...엿새
[...·yeos·sae]
(noun) (when counting the days; period, duration, number of days) …6 days (some number with 6 as the units digit e.g. 16 = 열엿새, 26 = 스무엿새) · (reading date in the traditional system, from day 1 to day 30) day 16 / day 26
This form is not likely to be used nowadays (outdated).
Equivalent: ...육 일 (...6일) (⚠️ 육, not 유)
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I've got this image of Dad!Tsu’tey from my Father-son-shenanigans AU turning up in ATWOW during the aftermath of the SeaDragon, specifically on that one rock. And he has no idea how he ended up there, but whilst Jake and Neytiri are quaking at the sudden appearance of their dead friend (visibly aged from the joys of fatherhood), Spider pops out of the ocean.
Naturally, Tsu'tey only has eyes for his son, and immediately gets launched head first into Protective!Dad mode at the state of him. He looks like a drowned rat, has several sluggishly bleeding cuts along his body, his stripes are faded more than his Spider ever allows. Not to mention, his dreads are matted at the scalp and are in desperate need of a retwist. But most alarming of all, none of his other family members (The Sully's) seem to remember to check on him in their shock of discovering Tsu'tey's presence.
Since no one else seems to be bothering, Tsu'tey helps Spider out of the water, noting the shock on the boy's face as he hesitantly takes Tsu'tey's outstretched hand.
<"Are you okay?"> Tsu'tey asks, as he has done for countless years. And horrifyingly, instead of Spider replying with "yes Dad," or "no Dad" Tsu'tey gets a-
<"Yes sir.">
Spider has never referred to Tsu'tey as 'sir' before. It's either 'Olo'eyktan' when he's in a mood and wants to get under Tsu'tey's skin, or 'Dad'.
<"Sir?"> Tsu'tey repeats with a curl of his nose. <"Who the hell is sir? I am Dad to you. I have always been Dad to you.">
And of course, Tsu'tey is dead in this universe, and Spider has no clue who this strange forest na'vi is. Not to mention he's had a very long and emotional day surrounding another father figure.
<"Dude, I have no idea who you are.">
Cue:
Tsu'tey from my Dad!Tsu'tey AU looking at Spider in our ATWOW: "Watch out kid because you're about to get the strongest and most stable support system any clan has ever seen."
BONUS:
If Spider were to admit to Tsu'tey that Quaritch is alive (he's only known the man for an hour but Eywa does he trust him to keep Neytiri from mauling him):
Side Note: Tsu'tey has it all under control, and now has recruited Neytiri to go hunt down that dead beat dad.
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DAY SIXTEEN: Overstimulation w/ Natasha Romanov
a/n: GAY SEX TIME YIPPIE!!! Anyways, I've had this done since yesterday but I ended up sleeping all day then being super busy for the rest so I totally forgot about it LMAOOO.
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Sometimes Natasha feels like she has a lot to make up for, between being an Avenger and your girlfriend, sometimes it's hard for her to balance both. You know not to worry though, because you know that she'll always make up for it.
"I— I can't! Ah! Fuck. No more!" You cried out, your legs shaking around Nat's head.
Her tongue fucked in and out of you languidly, her strong arms were wrapped around your thick thighs, successfully holding you in place despite your constant squirming. Her chin was soaked with your essence, a dirty mixture of wetness and cum that resulted in a shining coat.
"I know you can give me one more, baby. C'mon." She encouraged with a lift of her head before she attached her mouth back to your clit, suckling on it.
"Okay, okay— gah!" Your back arched, nails scratching at her scalp. You held onto the strands of her red hair like an anchor, holding her close to you as you rode her face.
Your lips were pressed together though they did nothing to prevent the loud pornographic moans that were being pulled from deep within your soul. Your eyes were squeezed shut, because even if they were open, it wouldn't have mattered anyways as you came.
Your vision went white, your jaw dropping even though no sounds were able to leave you at the constricting of your lungs. You were breathless, back raised up to the air to the point where you were almost lifting off the bed. Your hips jostled and gyrated, chasing desperately at the stimulation your past orgams had left behind in their wake.
"There you go, sweetheart. I knew you could do it." Natasha praised, her hands that were locked around your thighs were now massaging at the sensitive flesh.
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“I am Emmet and I give up,” he groaned, head thunking against his desk.
