened she looked flawless again, as if nothing had happened. Then she, with her best seductive smile, went out to the hotel hall, swaying her hips as she walked and greeting the people from the organization who were waiting for her. But she also came out smelling like sex and carrying your semen deep inside her, you were sure that everyone was going to be able to smell it on her. Mina was certainly the most shameless person you knew.

#twice #mina #mina x reader #mina smut #twice smut #twice fanfic #fanfic #smut #myoui mina

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borisbubbles · 5 months

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Eurovision 2024: Last Place

37. ISRAEL Eden Golan - "Hurricane" 5th place

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Decade Ranking: 150/153 [Above Noa Kirel, below Roxen]

Where do we start?

Let's begin, perhaps by stating the obvious. Israel's participation in this year ruined the contest. You encounter an entrant or two that completely warp the meta around them at every contest, but never to an extent this cataclysmic. Every sour note of this contest, and there were plenty, sprouted from the decision to allow Israel into the year. That was the tipping point. I believe that makes "Hurricane" the worst entry of all times in terms of the sheer negative impact its presence had on the edition it parttook in.

The ESC discourse -on asocial media- completely revolved around the conflict in Palestine either to denounce the war crimes perpetrated by the Israeli goverment and the subsequent silencing of critical voices calling it out, or to make a stand against the Poor Young Girl who was unfairly maligned by radicalized leftists for a conflict she had no hand in.

So was it any surprise that Israel won every Western televote? Be honest. I know that the Twitter manchildren claim Israel cheated, but they are in denial. The televote was genuine. The scalpel slices both ways, sadly. For every heckler booing Eden or protesting for Palestine or announcing a Eurovision boycot or lecturing the general public to not vote for Israel, a sympathy vote for her arises because "Aw She Doesn't Deserve So Much Negativity, Poor Thing". That she willingly chose to rep israel at THIS time with THAT song is blissfully ignored. Eden Golan is not a child. She's fully accountable for the effects that her participation caused, and is perfectly a-OK with it.

So, wake the fuck up. The sympathizing nutcases were OPENLY mobilizing to vote for Israel without even watching a second of the contest, to prove a point against you know, "insane leftist wokery" or whatever they call it. "You can't make me think what you want or do what you want, TAKE THAT". It's the same principle that led to Brexit and Trump beating Clinton. Similarly, they attempted to hijack the results like a particularly nasty species of asian hornet because their 'Freedom of Speech' is more important to them than fair results in an entertainment show, or a potential genocide. Or maybe they were just indoctrinated. A smaller sample size due to boycots + 20 votes per crazed zionist, it's honestly a miracle Croatia STILL beat them in the TV overall.

In other words, pretty much every opinion about Eden revolved around the politics that accompanied the flag she flew under.

And I'm sorry, but Eurovision is not supposed to be about Israel. Why should THAT country get more attention, or even preferential treatment in this otherwise excellent line-up? That's not what it should be about.

It is THEM who it should be about:

None of these artists asked to be a part of this shambolic display. So in that sense, let's do something many have FAILED. Let's do what we're supposed to dp: Discuss the SONG, outside of context.

Frankly, there's remarkably little to say. Even without the context, "Hurricane" would have been bottom of the barrel for me regardless? It's a mediocre sappy ballad aimed to Make People Cry. We see such ballads pop up all the time in NFs (most recently Krick in Luxembourg and Noble in Portugal), where -more often than not- their sucktitude catches up with them and manifests a loss.

I've seen people be outraged that Norway's jury gave it points but I mean, look at any recent scandi NF and tell me a Hurricane wouldn't fit within its ranks. It's Undo, What if, A Monster Like Me, all the tacky soulless ballads with poor narratives preying on the soft-hearted and the guillible with cheap emotional manip. "Hurricane"was cut from the same dementor-esque, sympathy-craving cloth. Call me old fashioned, but I was taught that sympathy requires a modicum of respect, which needs to be earned, not begged for like a dog's dinner. (I hope the Europapa fans are reading this because this also applies to him, and that ghastly outro). If your song was written with the idea in mind of pinkwashing the deaths of a few thousand children, then perhaps you may have not fully earned the benefit of the doubt, jussaying.~

In terms of performance, Eden was vocally good, at least. It's her voice that carries it although i don't find her particularly likeable as a lead. Then again, she is a Russian nepo brat whose family emigrated to Israel after the Ukrainian war so that her daddy to secure his financial assets and the Golans could continue their lavish, privileged lifestyle in a safer country. It was always a challenge, so to say, to consider Eden Golan a likeable individual.

Also what is UP with the choreography? Why do the dancers look like they are loading air rifles? A Choice, to say the least.

So all in all, a pretty weak entry that always would have been in my bottom 3 for any country, but that probably had a ceiling of lower top 10 in a normal, generic year of ESC.

However, this was NOT a generic ESC. There's NO imagining "Hurricane" without its context which makes it so, SO much worse. It was specifically written in support of the Israeli victims in the war (why go through that trouble and not simply withdraw and spend the participation fee on providing for the families of the hostages? Isn't that more effective charity? But hey, what do I know.) There is no "depoliticizing", no matter how often you retcon the lyrics into gibberish. Hurricane's intentions are present in its rhythm, its instrumentation, the keys in which it is sung. The notion that you can separate it from its context is absurd.

And yet, that is precisely what the EBU were hoping for when they allowed it in, and it exploded into their face like a firework. I can't say they didn't deserve it. Ultimately, the full blame for all of this rests with them. If a certain entity threatens the integrity of your being, you get rid of the threat. You don't passively sit back crossing your fingers they leave at their own volition. The Israeli's would understand the reasons for exclusion, surely, as they've been applying the exact same principles to the Gaza Strip since mid October.

The EBU allowed them in, officially to prove Eurovision wasn't political and United By Music (in reality because they're cowards and didn't want to be the first organization to ban Israel from an international event, and be branded antisemites as a result). The result was the most politically charged and divisive contest of all time, rife with incidents that were as avoidable as they were outrageous. It couldn't have been further away from "apolitical unity" if it tried.

Hurricane was NEVER worth the price of admission. All the controversy, the security risks, the boycots, the antisemitism and xenophobia, the censorship, the harrassment of other delegations (which the Israeli delegation EAGERLY participated in) and of course the Israeli embassies in participating countries OPENLY advocating to vote for Israel as "a signal". Even the tensions that led to Joost's dubious DQ which I doubt would have happened at any other contest. This could all have been foreseen and avoided by excluding the country that clearly would have brought the contest into disrepute. Eurovision is now on life support. Congratulations EBU. You KILLED your own contest.

It briefly looked like Israel could win (leave to RAI to be woefully incompetent and blasé), which would have been the final nail in Eurovision's coffin but then they magically lost the televote (thank you SO much Eastern Europe, you are SO real for this) and stranded themselves in 5th place. Instead of being the Worst Winner of All Time, Israel are merely a mediocre also-ran, which I can live with. It makes "Hurricane"' marginally less appalling than "Unicorn" and "I.M" for me. Let their fifth place serve as a grim reminder for future editions that Hatred Breeds Hatred, and also, thankfully, that Love Can indeed Prevail.

THE RANKING

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testingthewatersss · 9 months

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Bet! sorry if the whole theme is a little on the nose, but it was too perfect for angst to not just roll with it

Withdraw Trigger warnings for implied non con drugs, PTSD, mentions of war, torture, withdrawals etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 1 4900 words Angst, More angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Bucky has been feeling sick for weeks, by the time he starts to look it Steve's patience has run out and he forces him into the labs. Luckily figuring out the problem is much faster than getting him to acknowledge it. Unluckily, there isn't much anyone can do about it.

“He’s withdrawing”

“From what?” Steve asks, anxiety making his voice sharp

“Everything” Tony says, taking over from Bruce, “HYDRA were pumping him full of just about every drug going— appetite suppressants, sedatives-”

“-pain relief-” Banner adds, looking through the two way glass, “and some other compounds we can’t identify”

“Yet” Tony cuts in, “We’ll crack them pretty soon”

He’s aiming for confident. Steve can tell that he earnestly wants to help, so he offers him a tight lipped smile as he nods.

“He’ll be okay” Bruce says, sounding more certain, “but for right now he’s just going to have to ride it out”

There’s an apology in his tone.

“For how long?”

Tony shrugs, flicking through some notes-

“A while” is what the Stark finally decides, “A couple of days, maybe? It depends on what half of this shit is, and how the serum-”

“Can’t you do anything to make it-”

“Steve” Bruce cautions, “We’re doing everything we can”

The ‘don’t push it’ is implied.

Tony is still unhappy about Barnes even being in the tower, let alone in his lab.

The blonde nods again. He’s about to rattle off a ‘thank you for your help’ when the door to the adjacent room opens.

Bucky is perched on the edge of the examination table. He’s shaking like he’s having a seizure, with hair hanging in sweat dampened pieces in front of his eyes.

His eyes look rabid. His pupils are blown and they’re ringed with deep-set bruises.

Y/N decides to approach him slowly, not even sparing a glance in the direction of the two way mirror that she just knows people are watching them through.

“Hi, sweetheart” she coos, coming to a stop a few feet away from him, “How’re you feeling?”

The man doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even blink.

“Not great?” She guesses, reaching out carefully to press her hand flush against his brow, “Still feel like puking?”

He’s clammy, his skin is damp and cool under her touch—

“Mhmm”

A hum is better than no response at all, so she takes it, letting her arm fall back to her side.

“Y/N, if you can convince him to give us a blood sample we might-”

Bucky flinches as the in wall speakers crackle to life above them. She shoots a harsh look at the mirror and her brothers voice vanishes as quickly as it’d come.

“Was that one test too many?”

It’s only then that his eyes roll up to hers.

God, he looks sick.

“-‘m, um, I'm sorry” he whispers, voice cracking painfully around the word,

She just shakes her head, waiting to see if he’s going to say anything else. For a moment, she thinks that he won’t. That he’s going to settle back into silence, but then, he blinks at her,

“Wh-what’s happenin’ to me?”

The waiver in his voice reminds her just how brave he’s being. It’s clear that he’s suffering, that he’s in pain, and the she knows how much he hates being anywhere as remotely clinical as the lab-room where he’s been waiting in for hours, she thinks that it’s a miracle he’s daring to ask her anything, she thinks, let alone something about himself;

“Well…” she begins, “…From what we can see HYDRA had you hooked on a bit of a cocktail…” she pauses, letting him absorb what she’s saying, “… We’re still trying to figure out the exact amounts, Buck-That book we’ve got gives us some clues, so does how you’re feeling, and the readings we’ve got from the scan”

Bucky sniffs, swallowing bile as it floods his mouth again. Everything is spinning, he screws his eyes shut, until the darkness of his eyelids becomes a blinding white, and he’s so scared by the change that he snaps them back open, reaching out to take hold of her fingers in a last ditch attempt at finding some facet of comfort—

Y/N’s heart melts at the gesture. She curls her hand around his, and lets him settle himself for a beat,

“Some blood would tell us more about what is causing what… it’d make it easier to figure out exactly what everything they gave you was for—”

“C-can” he gulps, “can you make it stop?”

There’s no point in lying to him, she decides, He’s had enough of that already—

“No” she says honestly, “Probably not, sweetheart… It looks like you’re goin’ to have to just let it pass regardless, but if we can figure out the details we might be able to take the edge off”

He’s starring at her. His expression is so hopelessly defeated that she can’t help but step closer towards him;

As she moves in, standing directly between his thighs, he crumbles, he visibly shatters, folding forwards with a terrible shudder- The way her hand lets go of his, moving so that she can wrap her arms around his back is a reflex. She’s rewarded with the feeling of him burying his face in her stomach as his lungs start to strain.

“Cou-could you st-stay here?” he asks, voice muffled by fabric and tremors, “If.. I-f I give the sample w-w-would y-you stay?”

“Sure” Y/N agrees quickly, “I can stay right here, okay? We can have Bruce slip in and grab it, you’ll only have to move your arm”

“Okay” he says bravely, “J-just Bruce, ri-right?”

“Just Bruce” she promises, nodding at the mirror, “We can get Steve too, if you want? I’m sure he’s around-”

“Please” Bucky bursts, “P-please don’t— I- I d-don’t w-want him seein’ me like this”

“Okay” she replies calmly, “No Steve”

The door opens quietly, Y/N looks over and smiles encouragingly at the doctor as he makes his way towards them, already holding everything he needs in gloved hands;

“I bet he’s busy, anyway” She’s says, looking back at the mirror, knowing that the blonde is watching behind, “SHEILD will have him up to his neck in paper work for the next month and half now he’s back in their good books.”

She understands why Bucky might want to hide this whole situation from Steve. They’re both protective over the other, and neither is very good at letting the other one fret no matter how justified it might be—

“Okay Sargent Barnes-” Bruce says, almost in introduction-

“Bucky” he corrects shakily,

“Bucky” the man agrees, ignoring the way that the man is still hiding his face against Y/N’s front, “I’m going to bring your sleeve up now, alright? Just try and keep still, I’ll be as quick as I can”

Y/N strokes Bucky’s back, as he nods in agreement, and then when she sees the tourniquet going on above his elbow, she feels him freeze completely. She can only imagine how difficult this is for him, how many horrible memories it must be triggering. Before the needle slips into his skin, she holds him a fraction tighter, and then, when the blood starts to draw, she presses a kiss against his head.

To his credit, Banner is fast.

The whole thing is done in a matter of seconds.

Still, Barnes is hyperventilating now. His ribs are straining, breathes coming in quick shallow bursts that he can’t make any effort to slow.

Bruce doesn’t notice though, or if he does, he’s too polite to comment- He takes his prize and disappears with nothing more than a curt nod in Y/N’s direction;

“All done, handsome” the woman coos after a moment of quiet, “What do you want to do now, huh?”

