#so it wouldn't make sense for any of the Chosen to drive

[polite-pandemonium]

I am just somehow OBSESSED with Takeru DRIVING. Like is he a bad driver? He speeds past the gang waiting outside of Daisuke's restaurant (or the restaurant where Daisuke works, whatever), so maybe? Is that his mom's car? Or is it his car? Why does he NEED a car? What is he doing that requires him to drive? Is it going to be a plot point in the movie? Is Takeru being a BAD DRIVER going to be a plot point? I need to know.

Ken and Miyako are also visibly startled when Takeru speeds past (Miyako JUMPS!!!!), while Iori and Hikari don't even flinch. What does that say about DYNAMIC?! Are Iori and Hikari more used to Takeru's (presumably bad) driving? That would make sense, no, cause they are (canonically???) closer with him? Just such a small interaction and I can interpret so much and draw so many conclusions!!! How fun!!!

There's just something really so fun about watching characters you've loved your whole life continue to grow - to see new details about them spring up, new traits, new things to add to canon. It's the most delightful thing about the Digimon Adventure franchise to me. Sure, the stories they have told over the last decade have mostly been all various shades of mediocre, but the character moments - goodness, the character moments just don't hit the same in any other media for me. It's so special to me.

ETA: WAIT, looking at the screencap, Iori looks slightly concerned. Only Hikari looks calm (though she does turn her whole body to look at the car once it stops). Does this mean HIKARI is the only one comfortable with his driving? Cause Hikari is closest to him? (I don't even think their closeness is something that is debatable - I feel like it is PRETTY CANON that they are closest with each other???????????)

HERE'S HOW TAKARI CAN STILL WIN.

#if anyone wants to talk about Takeru DRIVING please DM me lmaooo #I think a big reason about why I am obsessed with it is because when I write/wrote Digimon fanfic #I was always VERY CAREFUL to make sure the characters took transit or walked places #motor vehicle ownership is very low in Japan and I want to make my fics feel as real as possible while still being fanfiction #so it wouldn't make sense for any of the Chosen to drive #SO TAKERU DRIVING???? #IS SENDING ME TO ANOTHER LEVEL #if only for the TRANSPORTATION POSSIBILITIES it will open up for me when/if I ever finish writing something again #also - car conversations #car intimacy #SO MANY THINGS TO CONSIDER #I'm done #I'm going to bed #I'm really bored cause I am leaving for vacation in ten days and so are all my friends #so the thing about going on vacation with the people you hang out with a lot is that everyone is preparing to go on vacation at the same ti #so everyone is the same kind and amount of busy #the last minute errands and appointments and wrapping up work and getting ready to abandon your regularly scheduled life for two weeks kind #so I'm....not doing much lately lol #hence my losing it over this #digimon

[ferrstappen]

max, don't panic l Max Verstappen blurb

a/n: he'd absolutely stop his car bc 1) what's a couple of points for this man? he's going to gain them back while sleeping; 2) this man PROTECTS you cannot tell me otherwise.

also, pls if anyone knows how to turn this blog (sideblog) into the main? my main is full of Shawn Mendes fics and on a permanent hiatus so I'll take any advice pls. anyway... I tried my best bc for some reason driver!reader is not my fav trope? but anyway, hope you enjoy <3

genre: kinda dramatic? angst? idk. request is here.

warnings: car crash.

pairing: Max Verstappen x driver!reader.

max, don´t panic – max verstappen blurb

The private but not secret applied to you and your boyfriend perfectly. Even if you didn't walk around hand I hand in the paddock, you always arrived together, bright smiles, sometimes riding the same car or blinded SUV, even arriving on the same planes.

This wouldn't be exactly controversial, but giving the fact you both were Formula 1 drivers, Max for Red Bull and you for Ferrari, yeah, it was a big thing. Especially since you and another driver in Williams were the only girls, people's eyes were always on you, obviously laced with criticism, sexism and misogyny, and of course everyone was waiting and constantly asking about which driver was the most handsome, if something had happened between you or any of the male drivers.

