#gal gadot feet

[fanfreakinfiction]

My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 1: Don’t Cry

Ch. 2 | Masterlist 🖤

14K words // Din Djarin x Pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles to find certain words. The reader is pregnant!

Tags: SMUT virginity loss, con-non-con, made-up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, 18+ DNI.

Warnings: Child loss, Pregnancy, Birthing, Blood, Death?, explicit mention of child loss and grief, guys this is dark.

A/N: I got this idea as I was dying in the shower from period cramps & also from a bot I used to use on Janitor AI before it was privated (RIP Din Bot). For logistics, we will just pretend that the Razor Crest didn’t get absolutely obliterated. For timeline reference, this takes place after season 3. Im convinced Din & Grogu are gonna have fun son/dad bounty-hunting adventures as Din teaches Grogu how to be a Mandalorian. Slight flashback in the middle of how reader and Mando met. Grogu has been working on his force flips lmao. I imagine the reader having an accent kind of like Gal Gadot, idk just roll with it. Also, I am so sorry if you cry reading this, I know I did writing it.

His hands ghosted over the silky skin of her back as he watched himself disappear and reappear from her stretched cunt. Slick mixed with blood pooled at the base of his cock in a ring, and the sound of her whimpers reached his ears through the thick metal of his helmet. The feeling of her tightness was so inviting, so hypnotizing, he felt possessed. He didn’t even mean to finish inside of her, he’d have to pay extra for that. 

From the incense heavy room he found himself standing at the edge of an enigmatic forest, encircled by black rock. An ethereal silence enveloped the scene, leaving him with an eerie sense of detachment.

His eyes shifted as he looked up on a pool of steaming water, obscured by the thick veil of steam, he saw her. The woman he’d been with on Tattooine so long ago. She struggled, her words lost in the hissing steam as her trembling hand gently grazed her belly. And there, in the midst of the dream's uncertainty, he witnessed the miracle of life itself—a whisper of cells coalescing into a fragile existence, pulsating with an otherworldly vitality.

Yet, the serenity was short-lived. The gentle whisper transformed into a nightmarish wail—a blood-curdling scream that tore through the tranquility of the woods. It was a scream of agony, of despair, and it emanated from her trembling lips. Her lips, soft and inviting, the same ones he'd yearned to kiss that night when he had ventured into the pleasure house.

The piercing screams grew louder, echoing through the dream, a symphony of suffering that filled the air with torment. As he watched her agony unfold, he was jolted awake, his head colliding with the unforgiving overhead storage. The sudden transition from the surreal to reality left him momentarily disoriented.

In the dimly lit living quarters of the Crest, Grogu, the young green child who had become an unexpected but cherished presence in his life, cried out from his sling, hanging above Din's bunk.

With a heavy sigh, the sound reverberating through the vocoder in his helmet, Din rose to his feet. The aging joints in his knees protested as he reached out to comfort the child, his gloved hands gently lifting Grogu from the nest of makeshift fabric.

"I know," Din murmured softly, his voice a quiet rumble as he cradled the child in his arms. "You saw it too, didn't you, kid?" Grogu, with his large, expressive eyes, gazed up at Din with a mournful look and reached out, tiny green fingers brushing against the Mandalorian's helmet. 

After the tumultuous events that had reshaped his life, Din Djarin had never allowed your memory to occupy his thoughts. Amidst the whirlwind of reuniting with Grogu, aiding Boba Fett, and playing a pivotal role in the reclamation of Mandalore, you had become little more than a faint blip on his radar—a passing connection that had provided a brief interlude of solace in the midst of his relentless journey.

But now, as he cradled Grogu in his arms, looking into the innocent, sorrowful eyes of the young child, he couldn't deny the awakening of something deeper within him. It was a sensation that transcended the confines of his dreams, a connection he felt as profoundly as the vivid dreamscape that had woven itself into his consciousness.

The realization slowly dawned upon him: you were more than just a fleeting memory. You were an integral part of the enigmatic tapestry of his life, and the threads of fate had woven your presence into his destiny in a way he had never expected.

Breaking free from his reverie, Grogu's tiny green form squirmed wildly in Din's arms, his latent Force abilities propelling him away from the Mandalorian's grasp. With agile grace, he leaped and bounced his way through the ship's cramped quarters, a small but energetic whirlwind of curiosity. Din could barely react before Grogu vaulted into the cockpit. 

Din's boots thudded on the ladder's metal rungs as he followed the young one up into the cockpit. A chorus of wild babbling reached his ears, punctuated by the frenzied pressing of buttons on the navicomputer.

"Don't touch that!" Din exclaimed, a hint of exasperation in his voice, his heart racing as Grogu's tiny hand hovered perilously close to the power reset button. He couldn't help but be wary of the mischief the child could unleash.

The young one looked up at Din with eager eyes, babbled something incomprehensible, and tentatively touched the screen. Din cocked his head, his tinted visor reflecting his curiosity. With a resigned sigh, he walked over to the console and entered a code to initialize the navigation system. "Is this what you want?" Din asked, studying Grogu.

In response, Grogu emitted a single, distinct "Patu" sound, his tiny fingers now reaching for the code panel. Hesitating only momentarily, Din bent down, lifting the child to eye level with the buttons. Grogu began to press a sequence of buttons, his small, green hands navigating the controls with surprising precision. Din's eyes widened slightly, his thoughts racing.

"You know where she is?" his voice came out raspy. Grogu completed the sequence, and his innocent gaze met Din's as the navicomputer diligently calculated the numerical sequence. After a few moments, a series of beeps indicated the successful completion of the calculations. Din turned to read the result, the Aurebesh characters on the screen spelling out "Kith."

"It's in the Baxel Sector of the Outer Rim," Din murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty, as he looked down at the child now resting contentedly in his lap. Grogu gazed up at him, then shifted his gaze to the navicomputer.

With a reluctant sigh, Din pressed a sequence of buttons to engage the hyperdrive. Whether he liked it or not, the path ahead was clear. He had to check on you. As the ship surged into hyperspace, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that this journey was far from ordinary.

—

The path up to the Mountain of Mothers was a grueling journey, especially with your feet swollen and aching. It wasn't just a hike; it was a trial, a test of endurance to prove the worthiness of those seeking parenthood. The heavy pack you carried pressed on your lower back, making each step a test of your will. Normally, the pack was shared by the "Irrit" or father, but "Illa-ishi" or lonely mothers like you were compelled to carry it alone. The remnants of those who hadn't made it to the Mountain of Mothers were marked by the skeletons you passed on the way up.

The lower pool of the mountain lay two days away, and the upper pool required an additional five days of journey. Yet, something in your heart told you that this child would be with you in two days. As you followed the ascending trail, you crossed paths with an "Illa" or mother, accompanied by her Irrit. He bore their pack with pride, walking just behind her. It was a sight that warmed your heart, a testament to the culture you held dear.

"Noona" or baby was the foundation of your beliefs, the embodiment of the life you and your "Manna" or partner created together. Reaching the Mountain of Mothers and returning with a child was the highest honor, a symbol of worthiness.

The Illa halted on her descent and, with an air of pride, revealed her noona, wrapped in the family cloth. "Noona asa illa-ini!" (it’s a girl) she declared with joy, unveiling a beautiful baby girl. You couldn't help but smile down at the tiny noona and the Illa who showed her off with such pride.

“Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit,” (baby is worthy of her mother and father) you responded with the customary blessing, bowing your head in reverence. The mother and father returned the bow, acknowledging the blessing. However, the mother's eyes soon drifted to your belly and the heavy pack that weighed you down.

“Asa Illa-ishi?” she asked softly, her face clouding with sadness. (Are you a lonely mother?)

Summoning all your strength, you fought back the tears that threatened to well up. With your head held high and a tender hand resting on your belly, you spoke resolutely, "A illa-ishi."

I am a lonely mother.

—

The journey through hyperspace had indeed stretched far longer than Din had anticipated. A full day had elapsed since that haunting dream, leaving him with the unsettling sensation of being trapped in some unseen, cosmic rotation of time. However, that ceaseless ticking eventually brought them to the end of their journey as the ship dropped out of hyperspace in front of a smaller, mysterious planet, its surface adorned with sprawling waters and lush forests. As he guided the ship into the planet's atmosphere, the Mandalorian noticed a stark absence of the usual signs of civilization—no traffic control, no spaceports, not even a refueling station. The setting felt eerily reminiscent of the world of Sorgan.

Din hovered uncertainly in the atmosphere, his mind racing. Grogu, seated in the co-pilot's chair, played with the mythasaur skull around his neck, seemingly unfazed by the situation. As Din stared at the green child, he let out a sigh and rested his head against the back of his chair.

"Now what…?" Din muttered to himself, his voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the details of the dream, seeking any hint or clue that could guide their search.

In his mind's eye, he saw you, your form shrouded in mist and glistening with sweat. The dress you wore clung to your figure, the fabric a soft white-grey that accentuated your curves as you breathed heavily. His brow furrowed in concentration. There was water, almost like a waterfall, surrounding you, with black jagged rocks supporting your form. Your feet were immersed in milky water, reminiscent of a hot spring.

Din's eyes snapped open. A hot spring. It wasn't much to go on, especially for a planet that could potentially be dotted with such natural wonders, but it was a lead worth pursuing. His hands sprung into action, deftly pressing a sequence of buttons that initiated a signal, a ping to any electronic communication device on the planet's surface.

Grogu's focus shifted from the mythasaur skull to the Mandalorian, the child's curious gaze following Din's swift movements. Din soon located the nearest signal on the planet's surface, and as he brought the Razor Crest lower, he was struck by the intensity of the landscape. Towering thick trees covered nearly every inch of land, a vast, unspoiled wilderness that stretched out as far as the eye could see. The planet's terrain was marked by colossal mountains that sliced through the canopy of green like serpents in water, their peaks jutting out in sporadic bursts.

It was a breathtaking and untamed landscape, like nothing Din had ever witnessed. His gaze scanned the vast expanse below, tracking the signal as he searched for a suitable place to land the Crest. Finally, he spotted it—an elevated landing pad erected above the treetops. It seemed to be a small station, but it was a potential refuge for refueling and gathering information, a step closer to finding you

"K1 to RC 4577, you are clear to land at dock 7," a thickly accented voice echoed through the Razor Crest's comms system, providing the coordinates for their landing.

"RC 4577 to K1, recieved," Din responded, his gaze shifting to meet Grogu's eyes. The Mandalorian leaned over to offer a piece of advice to the child, "Always be kind when you land; most landing bay employees often know the most information." Grogu looked at Din, his large eyes brimming with understanding, and he babbled something that Din accepted as an acknowledgment.

With precision, Din guided the Razor Crest toward its designated dock and gently brought the ship to the surface. As he withdrew his hand from the control lever, he noticed a subtle tremor in his own fingers. It had been a long time since he had felt such a physical manifestation of emotion, not since he had lost Grogu to Moff Gideon.

In response to the tremor, Grogu cooed softly and reached out for his protector. Din's gaze locked onto the child, his trembling hands cautiously reaching out to embrace him. Grogu instinctively placed his tiny hands on either side of Din's helmet, offering comfort and connection. A sense of relief washed over the Mandalorian, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The small hands on his helmet made a soft "plink" sound that resonated through his interior comms.

"Thanks, kid," Din murmured, his voice laden with gratitude, but his words unable to fully convey the depth of his feelings.

Exiting the ship, Din carried Grogu in his sling, the child's presence providing a grounding force amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead. A young mechanic in worn-overalls approached, his basic broken but comprehensible. "Need refuel?" he asked, to which Din nodded in acknowledgment. The mechanic, unfazed by the Mandalorian's helmet, started toward the fuel hose.

"Hot springs?" Din inquired, his voice barely audible above the wind that whipped violently across the landing pad. The mechanic turned, his eyes reflecting confusion, but Din simply nodded and reached for his credits, preparing to tip the young man for his services. Glancing around the landing pad, he spotted a few other ships—a transport vessel and two cargo ships.

The pad itself had clearly seen better days, and the gusts of wind whipped violently across its aged metal surface, causing a tumultuous symphony of sound. At the front of the landing pad stood a small rectangular building, featuring one set of large bay doors. It seemed to be the station's main structure. Adjusting Grogu in his sling, Din began to make his way toward it, his steps determined.

The small building served as a cover for various ships, a mix of those dusted and covered with the weight of time, and others gleaming with newness. Inside, a modest diner and café shop hummed with activity, a few patrons engaged in quiet conversations. At the front, an older man sat at a makeshift desk, engrossed in the workings of a peculiar-looking computer. As Din approached, the man stood abruptly, his enthusiasm palpable.

"Hello, traveler! Welcome to Kith!" he greeted with a giant smile. "I am Don Mai, the residing Mayor. We are humbled by the presence of a great warrior such as yourself!" With a reverence that bordered on adoration, the old man bowed deeply.

Din suppressed the urge to laugh, already forming an opinion of the enthusiastic mayor that he made a mental note to tell Bo Katan about later. Before Din could utter a word, Don Mai thrust a paper pamphlet into his hands, his speech transitioning into a rehearsed spiel about Kith's culture and history. 

"Kith has a rich culture and even more intense history! Women from all over the galaxy come to experience the Mountain of Mothers and—"

“The Mountain of Mothers?" Din interjected, his tone cutting through the mayor's ramblings.

Don Mai's eyes widened slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, the Mountain of Mothers has been around since the dawn of life on our humble planet, and its springs offer—"

"Hot springs?" Din interrupted again, his focus unwavering.

"Uh, well, yes, you see, the springs offer—" Don Mai began once more, but Din's impatience grew apparent.

"Where?" Din's voice was firm, demanding answers without the unnecessary embellishments.

Don Mai huffed, "The Mountain of Mothers is the largest mountain range on Kith. You should've seen it from your ship. If you take the elevator down to the planet’s surface, there is a speeder rental that can take you to the base of the range," the old man explained, his tone slightly deflated by Din's lack of interest in his detailed lecture.

Din places the paper pamphlet in a storage pocket on his bandolier as Grogu watches closely. 

“And the elevator?” Din asks not looking away from the old man. 

"To the left of the fuel pump on the landing pad. Just remember to pay your respects to the Gods as you visit the—"

The old man's voice dwindled into the background as Din walked away from the building and back onto the landing pad. He made his way to the fuel pump and, as instructed, looked to the left to find a rickety-looking elevator, seemingly manually operated. The metal showed signs of rust in various spots, and the wire pulley appeared to be in need of greasing. The flooring of the elevator was a grate that revealed the ground thousands of feet below. Grogu emitted a series of frightened squeaks and coos as Din hesitantly stepped onto the grating.

"I know, kid… let's just... get down there," Din muttered through gritted teeth, steeling himself for the precarious descent.

Din's hand gripped the elevator crank tightly, his patience stretched thin as he began the painstakingly slow descent. Halfway through, he had to switch arms, the anger at the archaic contraption bubbling beneath his calm exterior. It was unusual for him to get frustrated with inanimate objects, but this elevator was testing his resolve. After what felt like an eternity, the elevator reached the bottom of the landing pad. With a forceful yank, Din opened the rusted gate, stepping onto soil that felt surprisingly soft underfoot, reminiscent of the sands on Tatooine, albeit less yielding.

The area below was like a forgotten tourist hub, the shops standing silent and forlorn, each manned by a lone shopkeeper who stared into the emptiness, boredom etched across their faces. It was a desolate sight, a place trying to be lively without the visitors to make it so.

Walking further, Din noticed a row of rusted speeder bikes, the rentals. His heavy boots left imprints on the sponge-like earth as he approached. A few of the shopkeepers stirred from their boredom at the sight of the silver-clad Mandalorian passing by.

Reaching the speeder rental, Din was met by an old Aqualish man, the grey of the hair surrounding his face telling tales of years of service.

"How much?" Din asked, his voice reflecting his growing impatience.

"Fifty credits," the Aqualish garbled back.

"Thirty-five," Din countered, his tone firm as he shifted his weight to one side. Grogu cooed softly from his sling, his wide eyes observing the bartering process.

The Aqualish nodded in agreement and walked away to retrieve the speeder keys. 

As Din adjusted Grogu in the sling to access his credits, he caught sight of a couple approaching from the earthen road. The man carried a hefty pack on his back, and the woman cradled a baby in her arms. The pride in the man's eyes was evident as he helped his wife walk toward the shops.

"Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit!" the shopkeeper, an elderly woman across the street, shouted at them. The couple bowed softly in acknowledgment as they continued walking. Every shop they passed echoed the same foreign phrase, and Din watched with curiosity. Upon reaching the elevator, the man removed his pack, fashioning a makeshift seat for his wife as he started cranking the elevator back up to the top of the landing pad.

The sound of a throat clearing broke Din's concentration. The Aqualish man stood, hand outstretched, waiting expectantly for the payment. Din sighed inwardly, realizing he had been lost in his thoughts. He paid the credits and received the keys to the rusted speeder. Adjusting Grogu in the sling, ensuring the child was safely nestled in his lap, Din ignited the speeder and set off down the only trail leading out of the market.

The only path to the Mountain of Mothers.

— 

The pain in your swollen belly intensified as you stood at the base of the last incline leading to the lower pool. The journey had taken a heavy toll on your body, leaving you exhausted and in constant discomfort. Your feet were swollen, your hips ached, and everything hurt, but the cramping in your abdomen was what worried you most. The night before, you had barely managed to rest, opting to lie on the soft ground without bothering with your bedroll. Restlessness had plagued you throughout the night, and now the cramping made it clear that your time was approaching.

Today would be your last day on this arduous journey. The lower pool was just above you, but the pain in your body seemed unbearable. You knew it was all part of the gods' plan for you, but you never expected the pain to be this intense.

As you struggled up the final incline, a sharp pain ripped through you, and you stumbled. Your pack felt impossibly heavy, and your breaths came short. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as a wall of rock loomed ahead of you. 