That question takes Bucky by surprise. It’s clear from the look on his face when he finally shifts to peer up at her that he’d been expecting her to say maybe anything other than that

“Do you have to go?”

“No” she says fairly, “We can stay here, but you’re only going to keep feeling worse, and it’s more comfortable up in the—”

“I can leave?” he asks, clearly confused, “I.. I th-thought you w-were going to- to leave me here until I-”

“No” she says again, “No, Bucky… Of course you can leave, you can go anywhere you want”

Now he only looks more muddled.

He really had been expecting to be locked inside this horribly bright room so he could ‘ride this out’ without causing any trouble.

The idea of not being left in total isolation in an empty, clinical suite genuinely hadn’t crossed his mind.

Y/N thinks that’s awfully sad.

“…Y-you said ‘we’…” Bucky murmurs next, “D-di-did you mean—”

“I’ve taken the week off work” she tells him softly, “I’m all yours, sweetheart— Someone’s got to keep an eye on ya’, and since you’ve already said ‘no’ to Steve I figured-”

“I l-love y-you” he stammers, feeling horribly unworthy, “I- I-I’m s-sor-”

Y/N cuts his apology short by tilting his head up, so that she can press a gentle kiss against his lips.

“I love you too” she swears, smoothing his hair back affectionately, “Baby, and you’ve done so well with all of this, but now I think we should get you out of here.”

Bucky just nods, barley believing his luck- He’s way too far gone to question it, though, so he doesn’t, he just waits, hoping that Y/N will take the lead,

“If he stops tolerating fluids we can arrange an IV ” Bruce’s voice announces via the speakers, “some of these compounds look similar to ketamine, which means—”

“Hallucinations are likely” Y/N inserts calmly, “Yes, Thank you, Dr Banner— I’ve read the same material as you, and I’m well aware of the implications of non-medicated withdrawal”

That information is clearly new to Bucky, who suddenly looks rabid with fear

“H-halluciations?” he parrots, trying to stop himself from crying, “Y-you mean—”

“Don’t worry” she soothes, “You’re going to be okay, It’s alright…”

It’s not, he thinks frantic, I’m dangerous, I—“Hey” Y/N says, tone a little firmer, “Hey, Bucky, look at me-”

He does. His eyes snap to hers, and the moment they do, she finds herself wishing that he was looking anywhere else.

“I promise” she murmurs, “I promise you’re going to be okay”

“I’m scared” he tells her honestly, “Doll, I— god, I— I’m so scared”

Her heart shatters in her chest.

She can feel the shards of it aching, as she reaches up to cup his cheeks.

After everything he’s been through, after all the terrible, horrible things he’s survived, it seems awfully unfair that there’s still more he has to suffer.

It’s no wonder he’s terrified. He’s clearly hurting, and his body is just starting adjust to the lack of drugs it’s been accustom to for nearly 100 years. It doesn’t help that the only facts she’s been able to give him is that it’s probably going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.

“I know” she whispers, “I know you are”

His lower lip is quivering, his are eyes full of tears and suddenly, he doesn’t look manic, anymore, he doesn’t just look tired, or sick, he looks totally, completely, shattered.

“But, I’m not leavin’ you—” he hears her swear, “—I’m going to look after you okay? No matter how bad it gets, I’m going to make sure you’re alright, I promise”

Steve watches his oldest friend clutching Y/N’s hand and half stumbling out of the lab, and feels guilt flooding his chest like poison.

He wants to help. He wants to make it all go away, but he can’t. He knows he can’t, and even though it’s illogical, he can’t help but feel sickened by how helpless he is in the situation.

“You did the right thing, Cap” Bruce says in consolation, “You got him here, you convinced him to let us run the tests-”

“I lied to him” Steve counters, “I told him I was goin’ to the office-”

“and I told Y/N I didn’t mind my kid sister shacking up with the guy who killed our parents” Tony cuts in dryly, raising his hand to silence Steve’s budding defence of the man, “My point, is that sometimes we lie to the people we love, welcome to the twenty-first century.”

He shrugs, looking pointedly back at his notes.

“weren't they together before you found out about that?” Bruce asks, before remembering that they're supposed to be avoiding that topic all together, “not that it matters - he’s right, Steve— He’s okay, we’ve got some good data, hopefully he’ll clean up quickly enough-”

Tony barks out a laugh that he tries to disguise as a cough when he see’s the genuine look of upset that Steve is wearing.

“Sorry” he says, “But that guy’s blood is… it’s something else… he’s got a hell of a come down headin’ his way”

“But he’ll be fine?” Steve asks, terrified again, “Right?”

“Right” Bruce answers instantly, “Right, just-”

“Not for awhile.” Tony finishes,

“Y/N isn't a child” the other man cuts in helpfully, “and, she has more than enough experience handling Barnes-”

“She’s not his handler” The other Stark bristles, “She loves the guy, which is the only reason I’m-”

“I didn’t mean it like that” Bruce says, calm tone working at diffusing Tony’s budding irritation, “but, again, he’s right Steve— She dotes on him, I think we should leave them to it for a couple of days at least— FRIDAY can keep an eye out”

He doesn’t like the idea of staying away, but it’s clear that he doesn’t have a choice. Barnes had said that he didn’t want him interfering, and he can’t say he blames him. Dignity isn’t something he’s had a lot of, over the years. HYDRA clearly hadn’t been very big on it, so robbing him of the little privacy he’s trying to have would be absurdly selfish.

By the time both Bucky and Y/N have made it back to the room they share, the man is drenched in sweat. He’s shaking so much that he’s barely managing to walk, flesh arm draped around his partners shoulder for support.

“Okay, love, I know… It’s okay, we’re here, you’re alright” she soothes, locking the door behind them, “FRIDAY, lets turn the heat up— Keep it high for the next 48 hours.”

The ‘Yes, boss’ that usually follows a command is drowned up the the sound of Bucky’s retching.

It’s loud, and hollow and he’s hunched over at the waist, and then, he’s puking, stomach acid burning up his throat as he screws his eyes shut—

“Alright” Y/N murmurs, adjusting herself around him the best she can, “Alright, it’s okay”

It’s not. He’s not—

He tries to straighten himself out, but the second he tries to move, it feels like he’s being kicked in the ribs. He doubles over, and then, just as the second round of hurling stops, he drops to his knees.

Y/N can’t catch him, he’s way too heavy, but she can wait until he’s still before moving round to his side, and running her hands through his hair, holding it away from his face as he starts throwing up again.

It hurts. He hasn’t eaten in days, which is probably why it feels like knives are being twisted in his stomach as he continues to cough wetly into his own lap.

“You heard what Bruce said about fluids, right?”

He nods as much as he can with the way she’s holding his hair.

If I can’t keep them down, I get an IV.

She suspects the way that he’s processed the sentiment is a little off. She thinks that she should probably remind him that hooking him up to a saline bag won’t be a punishment he earns by not drinking enough, but now doesn’t seem like the time. Not with the way he’s starting to sob-

Hollow, gasping cries are rattling his chest, tears starting to stream down his face, mixing with whatever other bodily fluids are shining by his jaw.

“Okay, Buck...” she soothes, taking a hair tie from her wrist and using that to hold his hair in place, “It’s all going to be alright”

Exhausted, blood shot eyes roll over to her as she slips into his field of vision.

He doesn’t believe her at all.

“Don’t leave me” is all he manages to say, “Please.. I— I d-don’t w-want to die on my own—Please I- I want to die with you.”

And then, just like that, he’s not just sobbing anymore.

He’s weeping. It’s loud, and uncontrollable. He’s shaking and looking at her with a look that she knows will stick behind her eyes forever;

“You’re not going to die” she promises lamely, tugging him into her chest, wrapping her arms around his back not caring for one second about the way that he’s still covered in puke, “But I’m still not leaving you on your own…”

Bucky disagrees with her. He can’t catch his breath, he can’t breathe and that alone might kill him. Let alone the way his entire body feels like it’s being torn apart from the inside out— This, whatever this new, incredible pain is, is worse than anything he remembers having lived through before, and some of that had nearly finished him off—

He gags, into her chest, feeling her hands stroking the burning skin of his back through the material that is clinging to his body, now.

“Oh, sweetheart” she sighs, “Lets get you in the shower”

While we can still move you

She doesn’t say that out loud. She doesn’t have too.

He’s not going to fight, or tell her that he doesn’t want to move— He just keeps crying as she helps him drag himself into their bathroom, and then, into the walk in cubicle, under a stream of warm water he doesn’t remember her starting.

The noise is soothing. So is the feeling of it rushing over him, drenching his hair, washing his face; and then, he sees her.

She’s naked, and perfect and kneeling down in front of him.

He’s still dressed, he realises with a blink that he’s still wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants.

Mechanically, he moves to take his shirt off.

It’s agony. He doesn’t know why, but the second he moves his shoulder it feels like the entire seam of his scar is tearing open. His bones all feel broken. He makes a noise that sounds like a wounded animal, and then, Y/N is moving for him; she’s guiding the fabric up and over his chest, and she’s stroking his cheek as he whimpers and whines and finally kicks his legs free from his pants.

He feels like he’s just run a marathon, like he doesn’t have an ounce of energy left. So he just lets himself fall back against the towels, crying, and shivering under the spray of water.

Y/N cleans him slowly, taking her time lathering him up in sweet smelling soap. She doesn’t touch is scar, though. It’s red, and angry, and it looks awfully painful.

HYDRA had a morphine substitute going almost round the clock when he was off ice, she recalls, that’s probably why.

“Can I touch your shoulder, love?” she asks calmly, “You can say no”

The reminder that he’s free to refuse is very much needed. The terror driven ‘yes ma’am’ he’s about to blurt out dies in his throat, and he just simpers for a moment before flexing metal fingers and whispering out a “Please don’t” that Y/N thinks might be the bravest thing she’s heard him say.

“Okay” she agrees with a smile, “Okay, Buck— I know it hurts”

“E-ev-everything hurts”

She nods, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“I know” she says, “I know it does, I’m sorry”

“W-whats happening’ to me”

“You’re withdrawing” she repeats, knowing that he already knows “All those drugs HYDRA had you hooked on, baby, all of it’s gone— there was a pump in your arm, it kept it all on automatic but there isn’t anyone left to put in a re-fill, remember? so now you’re detoxing, it’s all leaving’ your system”

That all sounds like something he’s been told before. He remembers fragments of conversations, of talks with her, and her brother, and Bruce; about his arm, and about the components inside and how they were using them to medicate him— He remembers them deciding not to take it out, to let it run it’s course, not wanting to just cut him off cold turkey—

“I, I can’t do this” he whispers, “I- I need I— p-please j-just just-”

“We can’t” Y/N says sadly, “Bucky we tried, remember? There isn’t anything we can do, the units been deactivated and we can’t just throw another one in, it doesn’t work that way.”

He’s so hopelessly, crushingly defeated that all he can do is keep crying.

The feeling of his lovers fingers drifting across his face is the only facet of comfort he has, so when they stop, it’s more than he can bare.

His flesh hand shoots up to hers, so that he can press it back against his jaw with a look so desperate that she can feel her own chest aching;

“You’re going to be alright” she promises again, “We’ve run all the tests, love… It’s going to be a rough couple of days but after, when it’s all run it’s course you’ll feel better than you did before”

He doesn’t believe there’s going to be an after. He’s honestly certain that he’s going to die in agony before anything can ‘run it’s course’ -

“I know you’re scared, I know it’s all too much” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss his brow, “But, you’ve done it before… so many times, love… and this time, I’m going to be here, you’re not going to be on your own”

A line forms between his eyes, he doesn’t remember, he—

Oh, oh god.

He remembers hell. He remembers flashes of something he’d hoped had been nightmare— stone walls, and clawing at his skin until it tears open underneath his fingers, and, and the sound of screams, of his own screams until his voice gives in, and, no, not it’s all way too much—

He’s throwing up again, even though nothing is coming up. He’s gagging and spluttering and his heart is racing.

Y/N realises what must’ve triggered this reaction, and shakes her head the second he can see—

“Don’t think about that” she whispers, “there’s a reason you don’t remember it all, okay? It’s not your fault and it’s not important— What is important, is that you hear me, okay? I’ve got you, and this, this is all going to be okay”

The nod he gives her is barely a twitch, but she catches it all the same, and then, a few minutes later when she turns the water off, and feels flesh fingers reaching out for her hand, she catches that too.

She is the only thing he cares about right now. His entire world is searing, blazing pain, but she, she is soft, and kind and he loves her, and he trusts her and even though he’s still half convinced that this is really going to kill him, if he gets to die holding her hand then maybe the pain won’t seem so bad.

Bucky doesn’t remember her helping him put boxers on, or how he got into their bed.

He remembers the way his crying had gotten more hysterical when she’d let go of his fingers so that she could put a towel on the floor beside him, and he remembers the way that when she’d gotten under the covers he’d rolled over, ignoring the way that his whole body had felt like it’d torn apart at the action, so that he could bury his face in the crook of her neck— so that he could sob into her skin and cling onto her body in an attempt to keep her close.

“My sweet, sweet boy” Y/N purrs, taking the hint and tugging him into her front, “If you want anything… anything at all, you just tell me, alright?”

“Y-you” he gulps, “I- I want y-you— I- I need you, I— I’m s-so scared— I- I j-just want you here”

“I’m here” she whispers, trying to calm him down, “I’m right here”

He forces a nod. This time, the action is more notable, so is the way his hands tighten around her waist, locking himself in position so firmly that nothing, nobody, would stand a chance at prising him away.

“Hush now” she says, stroking his hair, “You just keep breathing for me, okay? that’s your only job right now… you just need to breathe, and rest”

Breathe, and rest.