It wasn't pretty.

So Charles Leclerc had to miss a triple header due to an injury which costed him a surgery, you were briefly promoted to the Scuderia from Haas. The only thing you or anyone in the garage heard during the last few days was why you, why not Ferrari's own reserve driver? why not a driver with more experience? of course the lacing question was, why not a male driver?

You didn't need the press and public to keep speculating as your last Sunday driving for Ferrari arrived, even if sports sites stated the only reason you were chosen was because of your "especial friendship" with Max Verstappen, because it didn't make any sense otherwise. Of course Max rolled his eyes every time he heard something about it, forcing to bit his tongue to tell someone to fuck off, the fact you had been dating for now nine months had absolutely nothing of your job and performance.

It wouldn't help your case very much, having to calm him down on your shared hotel room. Well, it wasn't exactly shared, you just left you room vacant and made it to Max's to spend the night, sleeping in his warm embrace and messy kisses, trying to not exhaust your bodies in order to not be overly tired during race day.

Now, Sunday. Oh boy.

Before pulling your helmet, you found Max's eyes across the garage, doing a small sign with your fingers which Max matched, a secret language reserved for the both of you, expressing your love and preoccupation in front of everyone who was oblivious to the love language displayed in plain sight.

Then the race started and it was ordinary; good weather, good pace. But during lap twenty something happened.

You didn't really register when an Aston Martin car made contact with your rear wing, making you lose control and also getting hit by a Mercedes on the left side, which sent you flying through the gravel.

Fuck.

Your eyes closed as you felt the car spinning, waiting to make contact with the wall, trying to relax your body and mind, knowing injuries would be even more serious after the impact if her body was limp enough. Then it happened, you stopped rolling, the sound of gravel and tires stopped; radio wasn't working, though it wouldn't really work since you couldn't find your voice.

Max was on other sector, Gianpiero telling him to expect a red flag. At the same time, his eyes fixed on the screen and noticed the unmistakable red car flying and crashing.

Max was a man prepared for anything on the race track. Seriously, you could throw anything at him and Max would remain calm and collected, his body and mind not having to even think before making a move.

But this... this he wasn't prepared for.

"Which Ferrari was that?" Max asked through the radio, voice masking a slight panic.

"I don't have that information, yet. I'll let you know, now focus on slowing down, please, red flag red flag,"

"Is the driver okay?" Max completely ignored the other instructions given to him.

"No word, Max. Please," GP was cut off.

"Please tell me who's Ferrari is it!"

"Sainz was on the pit, it's (Y/N)'s Ferrari. Max, you can't speed up,"

Max ignored him. Of course, he knew better than to get in the way of the safety car and medical cars rushing, also noticing a green figure trying to get closer to the car, also noting a Mercedes and Aston with damages.

"Max, come to the pit, please," GP had many many experiences dealing with Max, but this was new. "Max, you are not going to help, you will only obstruct and put the car and yourself in danger,"

Max was covered in chills, watching the wrecked Ferrari, trapped against the wall, no movement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is completely unheard of. This is by far the worst accident during this season, but Red bull's Max Verstappen drove his car towards the crash, ignoring the red flag and his engineer. We don't now what's going on, how is the driver, as you can see it's a mess," That's what the audience was hearing and watching.

Ignoring everything, Max prompted himself up, leaving the car and reaching the medical car, trying to get someone to connect him to the Ferrari radio, knowing her radio was probably dead.

Time stopped, and then he saw you being carried, barely conscious but giving a thumbs up, and he felt like he could collapse and cry and laugh, all at the same time.

"I'm riding with her," Max stepped inside the ambulance, knowing pictures were being captured and broadcasted of him kissing your temple and holding your hand.