"Itta non a dashi," (I will not die here) you whispered defiantly, mustering the strength from the deepest part of your being. As your emotions surged, you felt the baby shift within you. With renewed determination, you regained your balance, placing a loving hand on your swollen belly. 

The next incline lay ahead, one of the most challenging parts of the journey. You could see evidence of past mothers who had slipped or stopped, their bones scattered in the crevices of the rock. For Illa-ishi, like yourself, the task was solitary, without the help of an Irrit to assist with the ascent.

You stood at the base of the rocky cliff, gazing up at the tantalizing promise of the lower pool. The rhythmic thunder of the waterfall beyond the peak urged you forward, swirls of steam rose into the air, a tantalizing promise of the lower pool just a short climb away.

Thankfully, the rugged rock face bore shelves that made the treacherous climb more bearable. Growing up you heard tales of a time a century past when an Irrit, a kind-hearted soul whose manna, a young woman, could not walk. In a display of unwavering determination and love, he took chisel and hammer in hand, carving these sturdy, stone steps into existence. With these ledges, he could secure her safely to his back and ascend the daunting precipice so she could birth their child.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you surveyed the ascent before you. The harsh sun beat down, casting long shadows across the rocky surface. Determination burned in your eyes as you figured out the best plan of action. With a surge of resolve, you slipped the heavy pack from your sweat-covered body, feeling an immediate relief as the oppressive weight fell off you and onto the gritty dirt below.

With your pack discarded, you dragged it to the base of the wall where the first of the man-made shelves jutted out, a mere foot of space cut into the unforgiving rock face. Despite the fatigue gnawing at your muscles, you carefully planted your foot on the ledge, finding just enough space to stand. Bending down carefully you pulled the pack onto the ledge beside your feet. Your birthing gown, gauzy and light, provided a surprising ease of movement. Once you’d made sure the pack was secure you looked up and examined the next shelf. It was a little high of a stretch but you gripped the wall above to steady yourself, your gown billowing slightly with the effort.

Your hips protested with each movement, but the primal instinct to survive drowned out the pain. With staggering determination, you raised your leg, using the hold of the wall to leverage yourself onto the rock shelf to the left. Your arms, weary but unyielding, lifted your body until you were safely on the shelf.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you glanced back down at the last shelf, now below you. Gathering remnants of your strength, you reached down, hands trembling slightly, and lifted your pack with both arms onto the shelf beside you. Only one more shelf remained, higher up and to your right, a final obstacle before hauling yourself onto the top of the cliff. 

After a short rest, you locked eyes with the next shelf, determination burning in your gaze. With a swift motion, you reached up for a gap in the wall to get a grip. Sliding your right hand into the sharp crevice, you pulled with all your might, grunting with effort as you lifted your right leg onto the shelf, which was higher than the last. But in that moment of triumph, a sudden jolt of pain radiated from your lower back all the way to your fingertips, and you lost your hold, a gasp ripping through you.

Stumbling backward, you were saved only by your pack, which you used for leverage to steady yourself. The contraction was fierce, so intense that it was only when you absentmindedly touched the dress covering your belly that you realized you'd sliced your palm on the unforgiving rock. Scarlet red stained your gown, creating an almost perfect handprint. Oddly, you felt no pain in your hand, your senses consumed by the tightening in your abdomen, which worsened with every passing moment.

“Issa non a tishi noona..” (its not time yet baby) you groaned out in pain, your voice strained and breathless. Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to endure the relentless waves of agony.

You stood trembling on the shelf of the wall for a good minute or two before the contraction finally subsided, leaving you panting and exhausted. It was then that the sharp sting in your hand dominated your senses. You examined your hand, the crevice in the wall had sliced deep, and you could see the gash, making your stomach turn uneasily.

Reaching into your pack, you found the medipack, fingers trembling as you carefully opened it to retrieve the gauze and a bacta spray. With great care, you held your injured hand out in front of you and applied the bacta spray to the gash, wincing at the initial sting. Then, you gently wrapped the gauze around the wound, ensuring it was secure. The sharp pain began to dull as your trembling hand capped the spray, carefully returning it to the medipack. 

With a sigh, you straightened up, taking a moment to regain your composure. The pain in your hand was no longer the foremost concern, and you couldn't let it distract you from the task at hand. You knew that each moment counted in this climb, and you needed to find the safest route to reach the next shelf.

Reassessing the situation, you examined the uneven rock wall before you, trying to identify the most secure handholds and footholds.

An idea crossed your mind and it could be great, or the worst idea ever and you could fall to your death but you were determined. You carefully maneuver around your pack and push it closer to the end of the shelf. You carefully placed a leg on the pack and then another, standing precariously on your pack which provided you almost a foot of extra height, you used the wall to steady yourself. You prayed to the Gods and reached with your right hand for the crevice that had so rudely marred your hand. Finding more traction with the gauze you confidently pulled yourself extending your right leg so your foot found purchase on the shelf. A victorious smile crossed your face as you then pushed off your pack with your left leg and hoisted yourself onto the shelf. A quiet laugh left your lips as you clung to the wall you were now facing. 

Looking to your left, you bent down carefully to grab your pack. This shelf was a lot shorter, jutting from the wall maybe only eight inches. You had to precariously grab your heavy pack with one hand and quickly cram it under your left leg to prevent it from plummeting to the ground below.

You were so close now that you could feel the cool mist from the water above, and the deafening roar of the falls filled your ears. Perched roughly 15 feet above the ground, you took a moment to catch your breath. You dared not look down, fearing that it would disrupt your balance. Instead, you pressed your belly tightly against the rock wall in front of you, your heart pounding with both exertion and anticipation.

After a brief moment of rest, a surge of adrenaline coursed through you. This was it, the final leg of your treacherous journey. You had one more pull, one last push, and you would reach the lower pool, your goal within your grasp. But you also knew that a single mistake could lead to a disastrous fall, a fate you couldn't afford.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your arms above your head, your palms resting on the ridge above. With utmost care and precision, you hoisted yourself up, quickly placing both feet on your pack. The pack provided just enough height to get your elbows onto the smooth rock above. You pulled with every ounce of strength you had, feeling your belly scrape against the unyielding stone as you lifted.

Luck was on your side, as your feet managed to find a foothold through the worn leather of your boot. This newfound leverage allowed you to push yourself up, resembling a sea lion clambering onto a rocky outcrop. With sheer determination and the last vestiges of your strength, you quickly pulled your right leg under you and pushed yourself onto all fours on the smooth rock face. Your heart raced, your hands and knees trembling from the exertion, but you had made it. You had reached the final stretch of your perilous ascent, and the pool ahead awaited, a shimmering reward for your indomitable spirit.

A sob escaped your lips, a surge of emotion you hadn't anticipated as the reality of your accomplishment finally caught up with you. You had done it. You had managed to make it to the lower pool, and the inviting, milky-warm waters beckoned to soothe your weary body. Steam swirled around you, creating an ethereal atmosphere as you lay there, taking in the moment.

Rolling onto your back to face the sky, you watched as a giant silver ship soared high above the mountain. Your eyes followed it for a brief moment before it disappeared into the vast expanse of the blue sky. Tears welled up and trickled down your cheeks, their salty warmth mixing with the refreshing mist from the pool. You felt the gentle movements of the babe inside you and couldn't help but smile through your tears.

"Noona...we made it," you whispered in basic, your hand tenderly caressing your belly. The connection between you and the life within you was stronger than ever, a bond forged through this incredible journey.

After some time, you stirred, realizing that you needed to retrieve your pack. With some effort, the pack proved easier to handle than your own weight combined with the growing life inside you. You unzipped the pack and reached for your bedroll when another sensation, different from the earlier contractions, radiated through your core. This time, it felt like pressure, a clear sign that the moment you had been anticipating was drawing near.

After finding the bedroll, you took a moment to survey the area for a suitable spot to lay it down. The relatively flat rock surface encircling the spring was a dark black, a stark contrast to the frothy blue of the hot spring's waters. The ancient, tranquil pool was surrounded by old, tattered bedrolls, some empty, while others still held the silent remains of Illa-ishi who hadn't been as fortunate as you.

You sighed softly, the weight of the past and the solemnity of the place pressing down on you. You knew what lay beneath the surface of this hot spring – the resting places of those who had undertaken the same treacherous journey but hadn't emerged victorious. Out of respect for their memory, the people of Kith never dared to touch the remains. Instead, they left the bones where they lay, allowing them to become one with the planet's core, a final return to the world from which they had come.

Gently, you found a clear space amidst the bedrolls and laid down your own bedroll. It felt strange to rest among the remnants of those who had gone before you, but you also understood the significance of this place.

It was believed among your people that the Mountain of Mothers was the handiwork of the divine God of Kith, a deity whose love for his wife, Illa-ishi, was as vast as the universe itself.

Illa-ishi’s womb had cradled life for what seemed like an eternity and her body bore the weight of years, while her heart bore the burden of unbearable pain. Witnessing his beloved wife suffer, Kith, with his divine hands, crafted a pool at the mountain's base. Its waters held the promise of relief, a balm for Illa-ishi's agony.

While Kith labored tirelessly to raise the Mountain of Mothers, Illa-ishi, driven by a desperation born of unending torment, embarked on a solitary climb up its slopes. With each step, she ascended toward the heavens, seeking solace that seemed perpetually out of reach.

At the pinnacle of her journey, amidst the tranquil waters of the divine pool, Illa-ishi's child was born. Yet, there was no cry of life, no breath to fill the air. In a heart-wrenching moment, the lonely mother, overcome by despair, embraced the waters that had promised relief. She allowed herself to be consumed, seeking peace in the depths of the pool.

Kith, returning to find his wife and child lost to the pool’s embrace, was consumed by an anguish that eclipsed the stars. In his sorrow, he performed a deed both divine and sacrificial. In a resolute act, he harnessed the remnants of their life force, infusing it with the very essence of his divine being, and breathed life into the creation of the upper pool atop the Mountain of Mothers. 

This upper pool, borne from his profound sacrifice, was destined to be a reward for those who completed the arduous journey together. It was a testament to the strength of unity, the enduring love that bound families and lovers, and the rewards that awaited those who surmounted the trials of life.

Yet, even in the splendor of his divine creation, Kith's sadness consumed him. He recognized the fundamental truth that Illa could not always survive, and that Noona may not always breathe. And so, the first pool, at the mountain's base, remained untouched, preserved as a sanctuary of rest and respect. A place where Illa-ishi, and Illa could find solace amidst the beauty of the Mountain of Mothers, where the waters whispered stories of love and sacrifice, and where their weary spirits could find respite beneath the endless expanse of the starlit sky.

In history there was only one illa-ishi who succeeded in birthing a breathing babe at the first pool, and she had birthed an evil so strong it was said to last generations. 

You knew your heart, and you knew your babe. You had come here to rest.

—

The hike was hard. Din was breathing heavily under the weight of his armor and the burden of Grogu, who looked around the desolate landscape with a sad curiosity. How many skeletons had they passed? What kind of place was this? Why were you here? The guilt gnawed at him with each step he took. Why had he even gone to seek out pleasure from solitude in the first place? He thought back to that night… 

The night was dark and heavy as Din sat alone in the dimly lit corner of the cantina in Mos Eisley, his thoughts consumed by a yearning for Grogu. The scorching sands of Tatooine outside were a harsh reminder of the precious time he had spent here with the child and Peli Motto. They had been moments of sanctuary, where the galaxy's chaos seemed miles away.

Nearly a year had passed since he'd entrusted Grogu to Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, a decision made with the best intentions. But that choice had left a void within him that he could hardly bear. Sleepless nights had become his constant companion, and the craving for both rest and peace had grown unbearable. And yet, he found himself agreeing to help Boba Fett in the midst of a brutal war, a commitment that seemed at odds with his desire for tranquility.

But in that cantina, he made a solemn decision. He had to seek out Grogu one last time, he had to give Grogu the chain mail that he had made for him. Just, as a way to protect him nothing more… He ran his fingers over its cool surface, a gesture that silently conveyed his unbreakable resolve before he pocketed the beskar. 

As the night deepened and the alcohol flowed, he realized he had indulged in more Corellian Whiskey than he should have, knowing he needed a clear head for the journey that awaited him. But the whiskey's burn was a welcomed distraction, a temporary escape from the overwhelming pain of missing Grogu.

In the midst of his solitude, the cantina's atmosphere began to change. A group of scantily dressed women, draped in silks and adorned with gold, entered the establishment. They moved with grace and charisma, engaging patrons in conversation, flirting, and distributing holochips for a nearby pleasure house. Din snorted at the thought. When was the last time he even had time to fuck anything but his palm? 

When was the last? He wondered trying to think back over the years since he’d acquired the responsibility of caring for Grogu. 

Years. Actual, years.

In his inebriated state, Din found himself clutching the holochip, his steps unsteady as he navigated the narrow streets of Mos Eisley towards the establishment advertised on the chip. He had given in to a reckless impulse, fueled by a desire to escape the pain of missing Grogu, and a fleeting sense of excitement at the prospect of companionship, even if it was just for one night. The weight of the impending war, as Boba Fett had described it, loomed in his thoughts, and he couldn't help but wonder if this might be his last moment of solace.

Entering the dimly lit and shady establishment, he was met by a greasy, overweight man berating a young child. The sight of the child sent a wave of unease through him, casting a shadow over his already troubled conscience. What kind of place was this, where children were exposed to such depravity?

"Not for sale!" the greasy man barked at Din, as if reading some unsavory intent in the Mandalorian's eyes, he shielded the child, pushing her back behind a tattered curtain.

“I wasn’t…” Din’s words faltered, the very thought of such exploitation sickening him to his core.

But the foreman, undeterred, eyed Din up and down, his gaze lingering on the gleaming beskar armor. “You’ve got money, I’ve got girls,” the man said, his voice oozing with a repugnant confidence.

Din struggled to find the words, his thoughts a jumbled mess, still reeling from the shock of seeing a child in such a place. He stumbled, his voice faltering.

The foreman, undeterred, went on, "I have a girl who just became available. She's not been with anyone, you'd be lucky to find a deal like her on this side of Tatooine." He reached into a box of hologram pucks, selected one, and placed it on the desk. Activating the hologram, he presented it to Din.

Din's gaze fixated on the static image, his eyes locked on the visage.. Strangely, he felt a deep pull within him, as if your image was both familiar and enigmatic, stirring emotions he couldn't quite place.

"How much?" Din's voice, though filtered through his modulator, held a heaviness, a mix of curiosity and longing.

"Four thousand credits," the foreman stated, avarice evident in his words.

“Four?” Din repeated, incredulous, his disbelief met with a dismissive glance from the foreman. “How much does she get?” he demanded, his tone sharp and unwavering.

The foreman's look turned defensive, his response sharp, "Two thousand. My girls are lucky to get any at all."

Din's resolve hardened, and he leaned in, his voice taking on a threatening edge that he usually reserved for bounties. "I'll pay six thousand, and she gets four thousand."

The foreman's eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard, but a vile smirk soon crept across his face. "Deal. Right this way, sir," he beamed, all too eager to make the transaction.

The foreman led him through a maze of dimly lit hallways filled with disturbing moans and an overpowering, artificial perfume that hung heavily in the air. The cacophony of voices from behind the closed doors was a haunting reminder of the grim reality of this place, and the perfumed scent was a failed attempt at masking the despair that lurked within.

At the end of the corridor, the foreman unlocked a door and gestured for Din to enter. "I'll send her in," he grunted, closing the door behind Din.

Din stumbled into the room, the alcohol coursing through his veins, muddling his thoughts. He took in his surroundings, finding himself in a chamber that seemed a stark contrast to the rest of the establishment. A makeshift bed of luxurious pillows lay on the floor, richly woven tapestries hung from the ceiling, creating a semblance of privacy. Incense burned intensely, casting a hazy atmosphere, a chair rested by the door infront of a towering golden-framed mirror that rest to the right. 

This must be a more expensive room, he thought, his mind reeling with the absurdity of it all. He couldn't help but question himself, wondering what he was truly doing here, and if this was the way he wanted to fill the void left by Grogu.

As the room's fakely lavish atmosphere weighed upon him, the door behind him swung open gently. He turned, his movements slow and heavy from his armor, to see you enter. Your form was meek, draped in a light blue silk garment that covered more of your body than the women he had seen in the cantina. Gold metal accents adorned your wrists, ankles, and neck, casting a subtle glow in the dim room.

Din's breath hitched as he observed you, his gaze tracing your figure from your feet to your face. Your flushed face and the nervous way you looked down at the floor beside him made it clear that you were unfamiliar with this line of work. He saw you absentmindedly running your index and middle finger along the material of your flowing skirt.

He couldn't explain it, but something about your vulnerability, the innocence you still carried despite the circumstances, touched him. For a moment, he entertained the thought that the foreman had lied about your experience, but as he watched you in silence, he knew that the greasy man's words were painfully accurate.

Din shifted slightly, causing your gaze to snap to him quickly. His visor concealed his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. He observed for another moment, considering his next move. Slowly, he began to remove his gloves. The process was deliberate, one finger at a time on the right hand of his glove, until he was able to pull it off, revealing his bare hand. His eyes never left yours as he started to work the other glove off, the tension in the room growing palpable.

Your gaze drifted from his visor to his hands, watching intently as the gloves came off. As soon as he removed the gloves, he walked to the chair by the door and set them down gently. Your gaze followed him as he approached, your hand never leaving the doorknob the entire time. It was as if you were waiting for him to make a move, to confirm the fear that had taken root in your heart.

Din stopped a few feet away from you, his gauntleted hand hanging by his side. There was something in his stance, a subtle softening in his normally rigid posture that made you feel he might not be the threat you initially perceived.

He straightened as he turned to face you, extending his tanned and calloused right hand as a peace offering. It hung there in the space between you, a bridge across the vast divide that had separated your worlds. The look you gave him that night pierced through his then-buzzed haze, and as your gaze moved from his visor to the palm of his outstretched hand, you ever so softly smiled.