“I-I’ll t-try I— I swear”

His promise is hissed out through gritted teeth, but Y/N still smiles when she hears it. She smiles, and kisses the top of his head, feeling his sobs becoming quieter and quieter until eventually, they fade off into the kind of quiet, uneven gasps that usually means he’s asleep.

Thank god, she thinks, praying he’ll stay that way for awhile.

1 | 2 | 3a

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inlovewithpandora · 1 year

Text

- Something New || Part One -

Pairing: Jake x fem! human/avatar!reader x Neytiri

Synopsis: When you and Jake go on your first expedition in the rainforest it takes a turn…

Content/Warnings: no warnings really, strong language, Jake lowkey being in his silly goofy mood, Jake & y/n getting chased (and captured), mention of Neytiri

Author’s Note: I’m so excited to start this series, I hope you all enjoy this part as much as I did!

- please excuse any mistakes!

Word Count: 2k

Glossary: Eywa'eveng - Eywa Child (what Na’vi call Pandora) || Palulukan - Thanator || Atokirina - Woodsprite || Uniltìrantokx - Dreamwalker || pa'li - Direhorse || Olo’eyktan - Clan Leader || Tsahìk - spiritual leader

- All Na’vi words used are bolded (I used more Na’vi words than usual for some reason😭)

Extra: requests are open! Please read rules prior to requesting!

Links: Navigation || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

Part Two →

"One idiot (Jake) with a gun is enough" you heard Grace say as she talked to the recom guy who she told to stay on the ship.

You, Grace, Jake, and Norm were out in your avatar bodies exploring the forest so you and Jake could get a feel of Eywa'eveng as the Na'vi call it. You were a new scientist, just recently added to Grace's research team just like your boyfriend Jake. You were friends with his brother Tom, he was the one who piqued your interest in Pandora and the Na'vi.

Tom taught you little things here and there about the flora, fauna, and the Na'vi and it always left you wanting more which made you sign up for the Avatar program. You were enthusiastic to be alongside your friend on this journey of discovery until you got the news from Jake that he was killed.

It hurt you to the core knowing that you lost one of your closest friends but to also know that he couldn't fulfill his dreams, that he couldn't do the things he worked so hard to attain.

As all of you continued walking through the forest Jake was aiming his gun in every direction that emitted a noise, "Those are just prolemuris Jake" you tell him as you watched the blue and green colored animals swing on different vines and trees.

"Pro-Prole what? What is that?" Jake's face scrunched in confusion at the foreign word

"Pro-le-mur-is" you say slowly for him to understand "It's similar to the monkeys on earth. They are unaggressive and they won't harm us"

Jake didn't have any type of knowledge about Pandora's vast variety of flora or fauna so majority of the time you had to feed him information like you're doing now.

"Relax marine" Grace put her hand on Jake's gun and shoved it towards the ground "You're making me nervous," she told him as she walked away and ventured deeper into the forest.

- timeskip -

Grace and Norm were taking samples from some tree roots and you stood in front of them listening to Grace explain what type of energy transfer was occurring. As you continued observing you could hear footsteps retreating behind you, you turn around and see Jake walking off to another part of the forest.

"Jake you shouldn't be wandering out here by yourself, all of us need to stay together," you say loudly as you walk up to him trying to get his attention

"I'm fine babe I have a gun to protect me" You just roll your eyes at the overconfidence in his tone and walked beside him as he continues looking out for any dangers that might occur.

As both of you walked and talked together you heard some plants rustle behind you. Your ears perked up as you heard the noise so you turned around filled with curiosity. As you turned your heels you came face to face with a palulukan, when you saw it raise it's distinctive crest your ears feel flat to your head and your tail curled behind you.

"J-Ja-Jak-" your words were so jumbled and fear was overbearing you so much that you couldn't properly say his name. Jake didn't understand why you were stammering so he turned around to see what made you act this way.

Once he turned around and saw the ferocious animal his eyes grew wide, "what the fuck is that?!"

"It's a thanator."

"What do we do? Are we supposed to run?"

"Yes run, we should definitely get the hell out of here before it tries to eat us!" you grab Jake's hand and began walking away slowly as you see the palulukan looking in another direction.

Once the palulukan noticed both of you retreating it roared, baring its teeth as it gets ready to pounce. Without a second thought, you and Jake began running through the forest trying to get away from the fearsome predator as fast as possible. You both jump over trees, run through bushes, and many more obstacles that are in your path.

You and Jake crawl under the roots of a tree and he begins to shoot at the vicious animal. The bullets flying just made the palulukan more aggressive than before, it reached its head under the root and grabbed Jake's gun by the mouth, and tossed it away.

Both of you crawled from under the root and continued running. As both of you ran you heard a shout from Jake, "Shit!"

you turned around and saw the palulukan swinging Jake around by his backpack, "Jake!" you screamed out as you watch him being thrown around like a rag doll.

As Jake is being thrown around he came up with an idea to get out of this predicament, he unbuckled his backpack from his waist and was able to get free from the palulukan hold.

Once Jake fell onto the ground you ran over to him, "Jake! Jake! Are you okay?!" You asked him as you scanned his body to make sure he didn't have any injuries. "Yes yes I'm fine let's just away from this crazy ass animal" Jake scrambled off the ground, grabbed your hand, and dragged you through the forest.

As both of you continued sprinting through the forest your path comes to an end and are faced with an enormous waterfall, "y/n come on we need to jump!" Jake began looking back to see if the palulukan was near.

"N-No Jake I can't jump! We're too high up! We're going to plummet to our death if we jump!" You ramble on and on about all the things that could go wrong. Your heart was beating faster than it was before, if its pace quickened anymore your heart would beat out of your chest.

Jake put his hands on your shoulders and he could feel you shaking, "Look y/n we have to do this okay? If we don't that thing is going to kill us, come on babe be brave for me okay?"

"O-okay I'll do it" your voice quivers as you look down at the many many feet you'll have to jump. You grab Jake's hand and begin to squeeze his hand, "1...2...3..." At the same time both of you leap off the cliff and gravity pulls both of you towards the massive body of water.

After a few seconds, both of your bodies hit the water, once your body reached the bottom you began to swim to the surface.

When your head went above the water you gasped for air, trying to replenish your lungs with much-needed oxygen.

The flow of the water was rapid, it was pushing you down the stream so fast that you could barely process it. As your body was being pushed downstream you saw tree limbs and roots off to the side. You immediately went over to it and threw your arm over the root so you could stay out in that one spot.

As you look around you don't see Jake anymore which scares you, "Jake! Jake!" you screamed to the top of your lungs calling out for him hoping that he would hear you and pop out of the water.

Your eyes frantically scanned the body of water but nothing. You couldn't see his blue skin, his yellow eyes, nothing. There wasn't a single trace of him anywhere.

After a while of hanging onto the branch still searching for Jake, you realized that you needed to get on land. You climb up the limb as much as possible until you were able to touch the mossy forest floor.

- Timeskip -

You were now wandering around the forest, trying to find any sort of fruit to consume. It's been hours since you and Jake ran away from the palulukan and you still haven't found him yet which gave you an ample amount of anxiety.

You continued walking, mentally praying that Jake returns to you safe and sound.

From above there was a pair of golden eyes watching your every move which went unnoticed by you since your back was facing the tree the person was in.

The pair of eyes belong to no other than Neytiri.

She watched you pick fruit from a small bush as she grabbed her bow and pointed her arrow in your direction, ready to release it and let it pierce your spine.

When she began the process of releasing an Atokirina landed on the tip of her arrow. She was confused by the action, wondering why Eywa gave her this sign, wondering why would Eywa thought that a uniltìrantokx was so important that she should spare her life.

She lowered her bow and watched you curiously for a few moments before disappearing within the shadows of the rainforest meanwhile you were enjoying the juicy fruit you found.

As you sat down on the ground with your back leaning against the tree you heard the snap of a twig which made you furrow your brows. You immediately jumped up and grabbed your knife going into defense mode, as you looked around slowly trying to find the cause of the noise you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist.

Without a second thought, you elbow the person in the face which makes them let go of you. You were about to run off without even looking back at the person until you heard their voice, "Dammit y/n"

You turn around and see Jake rubbing his nose from the pain you caused him, "Jake?!" You run up and hug him, you were so happy to know he was still alive and okay but you didn't like the fact he scared you. When you released him from the hug you shoved him in the chest, "Why did you scare me like that? you idiot! I thought you were a random Na'vi trying to attack me or something!"

"I'm sorry y/n I didn't mean to but you got me back for it though because you hit my nose pretty damn good"

"Sorry about that babe..." you say flashing him a soft smile hoping he would forgive you for hitting him.

"It's whatever now, I'm just glad to see you again" he walked up to you, placing his hands on both sides of your face while gliding his thumbs ever so slightly on your sapphire skin.

Jake looks down at you with eyes filled with happiness from being reunited after not knowing about each other's whereabouts for many hours. Jake leans down slowly, beginning to make his lips come in contact with your soft ones. As you leaned in with him both of your lips connected.

The kiss was something both of you needed, something to help calm both of your spirits since both of you have to spend the night in the forest until morning so someone could come find you.

You thought nothing could disturb this moment between you and Jake... until something did...

Once you and Jake pulled away from each other multiple Na'vi were standing in front of you and Jake with bows and arrows in their hands. You and Jake's first thought was to run away so that's what both of you did... or attempted to do.

Both of you only made it a few feet away before being cornered by more Na'vi warriors who were riding pa'li. Jake pulled out his knife and held you close to him while the warriors on pa'li pointed their bows at both of you while yelping out small war cries.

As they got closer to both of you, aiming the arrows directly at your chest Jake just chuckled with frustration, "You got to be fucking kidding me" he mumbled while dropping the knife on the ground.

The warriors didn't waste any time and grabbed you and Jake forcefully, harshly grabbing you by your biceps, pressing their digits into your skin so hard you were positive that it would leave faint purple marks later.

They began dragging you across the forest, ready to take you and your boyfriend to their Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk so they could determine your fate, so they could decide if you lived to see the next day or they would make you regret stepping foot in the rainforest.

Previous || Next

I hope you enjoyed💗!

Likes, comments, & reblogs are highly appreciated💗!

Taglist: @number1gal @liyahsocorro @iwantjaketosullyme @fanboyluvr @kapyzkms @ladespedidas @navegaluv @teyamsbitch @haileymsstuff @onlyloaksgf @kierys-blog @myh3artttt @julyytsireya @gamerxpfighter @h3l3na-pandora @narratorv-sky @potatoknishesofficial69 @downbadforloak @yetanotherattemptatanaccount @yeosxxx @ghoul-bonez @bakugouswaif @hc-geralt-23 @nelissecrectplace @avatarl0v3r @neteyamyawne @iluvpandorawomen @jakesullyfatjuicypeen

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greenishghostey · 2 years

Note

the commonly referenced 'messy bun' eddie puts his hair into isn't actually a bun, it's just a ponytail he didn't pull all the way through

His pretty pretty curls tied back all messy because it’s summer and he’s got to clean out his van

That’s the plot synopsis of this. Also, goofy fluff for fluff's sake

///

July in Hawkins was usually a similar temperature to the surface of the sun. Eddie would lovingly grumble about how it “feels like Satan’s moist armpit”; he had such an eloquent way with words.

The summer sun was particularly punishing as it bounced around the trailer park. You were almost tempted to try and cook some eggs for breakfast on the steps of Eddie's trailer - the resulting bacteria would have been a bitch to deal with though.

Eddie always used hot, sticky summer days to clean his van. The body and windows desperately needed to be blasted with a hose. A whole lot of random crap had accumulated in the back of the van - fast food wrappers, busted guitar cables, Corroded Coffin poster samples. The brown shag rug lining the back needed to be vacuumed very, very badly, too.

You were always happy to help out with the van cleaning. Partly because it was just nice to spend time on a nice day with your boyfriend. But mainly because you got to look at him while he cleaned.

Eddie didn't own any shirts that were breezy enough for the July heat, so he ditched the shirt altogether. His tattoos and freckled skin were on full display in the golden sunshine. He was glowing. One, because he was a pretty guy, and two, because you had rubbed a lot of sunblock on him - much to his protests.

In addition to going half-naked, "showing off the goods," as he put it. Eddie also tied his curls up. The hair tie he used, which was probably months old, given how overstretched it was, only held his hair back loosely. The ponytail sat against the back of his neck, and several wild strands fell around his sweaty face.

You were taking a break from vacuuming the car seats, lounging back on a low, green deck chair and observing. Secretly, you were happy that you had the privilege of seeing Eddie being all effortlessly hot. The guy was a solid 10, and no one else in the entire town got to see him the way you did.

Admittedly, you felt a little iffy watching him while knocking back a beer from the cooler at your feet, objectifying him while he was hosing down the van. But you also knew that he was far too aware of what he was doing.

"You missed a spot on the windscreen." You pointed out, gesturing to the dried bird shit near the window wipers. Eddie turned to you and peered over his sunglasses. Letting him buy aviators was an awful idea. Especially since you'd seen Top Gun with your friends a few months back.

"I'm doing the wipers separately. There's more bird shit and dead bugs on 'em than what you can see," Eddie explained. He still moved the spray of the hose over the area you had pointed out. You were just trying to be helpful, and he appreciated it. "Oh, there's a huge spider in here too! Come see!"

You had to peel yourself off the plastic of the deck chair - the heat was just a joke now. Eddie had started poking at the wipers, inspecting the area for any live creepy crawlers that he could save before causing a tsunami for them.

"I swear if there's hair on this spider, I'll-" You were abruptly cut off by a fast spray of water hitting you in the chest. Eddie was a dead man. Regardless of his summer look.