#max verstappen blurb #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 fanfic

[flamingpudding]

Inherited Driving

A/N: Credits also to @escelia 💖 Thanks for helping flash out this idea even more!!

Bruce Wayne was going crazy about Gotham's newest rogue. He stared at the open case file, the reports were laid out all over the table. On the Batcomputer various images were displayed. Images from bent light posts, street sights that were found three blocks from their original position, buildings that were missing chunks of their walls, and even buildings that had distinct car-shaped holes.

Next to that various reports were open about hit-and-run cases. None appeared to be connected. All the victims appeared to be chosen at random, good or bad didn't matter. No connections. Mugger, Politicians, other rogues, or even his children when on patrol. And then there were also reports of apparently people going insane claiming they had seen a silver car come right at them but never hit them.

He looked at the reports of his children.

Jason complains about a drug deal busted by a car bursting in and nearly ruined it for him by knocking out the main targets before crashing through the opposite wall.

Tim claimed that the corrupted CEO he had been investigating both as Red Robin as well as Tim Drake-Wayne got run over on the open streets and was now hospitalized.

But the most absurd reports came from Dick and Duke.

Dick one night reported that a silver car barely missed him while out on patrol. Nothing strange so far. If his son hadn't reported that he was jumping over roofs when it happened.

And Duke? He just reported that he felt like he had a near-death experience and saw his life flashing before his eyes. The cause? A glowing car came straight at him.

Bruce gripped his hair in frustration. This new rogue didn't make sense. They went for bad guys but also good guys? What was their pattern? The connection? Their goal? Was he lucky that none of his other children had so far encountered them on patrol?

They appeared at night as well as during the day.

Who was going to be the next target? Would it be one of his kids or possibly another corrupted politician or maybe even a mugger again next?

Tim had specifically created software to keep track of this rogue in the news or any online posts. Barbara was not able to get any video feeds or photos of this rogue for some reason. All images or videos found for the areas of his appearance were either entirely static or corrupted to the point of unrecognizability. He didn't even have the damned silver car's license plate!

Then there was the car driver's description from witnesses, which also varied from person to person. One stated him to be black-haired and blue-eyed looking like a tired College Student, another stated the man had white hair and green glowing eyes and lastly a more crazy person stated it was like an Eldritch being possessing the car.

The software peeped and Bruce turned to click on it, a news article appeared and the man groaned at what he read.

Breaking news: Scarecrow in custody after getting hit by car through Starbucks!

Witnesses say that during what was shaping up to be a fear gas attack, the driver hit the man before swerving through the front window of a Starbucks.After confirming everyone was okay, the baristas on shift gave the driver an iced coffee and a croissant while waiting for the police to arrive on scene. One employee even insisted this reckless driver saved their lives. [...]

Bruce closed the news, not reading any further and ready to slam his head onto the table. Who was this rogue?

Danny blinked at the newspaper in his hand, sipping his coffee and wondering who that driver was. He would have to be more careful now on the streets with a driver like that, that's fine. Jazz wouldn't probably call him soon again to nag about these crazy drivers Gotham appeared to have. She had been naggingly worried ever since he started going to college here. He just had to assure her that he would be even more careful to not get involved. Though his parents had already reinforced his car as a stay-safe-son measure. So he would just have to get in the car, drive from point A to point B and not hit anyone or anything like his parents.

He glanced at his kitchen clock and spat out his morning coffee.

"Shit! I am going to be late for my classes!"

In a rush he grabed his keys and ran to his car. He needed to hurry if he wanted to be there in time without upsetting his professor. Good that he learned about some pretty neat short cuts from his classmates.