Your hand moved slowly, with a slight tremble, as you placed it in his. Maker, it was so soft, so... loving. In a way, it reminded Din of his mother's hands. He remembered the feeling of her hands on his face when she would kiss him on the top of his head or brush his hair back. It was a memory buried deep, one he rarely let resurface in the harsh reality of his life. 

He watched you, unknowingly holding his breath, as your eyes flitted from his hands back up to his visor.

That night was almost eight months ago, and in the span of those months, the galaxy had shifted beneath Din Djarin's feet. He had fought with Boba Fett, gotten Grogu back, found his covert and embarked on the perilous journey to reclaim Mandalore and his Mandalorian status. The weight of leadership, the responsibilities, and the relentless pursuit of his beliefs had clouded his thoughts, leaving little room for anything else.

As he walked through the dense forest, the guilt that had been gnawing at him grew ever more oppressive. He'd been so preoccupied with his own mission, his people's future, and the legacy of Mandalore that he hadn't even spared a thought in your direction. He had foolishly assumed that the foreman would handle any potential consequences of their night together, perhaps naively believing that you would choose to remain silent. However, what if you hadn't told the foreman? What if you carried something precious from that night, a part of him he was yet to know about? He had neither your name nor any means of contact, and that realization weighed him down like a camtono of beskar. 

With every step, the burden of his guilt pressed down upon him, and he mentally berated himself for not knowing your name or sharing his. He deserved this guilt, for in his quest to rebuild his world, he had unintentionally left a piece of himself behind. If you were pregnant, how were you supposed to find him in the vastness of the galaxy? He couldn't shake the thought that he might be a father, and yet he had no way to reach out to you.

Lost in thought and oblivious to his surroundings, Din hadn't even realized that he'd strayed from the trail until a blood-curdling scream pierced through the forest's silence, shattering the walls of his introspection. His eyes darted ahead, and the only thing he saw beyond the thick undergrowth was a rocky precipice. Steam rose from somewhere below, and the scream, unmistakably human, sent a chill down his spine.

— 

After doing your best to set up a makeshift camp amidst the unforgiving terrain, the contractions began to increase in intensity and frequency. Drenched in sweat, your body ached with fatigue, and desperation for the comfort of the hot spring surged within you. In your birthing gown, you summoned every ounce of strength to embark on the journey toward the soothing waters.

With slow, measured steps, you made your way to the spring, determined to find solace amidst the throes of labor. The contractions continued to grip you, and you fought to maintain your composure, focusing on deep breaths as you moved closer to the source of relief.

As you neared the milky waters, the soothing sound of the waterfall dumping cool water into the far end of the pool filled your ears. The natural geothermal heat emanated from the earth beneath the water, warming the fresh, chilly stream. You gingerly lowered yourself to the spring's edge, wincing through the persistent contraction that clawed at your strength.

With immense effort, you managed to sit on the edge of the pool, your feet dipping into the perfectly warm water. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as the soothing waters enveloped your aching limbs. Slowly, you eased yourself into the warm embrace of the spring, its shallowness just deep enough for you to sit comfortably, your head above the waterline.

The warmth cocooned you, providing the much-needed respite your weary body craved. In the midst of your struggle, the hot spring became a sanctuary, a place where the pain of labor met the healing balm of nature, and for a fleeting moment, you found solace amidst the turmoil, embracing the precious gift of warmth and comfort in the midst of the wilderness.

You had lost track of how long you sat in the soothing water, your fingers pruning as the serene ambiance of the hot spring washed over you. Contented sighs intermittently left your lips as you found a momentary respite from the relentless contractions. The world around you seemed to blur as the hot spring cradled you in its gentle embrace.

But all too soon, your tranquility shattered like fragile glass. A pained cry tore through the rocky landscape. Your eyes shot open, searching for the source of the distress.

Your gaze darted towards the rugged ridge you had labored to climb mere hours earlier. Two voices reached your ears, one male and one female, carrying on the wind. Panic surged through you as you observed a hand ascending the top of the ridge. Your heart quickened, and you realized there were people approaching, their presence entirely unexpected.

With haste, you sprung up from your spot in the spring, water cascading off your birthing gown as you clambered to the edge of the pool. 

A man, seemingly oblivious to your presence, ascended the ridge, a pack strapped to his back. He reached the flat rock and extended his hand below him. Your bare feet met the cold, rough surface of the gravely rock as you hurried over to the edge, your heart heavy with empathy for the woman in dire need. Down below, on the third rock shelf, you saw a woman, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her birthing gown stained with the evidence of her struggles.

“Isa a happis” (I will help!) you called out, your voice resolute, your determination evident. You easily crouched down next to the man, extending your hand to the one who was suffering. She gazed up at you, gratitude filling her eyes as she grasped your outstretched hand.

“Ona tice!” (On Three!) The man standing beside you declared, his voice strong and determined. You locked eyes with him, sharing the gravity of the situation, and both of you prepared to pull the distressed woman to safety. With a shared resolve, he began to count down, and on three, you pulled the woman up with surprising ease, your muscles working in harmony to lift her to safety. 

Wide-eyed, she arrived at the top of the landing, blood staining her birthing gown, a visceral testament to the life that sought to enter the world. She cried out in agony, her body in the throes of birthing pains. Your attention shifted to the Illit, his face etched with desperation as he removed his pack, his hands trembling as he tried to assist his manna.

He grabbed her, his touch gentle yet urgent, realizing that there was no time to lose. Even as you watched, you could tell the baby was coming, the process inevitable now. The woman screamed, the sound echoing off the rocky walls, a symphony of pain and life in the midst of nature's raw beauty.

“Noona essa comesei ittina!” (the babe is coming now!) you urgently announce, your voice steady and commanding, as you motion for the father to cease his movements. He gazes at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and sadness, the emotions palpable in the misty air.

Your own contractions, once so overwhelming, are now distant memories as you shift your focus entirely to the woman and her impending delivery. You position yourself between the woman's legs, and she leans back on her husband for support, the bond of love and trust between them evident in the way they clung to each other during this moment. 

With gentle but purposeful hands, you begin to move the gauze of her birthing dress out of the way, revealing the sacred space where the new life is making its entrance into the world. The sight fills you with a profound sense of awe and wonder, the beauty of life in its most raw and unadulterated form.

As you catch the first glimpse of the emerging baby, a smile naturally graces your lips, a radiant reflection of the profound beauty you are about to witness. You look up at the father, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding and connection as you prepare to assist in guiding their child into the world, an act of grace in the heart of nature's splendor.

“Noona essa comesei! Attari noona bassi?” (The baby is coming, the baby cloth?) you urgently conveyed to the father, the intensity of the moment hanging heavy in the air. He blinked, momentarily caught in the whirlwind of emotions before comprehending your words. With careful haste, he gently leaned his wife back, supporting her amidst the agonizing pains as he reached for his pack against the wall.

Desperation etched on his face, he hurriedly threw various items from the bag, scattering them around in his search for the baby cloth. Every passing second felt like an eternity as the mother cried out in pain, her body instinctively bringing forth the baby as your hand supported its head. 

Finally, after emptying the entire bag, the Illit father's shoulders slumped in defeat. His frustration boiled over, and he struck the rock wall with his fist, a primal cry of helplessness escaping his lips.

In the midst of this despair, you remained calm, your instincts taking over.

“Asa Passi! Attara noona bassi!” (In my pack! I have the baby cloth!) you shouted at the father, your voice carrying the urgency of the moment. With a quick motion, you pointed to your own pack, signaling where the much-needed baby cloth could be found. Your other hand remained cradling the head of the newborn, offering support and comfort to the laboring mother.

You ran a soothing hand over her leg as she summoned her last ounce of strength, pushing with all her might, and then, in a powerful moment, the babe broke free into the world. The father, having located the cloth meant for your own child in your pack, rushed over, his eyes wide with anxiety. You accepted the plain cloth from him, wasting no time in wrapping the baby in it.

The newborn lay still and silent, not letting out the expected cries that heralded a new life. A sense of despair washed over you, and you shared a helpless glance with the father, both of you fearing the worst.

The mother's wails of agony resonated in the rugged landscape, echoing the heartbreak of a life not granted breath. The anguish in the air was suffocating as she reached for her still baby, her hands trembling. With a heavy heart, you gently transferred the infant to the mother's waiting arms. 

She cradled her lifeless child, tears streaming down her face as she caressed the baby, whispering soft words of love and heartbreak. Her cries mingled with those of her husband as they shared the unbearable moment of loss.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tore yourself away from the heart-wrenching scene of the manna. You felt a surge of emotions, a profound sense of hopelessness, reminiscent of the day you had received the news of your own pregnancy. 

— 

The anguished screams pierced the rugged terrain, reverberating through the rocky expanse, and Din felt his heart plummet through the soles of his boots. Grogu, sensing the turmoil in the air, cooed softly from the safety of his sling, nestled beneath Din's protective hand.

Carefully and quietly, Din approached the edge of the rocky ridge, his heart pounding with trepidation. As he looked down into the precipitous drop-off, his eyes fell upon a scene that nearly froze his heart in his chest.

Down below, amidst the harsh and unforgiving black surface of the rocky cavern, he saw you kneeling, a stoic presence, between the legs of a pregnant woman who was hemorrhaging profusely. The woman's anguished cries filled the cavern, echoing against the unforgiving walls.

Din's eyes then shifted to a man, who appeared to be the woman's partner, desperately rummaging through a pack, panic etched across his face. You spoke urgently in a language Din didn't understand, the words punctuated by fear and sorrow. The man seemed to heed your words and swiftly abandoned his fruitless search, rushing over to another pack that lay nearby. The man retrieved a gray cloth from the second pack and hurriedly approached where you were crouched.

Din observed, his eyes transfixed, as you, kneeling on the rocky cavern floor, expertly assisted the pregnant woman. With a mix of awe and sadness, he saw you pull a beautiful, newborn baby from the crying mother, delicate and fragile in your hands.

His gaze lingered as you carefully, almost mournfully, opened the grey cloth. To his dismay, he recognized the symbol displayed on it – a mudhorn. It was the very same symbol etched onto his own pauldron, the only identifier that you could tie to him. He watched as you used the cloth meant for your child, his child, to wrap the now purple baby in the blanket with meticulous care.

Cries and sobs filled the air as he watched from his hidden spot on the high cliff above. His sounds were likely muffled by the nearby waterfall, but he felt Grogu pulling at him, desperate for attention. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to look away. He continued to watch, hidden in the shadows.

He observed as you struggled to stand, your belly full with his child, and as you respectfully walked away to what he could now confirm as your pack. He could see the pain etched on your face, the tears in your eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt deep within him. The weight of his past actions pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Din had done a lot of things he wasn't proud of; he'd walked a dark and treacherous path. He had hated himself when he handed Grogu over to the client for a camtono of beskar, but now, seeing you here, in this vulnerable moment, he hated himself more than he had ever thought possible. 

The symbol on that blanket, the mudhorn, was a reminder of the choices he had made and the lives he had affected. As he watched you cry softly, he knew he couldn't change the past, but he could choose a different path now, one that might bring redemption and peace.

— 

Hours passed by as the mother and her lifeless baby lay on the rocky outcrop. The father, now solemn and determined, prepared the pack for their descent. He spared you a thankful glance as he gently helped the mother stand, their shared grief connecting them. With cautious and uneasy steps, they began their descent down the cliffside.

The mother cradled her unbreathing babe, her heart heavy with loss, as she slowly made her way towards you. With some effort, you rose to your feet and met her halfway. Tears welled up in your eyes as she kissed your cheeks in gratitude.

“Illa-ishi, missa.” (Lonely mothers, sisters.) she said mournfully, her words heavy with the weight of shared sorrow. She placed a gentle hand on your belly, a silent acknowledgment of your pain. Overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment, you couldn't hold back a sob, and the two of you embraced tightly. In that moment, she became your sister in grief, and your shared loss bound you together in a way that words couldn't express.

As she and her husband began their descent, you watched them with a heavy heart. The blanket you had intended for your own child now wrapped around her lifeless baby, providing some small comfort in their time of mourning. 

Left alone once more, you couldn't hold back your tears as you watched the husband carefully guide his grieving wife down the steep cliff and out of sight. As they disappeared from your view, a profound sense of isolation settled over you, and you wept softly, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Returning to the healing waters, you couldn't help but notice that your contractions had inexplicably ceased. Confused but hopeful, you gently felt around your belly and were met with a delicate, reassuring movement from within. A smile, albeit a tearful one, graced your face as you carefully lowered yourself back into the pool, ready to embrace whatever destiny the Gods had in store for you.

The sun began its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape. From your elevated position, you had a perfect view of the sky as it transformed into a breathtaking canvas of purple, pink, and orange ribbons. As you smiled to yourself, entranced by the beauty of nature, an unusual sound suddenly pierced the tranquility of the moment, snapping your attention to the cliff edge. Your heart raced as you strained to identify the source of this unexpected disturbance, a sense of both trepidation and curiosity gripping you.

As if by magic, a form suddenly flipped up onto the solid ground level with the pool. A small, green being emerged, making noises that were nearly drowned out by the roar of the waterfall. Yet, an overwhelming feeling of joy washed over you as you beheld the sight of this tiny creature toddling towards you.

Driven by curiosity and amazement, you pushed yourself up and out of the water. Your birthing gown clung to your body as you moved, but you paid it no mind. Stepping onto the rock, you slowly rounded the corner of the pool to greet the small being.

To your astonishment, you realized it was a baby, with wide, innocent eyes and a furious babble. The baby lifted its tiny hands towards you, and you couldn't help but crouch down as best you could, your heart filled with warmth. "Noona?" you asked the little creature with a soft, amused laugh. In response, the tiny being gave you a toothy grin, and it made you laugh even more.

Your attention, however, shifted from the small being to a pair of gloved hands gripping the side of the rocky cliff. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized those gloves, and heat rushed into your face. With wide eyes, you watched as a figure clad in silver beskar, a Mandalorian, lifted themselves effortlessly over the cliff face and stood there with an almost regal grace.

From your crouched position, you observed as the green baby waddled over to the Mandalorian and tugged on his shin armor. The Mandalorian, with his helmeted face turned towards the child, bent down to pick up the little one, and you couldn't hide the confusion that replaced your initial joy.

—

Din's eyes remained locked on your form as he swiftly pulled himself up onto the flat surface of the cliff. He saw you kneeling down, fingers outstretched towards Grogu, the shock etched across your face. But his gaze was drawn irresistibly to the wet dress that clung to your swollen belly, a stark reminder of your impending motherhood.

As he felt Grogu tugging at his shin armor, he silently bent down to pick up the child. Still, his eyes remained fixed on you, and he struggled to find the right words to explain this unexpected reunion.

“I... I had a dream,” he finally managed to say, his voice choked with emotion.

Your eyes softened, and he witnessed your composure crumbling before him. Your confused and shocked expression melted into a soft frown as tears welled up in your eyes. Before he fully registered it, his feet carried him closer, and he knelt down in front of you with Grogu still cradled in his arms. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, hoping to offer some form of reassurance.

"Please... don't cry," he implored softly, the tenderness in his voice evident. However, he watched as you recoiled from his touch, your reaction sharp and violent, like a wounded animal cornered in fear.

— 

"Don't cry," his voice was a gentle whisper from behind as he reached out to sweep your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with his left hand. His thumb, soft and reassuring, brushed away a solitary tear that had collected in the corner of your eye, preventing it from descending down your cheek.

The cold, unyielding embrace of his armor pressed against your back, a constant reminder of his presence, as if he permeated every inch of the room. You lay face down on the makeshift bed within the opulent suite, placed there by him in silence. His helmet tucked against the back of your head as his right hand reached around the front of your body to work open your tight entrance. He smelled like musk, metal, and something floral.

You didn't know his name, and in truth, you knew very little about him. All you knew was that he had paid a considerable sum for your services and bore a mudhorn symbol on his pauldron. The hushed whispers from the other women in the establishment painted a picture of a bounty hunter, a formidable figure who held the favor of the new Daimyo. He was a source of fear and fascination, and the idea of him both terrified and intrigued you. But, above all, you craved freedom more than anything else, and this was a means to an end.

As the moments unfolded, you couldn't hold back the tears that escaped, mingling with a confusing mix of emotions. It wasn't bad; he wasn't unkind. In fact, you found him surprisingly polite. He had said nothing, just removed his gloves and led you to the makeshift bed, where he now pressed into your body from behind.

It felt fine, maybe even surprisingly good, but your stubbornness held strong. You were determined not to give the foreman the satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed the path you had chosen to earn your freedom. The thought of succumbing to pleasure and surrendering to the moment felt like weakness, and you clung to your resolve with unwavering determination.

However, as his fingers moved softly, so softly, you couldn't help but feel your resistance slowly crumbling. Each touch was skillful, and the sensations they evoked were impossible to ignore.

You could feel a pleasure building within you as he continued his careful thrusting into your tightness. His thick fingers curled slightly as his thumb worked your clit. His left hand rests by your head as he made sure to move any hair out of your face. You had no idea if he was watching you through his visor, but you had assumed so because he wiped your tears and told you not to cry. The build up turned into a tightness that needed to be released, he could tell by how hot you’d gotten under him and how your walls fluttered on his fingers. 

He felt a pride well up in him at the knowledge that he still had the ability to bring a woman pleasure but also that you’d finally relaxed enough to allow yourself to feel this. He closed his eyes for a moment just to focus on how your walls felt around his fingers, he willed himself to listen to your body. Upon each drawback of his fingers he worked to spread your tight cunt just slightly- three, four, five more thrusts of his fingers and he felt you tremble under him. 