"Been waiting all day to do that." Eddie cackled, doubling over at the sight of the death glare you were giving him. "Love ya, though. Hey, no bra, how nice of you." he preened, quickly stealing a kiss on your damp cheek.

The t-shirt you were wearing was now like a second skin. The red cotton clung to your torso, and you quickly realised the reason for Eddie's aim. As Eddie moved away from you, you made fast work of disarming him of the hose. The second it was in your hand, his face dropped, and he bolted around the van.

"Can you blame me for the wet t-shirt?! Like really?" Eddie pleaded as you stalked after him, hose in a vice grip. You knew your boyfriend was a perv, sure, but you could still get a bit of revenge in exchange for it.

"It is chaffing my armpits, Edward." You hissed, aiming a hose blast at his head, but he quickly ducked behind one of the open back doors.

"Well, I'm sorry about that. But you've been ogling me all day! Can't a guy see some wet t-shirt action!" This time he luckily dodged your line of fire.

"I've been ogling you for twenty minutes AT MOST!"

"HA! So, you admit-" Eddie cut himself off with an "oof" as you had managed to catch him and shove him lightly into the side of the van - the clean side. He immediately raised his hands in defeat, pushing his sunglasses into his hair so he could try to win you over with the puppy dog eyes. Damn, the guy was good; you had to give him some credit. "C'mon, babe, you don't really wanna do this. How 'bout I make it up to you later? I'll do that thing-" The offer was tempting, but you only pinned Eddie more firmly to the metal.

The spray blasted directly on the top of his head, soaking his face, hair and shoulders in an instant. "You will be doing that thing later, dumbass." You grumbled, releasing the now water-logged man and marching off with the hose.

You took maybe five steps away from Eddie before he ran up, grabbed you from behind and started shaking his sodden hair in your face like a big dog. His barking laugh at your struggling to run away warmed your heart and made you forgive him. Only a little bit, though.

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson x reader fluff #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson fic #fluff #fic #Eddie #stranger things

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flagellant · 2 years

Note

lmao the obesity article from huffpo you reblogged is so insanely incorrect

First off, the whole "Your body is just doing what it's supposed to do, you're fat because you're MEANT to be fat!" while also saying "about 40 years ago, Americans started getting much larger" hmm... Why only Americans? Why only 40 years ago?

That seems odd, that Americans, specifically, would suddenly change to being naturally fat. Even today America has a much higher rate of obesity than other places like Japan. How is that? Wonder what would be discovered if we looked at when things like beet sugar, corn syrup, etc. started to be commonly added to foods 🤔

And then the "diets don't work!" spiel, along with emotionally charged reports of people starving themselves until they passed out.

What diets specifically doesn't work? Were the people getting enough calories? Did they stop the diet, and then the weight came back? Did they start with small, gradual changes or completely overhaul their entire meal plan right away?

They say "95% to 98% of research shows diets fail" what research? What studies? What was the sample size? What were people eating? Were they given any help to maintain their diet or encourage any other healthy habits, or were they just given a list of foods to eat and sent on their way?

It sounds like ALL the diets they talk about in the article are shitty. People starving themselves, people doing useless fad diets, etc. and presenting it as if weight loss is IMPOSSIBLE. Which is crazy, considering all the people I've seen who lose weight, maintain the loss, and feel insanely better than they did when they were obese.

Maybe it's not that "diets" don't work, but that the diet industry doesn't work? After all, what would happen if they encouraged people to change their relationship with food completely, starting with small, gradual changes, and work on fixing their gut microbiome and cutting out unnecessary things from their diet like processed sugars, corn syrup, etc? Then people would lose weight. Then they wouldn't need expensive diet plans anymore.

And then the industry has no more customers. Just like if Apple makes phones that actually work and aren't pieces of trash, then they wouldn't be making money from people buying new iPhones every other year. Same with the clothing industry, and the pharmaceutical industry, and every other industry.

For someone who always talks about people researching things and checking out the sources on information before automatically believing it ya'll don't seem very good at it lmao

I'd like to start off with saying that I definitely agree with you in that the way the diet industry is structured exists to predate upon invented insecurities, just like nearly any cosmetics aimed at body alteration to some degree (makeup included). We also agree that it is fundamentally built to ensure failure and ongoing failure as a norm, in the same way that we're never going to get a proper cure for cancer when the cancer industry is so insanely prevalent and profitable.

That said, I understand your...frustration, let's call it, sure, about the fact that no, I did not do any further digging into this and took it at its word. You have my apologies for that.

However. I'd like to use this as a tool for transparency and assuming best intent. Your tone and treatment of me in this is rather hostile and I don't see the purpose that it serves. If I'm someone who claims to find accuracy in reporting important, then yes, accuracy needs to be had. And it was as simple as just Googling "95% diets fail". First result is an article from the NYT debunking it and explaining why it's a myth and bad statistics.

But that same article gets me to the heart of why I'm writing things out this way: you brought it up yourself, in fact, though in deciding to get petty you probably missed the subtext. For over forty years now these numbers have been used and spread around to the point where countless literal professional doctors don't have any idea that it's false. After all, we live in a society where diet industries have for pretty much ever been able to operate with nearly no regulation, fat people aren't actually given a shit about from medical professionals and are just told to get GPS, etc...you could even say this is a systemic issue which started long before I and likely you (and most reading this) were born.

Nobody learns these things on accident. You're absolutely right that if I looked it up and researched the claims I could easily have found out their validity to be nonexistent. But why would I? This isn't new research. This isn't anything that goes against anything I was ever taught. It's just a fact of life, just the way things are. People thought the universe was geocentric.

So with that said, I have to admit that while I've done my best to not vent my irritation at you or anyone else, it is deeply frustating, sure, we'll call it, to have you walk up to me and act in this way. It would be one thing if this wasn't a case of unlearning systemic bias and normativity. That'd be on me, absolutely.

But instead of thinking things through like an emotionally mature individual and going "Hm, this dude who says it finds research/accuracy important posted some stuff which was wrong, which I'm aware has a history going back multiple decades and is still going strong. Maybe the reason they didn't do any followup research was because they've lived their entire life hearing this same statistic over and over again and therefore thought that their systemic biases were accurate and saw nothing wrong because they couldn't,"

you decided to be a cunt for no fucking reason and you knew it because you had to go on Anonymous to hide any possible consequences coming your way for your actions. So thanks for informing me about this, I'm genuinely grateful and we, again, completely fucking agree ideologically, but/so fuck you for thinking that acting like a fucking 10th grader with a gotcha was a better use of anyone's time than just typing out "Hey that diet thing you reblogged is actually completely false if you look it up" to which I would have gone "Oh shit you're right, here's some followup research I did about this thing and how it's a systemic bias that needs to be unlearned".

#modern day cassandra #goes in that tag because wow you literally could not help yourself from just assuming my absolute worst #did it help? did the serotonin shot of being cruel to someone you don't know feel good?#was the rage righteous despite its needlessness?#have you done praxis by sending bitchy Anonymous asks on tumblr?#is the community organized now?#sorry for being so venting my aggressions in the tags but man. you really could have just assumed good faith.#you really did have all the evidence that i value good faith and take stuff like this as learning experiences and tools.#you REALLY did not need to act like an insecure 16 year old taking solace in finding a situation where #someone is being treated like shit for everyone to laugh at but you're the bully now #smh. grow up.

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r0guedr0id · 6 months

Text

The Unknown Regions V

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: Grogu is gone and Din Djarin, surprisingly, needs your help. As an astrophysicist, you haven't seen a lot of action, but you're onboard the Razor Crest without a second thought. Flying to the Wild Space together will be a life-changing experience for both of you. In more than one way.

The Unknown Regions Masterlist | Read it on AO3

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut; the bucket stays on; naked female clothed male; fluff and smut; hurt and comfort; Sad Din :(

Word count: 3,136

A/N: I've taken so long to close this chapter since I was having a major episode of autistic burnout bothering me. But slowly I'm recovering and finally forced myself to do the things I enjoy like writing fics! So I'm back with this story! It keeps getting longer so I initially planned 5 chapters but they'll end up being 7. This one is longer and then 6 will be pure filth ;) and 7 will serve as a kind of epilogue. Strap on for some confessions and feelings in this one! Also, keldabe kiss if you catch the reference in the chapter end!

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“Hi sweetheart”, you cooed, your tone soft and quiet.

The kid was poking his little face behind the doorframe, looking at his dad and you alternatively. The first day after rescuing him, he didn’t want to eat anything and Din was crazy worried. Normally, he said, he had quite the appetite. The boy just napped on his father’s chest, sometimes waking up weeping from nightmares. Your heart ached for him. What had he possibly gone through on that planet to be like that? Din and you decided that waiting for you to be introduced to Grogu was the best since he wasn’t feeling safe. But for the last hours, he seemed like he was recovering, eating finally some food and looking better.

As Din expected, the whole plan was aimed to lure him into a trap. An act of revenge from some pirates that, thankfully, didn’t know anything about the kid’s powers and just abducted him as bait when they couldn’t defeat his dad back on Tatooine. He came all hurt from the battle. You had been anxiously waiting for him, feeling powerless to stay back, but accompanying him would have been a liability. To keep yourself busy, you run some diagnostics about the planet. It wasn’t the moment to be excited, but landing on a planet you had just discovered was something any scientist would dream about. So you were distracted by studying the atmosphere and taking some samples from the soil when you saw him limping through the forest, you left your tools to run towards him. You were going to ask when he put his pointer finger where his lips would be in a universal signal. Silence. Then, he looked between his arms and you followed. Between his strong arms, there was bundled the most precious creature you had ever seen. His son. The baby was snoring softly under his blanket and you nodded in understanding.

After entering the hull, his arm over your shoulders, he didn’t let you give him treatment. His one and only goal was to be sure of the kid’s health. He took his temperature, listened to his tiny lungs and tried feeding him. Shortly after it was clear the only damage the boy had suffered was psychological. He didn’t rest nor sleep, and you accompanied him the whole time. Watching the baby rest on Din’s breastplate, and how the warrior caressed the little fuzzy head, made your heart go wild. The love and devotion he demonstrated to his kid only made you fonder of The Mandalorian.

After the incident that had interrupted your heavy make-out session, you didn’t touch again. Din was laser-focused on the mission, especially when you landed and he had to recover all the information possible about the enemy’s base. For that, it was useful to have brought your little drone droid with you, the type that was launched to unknown planets to retrieve information. Din frowned at the little droid at first, but when it proved its worth he became more accepting about it. It was the droid that provided a map of the underground base, checked if the air was breathable and let Din know how many enemies were stationed there.

When he didn’t start the take-off protocol upon his arrival, you were worried about your safety but didn’t say anything. Later you’d learn he had killed them all. How that information should have felt? Frightening, probably, disgusting. But the fact that he slayed more than twenty pirates just to avenge his son and ensure his safety was kind of incredible. You only admired him more for that.

Before arriving on the planet, you had lamented the lack of intimacy. Your rational self told you he was having complicated feelings, that he was preparing himself for the mission and didn’t have time for that. In fact, he was making an inventory of his weapons and cleaning them regularly. But the thing was that your feelings were hurt and you couldn’t stop overthinking about your past intercourse. He had been so vulnerable it had broken your heart. He had cried in your lap, and you had held him until he calmed down, caressing there where the beskar didn’t protect his flesh. You knew it wasn’t about you, for kriff’s sake, but that little voice inside your head said the contrary. That he had thought it better. That he felt repulsed by you. Like a mantra, you repeated his praise words in your head to keep the overthinking away when you were trying to sleep.

The intimacy didn’t return, but the boy did, and he was feeling better every day. Grogu was a curious and energetic kid and it took a lot to keep up with him. His appetite returned eventually, and you could see how Din was relaxing little by little. The day he introduced both of you, the baby had toddled towards your boot and hugged it, and then started to babble incoherently. It turned out to be a good signal because from that day you became buddies. With any spare part, cloth or scrap, you made him toys and invented little games to let Din rest from time to time. You grew very fond of the kid, he was a charmer and you liked children. Often, his dad observed you both, normally after waking up from a much-needed nap. He stated immobile, looking at both of you, and you’d flash him a smile. Maybe he didn’t want you anymore, maybe it had been just a desperate moment of need, but something about the way his hands twitched when he looked at you gave you hope.

Eventually, you needed to refuel and buy supplies on your way to Tatooine. You didn’t want to think about the day all of this would end. You tried not to. But the shadow was there. The fact was that you didn’t miss your workplace. All the return trip, you had been working on your data about the new planet and sending it to the observatory, discovering further about the chemistry of its atmosphere and soil. You’d been researching about the moon you saw when you were in orbit, a satellite you didn’t notice from the observatory. It was real, it was tangible. It wasn’t only numbers and abstract calculations, a part you enjoyed, but now you had discovered it wasn’t enough.

The planet you had landed on for your supply run was a safe one, so you accompanied Din through the market. Compared to Tatooine, this place was so lush and colourful, so you were enjoying yourself a lot by asking vendors and looking through things.

“Do you like this carpet?” Din surprised you with his question while you were checking some shawls.

“What?” He just pointed to a beautiful and fluffy carpet hanging on a stall.

“It’s lovely! It’ll warm the Razor Crest for sure, the kid can play on it…”

“It’s for you.” He cut you, changing his weight uncomfortably.

“I ruined your carpet back on Tatooine. By bleeding.”

Your laugh took him by surprise apparently. After everything, he was thinking of replacing your carpet? He was so, so sweet and your heart ached a bit.

“You don’t need to buy me a carpet, you have already given me more than more than I could dream of.” You didn’t intend to sound that deep, it was only a carpet for maker’s sake! But the truth was that you felt so grateful for the opportunity Did had given you by travelling with him. He tilted his head and crossed his arms. The kid started to play with the carpet’s tassels, but all of Din’s attention was on you.