It was unlike him—a man always up for any challenge, winner extraordinaire—to give up the ghost like this. If anything Emmet should have picked up his head and try, try, try again.
But he had been trying, was the thing. For weeks. For months! Emmet had probably never tried so hard at anything else in his life.
Pulling his head up, and feeling a pang where his forehead had met wood, Emmet leaned back in his chair. His eye twitched, irritated like he always was when the chair rocked back as it was designed to do. Awful dorm chair, awful desk, awful-
Joltik launched herself into a stack of floppy-discs knocking them over. He watched her gleefully do this with mild exasperation.
Despite Emmet’s foul mood, he could never call any Pokémon outright ‘awful’—especially not one that he hatched from an egg himself.
See, while Emmet (and Ingo too, but he wasn’t important to the conversation at hand right now) was going for a bachelors in civil engineering he was also taking a minor in Pokémon Breeding. Him and his twin were avid battlers, and together they had been designing in theory—for some time—now a rounded out and curated team that could work for all types of battling. Singles, Doubles, Multis especially, you name it they were planning around it.
And Emmet… He had this grand idea about breeding a perfect Galvantula. Perfect IVs, Perfect Nature, Perfect Egg Move, Perfect, Perfect, Perfect. Emmet had envisioned one in his dreams practically every night since first deciding on using an Galvantula at all and new that he had to make it a reality.
So. He got about breeding Joltiks. He figured it would be an easy task for him. After all, Emmet was acing all of his classes and had retained residual knowledge from his mother’s work growing up. Emmet was a patient man, studious too, and was ready to take on the task.
He just didn’t realize how impossible it would be to actually do in practice.
‘Freshmen Fifteen’ was a phrase that usually referred to the fluctuation in a first-year’s weight—gaining or losing pounds due to them still adjusting to a college schedule. But not for Emmet. No, Emmet’s ‘Freshmen Fifteen’ was the fifteen Joltiks he had breed and given away.
The first few were understandable, it took a while to start seeing IVs above just ‘OK’ but it was just misfortune after misfortune past that. Either the IVs were exactly what he wanted but the nature was wrong or the nature was perfect but the IVs were terrible. Incoming headache-bound train, all aboard!
Emmet had breed so many Joltik that he had made a name for himself amongst the campus. Jolting Jogger they called him, because he was always out and about the campus with an incubator strapped to his back to get the necessary steps in to hatch the little mons. Ingo refused to trade over Chandelure for him to take advantage of her Flame Body so Emmet was doing it the traditional way.
Someone, and he didn’t know who (but trust in him that he would find out) had even started a ‘Jolting Jogger Spotted!’ website where people would submit photos of him taken at a distance from their crappy cameras. Ingo thought it was hilarious and Emmet probably would have too had it not been a verifiable count of his multiple failed attempts.
Not only that but he was starting to run out of students willing to take on another Pokémon—“Look how tiny it is! You’ll hardly notice!” wasn’t as efficient of an argument anymore. And he couldn’t very well keep mass releasing them without resulting in a Joltik infestation. Verrry tough times that he found himself in.
And hence, his finally giving up.
Emmet closed his eyes and rocked back and forth, self-soothing his frustrations. Maybe the perfectionist in him was to blame, really. He was man enough to admit that he had wayyy too high expectations for his first real attempt at breeding Pokémon. Emmet would get better in time and-
A small force bounced against his cheek, tickling the skin. He peered open one eye to look at the loving eyes of his Joltik. She nibbled against his skin teasingly, so Emmet gently pried her off and cupped her into the palms of his hands.
And maybe a Pokémon didn’t have to be perfect for him to use in battle. Sure Joltik didn’t have the best nature, but… weren’t he and Ingo trying to develop combinations that worked best for them? Why not try an unusual, unexpected, unheard of build, huh?
“What do you think?” Emmet asked Joltik, leaning forward on his chair to rest his elbows on the desk. “Feel up to being my battle partner?”
Joltik bounced up and down in delight. It was as close to an enthusiastic, ‘yes,’ as Emmet would ever get from the little creature that could not speak Unovan.
So he smiled a particularly tired but relieved stretch of his lips, “Alright then! I am Emmet, and me and you, together we are going to create a combination unlike anything ever seen before!”
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