His eyes snapped open, and he observed you biting your hand to stifle any sounds. He felt the flutter of your walls on his fingers as he stilled in order to relish in the feel your softness. He watched you come back from wherever you had gone in your high, his hand moving gently to caress the hand you had bitten, the teeth marks already leaving a faint purplish hue. As his thumb brushed over the marked area, he felt the slight tremor in your body, your vulnerability laid bare, and saw the glistening tears welling up in your eyes once more. 

“Don’t cry.” he said again before moving to sit back on his heels. He admired your form, the way the flame lit room made your skin look like silk. You were totally bare to him, he’d undressed you slowly and carefully placed your clothing next his gloves on the chair. He was still fully clothed save for the gloves he’d removed. He watched as your form began to stir, and he carefully placed a hand on your lower back to keep you down. You immediately complied. With a sigh he slowly ran his hand down your back to the curve of your ass and to the back of your thigh. He could see the slick from your arousal glimmering in the soft light. 

He could see everything, every intimate part of you, and yet he didn’t allow you the joy of seeing him. He couldn’t. 

You sat, staring at the wall ahead of you, the seconds feeling like hours, with him seated behind you. The situation was embarrassing, and you could only hope he wasn't disgusted. You had assumed he was finished with you after whatever had just happened, only to be gently pushed back onto the bed, not harshly but rather in a silent, pleading manner. After a moment, you heard him stir behind you, and you froze, your ears attuned to his every movement.

You heard a soft rustling of fabrics and buckles. He came to rest on you again, with his left hand resting by your left hand. His right hand gripped your waist as he shifted you back towards him. This position shifted you more so your backside was resting against his thighs while your chest was flush with the pillows beneath you. He was able to bend over you more like this so he comfortably rested on his left arm above you. 

His right hand left your waist and you felt the warmth of his hand in between your legs. You could feel the soft head of his hard cock turn to velvet as he ran it through your slick folds. You clenched the pillow underneath you as you braced yourself for the pain the other women had told you about. You felt pressure against your entrance and instinctively you tried to move away only to feel his hand move like lightning from between your thighs to your waist as he anchored you in place. 

He didn’t say anything just held you there as he slowly pushed the head of his cock deeper into your entrance. His grip once iron on your waist turned soft as his thumb brushed circles into the skin there. Slowly he sank deeper and that’s when you felt it, the sharp uncomfortable sting. You tensed under him at the pain and you felt him freeze above you. His left hand moved to grab your face beneath him, turning your cheek so he could see you. You looked over your left shoulder to peer up at him, his cold visor returning your gaze. You couldn't help the tear that fell as you clutched the pillows.

"Don't..." his voice was strained through the vocoder, and you knew he was holding back, for you.

—

"Do not say that to me!" Your pained and thickly accented voice ripped through the air as you swatted his arm away. The green child yelped softly at your sudden movement.

Din's eyes widened. It was the first thing you had said to him. You hadn't spoken a word that night. He recoiled from you in shame.

He watched as you cried, emotions swirling within him like a chaotic storm. 

"You shouldn't be out here," he managed to say as he stood abruptly, his words tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration. He glanced around, finally taking in the grim surroundings. Blood still pooled on the rocky ground where the woman had given birth earlier. Even worse, the remains of skeletons lay strewn about, their shattered bones mixed with the gravel under his boots.

"This is a graveyard, not a place for a woman in your condition to give birth," he grumbled, regretting the harshness of his words. The eerie desolation of this place was overwhelming, and he couldn't make sense of anything. The grim reality of death and birth intertwined in this forsaken corner of the galaxy was too much for him to bear.

Your face, your soft, beautiful, and glowing face looked up at him then. 

"This is where I am meant to be," your broken voice hit him right in the chest.

For a moment, Din just stood there, his helmeted gaze locked on you. Grogu stirred in his arms and he set the child down. His gaze shifted from Grogu to the pack leaning against the rocky wall, the very same pack he had seen a man carrying at the market, with his wife in tow. It was the same pack he had witnessed being carried by the man who was desperate, carrying his bleeding wife. The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place in Din's mind.

"Did you... carry that alone?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked from you to the pack and back.

You huffed, annoyance coloring your features, and moved to stand. Din instinctively reached out to help you, but you swatted his hand away. You stood, resolute, and locked eyes with him through his visor.

"Yes. I am illa-ishi," you declared firmly, your words laden with meaning.

Din furrowed his brow, confused by the unfamiliar term. "Illa-ishi?" he repeated, the word alien to him.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized he didn't understand. "I am a lonely mother," you tried to find the right words that could translate to Basic.

He continued to stare, his helmet giving away nothing. You huffed in frustration and attempted again, simplifying your words. "I am alone." you finally settled on, hoping he would grasp the essence of your situation.

Din just stared at you, seemingly uncomprehending. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and the green child peered up at you, as if offering a sympathetic glance. Frustrated with the language barrier, you turned to walk towards your pack and bedroll.

As you began to walk away, Din's gloved hand gently gripped your upper arm, stopping you in your tracks. You shot an annoyed look back at him, silently demanding an explanation for his actions.

Din's gloved thumb moved soothingly circles on your arm, his gaze locked on you. He took a moment to search for the right words, his voice barely rising above a gravelly whisper.

"Is...is this mine?" he questioned, his words weighted with uncertainty, his voice low and husky.

Your eyes fixated on his hand caressing your arm, and tears welled up again, threatening to break free. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to hold them back, forcing yourself to look directly into the reflective visor of his helmet. You saw your own tear-streaked face in the cold, mirrored surface of the Mandalorian's armor, and it was a sight that turned your stomach.

"Yes. I've... never been with another. Only you," the confession tumbled from your lips, the words feeling strange and heavy in your mouth. Your body tensed, and you felt a sudden, sharp tightness envelop you, a contraction, your first since the bleeding mother had shown up. You gasp in agony as your knees buckle under you. 

"Dank farrik!" Din's initial worry had given way to frustration as he cursed under his breath. He reached out and grabbed you, his gloved hands steadying you gently while Grogu made a sad noise from his perch on the ground.

"We have to get you out of here. Is there a medcenter near here?" His voice trembled with desperation as he crouched down to meet your gaze.

"What?!" You hissed exasperatedly through the pain, your frustration and agony making you bristle.

"Medcenter!" Din almost yelled, and his eyes widened when you shoved him away.

"Issa noona ibaniss a plantissia ata mountina as illa! As illa a ma a iss!" you shouted at him in anguish, your words foreign to his ears but laced with undeniable determination. (My baby will be born on this planet, at the Mountain of Mothers, like my mother and the one before her!)

Din stood there, still as stone, as your scream washed over him. 

He looked at you, his gaze falling to your trembling hands, one of them wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself and regain control.

He was going about this the wrong way. You had climbed the treacherous cliff, your cloth bore the sigil of the Mudhorn, and your pack was identical to the ones the men had carried. You had a well-thought-out plan; he just hadn't been part of it.

With newfound determination, he approached you, taking careful, measured steps. Kneeling down beside you, he spoke softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"How do I help you?" he asked, his words breaking through the haze of pain that enveloped you.

You slowly looked up at him through your tears, your eyes locked onto his helmet. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, your mouth slightly ajar as you processed the situation. With a trembling hand, you pointed towards the spring nearby. "Take me there," you said softly, your voice heavy with the weight of your suffering. 

In an instant, Din's strong hands found purchase under your knees and behind your back, and he lifted you with great care, not wanting to cause you any harm. You flushed with the ease of him carrying you, a thought flickering across your mind of how much simpler scaling the cliff might have been if he had been there. But you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, focusing on the immediate task at hand. You wrapped your left arm around the back of his neck and placed your right hand protectively over your belly, the hard surface of his armor uncomfortably pressing against your side as he carried you toward the inviting hot spring.

"I can go from here," you said in thick, broken Basic, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp.

Din regarded you, confusion clear in his eyes as he tried to understand. His gaze alternated between the steaming water and your face. "You want to go in the water?" he asked, as if seeking confirmation.

"Yes, I can go from here," you repeated, pushing against him with a touch of defiance. His grip tightened, surprising you with its strength, and you nearly yelped in response. Shooting him a displeased look, you tried to assert your independence.

"What, and let you slip?" he asked, gazing at you through his visor before looking ahead. "No." He had made up his mind, and there was no arguing with the Mandalorian's decision.

As you were lowered into the hot spring, the initial shock of the water's heat gave way to a soothing relief. Din was surprised by how inviting it felt, and he understood why pregnant women sought refuge in such places. The water enveloped his boots and rose just above his knees as he carried you into the pool. You held onto him with a newfound intensity as he descended, afraid that he might lose his footing. Your disbelief mixed with gratitude as you realized the extent of his support.

Finding solid ground beneath the water, Din gently released your knees, allowing your feet to dip into the warm embrace of the pool. His hand slid from your back to your waist, ensuring your stability, and he positioned himself behind you in the water. You stood just below his chin, and if he desired, he could easily rest his chin on your head. His right hand remained on your waist, his gloved fingers splayed out on your side, providing you with a reassuring and protective presence.

A powerful surge of emotion overcame Din as he felt the subtle movements of the life within you under his fingertips. He stood there, motionless and transfixed, as you faced away from him, both of you submerged in the comforting warmth of the spring. His eyes traced the contour of your back, the gentle rise and fall as you breathed, and then slowly, as if compelled by an invisible force, he found himself resting his forehead against the back of your head, his helmet touching your soft hair.

He grappled with where to place his left hand, uncertain of the right way to provide comfort. His gaze drifted downwards, fixating on the water where he saw your dress floating softly as it began to soak in the pool. Carefully, he moved his left hand to the small of your back, gripping the back of your waist with a gentle touch.

In the midst of his turmoil, a soft, barely audible sob escaped his lips, and tears welled up inside his helmet, tracing their way down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he uttered, his voice broken and full of guilt. It was a plea for forgiveness, an attempt to convey the overwhelming regret that consumed him. He clung to your form, feeling the life inside you, the life he had a part in creating and then abandoned. 

His wallowing in self-recrimination was shattered by the sound of your voice and the tender touch of your hand as it caressed his right hand.

"Don't cry," your words were soft and filled with sincerity. In that moment, as the tears flowed within his helmet, you offered him understanding and forgiveness. He felt worthy of neither. 

[aventingjew]

I'll admit, I never wanted to see live action Snow White to begin with. As I feel the live action remakes to any of the classic Disney animated films were blatant cash grabs. And I also hated what the actress playing Snow White had to say about the original Snow White. Now I also hate it for casting a Jewish woman to be the evil queen in classic Disney antisemitism fashion.

I probably love to reblog someone of the posts about how awful this remake looks and feels. But unfortunately, those posts are littered with people being antisemitic towards Gal Gadot. It's funny, anti-Disney people used to be up and arms when Jews were casted to play villians. But because Gal Gadot is Israeli, there's literally no mention of it. The only reason they're mad about the casting is because "she's a zionist and supports genocide" for simply being born in a country that requires mandatory military service and loves and supports her people.

Also I saw this wonderful comment when scrolling through the notes on a post making fun of the costume design.

See it's perfectly fine to make fun of a Jewish puerson's name so long as they're a "bad jew".

I'm just appalled by this utter vitriol towards this woman. Seven years ago these same people were groveling at her feet and now they do this. Along with many other Jewish celebrities. I want goy to stop obsessing over them just to turn on them at any moment's notice, either from where they were born or their stance on the conflict. At this rate we're not going to have any left we can publicly like because goyim decided to cancel them.

Anyway I just feel real awful for Gal Gadot in particular right now, but I'm sure she's not letting it get to her like it's getting to me... It's that old thing where the comments directed at the celebrity won't reach them, but will reach average people who share traits with the celebrity.

[mariacallous]

Why has Disney’s new live-action remake of “Snow White” flopped at the box office? Is it because the dull trailer looked A.I.-generated, or because the film’s stars, Rachel Zegler and Gal Gadot, appear to have sourced their costumes and makeup from Party City? Is it because the film personifies Hollywood’s status as a bottle-and-can redemption center for moldering I.P.? Is it for being a movie nobody asked for, about a princess who falls asleep?

The prospect of the “Snow White” reboot has been irritating various constituencies for some time. Conservative critics griped that Zegler, who is partly of Colombian descent, wasn’t white (these kinds of complaints were louder a few years back, when the Black actress Halle Bailey was cast in Disney’s live-action “Little Mermaid”). Some were offended that Zegler talked trash about the 1937 original. The actor Peter Dinklage questioned why the story was being dusted off at all. “You’re progressive in one way,” Dinklage said, referring to Zegler’s casting, “but you’re still making that fucking backward story about seven dwarves living in a cave—what the fuck are you doing?”

At some point, Disney started asking itself the same question. Despite the film’s two-hundred-and-seventy-million-dollar budget, the studio scaled back the première and promotional blitz and may have delayed making tickets available for pre-order. Currently, on IMDb, “Snow White” is being “review-bombed,” with more than ninety-one per cent of users giving it the lowest rating: one out of ten.

Recent articles in Hollywood’s top industry broadsheets pin much of the blame on Zegler. The Hollywood Reporter observed that the movie “has been under fire for years on social media due to a combination of the film’s progressive creative decisions”—presumably referring to Zegler’s casting—“and star Rachel Zegler’s controversial comments.” In a Variety article, which promised to take readers “Inside Disney’s ‘Snow White’ Fiasco,” a “top agent” rebuked the studio for permitting the twenty-three-year-old actress to “control the narrative” by making a lighthearted quip to a reporter about the stalker-like qualities of the original movie’s Prince Florian. “The first time she shoots her mouth off, you nip it in the bud,” this agent said. (Incidentally, the screenwriter of the new “Snow White,” Erin Cressida Wilson, has said that she centered the character’s journey toward “discovering and trusting her own voice and her own purpose with compassion and strength.”)

Variety also zoomed in on an episode from August, shortly after a teaser for the movie dropped, when Zegler shared a message of gratitude to fans on X, adding, in a separate post, “and always remember, free palestine.” The article implied that Zegler’s post fuelled death threats against her co-star Gadot, who is Israeli. It also reported that one of the film’s producers, Marc Platt, was so incensed by Zegler’s pro-Palestine message that he flew to New York to admonish her in person about it.

The detail about Platt seemed to strain credulity, but it was later confirmed by his son Jonah, who wrote on Instagram, “Yeah, my dad, the producer of enormous piece of Disney IP with hundreds of millions of dollars on the line, had to leave his family to to fly across the country to reprimand his 20 year old employee for dragging her personal politics into the middle of promoting the movie for which she signed a multi-million dollar contract to get paid and do publicity for. This is called adult responsibility and accountability. And her actions clearly hurt the film’s box office.” The younger Platt may have also been alluding to an Instagram post that Zegler made following the November elections, in which she lamented the “deep, deep sickness in this country that is shown in the sheer amount of people who showed up for this man who threatens our democracy.” She concluded, “Fuck Donald Trump.” Zegler later apologized for her Trump-related remarks, saying, “I let my emotions get the best of me.”

Placing the failure of “Snow White” largely at Zegler’s feet—as many insiders in Hollywood are evidently eager to do—is almost perversely flattering to her. The Walt Disney Company has a market cap of nearly a hundred and eighty billion dollars, and yet, in Variety’s telling, this international conglomerate could not “overcome the backlash that had been brewing like a fairy tale cauldron.” I am no box-office analyst, but, for what it’s worth, my kids are squarely in the “Snow White” demographic, and I don’t think they were lukewarm on going to see it because its star has insufficiently nuanced opinions about Prince Florian, President Trump, or the Israel-Hamas war. (An open letter from film journalists criticizing Variety’s coverage of Zegler has about a hundred and eighty signatures.)

The reasons behind the implosion of “Snow White” are structural and multifaceted, and emblematic of an industry that has no new concepts and poor judgment about which of its old ideas warrant revival. For example, Disney recently pulled the plug on a streaming series based on “The Princess and the Frog,” which is easily the best and most modern of the Disney-princess movies: glorious New Orleans blues-jazz-gospel soundtrack, outrageously stacked cast, makes an airtight case for marrying for money—the works. (And no dwarves in caves!) Whether it’s the fate of “Snow White” to become a symbol of the anti-woke, anti-D.E.I. fervor that characterizes the Trump II era or it’s simply a casualty of reboot fatigue, the identity and political views of one performer could never have sunk the film on their own.

The Platt anecdote and the framing of the Variety article in which it first appeared point to what is perhaps the most interesting aspect of the “Snow White” debacle: the film’s position in a larger narrative about which kinds of views on the Israel-Palestine conflict are acceptable in Hollywood—or anywhere in the U.S. circa 2025, really—and who is permitted to air them. The top Hollywood agent Maha Dakhil stepped away from her role as co-chief of C.A.A.’s motion-pictures department after she shared—and then deleted and profusely apologized for—an Instagram post that referred to Israel’s military attack on Gaza as “genocide.” The actress Melissa Barrera was fired from the “Scream” franchise for expressing pro-Palestinian sentiments online. In contrast, the actor Mark Ruffalo won his fourth Oscar nomination in 2024 despite vocal opposition on social media and elsewhere to Israel’s military actions in Gaza. Ruffalo’s fellow-actor Guy Pearce, one of the most prominent pro-Palestine voices in the film world, earned his first Academy Award nomination this year and sat in the front row at the ceremony, where “No Other Land,” about the I.D.F.’s demolition of a Palestinian community in the West Bank, won the Oscar for documentary feature.

In other words, there would appear to be space in Hollywood to demonstrate sympathy for the more than fifty thousand human beings that Israeli military forces have killed in Gaza, as well as for the roughly twelve hundred human beings that Hamas killed in its October 7th terror attack on Israel. But you must be the right sort of person to demonstrate such sympathies, and you must use the correct terminology. One might speculate that Ruffalo and Pearce have more latitude than Dakhil and Barerra because they are both middle-aged white men. And yet, last year, after the director Jonathan Glazer won an Oscar for his astonishing Holocaust film, “The Zone of Interest,” an open letter circulated in Hollywood to condemn his acceptance speech as supporting a “blood libel,” attracting more than a thousand signatories (Jonah Platt among them). One Academy member likened Glazer’s measured words to a “Hamas rally.” Among Glazer’s offenses was in using the word “occupation” to refer to the occupied territories and invoking the “dehumanization” of both Israelis and Palestinians in the ongoing war.