“I don’t understand. You left everything to help us. The least I could do…” He looked to both sides, noticing all the vendor’s eyes were on them. There wasn’t a place to have that conversation. “Let’s go back to the Crest.” You nodded and followed after untangling the kid from the soft tassels. It was a beautiful carpet, to be honest.

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After spending the day in the market, full of new and exciting things, the kid was snoring even before arriving at the Razor Crest. Both of you stayed silent to not disturb the baby, so your conversation was postponed for the moment.

Din had landed on a quiet forest clearing, and the only sound was the humming of the nocturnal birds. The temperature was nice, so silently you both agreed to light a campfire to cookdinner and luckily, hang out a bit. He went to put Grogu in his little hammock while you looked for firewood, so you had some space for yourself to think.

“Don't go too far,” he'd said seriously, and as other times you noticed his gaze lingering more than necessary in you. You'd smiled and rolled your eyes playfully. He was worrying too much, this was a safe planet after all. But you couldn't deny that his concerns about your safety warmed your heart a little too much.

While looking for the most promising branches in the surroundings of the clearing, you thought about the carpet event. It made you think about your home. You felt ashamed about how little though you had put on the fact that you'd be in your cabin again, soon. The little space you had worked hard to get, your sanctuary. And you didn't miss it a little bit. Well, maybe your bathtub and scented candles. But that was it.

The fact was that flying in the Razor Crest felt like home. And it didn't have anything to do with the old hunk of metal and its barren, utilitarian interior. It was Din, who made you feel safe, your unspeakable connection. How he had held you, as the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And the addition of the child only had made the sensation grow. The little critter was beyond adorable and you loved the humble routines the three of you had established. And observing how his dad took care of him, so gently and patiently, only made you grow fonder of the Mandalorian.

But everything had to end. Something too similar to grief started to grow inside of your chest. You pressed the firewood harder against your body. There was enough to light a nice bonfire so you decided to return to the Crest. After all, you had a pending conversation with Din.

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Together you started the campfire and prepared a delicious meal with the fresh produce from the market. You insisted on cooking something from your birthplace since the ingredients were available, and Din indulged. Since you were flying together, he would always wait to eat after you or eat in the cockpit, but the stew was ready and he wasn't moving. You didn’t know what to do.

“I'll go change, tell me if you like it!” Din looked at you and nodded slowly. It was strange, he was even more silent than normal.

Putting your night clothes on, you felt relieved. With what you had been wearing, although cute, your thighs had been burning after some hours of walking in the warm weather. You refreshed yourself a little and checked if the kid was still asleep and well.

“Are you visible?” You asked before going down the hull, hoping he had had enough time to have dinner in peace.

“Yes, you can come out.” You descended the ramp eager to have your homemade dinner, but you had to stop a moment to admire the sight. He looked beautiful under the flames, reflecting them in the beskar he always kept impeccable. “What?” He asked, catching you mesmerized by him. Your heart instantly spiked, feeling caught.

“Nothing just…your beskar looks…beautiful.” Your cheeks warmed, and you activated again your legs to sit beside the campfire. He passed a full bowl of the stew to you, still steamy and you thanked him.

“It was delicious,” he commented casually after a while. “I even had a second serving.” You lifted your eyebrows, knowing how rare that was for him. He ate the bare minimum, even less than a man his size needed, you suspected.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you responded, finishing the last drops of your meal. “My mother used to prepare this when I was feeling gloomy, it's…a comfort food.” You smiled, remembering how your mom would pace around the kitchen while you whimpered about your last teenage drama and how after a while, she'd produce the delicious stew that shut you up and made you feel much better.

Din looked at the empty pot as if it contained all the responses to the secrets of the universe.

“Did it work?” You asked out of nothing, feeling brave after the magic stew. Din looked at you, pot still in his hands.

“What?”

“The stew. Something is bothering you, right? Did it make it better?” You bite your lip, worrying about being intrusive. But was it a dream? The closeness you experienced with him? Deep in your heart, you were craving that vulnerability again. So you had to try.

Din sighed deeply and put the pot away. Intertwining his gloved hands, it looked like he was picking the right words and your chest tightened with anticipation.

“You've been…so kind. To me. To us. I don't know how to repay you.” His voice sounded husky and he looked troubled, you even felt bad. Bad because this good, caring man, felt like kindness was some type of currency and what that implied.

How harsh has your life been, Din Djarin?

Carefully, you sat a bit closer to him. “Din, hear me out.” his helmet turned so fast when you said his name it was almost comical. “I didn't help you looking for something in return. First, you were wounded and I couldn't just let you die on my carpet.” You grinned mentioning the blasted carpet again. “And then we were in Mos Espa and I saw a father in need who had lost his child.”

Remembering his sorrow then was almost painful. It had hurt watching him navigate the fear, the loss.

You waited, almost able to hear the gears of his brain, thinking about the possibility of disinterested kindness.

“Before…in the market…you said I've already given me more than more than you could dream of.” His voice was quieter now and he was observing the fire. A question lingered in the air.

You inhaled sharply hearing your sappy words in his mouth, feeling utterly ashamed. You were referring to traveling to the Unknown Regions, to the planet you had discovered, but it was more than that. It was the quiet intimacy of your day to day with them, his little thoughtful details to you, how he was determined to teach you to fly, or the weight of Grogu when he napped on your chest.

Would you be brave? He had opened the door, but it was your decision to cross. You were afraid: if you opened your mouth, there wouldn’t be a way to come back. The point of no return.

“I’ve never felt like this before.” You confessed, trying to have the courage and looking at his visor. “I've never been further from home but with you… I feel safe to navigate even the Unknown Regions.”

You twisted your nightgown in your hands, feeling like you could die from the embarrassment. Lucky for you he was going to leave you soon in Tatooine, because you'll never recover if he didn't feel the same. But once started your brain didn't stop to run all the things you wanted to say to him, like a dam breaking.

“I don't want anything in exchange for my help because being with you is the reward.” It was cheesy but it was also the truth. Now that you had bared your heart, you felt relief, but also like you were going to throw up.

He had listened to you still like a beskar statue and your anxiety was spiking. The initial braveness had faded and now the overthinking was waiting for its moment to torture you.

But then he moved. Grabbed your hand, wrapping yours in his bigger palm. Like that first night when he told you about Grogu and you comforted him.

“Mesh’la.” All his body was now turned to you like he wasn’t only listening with his ears but all of him. “Is that true?” The emotion that his modulated voice transmitted, close to breaking, was a rare thing for him. It made you shiver as you squeezed his hand back.

“Yes Din, everything of it. I know I should find myself wanting to go home after all these weeks, but I already feel like home here, with you.” Now even your ears felt hot and you had to look elsewhere or you’d combust.

Din sighed heavily. “You love your job, and you’re great at it.”

“That’s true,” you admitted, a pinch of sorrow fiding your chest, but also hopeful because he hadn’t rejected you yet. And because of what he had been implying.

Din looked at the Razor Crest, and then his gaze returned to you. “I haven’t felt at home for a long, long time,” he confessed, and something in you ached at the confession, “but since you’re onboard…” The Bounty Hunter looked at his boots and then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I’m not good with words” At this point, your eyes were glossy and your lower lip was trembling.

“You’ve said plenty, Din.” He inhaled sharply and then gathered the courage to wrap your waist in an embrace. You happily curled against his cuirass, nesting your face against the crook of his neck. His right hand hadn’t left yours for a moment. The warmth you felt was incomparable with nothing you’d sensed before. It was like being so full of affection that you were in danger of spilling it. You wanted to smile and cry.

“We’ll figure things out, mesh’la,” he said softly, tracing shapes in your back.

Goosebumps formed in your skin and inevitably you remembered the last (and first) time you were intimate. You were longing for another moment like that between you. The commanding but kind way Din had spoken to you, his adoring yourds and hands exploring your supple flesh? You sighed against his covered neck and his masculine scent filled your nostrils. It had an immediate effect on you, and soon arousal started to pool between your thighs.

“Din…,” you started, voice a little thick from desire.”...would you touch me tonight, please?”

His whole body tensed and his grip on you tightened. There was a knot in your stomach. There was a limit to how forward a girl could be on the same day.

“As you wish, mesh’la.” And before you could protest, he was carrying you to the belly of the Crest.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x female reader

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karmaisakhaleesi · 2 years

Note

hi, so I really liked your fic butterfly repose. And I saw that requests are open! Would it be okay to request a tsu'tey x reader that's enemies to lovers? ty so much! 🥰

first, hi! and thank you so much~ i've been meaning to write a Tsu'tey x reader for a while! so here it is! i hope it's alright if i make the reader a human in an avatar body, let me know if you would prefer a Na'vi reader! 💙

masterlist~

warnings~ language, blood mentioned, some violence.

wordcount~ 2.2k+

italic dialogue is in Na'vi

also apologies if anyone is too ooc!

Gripping the bow your fingers tensed as you notched an arrow. Staring down the target you let go, the end of the arrow grazing your cheek as it flew, and missed the target by ten feet.

Grumbling you stepped to retrieve it when you felt a hand on your shoulder, "Straighten your back more, your posture is terrible."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks as Tsu'tey's foot kicked your legs apart, and his hands linger on your waist as he adjusted your posture. You couldn't deny the way your heart raced at his touch, despite the frustration at your missed shot.

"Tsu'tey, what are you doing?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you felt his breath on your neck.

"Helping you," he replied, his voice low and husky. "You have potential, (Y/N), but you need to work on your technique."

His hands moved to your arms as he guided you through the proper motions of drawing the bow and releasing the arrow. You couldn't help but feel a thrill run through you as you felt his body pressed against yours, his scent filling your senses.

As you shot another arrow, you felt a hand wrap around yours, guiding your aim toward the target. "You're still awful," Tsu'tey said, his voice icy as let go of your hand.

The cool grey metal of the link lid greeted you when you opened your eyes, and you pushed it open to find Grace staring down at you.

"You alright?" she asked before turning back to say something to Norm.

"Fine, just tired," you whispered as you clambered out. It had only been a week since your transfer to the Hallelujah Mountains and you already wished you were home.

Rubbing your eyes you laid back on your cot, ignoring Grace calling out to you, "You know you have that video log due today, right?"

Groaning you flopped onto your stomach, wanting nothing more than to forget the events of the day, and how much Tsu'tey had gotten on your nerves.

Breakfast was quiet, like most days, other than Norm muttering to himself about some samples.

Stretching you cleared your plate and nodded to Jake, "I'm heading in, better hurry or you'll be late."

The second you opened your eyes you regretted it. Walking through the tree you found Neytiri and Tsu'tey waiting for you. Neytiri greeted you, and Tsu'tey simply gestured for you to follow him. You couldn't help but bristle at that, he only ever seemed to treat you with disdain, and anger that he took out on you during your training.

Following Tsu'tey, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle in your stomach. You had no idea what he wanted from you this time, but you were sure it wasn't going to be pleasant.

As you walked deeper into the forest, you couldn't help but notice the way Tsu'tey moved, how every step was graceful and fluid, like he was a part of the forest itself. You, on the other hand, stumbled and tripped over roots and branches, feeling awkward and clumsy in comparison.

Finally, you arrived at a small clearing, and Tsu'tey turned to face you. "Today, we will work on your hand-to-hand combat skills," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.

You couldn't help but groan inwardly at the thought. You had never been particularly good at fighting, and Tsu'tey's training sessions were always brutal.

But you didn't have a choice. You had to become one of the people and complete your mission.

With a deep breath, you readied yourself for the training session. Tsu'tey charged at you, and you tried to dodge his attack, but he was too fast. His fist connected with your stomach, knocking the wind out of you.

You stumbled backward, trying to catch your breath, as Tsu'tey circled around you. "Come on alien," he taunted. "Is that all you've got?"

Gritting your teeth, you lunged at him, throwing a punch that he easily blocked. He retaliated with a swift kick to your side, and you crumpled to the ground.

"You're weak," he said, looking down at you with disdain. "You'll never survive and become one of the people if you can't even defend yourself."

You struggled to your feet, feeling bruised and dizzy, and threw s fist at him. This time it landed, on his chin that is. Watching as he stumbled back holding his now bloodied lip, you kicked at his side.

Grabbing your foot he threw you to the ground.

You gasped for air as he loomed over you, his expression dark and menacing. "You're a disgrace," he spat. "You'll never be one of us."

You felt a surge of anger at his words, and you pushed yourself up off the ground. "I may not be one of you, but I am not a disgrace," you said, your voice shaking.

Tsu'tey sneered at you, but you refused to back down. You had been upset before, with all the rude and snide remarks he made about you, but now, you were pissed.

Filled with anger, you charged at him, dodging his attacks and landing a few hits of your own. You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, and the thrill of the fight took over.

Finally, he stumbled backward, looking surprised at your sudden burst of energy. You took advantage of his momentary distraction, and landed a final blow that sent him sprawling to the ground.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and exhausted. Then, Tsu'tey stood up, and stalked off into the trees, leaving you alone.

You slumped down on a log next to Jake, your blood boiling as Mo'at tended to your wounds. Hissing as she cleaned a particularly nasty cut Jake raised a brow at you, "Tough day?"

Groaning in frustration you cover your face with your hands, "Tsu'tey, that skxawng! He makes me so angry!"

Standing, you storm off as Neytiri and Jake exchange glances, "So," Jake says before following Neytiri for more training.

Weeks had since then, and now Tsu'tey had decided to take you on a hunt. But not just any hunt, his goal was to see if you were ready to become one of the people. Although he already knew what the answer would be, he thought to himself as you crawled through the underbrush with him.

Putting a finger to his mouth, he gestured forward, watching as a yerik came into view. Watching as you notched an arrow, he corrected your posture, his hands lingering on your wrists before letting go.