The tenor of this conversation presumably informed a recent statement issued by the C.E.O. and president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, after Hamdan Ballal, the Palestinian co-director of “No Other Land,” was badly beaten by Israeli settlers in his West Bank village and then detained overnight on an Israeli military base, his whereabouts unknown to family and friends for hours. “Understandably, we are often asked to speak on behalf of the Academy in response to social, political, and economic events,” the AMPAS statement read in part. “In these instances, it is important to note that the Academy represents close to 11,000 global members with many unique viewpoints.” The text did not mention Ballal by name, or enumerate any of the unique viewpoints one might have on his terrifying situation. (After an outcry by hundreds of Academy members, AMPAS issued an apology for neglecting to name Ballal.)

The organization released its non-statement of non-support on behalf of a freshly minted Oscar winner on the same day that video emerged of a Tufts University student, Rumeysa Ozturk, being accosted outside her apartment building by masked, plainclothes ICE agents; she was handcuffed, detained, and flown to a facility in Louisiana, reportedly for co-authoring an op-ed in a student newspaper citing Israel’s “clear violations of international law” in Gaza. Ozturk’s arrest, which has sparked worldwide condemnation, was made possible by precisely the two conditions that Zegler’s controversial posts acknowledged: the subjugation of Palestinians and the election of Donald Trump.

The attacks on a wealthy young actor like Zegler for her political stance may scarcely bear direct comparison to the violations of human rights allegedly endured by Ozturk, or Mahmoud Khalil, a Palestinian green-card holder who, in early March, was arrested by ICE agents in the lobby of his Columbia University–owned apartment building and now faces deportation. But a commonality between them is that they work within ostensibly powerful cultural institutions that are now under assault by the Trump Administration. Columbia, along with Harvard and other universities, may lose hundreds of millions of dollars in federal funding owing to allegations that they allowed antisemitism to flourish on their campuses during the antiwar protests of late 2023 and 2024. Disney and its subsidiary ABC—which settled a defamation lawsuit with Trump in December for fifteen million dollars—is now under F.C.C. investigation for possibly breaching “equal employment opportunity regulations by promoting invidious forms of DEI discrimination,” according to Brendan Carr, the agency’s new chair. In a letter addressed to Disney’s C.E.O., Carr cited ABC’s “Inclusion Standards,” which called for the network to draw from “underrepresented groups” for its casts and crews, and in creating its characters. In other words, we may now be living in a world in which casting a Latina actress as Snow White is not only infuriating to online edgelords but a purported violation of federal law. And, if a Ph.D. candidate can be jailed for speech and threatened with deportation, it may follow that so can a showrunner, a filmmaker, or an actress who “shoots her mouth off.” 

[widowsistersandfriends]

Every Villain's Weakness

Note: I know I mostly write for Marvel, but I really love Gal Gadot and had this idea in my head to write for her! I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You are playing the evil villain in a movie with Gal, and your biggest weakness gets exposed.

Word Count: 3003

------------------------------------------------------------

You were Gal Gadot’s co-star in a new upcoming movie. The movie was a hot topic, as it was a female protagonist and a female antagonist. You were playing the evil villain, working with a secret team to steal gold and take over the world. However, Gal’s character was a witty detective who takes this investigation into her own hands in hopes of defeating all evil.

Gal was older than you and much more well known, which is why you always felt small and shy around her. It didn’t help that she was almost six feet tall either. You had done multiple scenes with her already and had started to get more comfortable around her. However, there were plenty of times where you’d stutter, laugh, or just blank when you did scenes with her. It was a mix of being nervous and taken aback at her flawless beauty. You knew her face well, but each time it seemed to get more and more gorgeous.

Currently you were on break getting your makeup redone for the next scene. You were chatting with your stylist when Gal sauntered in, already ready for the next scene. 

“Are you ready for the next scene? It’s an interesting one,” Gal said, smiling as her beautiful accent surrounded every word she spoke.

You took the script out and skimmed over the next scene. It was the first main battle against the hero and villain. Ultimately in the end of this scene, the villain gets away and continues her scheming with her team in their hidden lair.

“Ah good, even the scriptwriters know I always win, acting or not,” you said with a smirk.

“Is that so? You already know how the movie ends,” Gal said, now moving closer to your chair.

“Maybe I’ll convince them to change the ending to be more realistic,” you replied, as your stylist now began using the makeup brush to blend in the rest of your makeup. 

You couldn’t help but squirm when the brush went over your neck, letting out a soft snort and giggles. Your stylist just chuckled, used to this reaction.

“Oh? What’s this?” Gal said while smirking.

“Nohohothihing,” you giggled out, silently cursing in your head, knowing that your stylist was dragging it out to embarrass you. 

“Awww are you ticklish?” Gal asked, as you refused to make eye contact with her.

“Nohohoho Ihihim nohohot,” you giggled.

“Oh really?” She asked, gently placing her hand on the back of your neck and giving you several squeezes.

You squealed with giggles, scrunching up and shutting your eyes.

“Gahahal stohohohohop,” you squealed, quickly getting up and moving away.

“Who’s the winner now?” Gal asked, chuckling at your reaction.

“Me,” you said, trying to pull her down onto the couch where you sat to tickle her back. You had no idea if she was ticklish or not, but this was a good opportunity to find out. However, your plan backfired, as she grabbed both of your wrists and pinned you to the couch. In a flash, she began to squeeze up and down your sides, using the perfect amount of pressure to have you screaming with laughter.

“GAL STAHAHAHAP YOU AHAHAHASS,” you shouted, trying to push her hands away.

“Now is that any way to talk to your fellow coworker?” Gal asked with a grin.

You nodded your head, knowing that she was gonna torture you more. However, you were saved by the director, as she announced that it was time to film the next scene. 

You laid there panting, as Gal let you up.

“Better hope that makeup doesn’t run from you sweating,” Gal teased, poking your tummy. You flinched and let out a huff before getting up to go film. 

“Oh and by the way. It’s cute that you’re ticklish,” Gal said with a wink, before heading out the door. You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks warm as a smile spread across your face. You did your best to compose yourself before going to film, but it wasn’t easy.

Throughout your next few scenes, Gal would sneak in little pokes and squeezes whenever she could, especially when you broke character and laughed. She would add on to it by tickling you to pieces just to embarrass you even more. 

The next scene was an interrogation scene, towards the end of the movie. In this scene, Gal’s character interrogates you to get the information about their whole scheme and eventually leads to the final battle. You were looking over the script, grimacing at the method of torture. You knew they weren’t going to actually use real electrodes, but the thought of it made you shudder. 

“You know what I think we should do instead in this scene?” Gal asked suddenly, entering in her outfit for the scene. She was wearing a red dress underneath her detective coat. 

“What?” You asked.

She leaned down to whisper in your ear softly, “I should tickle you.”

You pursed your lips to contain the squeal that was about to escape your mouth. You shook your head, unable to speak. The thought of it was too much. Especially in the outfits the two of you were going to be wearing. 

“Aww what, you don’t like that?” Gal asked teasingly, running a finger down your spine. You jerked away from her, as she giggled at your reaction. 

“Wait right here, I’ve got something to take care of,” Gal said, throwing another evil smirk your way.

You let out a huff of frustration, tongue tied every time you were around her. It also didn’t help that she knew an embarrassing secret of yours. 

She came back a few minutes later, telling you it was time to film the scene. When you got out to the filming area, the scene looked different than what you expected. The table was still in the middle, but there were no electrodes or any scary looking things to be found. There was just a small little chest that was sealed, so you didn’t know what was inside. 

“Don’t worry, all the lines are the same. I just convinced the director to make this scene easier for you,” Gal said, looking directly in your eyes but showing no sign of teasing or joking.

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused at the sudden change.

“You’ll see. You won’t even have to act, I promise,” Gal said, as you saw the corners of her mouth twitch.

Your eyes widened with realization, knowing exactly what she meant.

“You really told the director to use tickling during the interrogation scene?!?” You asked Gal in disbelief. 

Gal let out a fake evil laugh before breaking down into hysterical giggles. 

“I wanted the scene to be with more laughter rather than painful screaming. And besides, this gives me a chance to test things out,” Gal said with yet another smirk.

“What do you mean test things out? And stop smirking, it’s so annoying,” you huffed, not really meaning it.

“Oh you’ll see,” she said, before walking towards the table.

The scene starts with your character being trapped and tied on the table. Gal’s character has finally captured the villain and wants answers. However, like any good villain, you weren’t giving away information for free or without a fight.

“You ready to get tickled to pieces?” Gal asked, smirking as she tied you to the table. 

“I hate you,” you said back, purposely slipping your wrist out of the ties.

“You want the scene to start early?” Gal asked, running her nails over your stomach, making you yelp and immediately behave. 

“This isn’t fairrrr,” you whined, now completely tied in an eagle spread position. 

“Aaaaand action!” The director yelled, as you quickly got into character.

Gal approached the table, walking slowly in her heels.

“Well well well, seems like you haven’t learned your lesson,” Gal said.

“You let me go this instant,” you growled, glowering at her.

“Not before you tell me about your little team of scheming snakes,” Gal hissed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, adding in a slight voice crack to show your character’s nervousness. However, you were naturally nervous for what was coming. And maybe slightly excited.

“You want to play the hard way or the easy way?” Gal asked with a rare serious expression.

“Hard ball. All the way,” you growled, pulling at the ties.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere, little one,” Gal said, going off script and adding in the nickname. You tried your hardest to not blush, hoping the camera wouldn’t pick up on it.

“Try me,” you said.

Gal took her detective coat off, revealing a gorgeous red dress. Almost as red as your face was. Your character’s outfit was sleeveless, which left your armpits wide open. You silently cursed in your head at whoever designed this outfit. 

Gal stood at the end of the table, staring you down. “Are you gonna talk? I’ll give you one last chance.”

“Go fuck yourself!” You shouted back, as your character was meant to be mouthy and stubborn.

“Very well then,” Gal said, raking her nails up and down your feet.

“Waiaiait stahahahap nohohot thahahahat,” you giggled out, struggling to remember your lines at this point. You decided to just hold out as long as possible, as that was the main idea of the scene until the cue came to give in.

“Every villain’s weakness huh,” Gal said.

“Anythihihing buhuhut thahahat,” you giggled, as your feet tried to swat her hands.

“I’ve got your number ~,” Gal said teasingly, now tickling your feet with full force scribbles. You were caught off guard since you were basically winging it at this point, which caused you to squeal and scream with laughter.

“NOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEASE IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES,” you shouted.

“That’s the point. To make you laugh until you can’t stand it any longer.”

You continued laughing and enduring the torture, until Gal went into her second ask.

“Are you ready to talk?” She asked, slowing her fingers.

“Nehehver!” You shouted, out of breath from laughing. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Gal said with a wink, while moving up towards your upper body. 

“Now where else are you ticklish?” Gal asked, as you knew this wasn’t part of the script but for her personal gain.

“Up my ass,” you spat back.

“Hmm, is that here?” Gal asked, clawing away at your ribs as you arched your back before going into full blown laughter.

“NOHOT THEHEHERE STAHAHAHAP,” you cried out, wondering how she was so good at tickling. 

“You better talk. Who are you working with. I need names,” Gal said, digging in between your ribs and making you squeak.

“NOHOHOHO ONE NOW LEHEHET MEHEHEHE GOHOHO,” you shouted, struggling to get the words out.

“Don’t lie,” Gal said with an angry tone to her voice, now spidering over your tummy. 

“IHIHI PLEHEHEAD THE FIHIHIFTH,” you screamed.

“I’m not letting you go until you spill,” Gal threatened, walking over to the top end of the table.

You looked up to see her grinning down at you. 

“How are you holding up?” She asked, breaking character to let you know this wasn’t part of it.

“You are such an asshole,” you huffed, feeling super vulnerable at the moment. She was near one of your worst spots and you knew she was gonna test it out. 

“Sorry but this is way better than electrodes. Plus I can take notes on all your spots and use it for the future,” Gal said, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“You know I can do the same and get revenge? I have fingers too you know,” you said sarcastically.

“I’ll be fine,” Gal responded confidently, as you rolled your eyes.

“Are you air ticklish?” Gal asked, wiggling her fingers inches above your exposed armpits. 

You burst out into giggles, trying to pull away from her fingers.

“Stahahahap gehehehet awahahahay,” you giggled.

“Oh my gosh this is so cute. Quick get the cameras rolling so this can go in the blooper reel,” Gal said, continuing to torture you and embarass you even out of character. After she spent a few minutes teasing you, you guys were back to filming.

“You will talk, whether you want to or not,” Gal said, slowly pacing back and forth. 

“I will escape. And once I do, I’ll return to my…” you paused, as your character was supposed to slip up but catch herself. 

“You’ll return to your what?” Gal asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“N-nothing,” you said, embracing yourself for the next round of tickles.

“Spill,” Gal said raking her nails all over your armpits.

“NEHEHEHEVER AHAHAHHAHA,” you laughed out, hating how ticklish you were.

“You sure are ticklish for an evil powerful villain,” Gal teased, as you blushed in embarrassment. 

“I think I’m gonna have to step it up,” Gal commented, walking over to the small chest in her heels. 

“What are you gonna do to me?” You asked with deliberate fear in your voice. You lifted your head up slightly, not sure of what to expect. Your eyes widened when you saw Gal take two electric toothbrushes out of the chest, holding them up for you to see. A smirk took over her face, ready to feast on your ticklish body. 

“You want to play the hard way? Oh you’ll get the hard way,” Gal said, turning them both on and running them over your feet.

It tickled so much to the point where you couldn’t even get any words out. All you could do was scream with laughter and squirm to the best of your abilities. 

“Not so mouthy now huh?” Gal said as you continued to struggle.

“Better get talking ~~,” Gal sang in a high pitched teasy voice. 

“OHOHOKAY IHIHILL TAHAHAHALK,” you shouted.

“Go on,” she said, throwing in a smirk to frustrate you.

“Ha, you really thought you’d get the satisfaction of winning huh? You will never defeat me, even with your childish tactics,” you said, gritting your teeth.

“Childish tactics? They seem to be getting you pretty well,” Gal said.

“You’ll never be good enough to defeat me,” you growled, attempting to escape the ropes.

“You sure about that?” Gal asked, sticking the electric toothbrush into your belly button. 

“GAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAP,” you screamed bucking against the sensation. She left it there to torture you for a bit, before moving it to your hip bones. One toothbrush for each hip. This made you lose it. You didn’t care if your character was supposed to hold out longer. You couldn’t stand how much it tickled and had to tap out.

“STAHAHAHAP IHIHI GIHIHIVE PLEHEHEHEASE,” you pleaded, desperately squirming against your restraints for any opportunity to escape.

“Oh do we have a weak spot?” Gal asked, knowing the obvious truth.

“PLEHEHEHEASE IHIHILL SPIHIHILL JUHUST STAHAHAHAP,” you cried out.

“Speak,” Gal demanded, temporarily stopping. 

After catching your breath, you began to speak.

“I work for Group 9, a secret team that has a whole database to track when places are unguarded and who we have to take out in order to be successful. We have a secret lair where everything is kept hidden. They have a tracker on me to see where I am and I can see where they are in relation to where I am,” you explained, still trying to process the torture you just went through.

“Very well. I have all the info I need,” Gal said, finding the tracker and taking it. 

“And cut!” The director shouted, as you laid there in disbelief of what you had experienced. What you thought was only a dream turned into a reality. However, you would never say that to anyone. 

“Dreams really do come true huh,” Gal said, smiling at you.

“Just let me up you jerk,” you huffed.

“Ah ah ah what was that? Remember you’re still tied,” Gal said, turning on the toothbrush and putting it inches away from your hips.

“NO PLEASE! I’VE HAD ENOUGH AHAHAHAHAHA,” you laughed as she gave you one last round of torture.

“Alright you’ve had enough,” Gal said, letting you up.

“Finally.”

“Just know that I can use this even if it’s not a scene. If you’re a brat just know you’ll get wrecked,” Gal said, smirking at the reddening of your cheeks. 

“Just wait until we do a movie where you’re the villain,” you said back, seeing the slightest flash of fear before it disappeared on Gal’s face.

“Sorry that’s not happening,” Gal said.

“You’re just scared of being tickled,” you said, pushing to find out.

“Even if I am, you’re still way worse,” Gal said.

“Deflecting again are we,” you said, now smirking yourself.

“Careful or I’ll have you tied again,” Gal said with a tone of warning. 

“But then again, I always have you tongue tied, so in a way you’re always tied around me,” Gal said, smirking as you turned to hide your blush.

“Don’t worry, you’ll only be tied for things you like. Tickles and me,” Gal reassured you. Your mouth flew open, as you covered it to keep in your squeal. 

“You’re adorable,” Gal said, pinching your side to make you yelp.

“I am not,” you denied in annoyance.

“Come on, let’s go get lunch so you won’t be Miss Grumpy Pants for the next scene,” Gal said, giggling as your face lit up at the mention of food.

The two of you went out for lunch together, talking and bonding more now that you got over the hump of embarrassment. She made sure to get you good and catch you off for the best reactions. However, you didn’t mind despite how embarrassing it was. Especially in public. 

The two of you finished the movie strong, filming many action-packed scenes together. However, the interrogation scene would always be your favorite. You thought to yourself about how lucky you were to be acting with your absolute favorite actress. Despite the fact that she would always tease and frustrate you with her smirks, you had such a strong bond with her that you would cherish forever. 

[therealmrrobinson]

SNOW WHITE (2025) Movie Review (Spoiler-Free)

It’s been fifteen years since Disney decided that remaking their classic and most beloved animated films into live-action would be a billion dollar trend. Though Disney did remake The Jungle Book and 101 Dalmatians in the mid-90s, it wasn’t until Tim Burton’s Alice In Wonderland where this trend really caught on. So it was only a matter of time before the very first animated feature film got the Disney live-action treatment. This movie has been plagued by nothing but controversy from Rachel Zegler’s comments about the original film, to Gal Gadot playing the Evil Queen, and the look of the Dwarfs. In the end all the controversies were for nothing considering that the film is another soulless Disney remake that will be forgotten over time.

THE GOOD

Despite the internets best intentions, this movie is not the disaster that people were predicting it would be. One thing I do give Snow White credit for, is that it does attempt to do something different. There was clearly no intention to do a straight up remake of the 1937 movie. This is good, because as much as the original is a cherished classic, it’s also a very simple movie. It works for the way movies were made back in the 1930s, especially since it’s the first of its kind; however it’s not a movie that could be remade in 2025. It’s best to view this new version as an extension of the animated film. The second act is basically the entirety of the original animated film, and the first and final acts are original. Not every new decision and change works, (I’ll elaborate when I talk about the bad) but I would easily take any attempt to try something new than doing a shot for shot remake like with 2019s The Lion King, or what we might see with the upcoming Lilo & Stitch and How To Train Your Dragon remakes.

In regard to Rachel Zegler, she is good as Snow White for the majority of the movie. She is at her best when the movie is following the animated film. She captures the same level of kindness that the original Snow White had but without some of the traits that could be considered outdated. In the animated film, Snow White was often very timid, doesn’t really do much, beyond acting kind and basically becomes the mother/house wife figure when she meets the Dwarfs. That movie belonged to them and the Evil Queen, not Snow White. This remake belongs to the character of Snow White and Zegler’s portrayal is more independent and has less tolerance for cruelty. Her best scene is the Whistle While You Work sequence. This musical number is reworked into something that you’d see from the Disney Renaissance and combined with Rachel Zegler’s incredible singing skills, I found myself moving my feet to the song.

THE BAD

Sadly, not even Rachel Zegler’s Snow White can save the rest of the movie from its faults. To immediately address the elephant in the room, the Dwarfs are just as horrifying as you imagined they would be. They look like characters that you’d find in the Robert Zemeckis motion capture movies he was making back in the 2000s. They are creepy, unsettling to look at, and you simply have to ask yourselves, why? Why are they entirely CGI instead of being played by real actors with dwarfism? It would obviously be cheaper and cause less controversy. Since the Dwarfs aren’t a major focus in this movie like in the original, half of them are interchangeable from one another. They don’t leave a lasting impression on you except in how frightening their designs are. Every time they are on screen, they are a distraction, even during the Whistle While You Work musical number.

Speaking of musical numbers, one change that this movie attempts is to make it feel like a full blown Broadway musical. I mentioned the Disney Renaissance reworking of Whistle While You Work, but the only two other songs from the original film appear in this new version. Heigh-Ho is of course in the film and is given more lyrics and The Silly Song is briefly featured to the point where you might miss it. Every other song in this movie is original and sadly forgettable. Once again I give the team credit for trying something new, but with he exception of the classic songs, this movie would have probably been improved without those original songs.

The Evil Queen is also another major blunder of the film. Gal Gadot has never been that strong of an actress to begin with, but her performance as the Evil Queen may be her worst one yet. She carries no menace and her original song “All Is Fair” highlights her inability as a singer. It’s like listening to Russell Crowes singing in Les Miserable. Not much else can be said about her acting in this movie, except that it made me think back to the first Wonder Woman and realized that Patty Jenkins deserved more credit for Gadot’s performance in that film.

In place of the nameless prince from the original we have Andrew Burnap as Jonathan, who plays the leader of the bandits determined to take down the Evil Queen. He is another change for this version, but I’d honestly take the nameless prince with two scenes from the original. Andrew Burnap is so dull, doesn’t carry a lot of charisma and has no chemistry with Rachel Zegler. She acts circles around him, but at the same time it demonstrates that Zegler’s acting is not all that good when it comes to the original material. When she’s not singing or acting in scenes that are from the original animated film, Rachel Zegler comes across as dead pan, dull, and the dialogue she has to say at times is laughably bad, especially in the film’s “finale”. However this is more a criticism with they way Marc Webb directs the actors. If it was one or two actors that were giving a bad performance, then that’s one thing, but when its the entire cast, that blame falls on the director.

OVERALL

Is the 2025 remake of Snow White a bad movie? Yes, it is. Is it the worst live-action remake that Disney has made? I don’t believe so. I walked out of Snow White expecting much worse, but I was surprised by the things I authentically liked. I still believe a movie like the 2022 Pinocchio is the worst live-action Disney remake. That film is terrible to the point where it’s an insult to the original animated film. I also believe that The Lion King from 2019 is a worse movie for of the fact that it’s a shot for shot remake that doesn’t attempt anything new. There was at least an attempt with Snow White, but unfortunately it was a terribly misguided one. The 1937 original will remain a timeless classic, and will be the one that Disney will continue to market and preserve the legacy of. This new version however, will stay a product of 2025 and be forgotten before the year is done.

RATING

DON’T WASTE YOUR MONEY

[nighthunter241]

He is Mine-Chapter 2 (Henry Cavill x male reader)

Masterlist

NOT MY GIF, GIF USED FROM TUMBLR OPTION

18+ DNI if you are lower the age of 18

Warning: mentions of DEATH

Rival #2 Gal Gadot

POV of M/N mom and dad during Week 1 before they left town.

Chris is in the basement home picking up a box and is about to go up the stairs to leave the basement. As he is leaving the basement with the box on hand he opens the door and is walking out until he is startled by his wife Alba. He gets scared and drops the box he was holding, making a loud thud when landing on the floor.

Alba: Oh darling, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.

Chris: It is no issue honey.

Alba: Surprised you still haven’t been able to distinguish my footsteps darling.

Chris: You are the one who has been known for being light on their feet.

Alba: What were you doing in the basement, wait is that the box with all our old letters and voice messages.

Chris: Yeah it is, I've been thinking about throwing them out.

Alba: And why is that darling?

Chris: You really want our kids to find them or worse read and listen to them.

Alba: Come on it won’t be that bad.

Chris: Sweety, I might be ok with the truth of the past but our kids we don’t know about that.

Alba: I highly doubt they will change perspectives, even though adopted they still seem more like me.

Chris: Yeah well anyway why did you want me to wake up early and drop you off at this gas station?

Alba: Well darling the best thing happened today, someone I saw many years ago is back in town and clearly still have interest in me so I had to make sure he knew that I knew he was back into town, I was hoping to catch him at the gas station to welcome him back but he instead ran down an ally.

Chris: Who are you talking about?

Alba: Don’t tell me you are jealous sweetheart.

Chris: Trust me I don’t get jealous especially about another man I know you wouldn’t do anything with another person.

Alba: So romantic honey.

Chris: Any way, who was this guy?

Alba: It was him, the investigator

Chris: What?

Alba: Yeah.

Chris: It can’t be I thought he retired or left town due to him being the laughing stock of the town.

Alba: I guess he is back now, may want to start picking up his investigation again and try to put me into jail again.

Chris: He failed the first time, you even embarrassed him and got him to lose everything while in court what else could he want.

Alba: He is stubborn and might think he can catch me slipping and hopefully reopen the case.

Chris: What do you want to do?

Alba: I’ll tell you about it while we pack our bags and head to the airport

Chris: Yeah that sounds……WAIT AIRPORT as in the place with the planes for people who leave the country?

Alba: Yes darling we are packing our bags and heading to Canada.

Chris: Are you kidding, and our jobs?

Alba: Relax, I took care of it, we get all the time off we need.

Chris: That is great but we got I don’t know THREE KIDS that are in their senior year about to graduate.

Alba: Darling relax, if they are just like their mother they will be fine.

Chris: How long will we be gone for?

Alba: I don’t know, it will depend how fast I can track him down and take care of it.

Chris: Alba sweety.

Alba: Darling don’t worry, I’ll pack and write them a note.

Chris: What about the box? Let me throw it out first.

Alba: Just throw it back down the basement and I’ll write in the note to stay out of the basement, you know they always listen to me.

Chris: Alright honey.

Alba: Do you think when we get back M/N will have a boyfriend I really hope so.

Chris: I hope not, can’t have another child go through a honeymoon phase.

Alba: What you say darling?

Chris: Nothing sweetheart.

Present

You wake up on Monday deeply annoyed when you remember that you have another issue to deal with. Now you have another girl that Henry can possibly fall for, just thinking about it pisses you off. You are ready for school and head downstairs and see your brothers eating and you update them about what you know.

M/N: There is another one.

Sebastian: Another what?

M/N: Another girl that likes Henry

Anthony: What, how do you know?

M/N: Robert told me

Sebastian: Him, and you take his word for it.

M/N: I mean I saw photos. It looked like Henry was getting close with that girl.

Sebastian: Who is the girl?

Anthony: I swear it better not be a student council member.

M/N: It is Gal Gadot

Sebastian: Wait, Gal you serious

Anthony: They are working on a school project together makes sense.

M/N: UGH, what do I do?

Sebastian: I have no idea, just let it play out until something comes to mind.

Anthony: You are so helpful sometimes you know that.

Sebastian shrugs at the comment and before you know it you are walking to school and at the corner where you meet up with Henry. After some time Henry calls out to you and you two start walking to school. “So how was your weekend Henry?” you asked him and he responds “Nothing much just feeling a bit better after what happened with Amy”. You end up asking him how everything is with that and he just responds letting you know the friendship between the two is over and that he is somewhat feeling better. One thing you noticed was that he never mentioned him being at the park or the walk and chat he had with Gal which gets you thinking if anything romantic is really going on. You decide not to push the topic and you two end up getting to school and Henry leaves saying he has to meet with Gal about their project. You end up following him until he reaches the school library and from a corner you listen to their conversation.

Gal: Hey Henry so glad you could meet up before class.

Henry: Yeah it is no problem

Gal: How are you feeling?

Henry: Better actually, the chat and walk with you made me feel better.

Gal: Have you told M/N about what you've been feeling?

Henry: Not really, he doesn’t really need to know.

Gal: Well I feel special. I know something that your best friend doesn’t.

Henry: I guess so.

Gal: Let's continue discussing how we should plan this project.

Henry sits down and starts talking with Gal about the project, hearing say how she thinks she is so special just because she knows a piece of info makes your blood boil. HOW DARE SHE think that. You were going to leave until you saw Gal put her hand on Henry's arm in a playful manner. You felt like something snapped, you were angry, no you were enraged by what you were seeing. After seeing that you left and decided you needed to relax, you go to the roof to relax but unable to come up with a plan you start freaking out on what to do. You go to class and while attending you are unable to focus without thinking of Gal and Henry until class ends. When lunch comes around you start walking by the club rooms and when you pass the Chemistry club you notice the cabinets and see all the chemicals, the dangerous chemicals. Hours pass and you get home and instantly go to your room to come with a plan. You start looking up the names of the chemicals you could see from the cabinet in the chemistry club out of curiosity. You end up finding out that certain chemicals in the club are poisonous, deadly enough to get it done. The temptation becomes strong but you shut off the laptop and quickly try to calm yourself, nearly going crazy at the thought of hurting Gal. 

After having a rough night you get to school trying to hopefully have a normal day to see if it was possible to come up with a different strategy, that was until you saw Gal talking to someone and you decide to listen in.

Gal: I mean it, he is so hot.

Friend: I’m not saying you're wrong just making sure you know what you are doing, he did just lose his friend.

Gal: He clearly is throwing signals back, I can’t wait till Friday.

Friend: You really got it bad don’t you, what about M/N?

Gal:  What about him?

Friend: They are close friends, what if he doesn’t like you and Henry chooses him over you.

Gal: Highly doubt that, before he knows it, I will be the one having Henry all the time and all that Henry will think about is me

They giggle and walk away, “Alright if that is how you feel, what about a rude awakening you ugly bit….”. Before you finish that thought Anthony comes up to you and smirks.

Anthony: Someone is being productive.

M/N: Shut it, just leaning against this wall.

Anthony:Yeah, sure. Have you come up with anything?

M/N: I…….well….

Anthony: Oh……is it those thoughts?

M/N: What thoughts?

Anthony: You know

M/N: Anthony………..I don’t know what you are talking about.

Anthony: Alright, just know you can do whatever it takes ok and we will have your back just know that.

Your brother leaves you to think about the last thing he said, and without a second thought it can possibly work. Maybe you can to the chemistry club room and seeing how empty it is you go in. The first thing visible is the cabinet and thankfully club members were dumb enough to leave it unlocked.  You grab one of the tiny bottles and leave the room and you start wondering what you can do with the poison. But then you remember one thing, pour it into her food and we will have your back just know that.

M/N: Hey I need something.

Robert: What do you need?

M/N: Do you know Gal's usual schedule, like what she does during her free time before class.

Robert: I can send it to you but overall she is always with someone or doing something so she is distracted.

M/N: What about lunch time?

Robert: She packs her lunch in the cooking club, she apparently is good friends with one of the members so they let her put her lunch there and when lunch begins she heads to the club to pick it up and heat it.

M/N: When does she usually leave her lunch in the cooking club?

Robert: It looks like that is one of the first things she does when she gets to school.

M/N: Alright, thx.

You put your phone down and head to the cooking club, none of the club members are inside due to them handing out samples around the school. You open the fridge and see a whole bunch of cooking ingredients but only one lunch box is located inside. You take it out and open it, without hesitation you pour the chemical you grabbed onto the meal. After that you let it air out to get rid of the smell and after that you packed it up again and placed it back in the fridge. Everything is put back in its place and you leave the club room and quickly make your way to class before the bell rings. After hours of classes it finally hits lunchtime and you get to the cooking club and see Gal take out her lunch box. She walks outside and heads to one of the benches near the gymnasium and she sits down and starts eating her lunch. After a couple of minutes of her eating she starts making a face of discomfort then she starts coughing. She gets up and only manages to get like a couple of steps before she falls onto the floor coughing and gagging. After a minute of that she lays still and stops moving, a student comes out of the gymnasium and lets out a scream. Before you could get caught you run away and get yourself into a random room. The student that had screamed heads to the teacher lounge and leads the teacher to Gal. Before you know it an ambulance is called and comes to Gal aid but clearly showing no signs of recovery, the paramedics later call the time of death. Everyone is to their classes and are forced to stay put until class is dismissed early.

 The Principal and Guidance Counselor decide to send the students home early and you are making your way home and when you get there you are greeted by your brothers who instantly start bombarding you with questions.

Anthony: Was it you?

Sebastian: You could have done a better job?

Anthony: What did you do exactly?

Sam: How did you do it?

M/N: RELAX!!! One at a time please.

Anthony: So?

M/N: It…..was…..me..

Anthony: How though?

M/N: I poured some poisonous chemical onto her food.

Sebastian: Wait, that was it?

M/N: Yeah

Anthony: We thought it was something more impressive but whatever.

M/N: Why are you guys so relaxed about what I did?

Sebastian: I don’t know, we aren’t really freaked out about this

M/N: Just don’t tell mom.

Anthony: Relax we won’t.

Your brothers walk alway to go make dinner and after eating dinner you head to your room to relax due to you not having homework and plan to enjoy the rest of the week until you receive a text from Henry.

Henry: M/N I feel so freaked after today.

M/N: I know, we just wanted a normal week.

Henry: I was getting along with Gal. I felt devastated after finding out what happened.

M/N: I know, I heard it could be food poisoning, a terrible way to go.

Henry: Yeah I heard about that also, I guess she must have used expired ingredients by accident.

M/N: I guess so, still a terrible thing

Henry: I think I may skip school tomorrow.

M/N: Wait, why?

Henry: I need a day to just process this.

M/N: I get that.

Henry: Wait, skip school tomorrow with me, we can go to the mall or go somewhere to eat just us two.

M/N: Henry you know I would, but I don’t need the school contacting my parents about me missing school while they are out of town.

Henry: Alright makes sense, don’t want you to get your mum angry I guess goodnight.

M/N: Night Henry

Week 2 Saturday

Henry POV

After the end of that school week Henry is walking by the football field, the one day he skipped wasn’t enough for him to get over the death of Gal. While walking by he runs into someone from school and he recognizes him. It is someone from their school football team, Ben Affleck. 

Ben: Sorry about that

Henry: No, I’m sorry.

Ben: Hey weren’t you that dude who was working on that project with Gal

Henry: Um, yeah I was.

Ben: Oh ... .must have been hard for you.

Henry: It was but pulling through.

Ben: That is all we can do, how are you feeling overall?

Henry: Just sad, but also numb to it and freaked out since it is so out of knowhere.

Ben: I hear that, just trying to distract myself with practice.

Henry: Yeah I’m currently trying to find a distraction also.

Ben: Hey, I got an idea.

Henry: What is it?

Ben: You seem strong and athletic, can you throw the football at me and help me with my catches you can help practice more and it should distract you for a bit to have you forget about what happened

Henry: You know what sure, sounds like a good idea

Ben: Thank you and trust me playing will help you relax and forget for a bit.

Sunday

M/N POV

You are washing the dishes from eating lunch when you notice your phone starts notifying you about a message. After finishing up you check your phone and to no surprise it is from Robert.

Robert: Congrats on getting rid of Gal, you had successfully killed someone without getting caught. That is impressive.

M/N: I have no idea what you are talking about

Robert: No need to lie or act dumb with me like I said I’m an ally.

M/N: What game are you playing?

Robert: No game just making sure you know who to trust, but most importantly I have some information you may like.

M/N: Which is?