Steadying yourself, his eyes followed the arrow as it flew forward pinning the yerik to the ground. Leaping up he followed you to its side, the beast silent as you took out your knife and began to speak.

"I see you, sister, and thank you, your spirit goes with Eywa, and your body stays behind to become part of the people."

You sheath your knife and pull the arrow from the yerik as Tsu'tey looks down at you, his eyes full of surprise, but also a hint of anger.

Shaking his head, he mutters, "You are not ready."

You freeze and look up at him, "What?"

"Let me say it in English for you, alien, you. are. not. ready," he accentuates each word with a jab at your chest before turning to leave.

Blood boiling with anger you toss your bow to the ground and grab his shoulder, turning him to face you.

"I'm not ready?" you shout, ears pinning back against your hair as you hiss angrily at him.

"How many months has it been since I started training with you? I do everything perfectly and yet all you have to say is, 'horrible, a rock sees more, and yet I'm not ready?"

Tsu'tey slaps your hand away before turning to leave again. But before he can he feels your palm against his cheek.

Laughing sardonically he sneers at you, "You will never be one of the people, alien."

And with that he leaves, leaving you standing over the dead yerik, hot tears of anger rolling down your cheeks.

The walk back to hometree is a long one, and as soon as you find Jake and Neytiri you nearly burst into tears at his words, "y/n! Neytiri said I'm ready-"

He's cut off as Neytiri walks forward, "What is wrong?" she asks, wiping a stray tear from your face.

"It's Tsu'tey-" she cuts you off with a hiss of annoyance.

"Tsu'tey," she mutters under her breath as she leaves in search of Mo'at.

Jake's eyebrows furrow in confusion when Mo'at joins you with Neytiri. And, you gasp Tsu'tey stands behind them his arms crossed his expression unreadable.

"Tsu'tey, do you not have something to say?" Mo'at says as he steps forward, head down.

"You are ready," he whispers, his voice barely audible before he turns and leaves.

"I do not wish to apologize for Tsu'tey's behavior, and actions, but to explain," Mo'at says taking a seat on a log and setting her basket down."

"Tsu'tey had let his hatred of the sky people cloud his judgment today, which led to his harsh words," she pauses as she grabs an herb out of her basket, "but even he cannot deny that you are ready."

Watching as she tosses it back into the basket, you feel a chill run down your spine.

You could feel your stomach churn as you watched Jake tackle an Ikran, struggling with it as it tried to claw its way away from him. But the second he made Tsaheylu, it was done, and he took off, flying into the mountains.

Following the other's lead, you attempted to carefully approach the Ikran before Tsu'tey grabbed your arm. Feeling annoyed at the thought of another lecture from him you reached to slap his hand away when he speaks, "Before you go, know that it will try to kill you."

You look at him, anger now rising in you as you wrench free of his grasp, "I know, Neytiri told me."

Ignoring his stare you approached the Ikran's, noticing the two other Na'vi must have already been chosen you leap at one of the Ikran. Tackling it to the ground, you wrap your legs around its neck as you tie its mouth shut.

"Now, make Tsaheylu," Tsu'tey calls out, as he walks closer to the edge of the cliff.

"I'm trying!" you scream as the Ikran tries to break free from your grasp.

Reaching for your neural link, you finally make Tsaheylu, and sigh in relief before mounting the Ikran.

"Now, you must fly! The first flight seals the bond," Tsu'tey shouts as he mounts his own Ikran.

Glancing nervously at the edge of the cliff, you take off.

As the wind whips through your hair you can't help but smile as you fly between the floating mountains. Although soon enough, your thoughts drift to Tsu'tey. You wonder why he would give you advice, especially since the last time you spoke, he hadn't been the nicest.

You were debating on thanking him when a gust of wind nearly knocked you off your Ikran. Steadying yourself you curse when you see Tsu'tey flying next to you, smirking.

"How about a race, alien?" he says, his voice oddly cheerful as he takes off leaving you in the dust.

"Let's go!" you shout as your Ikran speeds up and passes Tsu'tey.

Waving to him you start to fly toward the trees when his expression changes from one of smugness to fear as a loud screech comes from behind you.

Looking back you mutter, "Oh shit," before following Tsu'tey into the trees, diving around so that the creature behind you doesn't catch the tail of your Ikran.

"This way!" Tsu'tey calls out before you duck and follow him.

After moving through the tightly connected trees the creature screeches in annoyance and flies away. Dismounting you look over at Tsu'tey, eyes wide with concern, "What was that?"

He laughs before dismounting and shakes his head, "You do not know the toruk?"

Tilting your head in confusion, you frown, "No, it's like the Ikran, right?"

Shaking his head again his hand reaches toward you. Your eyes flutter shut at the act, a small blush creeping up your cheeks as he takes a leaf out of your hair and tosses it to the side.

Opening your eyes, you notice how close you are, your noses nearly touch as his hand lingers on your face.

Feeling your heart race and your face turn even redder, you try to back away slightly, but his hand remains on your cheek. "Tsu'tey, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

He looks at you with a serious expression, "I am sorry for how I have treated you in the past. I was wrong, and I hope you can forgive me."

Scoffing you look up at him, "I wasn't expecting that-"

But your words are silenced as his lips meet yours, caught off guard by the sudden action. Your eyes widen in surprise before you melt into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as he deepens it.

When you finally pull away, both of you panting, he looks down at you, a soft smile on his lips, "I hope that makes up for it."

You nod, still slightly dazed from the kiss, "Yeah, I think it does."

As you both mount your Ikran again, he takes your hand in his, "Come, let us fly back."

You smile, but feel conflicted as to what these feelings you've developed for Tsu'tey mean.

sorry this was so short! i might write a part 2 to this, comment if you'd be interested?

skxawng [sk’awŋ] n. moron, idiot

#tsutey #avatar james cameron #tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey x you #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu'tey x fem! reader #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan x reader #avatar 2009 #james cameron avatar #avatar film #avatar #avatar 1 #tsu'tey x human! reader #tsu'tey x female reader #tsu'tey x female! reader #tsu'tey x na'vi! reader #tsu'tey x na'vi reader

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kithtaehyung · 2 months

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Hi Ryen! thisbrokenmask here 🥰🧡

I’m sooooo looking forward to the new 3tan chapter tonight! I’ll have to read it in the morning here in lil old England but it will be first thing on my list as soon as my eyes are open!

I was just wondering, do you know what the total word count is for 3tan as it stands atm? I’m so curious to know how long it is overall, it reads so much better than some books I’ve read lately and I’d much rather have a copy of 3tan on my shelf!! 😂

omg thank you, love! yes, please read whenever you are free to do so, no worries on when you do :D as far as the total word count... i think with this addition we're gonna be at 271,688 words😂😂😂 oh my goodness and there is still a lot more to go!

physical copies are coming, i promise :')) since i'm also working on a bangtan coloring book too there's a lot of samples that have to be made before i can decide what to do with both things. but i'm aiming to get them to y'all for the holidays this year so YAYYY we do have a goal!

#thisbrokenmask #exciting!#anon #asks:3tan #lovely people #*ryenfictalk #mailbox💌#3tanovel #3tanL

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my-mt-heart · 10 months

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I want to address a few things that Norman said in Le Parisien. The article isn't free, and I'm not going to encourage anyone to pay for something they might not like, but if you do want the link, DM me and I'll send it. Thank you to the person who read and translated this:

Defending himself against others trying to throw him under the bus is one thing, but denying all responsibility for the title accomplishes absolutely nothing except further insulting a significant portion of Daryl's fanbase. These fans, specifically Carylers, were all paying close attention when he said the exact opposite on Jimmy Kimmel. Watch at 8:45:

youtube

The video is from late last year. Melissa's negotiations for S2/S3 started last summer and her deal closed at the end of the year per my sources, which means there was (at least) a loose plan to bring her back before S1 started shooting. Norman confirms Pilgrim was a working title at some point, but he doesn’t mention Raise the Dead, which was more than likely planned as the official title of the show while they were shooting between October '22 and February '23.

I bring up the timeline because even if you believe Melissa was always part of the French spinoff, Norman’s other favorite narrative right now, the implication is still this: Norman, AMC, and the other EPs were fully aware that Melissa was coming back when they officially landed on a title excluding her. You could argue Daryl has the most name recognition from being the most marketed character or that his tags on SM have 6 billion views or, hey, let’s make it 6 trillion (how much of that overlaps with Daryl and Carol content btw?), but as we saw, that doesn’t guarantee all those viewers will watch the show, which is how AMC makes money. If there are two leads on the show, naming it after one lead doesn't make any sense from a marketing perspective because AMC is missing out on attracting more audience, promoting two characters and their chemistry instead of just one character.

So. They either manipulated the situation to give Norman and the other EPs what they wanted or, once again, they dismissed Melissa’s/Carol’s vitality to the show. Or both. Regardless, it poses a big problem for me, because Carol's ability to stand her ground against anyone who thinks less of her is what draws me to her character. I can't reconcile that with the obvious tactics Norman and the other EPs use to claim the show for themselves, completely ignoring fans who may be critical, yes, but ultimately just want the story both Daryl and Carol have earned.

Speaking of being ignored, I heard from multiple fans that AMC did in fact send out a survey regarding the title. I can't confirm because I haven't seen the survey myself, but if you're doing market research, you need a target audience, and if you're doing market research on what you know will (eventually) be a Daryl and Carol show, you should probably target Daryl and Carol fans, shippers or otherwise. Not that it's the most appropriate way to choose a title (not even close), but where's my survey? Did any Carylers get to participate? Did anyone bother to check? Because to me, it sounds like the focus group they used for their market research wasn't aimed at their target audience at all. It's possible they did the market research with a sample audience of the flagship show or just Daryl fans who are a percentage of their audience but not all their audience. If they used an audience that incorporated Carylers, Daryl fans and GA — the feedback for that title would've been mixed. If they focused their market research on mostly Carylers, the feedback would've heavily leaned towards having an inclusive title.

So many fans, not just Carylers, hate the title. It's boring, it's offensive, it's pretentious, it's misogynistic, etc. etc. These are fans who want to watch and enjoy the show, who are expected to pay for it, so why don't their opinions carry more weight? Why is there still such a strong disconnect between AMC and Carol/Caryl fans when that's exactly what caused the backlash last year? Why are they not doing everything they can to avoid the same mistakes?

As for this:

Most of it is true except for one important detail. Angela Kang's spinoff was going to be a road show shot and set in the U.S. That's the phone call Norman is alluding to. That's the spinoff Melissa signed on for. To say otherwise makes her look unprofessional and flaky for "dropping out" knowing all along she'd have to relocate, and that's not what happened at all. It's like there's no consideration for his co-workers' images while he's trying to rebuild his own, and that is unprofessional.

To be very clear, this is not meant to be a smear campaign. My intention here is to point out how deceptive the PR/marketing strategies have been and how they're hurting everyone, including Norman. I can't for the life of me see any business sense in repeatedly gaslighting and alienating a profitable fanbase, treating Daryl and Carol fans like they're stupid, or insinuating a Daryl and Carol show can't belong to Daryl and Carol fans. The more Norman talks about the spinoff's inception, the more it ensures people will never trust a single thing that comes out of his mouth ever again, and that sucks because if he just focused on what the audience wants, insisting that Melissa is his equal on the show, talking about the characters in meaningful ways, supporting Daryl's and Carol's relationship, he could sell it easily. Fans should be getting excited for their story, not reliving last year's trauma over and over and over again. Melissa is back and that's exciting, but story still matters. Both on and off screen (precisely why we need someone else on board who can manage all of that really well). I've asked this several times before. I'll keep asking until someone listens. Can we please move the fuck on from the spinoff fiasco?

And change the title.

#caryl #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #darylneedscarol #the book of carol #twd caryl #Youtube

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onecantsimply · 8 months

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Hi. I'm back. After like a month or two. Maybe more of not updating, I'm back. I've basically been doing things on Wattpad and Ao3, but I've never took the time to go on here unless I needed to take in my daily dose of Jack content. For once that I didn't update... that's my bad LOL-

Okay. I’m doing a JTR oneshot on here- I discussed something with my best friend over on Discord- And I want to try it on here just to give a sample-

So I present to you... Metal Bat, the Yandere JTR Jikenbo x GN Reader I actually want to update lol-

This is basically a Goro Majima Reader x Yandere JTR Jikenbo characters. But be aware that Reader is already in a relationship. With Jack. And he will not let them go HH-

Characters like Kiryu and Jack do not belong to me, nor does the concept of Majima belong to me.

Now that we're done with that... let's get this going.

Warnings: Some violence, Gender Neutral Reader, Reader being addressed as Sir because "Mx" sounds too weird in a non-disrespectful way, Reader being crazy because they're basically Majima-

————

"Wh-Who are you?" A male mumbled to a black haired man who carried a suitcase of money.

"I saw that shit, Kiryu-chan!" Another person's voice spoke. The pair looked towards it, seeing someone carrying an umbrella over their shoulder with a grin. They had an eyepatch over their right eye, as well as a suit over their figure. "M-Mx-?! Kiryu-?! You mean..." The first man mumbled. "Yep! The Dragon of Dojima, Kazuma Kiryu-chan!" The black haired man silently bowed his head. "It's been a while, Sir (Y/n)." Kiryu spoke as the person in front of him chuckled, the two men behind them following after with soft glares over their faces. "Put a lid on the formal shit. Heard you were gonna head up yer own family soon." They spoke while walking around Kiryu to the man on the floor. "By the way... this bar over here." (Y/n) looked up at a building. "That's where your sweetheart works, right? And I hear she's real easy on the eyes. Everyone's sayin so." (Y/n) continued to walk around Kiryu's figure. "They all just want in on the action!" He stayed silent with his same expression as he saw the person lean in. They then looked back at the man on the floor. "Anyways, whaddya wanna do with this fool?" He jolted. "I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you, Sir Kiryu!" He shook his head. "No, it's fine." The male spoke. "Too soft, Kiryu-chan! Soft as a marshmallow! You gotta make things right! Like this!"