Robert: *Sends of photos of Henry and Ben at the football field* Good looking man right, all those muscles.

M/N: That is Ben Affleck, the football captain of our school.

Robert: Exactly and he seems to be getting close with Henry.

M/N: They seem to be friends.

Robert: Naive aren’t you

M/N: Wait, don't tell me.

Robert: Ben well after some digging he seems to be the classic in the closet Jock an interesting detail just saying.

M/N: Perfect another issue to take care of.

Robert: Shouldn’t you be happy, this can help confirm if Henry is into men right?

M/N: Yeah you are right, but worse if he decides to follow those feelings with Ben.

Robert: Like before, just get to know the details about their building “friendship” and from there you can confirm what you need to do.

M/N: Doing this all again.

Robert: Relax, I’m sure you can take care of it, you seem to know a lot more than you let on, have fun and don’t stress out, remember, Henry is already yours.

[lala-writes-fetish]

uh oh I forgot ~I m really a dumb sub lol~

so here is the list (not really request just suggestions, I think others will agree)

Adele exarchopoulos

aimee Garcia

Alison brie

Amanda cerny

~amber heard~

Amy Adams

anna Kendrick

anne Hathaway

anya Taylor joy

April bowlby

ariana grande

aubrey plaza

bella Thorne

~belle delphine~

billie eillish

billie piper

Brianna Hildebrand

brie larson

Bryce Dallas Howard

cailee spaeny

camilla mendes

Candice Patton

caylee Cowan

~Cheryl hines~

Christina Hendricks

chyler Leigh

Claudia Jessie

daisy ridley

Dakota Johnson

demi Lovato

Diane Guerrero

dua lipa

Elena kampouris

Elizabeth Banks

-debicki

-olsen

Ellie Kemper

Emily blunt

emma myers

-Roberts

-stone

felicity Jones

florence Pugh

~gal gadot~

Gemma chan

Gwendoline christie

Gwyneth Paltrow

hailee Steinfeld

Hayden pannetiere

haylee

Hayley Atwell

isis hainsworth

jameela Jamil

jane Douglas

jenna coleman

jenifer connelly

-Coolidge

-garner

-Lawrence

-stone

Jessica Chastain

-Henwick

jodie Whitaker

Justina valentine

karen gillan

kat dennings

Katelyn ohashi

Kathryn hahn

-Newton

Katy perry

Kirsten Dunst

Kristen schaal

-stewart

krysten ritter

lacey chabert

lana del Rey

Lauren Mayberry

~lily collins~

lily James

Lindsey Shaw

lizzy Caplan

Lucy hale

madelaine petsch

Madison Pettis

maisie Williams

margot robbie

~mariah carey~

marisa Tomei

~Martina big~

Mary elisabeth Winstead

maya Hawke

megan thee stallion

Melissa benoist

-Rauch

Milana vayntrub

milly Alcock

... and that s just up to the m 😅😔

Wow, now that's a list!

Sorry for replying so late and thank you for the effort of putting this together. We'll screen the celebs on here and check out if there is enough good and inspiring material of them in order to make some captions. Safe to say that we won't get around to include ALL of them, obviously.

Question: What is the turn-on for you guys about dominant celebrity women and their feet? Is it the thought of them "enslaving" you? Or do you just like the look of the celeb-woman and imagine yourself with a "version" of her in your life? :)

[navree]

...at least it's not the snyderverse? i'm trying to remain optimistic. 😣

Confession time, I have ambivalent feelings about the Snyderverse. There's stuff I didn't like but there's also stuff I liked a lot.

For one, I think it had really solid casting. Cavill nailed the look of Superman, J.K. Simmons as Gordon is brilliant, Ray Fisher was really good as Cyborg, Jeremy Irons is brilliant in anything and God almighty I wish they'd kept him for The Batman as Alfred cuz I loved his Alfred, and Ben Affleck is a really good actor and he had some great moments and great looks as Bruce Wayne. The only duds were Ezra Miller, who's psycho, and Gal Gadot, because she's not a very good actress (most of the success of Wonder Woman, which I loved, came from Patty's writing moreso than anything intrinsic in Gadot's performance).

There's also some good ideas and good bones to Snyder's ideas for the DCEU. I like most of what he was trying to do with Superman's origin in Man of Steel, and honestly, Batman's motivation for his conflict in Batman v. Superman makes a lot of sense. Bruce is someone whose abhorrence of senseless violence is the cornerstone of his beliefs; his parents were killed in an act of senseless violence, and brutality for brutality's sake without a thought to consequences is something he fights against at all times. It is absolutely reasonable that Bruce, seeing not only wanton destruction from someone who is making no attempt to mitigate it, and has infinitely more power to do real harm than anything else Bruce has seen, has serious concerns and wants to at least be prepared in case he ever goes rogue, not to mention the movie does give us solid reasons for it to be personal with how he loses people in the destruction of the WE building (and also that scene of him running into the danger while everyone runs away? brilliant). I also like that this is an older, more jaded Bruce who has been distinctly marked by the death of his child and the havoc that wreaked on him (though I don't give a FUCK what Mr. Snyder says, that is not Dick Grayson, when has Dick Grayson ever been the dead Robin, that is Jason Todd, I accept nothing else, it's Jason who Bruce lost even in the Snyderverse). It's canon to the comics that Jason's death made Bruce more violent, more volatile, and actively changed him for the worst in a way that not even Jason's resurrection has been able to fully heal, so that being part of Bruce's issues in the Snyderverse works as well.

And I also want to acknowledge that Snyder has absolutely been shafted by WB. The director's cut of BvS does make more sense and have more to the story than the theatrical version. And then there's the whole mess with Justice League, even though I don't fault Snyder for leaving production due to his daughter's death, and I'm fine with the push to see his version that came out of it, especially given a) how bad Josstice League was and b) Joss Whedon being a shithead in general. And there's the fact that WB was clearly gunning for a DC MCU from the getgo, without understanding that, for all its myriad of sins (and oh boy are there many), that took time, and you really had to build up a lot of those characters individually before slowly mixing them into a shared universe that could be its own entity. WB didn't get that, so demanding a Justice League before we even got solo movies for any of the players besides Superman was always gonna be doomed to fail, and executive meddling can't be laid at Snyder's feet.

And I do want to mention that the Snyderverse had movies that weren't created by Snyder or had much input from him, both good and bad. Wonder Woman and Aquaman, I thought, were great, and those were made by different creatives, and Suicide Squad (2016) was atrocious (though I did like that Affleck was willing to make cameos to lend credence to the universe, and that it had Harley as a participant in the death of Robin, because most people don't really grapple with the fact that, even though Harley didn't exist when ADitF happened, any retcon to have her involved with Joker from the getgo is going to have her as a likely participant in the torture and murder of a child, and it's an interesting way to delve into her character and how her own agency intersects with her being a victim of the Joker's abuse).

But there are some serious, serious issues with the Snyderverse that did make it really hard to root for.

Most glaringly, Snyder has good ideas, like I outlined, but I don't think he's a very good writer. Take, for example, the much derided Martha scene. I get what he was going for, Bruce is lost in rage and Clark's focus on saving his mother not only reminds Bruce that Clark too has people he loves, just as Bruce does, but that he has his own underlying humanity, humanity that Bruce cannot ignore anymore and has to confront, that Clark is more than a threat, but a full person. It's a way to highlight how lost Bruce has become in this mission, and to show how humanity comes from who you are, not where you're from, and that Clark is good to his core in a way that's admired. That's the point of the scene, I get that, I understand it, but there had to be a better way to write it than that. I mean, Hell, just have Clark start talking about "my mother" as Bruce is getting ready to gut him, which can lead to confusion on Bruce's part because "your mother's an alien", which leads to Clark struggling to explain that his mom's in danger even as he's near death himself (and also idk why Lois is there, I love Lois as a character, though I wasn't overly fond of Amy Adams's version despite my love for her as an actress, but she shouldn't be there). But instead we get the Martha thing, and it ends up reading as Bruce realizing, somehow, that there are more people named Martha than his mom, and it ends up reading really stupid. This is what plagues a lot of Snyder's DC stuff, especially in BvS and with Bruce, which is that the ideas work but his execution in the minutia really doesn't and bogs the whole thing down. (I will say that I did like the writing of Bruce in the scene at Luthor's party, especially when he was being sneaky, that was good).

Snyder also is a good director in terms of visuals, very good, I like his visuals in a lot of his stuff. But I don't think he's a very good director when it comes to performances. He can't really pull anything stupendous out of any of his actors. And some people, like Ben Affleck, are good enough that you can still get good stuff from them irregardless, but some of them are not. And Henry Cavill, however much I love him in The Tudors, is one of those actors who does need a director to guide him to give a truly memorable performance, especially if he's as outside of his wheelhouse as he was with Clark. So Clark, who's our first introduction to the Snyderverse and also its emotional lynchpin a lot of the time, falls flat, because Snyder doesn't really seem like an actor's director, in spite of his visual eye.

There's also the killing thing. For one, just off the bat (heh), Batman shouldn't kill. Ever. It is the antithesis to who he is on every level, and there's a reason why he sticks to it so rigidly in comics canon and why any attempt to make him a killer, even via inaction (cough Nolanverse cough) rings false and hollow. For two, Superman is a killer in this universe. Not great, but Superman has killed in the comics too. But somehow, this doesn't really seem to bother him. Clark is, indirectly, responsible for a lot of civilian casualties after Man of Steel, and BvS really should have shown him grappling with that continuously, in a serious way. He's standing as a symbol for hope, he wants to help wherever he can, and there are now scores of people who've left behind grieving loved ones, because of him. It should affect him a lot more than it does, drive a lot more than it does, especially as we watch how those deaths harden Bruce, and yet we don't really see anything from him, and it affects his character. Not to mention it makes him a hypocrite when it comes to Batman. "Oh the Batman branded someone while stopping them from sex trafficking young girls, he's so terrible!" you have literally snapped someone's neck, shut the fuck up. And also, yeah, Clark killed Zod. That should also affect him a lot in the next movie, not just because of how killing and loss of life should affect him in general, but because Clark, a Kryptonian orphan with no connection to his homeland, no people like him, has just decimated the only concrete connection to his home that he has. If BvS wants to highlight Clark's solitude, Clark's loneliness as an alien and how that affects him AND the people around him along with the general populace, his feelings on having to cut off a Kryptonian connection to save human lives should get a lot more screentime.

And, while I do laud Snyder having good base ideas, some of the base ideas didn't work. I understand wanting to shift Lex into being the kind of billionaire most people in the 2010s would recognize as "classic billionaire", make him more of a Zuckerberg or an Elon Musk, but the way they went about it didn't work at all. Doomsday coming in last minute didn't work, having Death of Superman this early didn't work, making Batffleck an angry Batman rather than the sad Batman he was born to be didn't work, Jonathan Kent's death didn't work, etc. And honestly, having it be a Dark Knight Returns adaptation really didn't work. Even beyond the general cultural stuff that influence TDKR, and my issues with it as well as Frank Miller as a creative, the Batman against Superman stuff didn't work in the Snyderverse, because Snyder doesn't seem to get why those stories hit so hard. They work because Bruce and Clark are friends, best friends, closer than brothers, they love each other so dearly and would risk so much for each other, put their lives on the line for each other no matter what, be there at their lowest (there's a World's Finest issue dedicated to Clark trying to help Bruce with the aftermath of Jason's murder, it's really good). Seeing them at odds, seeing them fight, it hurts because we know what was once there, and seeing it fall apart into enmity and violence is painful. Longtime friends turning on each other hurts to witness. It doesn't work if Clark and Bruce don't know each other and don't have any personal connection, because that takes away the edge that makes those stories tug at our emotions.

Like I said, ultimately I'm ambivalent. There's stuff that worked, especially in concepts and in broad strokes, and there's stuff that didn't, like Snyder's writing decisions once detail had to get involved. And between that and the ten million behind the scenes issues, like the studio constantly meddling in everything, like Ezra Miller's issues, like Amber Heard having the nerve to be abused by her husband which got everyone real mad at her because he was popular twenty years ago, it ultimately made the whole thing a giant mess that was doomed to fail, even if Snyder had been flawless (which he really wasn't, but the outside stuff that kept coming up in every single installment certainly exacerbated everything).

I'm hoping the studio backs off Gunn, and that he keeps up his good writing streak that we've seen with stuff like Guardians, and that the decisions I've seen that are worrying me turn out fine (or are at least rectified and dealt with in pre-production why is the FUCKING FLASH DIRECTOR in charge of Batman why God why?????? and also again please don't have the starting Robin be Damian I have strong feelings about that even though I love my dear boy), but it's early so we'll see. Fingers crossed.

[jewishbarbies]

you know, I’m not a huge fan of the H3 podcast (I’m not sure if you know of them) for multiple reasons, but there’s this one thing that haters hate them for that confuses me. Backstory: Ethan Klein of the H3 podcast and his wife Hila are both Jewish, Hila actually being Israeli herself and she served in the IDF and I’m pretty sure that they met on Ethan’s birthright trip, if I remember correctly. Now both Ethan and Hila are in support of citizens of both Israel and Palestine being safe, which is fine, but a lot of people despise Hila for having served in the IDF.

Now correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t all Israelis have to serve in the IDF at some point? Like, mandatory conscription if you’ve reached the age of 18. It’s not really a choice that these people have, right? Obviously there’s probably some cases in which you may be exempt, but most people have to serve right? And Israel isn’t unique in this. South Korea has mandatory conscription for men, Taiwan has mandatory conscription for men as well, I guess Israel is unique in the sense that their conscription is mandatory for both men and women, but still. Why is it that doing something that your government requires you to do means that you’re akin to the devil in the eyes of pro Hamas people? Even Israeli leftists who support Palestinians still have to serve, even if their ideology doesn’t match that of their government. There’s many flaws in people, but I can’t crucify them for something that they’re made to do because wouldn’t Israelis be imprisoned and condemned if they avoided it?

I can’t stand them for many reasons but I loved that Ethan put Hasan Piker’s feet to the coals over his “settler babies” comments.

the IDF service is mandatory and I believe it’s for a minimum of 2 years, you can choose not to but it means jail time. I don’t think there’s a way out of it that doesn’t land you in jail because it’s mandatory by law. not all service means seeing action, like Gal Gadot being a gym trainer, but hamas supporters have the “even pushing a broom means working for the enemy” mentality. they would rather Israelis just die. because to leftists, there’s always some easy way out. it’s never difficult, there are never consequences, because to them in their minds they would just say no.

the amount of gen z leftists that were making jokes about dodging the draft if it ever came back and going “teehee what are they gonna do? arrest me?” yeah, and if it comes back under trump, you’d probably get publicly executed too. they’re all “I would hide the jews!!” not knowing they’re the type of person to drown their rescuer in a panic. you don’t know what kind of person you are or the decisions you’ll make until you’re making them. every one of these leftists would serve the 2 years, because even they’d have the self awareness at that point to know they wouldn’t be able to handle jail.

all the kpop girlies who stan their idols during their mandatory military service and making excuses for them but vilify Israelis for their mandatory service are a fucking joke.

[lovelylostminds]

Muse; Kassandra of Sparta, The Eagle Bearer

Faceclaim: Gal Gadot

Exclusively shipped with @sah1x1s Brasidas/Muses

Kassandra (Greek: Κ��σσανδρα; 458 BCE -) renowned as the Eagle Bearer, was a Spartan mercenary who operated in Greece during the Peloponnesian War.

During her travels as a mercenary, Kassandra came into conflict with the secretive Cult of Kosmos, an organization intent on controlling the entire Greek world.

She was the older half-sister of Alexios and, through her mother, Myrrine, the granddaughter of King Leonidas I of Sparta. Although raised by her step-father Nikolaos, Kassandra was the biological daughter of Pythagoras.

When Kassandra was seven, the Pythia Praxithea at Sanctuary of Delphi prophesied at the decree of the Cult of Kosmos that Kassandra's younger brother, the baby Alexios, would bring about the fall of Sparta. In order to prevent this, Alexios was to be sacrificed at Mount Taygetos, despite Myrrine's pleas for Nikolaos to stop it. As a priest was about to drop Alexios, Kassandra attempted to stop the sacrifice but instead pushed the priest and Alexios to their apparent deaths. Kassandra was condemned as a traitor to Sparta by the ephors, who urged Nikolaos to execute her immediately.

Nikolaos, being adherent to Spartan law, reluctantly complied and held Kassandra by her hand and dropped her down the mountain despite pleas from Myrrine. However, Kassandra survived the fall and escaped to the beach with the spear. Refusing to be found by the Spartans, Kassandra fled out to the open sea in a boat, with the eagle Ikaros following her. A storm later turned Kassandra's boat overboard and she woke up on the beaches of Kephallonia. There, she was found by the merchant Markos, who took her under his wing.

Personality and traits

Kassandra had a soft spot for children, particularly Phoibe, a young orphaned Athenian girl. She also possessed a scar on her right upper lip and heavy scarring down her arm from falling from Mount Taygetos as a child. According to both Phoibe and herself, she was rather immune to illness.

Kassandra shared a symbiotic relationship with her eagle, Ikaros, which aided her in reconnaissance thanks to her Eagle Vision. Unlike later generations who possessed the skill, her Eagle Vision was far more literal in the sense that activating the ability allowed her to see through the eyes of Ikaros. Like the Daughters of Artemis, Kassandra could also tame a variety of wild animals to fight with her.

Trained from a young age to fight as a Spartan, Kassandra was a highly skilled warrior capable of defeating multiple opponents simultaneously. Kassandra was able to competently wield a variety of weapon types, including swords, bows, spears, and axes. Unlike most Spartan warriors, however, Kassandra did not rely on a shield for protection, instead being able to easily deflect enemy attacks.

A master of stealth, Kassandra was able to silently assassinate her targets undetected and was also able to utilize the foliage of bushes to remain hidden from her enemies. She also proved proficient in the use of the Spear of Leonidas which aided her in silent assassinations. The Spear also gifts Kassandra with Superhuman powers which includes enabling her to know what, when and how her enemies are going to attack, giving her a major edge over her enemies in combat. It greatly enhances her physical strength to the point where she can send normal and giant-sized men to animals as large as grizzly bears flying through the air dozens of feet away from her in a single blow with sufficient force. Her blows could even stagger Legendary beasts like the Nemean Lion and a Cyclops with significant effort.

She could also briefly enhance her speed and reflexes to the point where she can move faster then a human eye can see or react to and can also regenerate her injuries that would normally be fatal. If necessary, the Spear can also turn her invisible for a short while, allow minor control over poison and fire, produce concussive shockwaves, charge arrows with raw explosive energy, phase arrows through solid objects, and very minor control over time, only allowing for time to be stopped for five seconds.

A skilled freerunner, Kassandra was able to scale the statue of Athena in Athens as well as natural elements with relative ease. She also proved to be a strong swimmer whilst searching the ruins of underwater shipwrecks and was capable of holding her breath for a relatively long period of time.

With the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus, which was passed on to her by her father Pythagoras, Kassandra was rendered immortal and remained unchanged for far longer than two thousand years. With the staff, she no longer required food or water as the staff sustained her needs.

Modern Verse

Kassandra.

She was born and raised in Greece, by Myrrine and Nikolaos a diplomat. She grew up to be a happy child, even more so when her baby brother Alexios was born.

Being a diplomat’s daughter, she was taught to defend herself if harm came to her. When she was ten, her family was murdered and Kassandra managed to escape through her window. Due to the fall she now wears scars on her right bicep, and across the bridge of her nose.

Alone and orphan Kassandra was found by local thief Markos and raised her to be his beck and call, he taught her the art of stealing, charming people out of their money, it’s not long until she became better than Markos.

When she reached adulthood, Kassandra became an Assassin, honed her skills, specializing melee weapons, special guns, and the bow and arrow. Her skill made her well known in the black market and occasionally she accepted jobs from people that allow her to travel, she didn’t care where the coin came from- although she isn’t keen to liking contacts that involve hurting innocent people.

Kassandra has no home and do no have ties to anyone but a little orphan girl Phoebe, who is the reason why she pick up on contracts to keep her fed. Although much like her family, Phoebe is murdered and Kassandra now hunts the ones who hurt Phoebe.

[yourlocalqreator]

Amara Khaldun

General

Name: Amara Khaldun

Face Claim: Gal Gadot

Date of Birth: June 15 45BCE

Date of Death: same day bayek died

Aliases: Jade Vixen, Jade, Mari

Gender: Female

Occupation: Hidden One / Assassin, Former Slave

Faction: Hidden Ones

Location: Siwa, Egypt

Physical Appearance:

Hair Color: Light brown

Eye Color: dark brown

Height: 5’4

Build: Muscular hourglass

Scars or distinguishing marks: no, just battle scars

Ethnicity: Half Egyptian Half Indian (SORRY IF I GOT THE SKIN COLOR WRONG)

Appearance:

Think about like Jade from Mortal Kombat, who possesses a striking and captivating appearance. Her features exude an air of elegance and strength, combining beauty with the intensity of a warrior.

Amara's eyes are a mesmerizing shade of emerald green, sparkling with determination and wisdom. They hold a glint of mischief, hinting at her playful nature beneath her serious exterior. Her eyebrows are elegantly arched, framing her expressive eyes with precision.

Her complexion is smooth and radiant, akin to a flawless porcelain doll. Sun-kissed hints of warmth grace her skin, evidence of her time spent under the Egyptian sun. A subtle dusting of freckles adorns her nose and cheeks, lending an endearing touch to her overall appearance.

Amara's hair falls in lustrous waves, flowing down her back like cascading ebony silk. It is usually styled in a loose braid or swept up in an intricate updo, allowing her to move freely during combat while still maintaining an air of grace.

With a strong, sculpted jawline and high cheekbones, Amara possesses an aura of regal beauty. Her lips are full and naturally tinted with a soft pink hue, capable of conveying both warmth and determination with a single smile.

Her physique reflects the years of training and combat experience she has accumulated. Lean yet muscular, Amara's body boasts a balance of agility and strength. She carries herself with confidence and poise, a testament to her warrior spirit.

In her combat attire, Amara dons a mixture of traditional Egyptian garb and the practicality of an assassin. Her outfit consists of form-fitting garments, allowing for fluid movement in battle. Shades of green and gold adorn her attire, paying homage to her connection with the Hidden Ones.

Overall, Amara possesses a captivating and commanding presence, her beauty enhanced by her fierce determination and unwavering spirit.

Personality Traits:

possessing resilience and pragmatism, combined with tenacity and adventurous spirit, she has a strong sense of justice and a desire to protect the innocent, much like the Assassins in the Assassin's Creed series.

She exhibits a rough exterior but harbors a deep sense of compassion and loyalty towards her comrades. She values the bonds of family and friendship, willing to go to great lengths to defend those she cares about.

Amara is skilled in various forms of combat, melee weapons, agility, and proficiency in stealth. She would be versatile in her approach to missions, adapting to different situations and using her surroundings to her advantage.

She possesses a sharp wit and a knack for strategy, able to think on her feet and make quick decisions. However, she would also carry the weight of her past experiences, understanding the consequences of net action and grappling with her inner demons.

Her Family

Mother: Anika Kaldun, An indian

Father: Amenhotep Kaldun, An Egyptian

Little Brother: Abrax Kaldun, Half

Friends

Aya of Amunet, Bayek of Siwa, The Hidden Ones, Cleopatra

Enemies

Cleopatra, Order of Ancents

Lover

Bayek of Siwa

Skills and Abilities:

Proficient in hand-to-hand combat and various weaponry, such as the Hidden Blade, bow, Spear, Daggers, and Many more

Mastery of stealth techniques, allowing her to move silently and remain unseen.

Proficient in gathering intelligence, reconnaissance, and planning missions.

Knowledgeable about ancient Egyptian history, culture, and artifacts.

Skilled in parkour and free-running, enabling her to traverse the environment with agility.

Flexibility

Martial Arts: Thatib, Kalaripayattu

Weapons

Hidden Blade

Bow and Arrow

Swords

Daggers

Motivations:

Amara is motivated by her deep-rooted desire to protect the people of Siwa and Egypt from the tyranny of the Order of the Ancients. She seeks to restore peace and justice to her land, fighting for the freedom of her fellow Hidden Ones and all those oppressed by the corrupt regime.

Background

Suffering from her memories, Amara Kaldum was a slave from an early age, taken away from her parents and her brother, who lived with each other in a small town in egypt.Her father calls her the jade vixen for fun before she got taken away which she kept that name forever. She endured years of physical Pain and Emotonial abuse by her cruel masters, and soon her memories left deep scars on her soul, also igniting a burning desire for freedom and justice.

For years and years later she encountered physical and emotional pain because of her captors, witnessed horrors inflicted upon her fellow slave friends,, and lived in fear. the trauma she experienced left deep scars, physically and mentally shaping her into a resident but wounding a deep individual.

then the dark tunnel started to open up as she escaped and took a leap of faith. after that crossing paths with the hidden ones, once she met bayek of siwa who she fell in love with and joining their ranks.

Under the guidance of her mentor, Aka Herself cause her father also learned to fight before she got taken away, Amara honed her skills in combat and stealth, channeling her pain and anger into a relentless pursuit of justice. She became a formidable assassin, using her knowledge of the slave trade to dismantle its networks and free as many victims as possible.

Despite her strength and resilience, Amara still carries the deep scars of her past. She is haunted by nightmares and suffers from anxiety and trust issues. However, she channels her pain into a fierce determination to protect others from the same fate she endured.

Amara's experiences have shaped her into a fiercely passionate advocate for the abolition of slavery. She is driven by a burning desire to dismantle the systems of oppression that perpetuate human suffering. Throughout her journey it was difficult, she found solace in the support of her fellow assassins and the hope that one day she could heal the wounds of her past.

[ultramaga]

"I don't mean to offend anybody" Ah. Starting with a lie. Always a good sign. "Rachel Zegler is courageous and brave" Wow. Did she run into a fire to save a stranger? Volunteer to fight in a war? No. She tweeted a popular Leftist opinion, expecting, like with Pedro Pascal, that Disney would look the other way. "She tweeted 'Free Palestine' on her personal account" If she wants to sell countries, she better own them first. But she was working as the face of a company. She had already been warned that political opinions are against the policy.

Gina was blacklisted for simply retweeting a meme saying "don't be like the Nazis". There's a court case over it. Disney doesn't want to hire staff who will destroy them. If you can't comprehend this, walk to your nearest mental hospital and explain it to them. Perhaps you can be helped? "she is being blamed" She told people not to see the movie. You think she can't be held accountable? That she is insane or a child? Or that having a vagina means we can't take her seriously? "For context: Gal Gadot ... plays the evil Queen." Yes, and after years of the Left screaming "Kill the Jew", I am sure that is what passes for an argument in your circles. However, to sane people, it is a desperate attempt to deflect attention. ": the producer, Marc Platt, flew across the country to reprimand a 23 year old for making said tweet" Yes, tanking the company is bad. I can only assume Leftists have never worked, because they are useless parasites that only survive off the blood of actual sane people. Let's imagine, just for a moment, that you were working a real job, in a supermarket, and you start telling everyone not to shop there. Do you think they will keep paying you, do you think another employer will want to hire you? | Are you genuinely THAT stupid?

Disney is committing legal suicide if it doesn't actively oppose Zegler's political comments, and the fact Zegler told conservatives not to see Disney movies is grounds for instant dismissal and permanent unemployability. And if Leftists can't see that, it's because they simply have no idea what it would be life to have to work for a living, and have been carried for their whole lives.

And it's time we kicked these bitches out of the sedan, and tell them to use their own fvcking feet for a change.

So. I don't mean to offend anybody but Rachel Zegler is courageous and brave in a way that I'm not sure I would be at 23 years old with my career on the line. She tweeted 'Free Palestine' on her personal account and now she is being blamed/made the scapegoat for why the Snow White movie is not doing as well as Disney predicted.

For context: Gal Gadot (of "let's sing 'Imagine' to healthworkers-fame and 'I'm proud to have served in the 1DF' fame) plays the evil Queen.

Also for context: the producer, Marc Platt, flew across the country to reprimand a 23 year old for making said tweet. He asked her to delete it. She did not. Now Marc's son has taken to social media to "expose" Rachel's selfishness. They strongly believe her tweet is hurting the box office and jobs. The movie is done. There are no more jobs or employment. Producers get a cut from box office earnings. So all they really had to say was, "Rachel's tweet is costing my father and my family money! Take it down!"

Anyways. She didn't. And hasn't.

Good for her. The absolute balls of steel tbh.

[roland1993]

Wonder Woman raises her foot over Superman's face in broad daylight

Wonder Woman sitting on the throne places his feet on Superman's body in broad daylight

Giantess Wonder Woman tried to crush Superman in broad daylight

Wonder Woman sitting on Superman's shoulders in broad daylight

Wonder Woman Gal Gadot sitting on Superman's shoulders in broad daylight

Superman proposes to Wonder Woman in broad daylight

Superman gives Wonder Woman a foot massage as she sits on the throne in broad daylight

Superman carries Wonder Woman on his shoulders in broad daylight

Wonder Woman sitting on the throne is using Superman as her footstool in broad daylight

Giantess Wonder Woman trample tiny Superman under his sole in broad daylight

Wonder Woman sitting on throne, Superman below holding on to her legs

wonder woman pushes superman's face under the sand with her foot

superman locked under wonder woman's throne in broad daylight

wonder woman stomps on superman's face in broad daylight

wonder woman sitting on throne, superman lying between her feet in broad daylight

Wonder Woman sitting on the throne rubs her feet on Superman's face in broad daylight, digital art

Wonder Woman sitting on the throne put her feet on Superman footstool art

Wonder Woman on the throne resting her feet on Superman, digital art

Wonder Woman sitting on the throne trample tiny Superman under her feet art

Gal Gadot Wonder Woman sitting on the throne , tiny Superman wash her feet , digital art

Gal Gadot Wonder Woman in Greek dress, Superman wash her feet , digital art

Batman sitting on the throne, Wonder Woman sitting on his legs, Superman giving Batman a foot massage

King Batman sitting on the throne, Queen Wonder Woman sitting on the throne, Superman gives them a foot massage , digital art

King Batman sitting on the throne, Queen Wonder Woman sitting on the throne, Beaten Superman clings to Batman's feet, digital art

King Batman sitting on the throne, Queen Wonder Woman sitting on the throne, beaten Superman head is crushed under their feet , digital art

Big batfleck Batman sitting on the throne, big gal Gadot Wonder Woman sitting on the throne, Superman body is stomped under their boot , digital art

Indian Wonder Woman sitting on the throne places his boot on Superman's mouth in broad daylight, digital art

Batman and Wonder Woman sit on the throne as king & Queen , place their feet on servant Superman body, Superman under their throne , digital art

Batman crushes Superman's mouth with his foot , Superman lying down experiences pain, art

19th century, African Wonder Woman crushes tiny Superman face under her feet , digital art

Batman and Wonder Woman together walk hand in hand, Superman kneeling behind them on a leash , digital art

Batman and Wonder Woman sitting on the throne hand in hand, Superman kneeling behind them on a leash , digital art

Wonder Woman sitting on Superman's shoulders, holding him by a rope around his neck, digital art

Wonder Woman Gadot sitting on Superman's shoulders, holding him by a rope , digital art

Turkish Wonder Woman sitting on Superman's shoulders, holding him by a Leash around his neck, digital art

Wonder Woman sitting on Superman's dog shoulders, Superman in muzzle, digital art

Wonder Woman sitting on Superman's dog shoulders, Superman in muzzle, digital art

Wonder Woman sitting on Superman's body shoulders, Superman in muzzle, digital art

Batman and Wonder Woman hands in hand, Superman kneeling and worship Batman giving him a foot massage, digital art

Superman and Wonder Woman hands in hand, Superman worship Wonder Woman giving her a foot massage, digital art

Clark Kent and Diana Prince in Yacht

Superman and Wonder Woman lift in his arms, in skirt, kiss

Wonder Woman sitting on the throne places her boot on Superman's body, footstool, in broad daylight in Israel, digital art

Happy Hanukkah, Jerusalem Wonder Woman sitting on the throne, kippa citizens see how Superman give her a foot massage, digital art

Happy Hanukkah, Jerusalem Wonder Woman sitting on the throne, American cape Superman give her a foot massage, digital art

Superman down kneel , give a foot massage for a afro Wonder Woman queen , sitting on the throne, in white Greek dress, give him order, digital art

Superman down kneel , clean black boots of a Wonder Woman queen , sitting on the throne, in white Greek dress, give him order, digital art

images of Superman with dog face , down, obedient, obey to queen Wonder Woman , walk behind Queen Wonder Woman, rope leash, black boot, art

images of Superman eats on the ground from a bowl at Wonder Woman's feet, down, obedient, s-curl, obey to Wonder Woman , in a Grecian dress, at black boot , fat, small star stud earrings, sunrise, art

images of superman eats from wonder woman's hand, down, obedient, s-curl, obey to Wonder Woman , in a Grecian dress, fat, at black boot, small star stud earrings, sunrise, art

Superman and gal Gadot wonder woman, movie affection kiss, shoulder ride, art

Superman kneels, Wonder Woman sitting on the throne , superman obedient, superman obey, superman kneel before Wonder Woman, loyal, in black boots, leash rope, beard, sunrise, drawing art

Black suit queen Captain marvel sitting on the throne places her socks feet on Superman's body, happy smells, in black boots, smiling, Walt Disney pictures

Dark skin, Captain marvel sitting on the throne places her black socks feet on Superman's body, happy smells, art

Dark skin, muscle, Wonder Woman sitting on the throne places her feet socks on Superman's body, black socks, happy smells, in black boots, Walt Disney pictures

Batman sitting in the throne, Superman down and kiss batman feet, batman laughs, Tony Daniel

Emperor batman sitting in the throne, empress wonder woman, Superboy down and kiss batman feet, good boy, batman laughs, drawing

superman locked under evil wonder woman's throne in broad daylight, sitting on his shoulders, at her feet, comics art

Tiny superman locked under evil wonder woman's throne in broad daylight, sitting on his shoulders, at her feet, stomp, comics art

Tiny superman locked under evil wonder woman's throne in broad daylight, sitting on his shoulders, at her feet, stomp, art

King Batman sitting with Wonder Woman on the throne places boot on Superman face, comics art

King Batman sitting with Wonder Woman on the throne places boot on Superman head, batman smile, comics art

King Batman sitting with Wonder Woman on the throne places boot on Superman head, batman smile, selfie, comics art

Batman sitting with Wonder Woman on the throne, Superman Footstool under batman boot, batman smile, comics art

Batman sitting with Wonder Woman on the throne, Superman locked under batman throne, batman smile, comics art

Batman sitting with Wonder Woman on the throne, Superman Footstool under batman boot, batman smile, comics art

Batman sitting with Wonder Woman on the throne, Superman under batman legs throne, batman smile, comics art

Batman sitting with Wonder Woman on the throne, Superman down clings to batman legs, superman beg at his feet, comics art

Captain Wonder Woman sitting on the throne, Superman kiss her boot, comics art

Black suit Captain marvel sitting on the throne stomp superman's face under the sand with her boot, comics

Amora Enchantress trample superman's face in the sea with her boot, art

Amora Enchantress sitting on the throne trample superman's face in the sea with her boot, Gadot, art

Servant Superman give a foot massage to queen Wonder Woman, and obey Wonder Woman's orders, worship, movie art

16th wonder woman sitting on throne, superman lying between her feet in broad nightlight, submit, graphism art