(Y/n) whacked their umbrella into the man's face.

"I ain't even done!"

They continued to smack their umbrella down on the unfortunate man's face again and again.

(Y/n) then turned the umbrella around, aiming to stab the man right in the face.

Well, that was until their wrist was suddenly grabbed, stopping the man from his own possible death.

"The hell?" (Y/n) glared at Kiryu. "He's had enough." The male replied. "But I was only doin' it for you." The person tilted their head with barely saddened eyes. "And I say it's enough, so-" Kiryu was cut off. "Oh...? Well, fine then." (Y/n) nodded. "But when ya get your own men, you're gonna have to lay down the law. Let's roll." The person turned as their men did the same. "Yeah. I'll keep that in mind." Kiryu replied. "But..." This made (Y/n) stop. "Huh?" They looked back at Kiryu. "But what?" They questioned. "I'm going to do things my own way." Kiryu answered. (Y/n)'s eyebrows seemed to furrow as they walked towards the male. "And what way is that?" They questioned. "It'll be the right way." Kiryu answered. "The hell? You tryna start shit?!" (Y/n) leaned closer to him, their remaining eye glaring into his face. "I'll fight ya right here, right now!" They spoke. "No." Kiryu firmly answered as he stood his ground. "I've got no reason to fight you." He spoke. "There's no point." He added.

(Y/n) immediately slapped the male across the face.

"How 'bout now?" They questioned with a grin. "That enough reason to fight?" The person asked again. "... If I've made you angry, Sir (Y/n), I apologize." This response only seemed to irritate the person even further. "What was that?" They questioned.

(Y/n) then whacked Kiryu across the face with their umbrella.

"C'mon! Show me you've got some balls and fight back!"

He received another hit to the face, making blood trickle down the side of his head.

"And with that... Are we done here?" Kiryu questioned. "Huh?!" (Y/n)'s eyebrows furrowed yet again as they tossed their umbrella off to the side. They then took out their Demonfire dagger, pointing it up to Kiryu's face. He stood entirely firm without any sense of hesitance. "You talk tough... But I wonder how long that'll last." (Y/n) spoke.

(Y/n) pulled their knife back before stabbing it at Kiryu's face.

Yet, he stayed entirely still, his figure still entirely still.

Just like a statue.

As (Y/n) expected...

"... Whatever." They sighed as they tilted their head. "No point? You're just makin' things harder on yourself. Deprivin' yourself for no reason." (Y/n) slightly leaned towards Kiryu while sheathing their dagger. They then placed a hand over his shoulder. "You think the world gives two shits about if there's a point or two? Keep that up, and it'll break ya."

(Y/n)'s eyes somewhat reflected of sadness.

"You can see it however you want. But... Nothing you can say is going to change my mind." Kiryu answered. "... No matter what happens?" (Y/n) tilted their head again. "... Right." Kiryu nodded. The person took a few steps back with their arms crossed in thought. But in a simple minute, they grinned while looking at him with clear mischievous intent. "You got it then! I'm gonna see those ideals of yours to the end! I'll have my remaining eye on ya 24/7!" Kiryu could feel his brows somewhat furrow with confusion. "What?" He questioned. "And then, when there's a point... Are ya gonna be willing to fight me?" (Y/n) leaned forward with anticipation. "... I won't know till the time comes." Kiryu answered. "Hell yeah!!"

The person clapped their hands before punching their fist into the air. "Then all I need to do is come up with a plan to make ya fight me! Let's bounce, guys!!" They turned to their men with a laugh as they bowed their heads. (Y/n) walked past them before stopping, looking back at Kiryu. "See ya soon, Kiryu-chan! Looking forward to some fun!" He only stared with narrowed eyes as (Y/n) continued to walk out of the alley. "Man, this is gonna be sweet!" They jumped into the air before clapping one side of their foot with the other.

- Later on -

It was now night time within London, with (Y/n) silently walking down the dark streets. Rain showered down on the surfaces of the ground and the roofs as the person continued to make their way down the soaked streets. They could both hear and feel the pattering of the rain on their figure. It felt... odd. Weird. It didn't feel right. The person then continued to walk forward as they heard men ushering prostitutes towards them. Some had played along as others immediately walked away. (Y/n) then made their way towards a certain house. As they walked towards the window, they saw a silver haired man cooking something. A post it note was beside him on the counter.

(The man kept that. -(Y/n))

They softly chuckled before tapping on the window. The man looked back, only to stop once he saw them grin faintly. He only smiled in reply while walking over, opening the window. "You could have used the front door, Dearest." He spoke. "So? It was easier gettin' your attention like this, Jacky." (Y/n) crept in through the window before shutting it behind them. "You're drenched!" The silver haired man spoke with worry. "Eh? This? Nah, don't worry about that." (Y/n) smiled. "You'll get sick! You brung an umbrella. Where is it?" Jack questioned. (Y/n) stopped. "Ah... Wanna leave that for later, Prince?" They answered with a question. "That's the fifth one you've lost, (Y/n)." The man sighed. "Ah, come on, Prince." They walked over to him. "I was talking to Kiryu." Jack looked towards (Y/n). "Do you mean whacking him?" He questioned. "You know me so well." They smiled as well before they looked back at the food. "Watcha cookin', Prince?" They questioned. "I planned on serving this to you when it was actually ready. However, you got home a little earlier than I thought." Jack smiled faintly. "Oops?" (Y/n) arched an eyebrow. "The only thing you need to say that for is being drenched and getting the floor dirty." They looked down at the ground. "... Oops." Jack gently pushed them out of the kitchen. "Go take a shower." He spoke. "Fine, fine." (Y/n) took off their shoes before heading up the stairs.

Whilst they had done so, Jack had continued to cook.

It didn't take long until (Y/n) had came back down with more casual wear. "My Dear... Why do you wish to wear that?" Jack questioned. He turned off the stove before gently adjusting (Y/n)'s snakeskin blazer. "Is it not comfortable?" They smirked faintly. "... You know... You don't need to be like this with me." Jack gently placed one of his hands by their face, seeing their smirk slightly drop. "... You know fully well I can see through you like a mirror. What's wrong, Dear?" He questioned.

(Y/n)'s amused expression, as well as the rest of their smirk seemed to drop when they leaned into his figure with a tired sigh. "... Difficult day?" Jack questioned as he gently hugged them close. They silently nodded as the male brushed his hand through their damp hair. He then gently pulled away. "Why don't you tell me about it by the table?" Jack smiled faintly. "Alright, Prince." (Y/n) faintly nodded with a soft smile.

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #jack the ripper #jack the ripper record of ragnarok #jack the ripper x reader #snv jack the ripper #ror jack the ripper #jack the ripper jikenbo #jack the ripper case files

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letapollojusticesayfuck · 4 months

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A (Noncomprehensive) Guide to Zine Apps; or: How To Show You're Going To Be Good At The Specific Thing You're Applying For

There's been a lot of zines opening apps recently, and with that comes a lot of acceptances/rejections and questions on what applicants could do differently to finally get to be part of a project they're enthusiastic about. While I'm not some kind of all-knowing zine expert, I have been in a good handful so far, and so thought I could share some tips.

Read the Info Doc or Carrd for zine requirements and theming. Seems obvious, but this is always a good first step when you're thinking about applying for something. Think about how the zine's theme fits in with pieces you've already made--you'll have a harder time getting into a zine that's themed for something you've never written/made art for before than you will with a zine that fits with your typical works. These informational resources are also where you'll find the specs that you'll be expected to work to for the zine, which can then inform what example pieces you choose.

Choose your example pieces based on the zine's theming. What is the zine trying to accomplish? Which characters are going to be showcased? If you're applying to a zine all about platonic love, maybe don't have all three examples you provide be heavily shippy. If you're applying to a zine about women, make sure you've got some examples of writing/art that showcase you writing women! Personally, I never use the same combo of writing samples twice--I've got a pool of fics I pull from that are roughly in zine-wordcount-territory and I select them based on what the zine I'm applying to is about.

Make sure your examples show off the style you would be expected to create for the zine. This is where having read the info doc comes in! If you're applying as an artist, typically zines will expect art contributors to create pieces with full backgrounds. Make sure you've got at least one example in there of a piece that matches that description! For writers, usually the request will be to tell a complete story in anywhere from 1500-3000 words (depending on the zine), so keep a stash of oneshots within that word count ready to go to use as your writing samples. There's some other considerations, too--is this a fluffy, shippy zine? Maybe don't use your angstiest work in the application. Is this a serious, somber-toned zine? Think twice about including the comedy crackfic you're proud of as an example. Remember, the mods are looking for people to help bring their specific zine vision to life--you'll make their lives (and your own!) easier if you give them examples that already go along with that vision.

A coda to the last point: what if you don't have anything for that fandom written? While that's definitely a more difficult situation, there's ways around it: mainly, making extra sure your submissions hit on the tone of the zine. Are you applying for a ship zine but haven't ever written that ship before? Maybe use some pieces that feature the characters involved individually. Do you fully not have any works including the characters from the zine's fandom? Think about the kind of writing/art the zine wants you to create, and send in your best submissions having to do with those: for shippy zines, show that you can write/draw romantic scenes! For gen zines, choose your best character introspection moments, or anything that shows off the genre (lighthearted? comedy? angst?) best.

Don't rush things. Remember, apps are usually open for a while! If it's the beginning of the application period and you're not sure you've got any good examples to apply with, maybe send out a call for writing/drawing prompts and aim for that zine wordcount/art specs goal! Taking the extra time to make sure your examples are relevant will let you put in a much more curated application

At the end of the day, it's all just for fun. I know this sounds a bit like a PSA, but ultimately there are many reasons why people are rejected from zines, and they're not because of some personal failing--usually it'll be a case of many applicants and few spaces to fill. Don't be discouraged--there's always more projects coming along, and you can always find or found some other, non-application-based fandom events in the meantime!

Anyway--hope this was useful in some way to someone out there! I know zine rejections can be frustrating and a bit demoralizing, and I can assure you that I've definitely been right there with you. I definitely encourage trying to flesh out your portfolio of zine-styled pieces even when you're not actively writing or drawing for a zine--it'll give you more variety to pull from for apps in the future.

If you have any thoughts or questions, do feel free to send an ask or add them on to the post--as a writer, I mostly have writing-focused advice, but there may be some artists out there who've got art-specific tips too.

#lucy's thoughts #zine stuff #said i would write this down and i have done so #disclaimer again that i'm not an expert #but i did start seeing more zine acceptances when i followed guidelines like this

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lizlives · 2 months

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This is going to be a very different kind of thing than I usually do, but randomly I've been thinking about how much Dreadnought (from the Nemesis book series) would be a good opponent for a death battle style matchup against Homelander. Unlike Omni-Man or Superman, she's not clearly stronger while still having some things that could potentially be a boon for her such as her lattice ability. Anyways, I randomly decided that I would use their respective r/respect threads on reddit and try and construct evidence based research on who I think would win in a fight. Here is what I've put together! The opening introductions are sampled directly from the original respect threads so credit to them, the rest is written by me. Also, I'm going by the Amazon version of Homelander for this obviously.

“I see a world that is terrified of me. Terrified of someone who would reject manhood. Terrified of a girl who knows who she is and what she’s capable of. They are small, and they are weak, and they will not hurt me ever again. My name is Danielle Tozer. I am a girl. No one is strong enough to take that from me anymore.”

Danielle "Danny" Tozer led a miserable life as a closeted transgender teenage girl in an abusive household. That is, until one day she witnessed the world-renowned hero Dreadnought suffer a fatal attack from a supervillain. With only moments to live and knowing that the world needed his powers, Dreadnought bestowed his powers unto Danielle, granting her not only his superhuman abilities and senses, but also, as a side effect, molding her body into it's ideal form. Reborn, Danielle must learn to accept the weight of the responsibility of not only being the fourth incarnation of Dreadnaught, the attention of being the most publicly visible transgender superhero, but also the challenges involving the presence of the Nemesis and its effect on the world.

"I don't make mistakes. I'm not "just like the rest of you." I'm stronger. I'm smarter. I'm better. I am better. I'm not some weak-kneed fucking crybaby that goes around fucking apologizing all the time. And why the fuck would you want me to be? All my life, people have tried to control me. My whole life. Rich people, powerful people have tried to muzzle me, cancel me, keep me impotent and obedient, like I'm a fucking puppet. You know what? It worked. Because I allowed it to work. And guess what. If they can control me, then you can bet your ass they can control you. They already do. You just don't realize it. I'm done. I am done apologizing. I am done being persecuted for my strength. You people should be thanking Christ that I am who and what I am, because you need me. You need me to save you. You do. I am the only one who possibly can. You're not the real heroes. I'm the real hero. I'm the real hero."

Homelander is the home grown All-American Hero represented by the Vought American Corporation. He is the leader of the Seven and considered the most powerful Supe on Earth. He's the result of a refined compound V fetus that became Vought's first successful superhero. He represents nothing more than deceit, profit and the Vought American Way!

Striking strength: Dreadnought has more control of her strength than Homelander it seems, able to move her strength up and down depending on how careful she wants to be. Homelander more frequently aims to disembowel his enemies with gut punches and does so with general ease, while Danny frequently aims to break bones and does so with relative ease. At near max power she's ripping into heavily armored war machines and flying through box cars strong enough to rip them completely apart. Most of Homelander's striking strength achievements amount to either trading blows with people of near power to him such as Soldier Boy, Black Noir and Butcher on temp-v, or immediately killing and disemboweling regular humans, usually killing them instantly. The only other notable strength achievement he has is listed as "damaging" a concrete wall, a metal fuel container, then a larger metal fuel container, but this doesn't seem like much compared to Danny's ability to rip into reinforced metal, albeit sometimes with some effort, and with much greater control and handling. For this, I give the win to Dreadnought.

Lifting/Throwing: Notably, Danny is able to save a plane with some effort only a few days after getting her powers, though the plane nearly falls apart in the process. The end result was minimal casualties. Homelander is faced with a near identical situation and doesn't even try to save it, likely due to fear of optics and damage to his brand from survivors, but potentially suggesting a lack of genuine ability. Danny has claimed she can bench press a school bus and Homelander seems to be able to escape after being crushed by one, making it kinda a draw in that particular case. Most of the rest of Homelander's achievements amount to being able to throw small objects long distances and being able to lift other people of a similar power level off of him. Meanwhile Danny is able to redirect and lift satellites, jets, train cars, and mechs with a great deal of effort depending. For this, I give the win to Dreadnought.

Blunt Force Durability: Most feats Homelander has shown show him able to withstand a great deal of damage from similar opponents. Danny has had her bones broken by opponents at least as strong as her if not stronger but not completely folded. She takes hits from Red Steel a super on par with her in strength. Sense we've already established she's at least a bit more strong than Homelander at least in terms of her striking ability, I'd say that gives her at least a slight edge in durability? It's a bit hard to say, Homelander rarely ever shows any sort of affect or damage from his fights, but Danny does, and yet she's still able to generally to take most of it to a seemingly greater degree than he does? It really comes down to which you think is better. A person facing smaller threats and barely flinching, or a person facing bigger threats and flinching but not completely folding. It's a bit weird, but my intuition is for Danny due to facing stronger opponents and more regularly.

Piercing Durability: Both seemingly can survive point blank bullets with minimal feeling. Homelander specifically seems to have no feeling at all when faced with bullet damage, while Danny mentions feeling some discomfort, albeit minimal. A person did attempt to slice her neck at but this effort failed, however her ability to withstand piercing is tied to her lattice ability, meaning she can switch it off. This could be a slight advantage to Homelander given he seems to be incapable of receiving any damage regardless. For both of these reasons, I give the edge to Homelander.

Heat Durability: Danny is able to withstand beam sabers with some blistering afterwards, ignores flamethrowers, and endures atmospheric re-entry with some admitted risk. Homelander has taken Butcher's heat blasts and gotten up, was early on able to survive putting his hand in fire, and also was caught in a gas explosion that he escaped unharmed. Dreadnought is able to withstand heat damage with minimal damage while Homelander seems to be unharmed by any heat. Homelander wins this one.

Speed: Lots of specific numbers, but just based on what we've seen them do, either based on the compared speed of known jets or based on directly stated speed, both are capable of breaking the speed of sound, but Danny seems to just have higher speed numbers in general. She's also theoretically able to fly faster in areas with less wind-resistance. Also worth noting, she has dodged multiple laser beams in the past, only getting tagged a few times in the process, meaning dodging Homelander's single heat blasts might not be much of a problem for her. For this, Danny gets the upper hand I think.

Other: The lattice ability possessed by Danny seems to be much more advanced than Homelander's x-ray vision, able to see down to molecules, not to mention able to influence them at that level.

Conclusion: Homelander's main advantage in this fight might be his laser vision. Danny has been shown to be impacted by concentrated heat and some mild impact from piercing. Besides that she takes blunt force trauma decently well given her opponents and seems much stronger and faster than him overall. I would say this would be one of the most difficult fights of her life, but I think she would make it out on top due to the edge her lattice ability gives her with healing and molecular manipulation. If cornered, and this would absolutely be a desperate move, it might be theoretically possible to give him brain damage, as she was able to untangle one consciousness in someone's mind from another. That suggest some sort of ability to manipulate minds, if only to unravel them.

Also worth noting, there's a small precedent for Compound V still leaving someone's interior weak to damage (i.e. Translucent) but at one point Danny drinks enough cesium and strychnine to “light her up like Chernobyl”, and remains unaffected by it, suggesting her body is more densely protected while technically having weaknessess Homelander's less dense defense doesn't.

Ultimately, I would also say just her attitude makes her a strong contender. She regularly deals with opponents who are similarly obsessive and intimidating much like Homelander and are at least as strong as her and she seems generally unphased by them, only responding with more energy alot of the time. Homelander is going to rely on intimidation to an extent, something Danny is familar with. Not to mention, once she realizes he doesn't measure up to her in some key ways, this intimidation will work even less, thus giving her a psychological edge. Her bravado has a decent chance of throwing him off, especially the longer the fight goes on. Homelander being emotionally volatile makes him, well, more volatile, but it also makes him unbalanced and sloppy, something Danny could theoretically take advantage of. She has demonstrated in the past being able to make smart calculative decisions even when under immense pressure. Able to muster up the mental fortitude to heal a golf ball sized hole through her whole torso despite not being able to breath and struggling to retain consciousness. The same could not be said for Homelander, who is extremely easy to undermine emotionally if faced with any sort of genuine threat, even partially. For me, I say the winner is Dreadnought.

Overall, I would just really love to see what kind of verbal sparring these two would have. Righteous anger vs childish rage. Spirited passion vs insecure posturing. It would be so interesting just to see them interact. Also, read the Nemesis books! They're really good!

#the boys tv #dreadnought april daniels #danny tozer #homelander #who would win

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keouil · 8 months

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tell the wolves i'm home

gojo's never seen shoko's hands tremble. 1k. gojo/shoko. angst. also on ao3.

Nanami is inconsolable by the time Gojo gets back.

There is ringing in his ears, so loud and poignant and piercing; like someone tearing their heart out and carving its flesh from the bone, and it’s a voice he thinks sounds too much like Nanami that Gojo is afraid of confirming just yet. But above it all, the first thing he notices is the temperature in the room. It was colder than usual. The clinic often ran a few degrees lower than the rest of the compound, a way to keep samples fresh and tools sterile for as long as possible. This was never their preferred hangout spot for a reason. But even then it had never been so… chilling.

Gojo fights the nausea in his stomach and soldiers on.

He rounds a corner and finds his soul do a double take. The doors to the morgue were flung wide open, scraps of paper haphazardly thrown about and vials of medicine littered all around the floor. He hears the crunch of his boots against the glass and winces at the sound, so sharp against the usual tranquility of the place. Fragile everything was, even more so, Gojo thinks:

“Nanami?”

Getou had him currently pinned down to the floor, his arms thrashing violently and shards of glass bruising his face. He had cuts everywhere and looked so ragged and out of it, so unlike the calm, collected Nanami they both teased and were proud of him for. His uniform was torn around the edges and blood was plastered all over his skin.

“Is he..” Gojo searches for the words. “I mean—”

“Let me go!” Nanami screeches suddenly, trying to leverage his weight and get out from under Getou’s hold. Any normal day, he probably would have given them both a run for their money; Getou was the more skilled at close combat, Gojo not half as bad. But disoriented and hysterical Nanami couldn’t even see past the river of hysteria streaming down his face, let alone aim his jabs right. “Let me fucking go!”

Gojo bristles, instinctively coming closer to help. But Getou shook his head so firmly, maybe even insistingly, and levelled him with a look that told enough. “I got this,” he hisses, adding lowly, “He’s just a little out of it now, but he’ll be okay. He didn’t—ah—take the news well.”

Gojo stops dead in his tracks. “What news?”

It’s then he hears another crash somewhere inside the morgue, the sound of glass breaking and tables being shoved around. After a while there was a voice that followed– so quiet they had to strain their ears to hear it–an almost undeniable mewl. Getou’s eyes immediately snap to the door, brows furrowing. It’s that look on his face, Gojo realizes, that clued him in on how grave the whole thing had gotten since he left. Getou was never easy to spook, but he looked like he was ready to bolt inside if it weren’t for Nanami’s violent thrashing and flailing that kept him at bay.

Getou glances at the door in concern. It could only be that one thing, then. “That’s—”

Gojo was already making his way inside.

“I know,” he says, and then: “I’ll take care of it.”

Gojo's never seen Shoko's hands tremble.

Not when they were doing test experiments on his newly awakened six eyes and Getou accidentally nicked him a little too close for comfort, that Yaga all but told her the fate of Amaterasu Ōmikami rested on her healing abilities and to think twice about angering the entire Gojo clan if she wanted any future at all as a doctor. Shoko stayed her hand then. He’d also seen firsthand how different her cursed energy manifests on a healing level from his, the almost gentle nature of it; so at war with how he executes his own, so full of executions.

For Shoko it’s a gentle little thing, the ghost of a touch on his temple or a light tap on his knuckles to unknot the pressure of holding up domains for hours on end.

He’d seen how she was with other people too.

How Getou could be the most sickly and pale they’d ever seen him from ingesting too many curses in one day, to suddenly springing back to life like an invigorated war hero the next day after just one session with her. Or Ijichi, so often plagued with a myriad of humanly diseases, slowly start to build his resilience and immune system after constant check-ups with her.

Through it all Shoko had never once wavered.

But the hand holding Haibara’s was now shaking.

“Shoko?”

Gojo sees her flinch, and that’s how he knows it’s bad. This was someone who never batted an eye at the amount of bloodshed constantly delivered at her doorstep, didn’t look the least bit fazed at the horrific state of some curses she was tasked to embalm daily, who never so much as needed a moment to collect herself after spending hours upon hours knee-deep into the guts of curses let alone humans. Shoko had the strongest stomach out of all of them, but even stronger, Gojo thought: her heart.

But apparently not.

“Are you..” Gojo steps closer slowly. “Okay?”

“Fine,” came her clipped and rushed reply, the usual snark in her voice gone. It sounded heavier somehow, muffled and unclear and hesitant. He saw her eyes going a mile a minute, scanning every available inch of Haibara’s body and her hands glowing with cursed energy. “I just.. I can still try to—”

It’s then Gojo notices the other glaring thing in the clinic: the unnatural amount of reversed cursed energy.

He had the most reserves of the entire batch, but even then he knew better to release so much of it all at once. Not like this. Not in a way that felt claustrophobic to breathe in, this congestion of so much raw power that just kept spiking erratically bouncing off the walls and igniting the room electric. There was an underbelly of desperation to the energy, an almost manic outpour of something that felt as heavy as it looked. And it was all coming from a single source: Shoko.

It dawns on him, then, that the tremor in her hands was from how much cursed energy she was spilling into Haibara. The overabundance of it, and the lack of a pliable vessel to take it in. Not anymore, Gojo notes darkly, noting the rigour mortis settling into the body.

“Shoko,” Gojo tries again, gentler this time, because with the way she was bottoming herself out it was hard to gauge how lucid she is. “Getou tells me you’ve been here for hours. Are you—Do you want to—”

“No.”

This Shoko said in finality, and Gojo bristled at the familiarity; it was a tone she often took with them so regularly, that he half believed her to be sane just then. But her hands were still so openly shaking, and she was starting to lose parlour, and he gives it another half hour before her cursed energy reached critical levels of low.

“I’m not done yet.”

Gojo tries again. “But he’s—”

“Don’t,” Shoko croaks out, and he’s definitely not imagining the falter in her voice then. She turns to look him in the eye for the first time, and Gojo braced himself, not expecting the glassy in her eyes or the barely restrained pleading in her voice. “Not you, too.”

Gojo could do nothing but hold her desperation, feel it strangle him from the inside, and wants to unslip himself from this skin because he recognizes that: the longing for something to be true. Hadn’t he been told, urgently and with no grace for any seventeen-year-old whatsoever, that choosing to take over the mission would probably mean not being there for Haibara’s last moments? And hadn’t Yaga fought tooth and nail for someone else to go instead of him, nearly yelling at the higher-ups to give the boy a fucking break his classmate is dying, and him ignoring everything regardless because one life spared couldn’t possibly justify the killing of a hundred more?

He remembers the look of betrayal Shoko gave him just seconds before he was shoved into the car, at the same time Getou was pushing Haibara’s so obviously broken and bleeding body into her gurney and braving the initial shock with her until her medic instincts kicked in. There was no mistaking the thinly veiled resentment in her eyes.

Because Getou understood duty.

But with Shoko there was a savior complex to it, having been told relentlessly that the lives of everyone in school depended solely on her capabilities as the only medic. It’s a heady thing to put on someone just learning to control it, and Gojo would know just intimately: the weight it holds.

And so:

“I’m sorry.”

Shoko looks at him for a few more moments, her eyes searching. She turns back and then says in a much quieter voice, “It’s not your fault.”

And so maybe Gojo has seen it all at this point and this is the one thing he gets to see first: Shoko so openly and unapologetically break character, and maybe it’s still taking him some time to wrap his head around how just one singular person could cause so much unravelling so easily, especially from someone he only ever associated with nerves of steel.

It’s a little heartbreaking, and maybe even a little too honest for what he’s used to. But when he remembers how Haibara always brought them back a souvenir from his missions, or how he always volunteered to take extra ones when he noticed them doing one too many, and how much unadulterated respect he gave them when they crossed paths at school: remembers, then, how unfair it is.

Gojo feels Getou hovering by the door, can already tell he’s going to be their voice of reason again in what was turning out to be the most fucked up thing they’d ever had to do. He probably would know how to handle this better and do the right thing, Gojo thought. But when he chances a look at Shoko and sees her sad eyes trailing over Haibara’s body and trying to commit everything to memory one last time, thinks maybe, just maybe; fuck the right thing.

Gojo comes up beside her. He gently pries her hands away only to replace them with his own, reversed cursed energy already pouring out.

“Okay then,” he turns to look at her, patient. “Need my help?”

#satoshoko #gojo satoru #ieiri shoko #jujustu kaisen #fic

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