#danny fenton #bruce wayne #dp x dc #fic prompt #prompt idea #Jazz wasn't the only one to inherit something from their parents #Danny is oblivious to it #Probably desensitised because of his parents #Bruce is pulling out his hair #The new rogue does not make any sense #Where is the connection between the targets #Danny just wants to get from A to B #dpxdc #crossover #How did Danny get his driving license in the first place?! #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #duke thomas

[crossdressingdeath]

Now that I have everyone's responses to the "Durge was an Absolutist leader" reveal, I have thoughts. I think the whole thing works best if you tell the party about you being Bhaalspawn before going to the inauguration, because if you do that they're all like "It's okay, you don't have to be evil, you can fight your father, you have to fight your father" and while some Durges would probably be upset about the repeated insistence that they Mustn't Be Evil it's definitely well-intentioned and they want to support you. And then you get to the inauguration and they're furious about the Absolutist reveal. Which is mostly fair (Shadowheart getting mad at you specifically for not telling anyone when she knows you have amnesia is just a little unreasonable), but it's also like. all that support goes away the second they learn you weren't a good little non-murdery heroic Bhaalspawn like Gorion's Ward. To be fair, their anger and sense of betrayal are understandable, it's a hell of a thing to learn and I get the sense that the party really doesn't grasp just how strong Bhaal's hold on Durge is (I don't think it's a coincidence that Jaheira and Minsc are two of the calmest about the Bhaalspawn reveal or that Jaheira takes the Bhaal's Chosen reveal better than most of the party, they have more experience and so have a better understanding of what being Bhaalspawn actually means, but even they don't as far as I'm aware know about the "literally crafted from Bhaal's divine essence" situation)! I can definitely see why they for the most part react so overwhelmingly negatively, I would too in their position. But at the same time... poor Durge? I mean, they've just learned that they were a leader of the cult that stuck a tadpole in their and most of their friends' heads and is trying to take over the world. While the response to that would vary depending on the Durge, that's a heavy thing to suddenly have to deal with! And then the closest thing to support they get from the party is Minthara and Jaheira saying "Well, you fucked up big time but you can still sort of make up for it" and a couple party members not responding to it at all. The only person in this situation who seems pleased to have them around right now is Gortash.

...I wonder if that's part of the reason why Gortash chooses to reveal all of this here and now in front of the party rather than trying to find a moment to talk to Durge privately. It wouldn't have been hard for him to say "Well, I want to talk to the leader of your group privately and I won't give you any information until I get to do so," make it into some sort of power play or something and then explain the situation once they were alone. It might even have been smarter, since that way the party wouldn't be suspicious of Durge. But instead he spills the beans in front of everyone, driving a wedge between Durge and the rest of the group. The others love Durge enough to stick by them even after the reveal, but Gortash couldn't have known that would be the case when he told them! It doesn't make sense to deliberately cause problems among the party if he wants them working together as a team to deal with Orin for him, but it does make sense if his ultimate goal is to get rid of the rest of the party so he and Durge can rule together as was the original plan. After all, if the group decided they don't want a (former) Absolutist leader around and chase Durge away, where could Durge go other than straight to Gortash?

#bg3 #durge #bg3 spoilers #maybe a LITTLE bit of durgetash #if you want to read it like that which i always do #actually an au where durge ends up having to run to gortash for protection would be fantastic #not sure how that would end up happening within the game timeline though. i mean we know the group doesn't turn on them #not for being bhaalspawn or having been an absolutist leader or even for becoming bhaal's chosen again #maybe some sort of pre-game thing? #au where orin attacks them within baldur's gate and they manage to get away and run to gortash? #love a good 'i didn't know where else to go'

[captain-mj]

Hey, 🦭 here back from the grave (was just resting after a hellish week of school)

I have been obsessed with Sleep Token especially their song called 'Chokehold' which in think is very eldritch GhostSoap coded, with Ghost being an eldritch god and Soap being his most devoted follower (iykyk)

And Ghost who just adores his follower and can't help but grant Soap's indulgence and desires because of his own selfishness

Could you possibly make a fic like that? Pretty please with a bit of dynamite on top :3

-🦭

(The brainrot is brainrotting /srs)

I love that song so much, I can of course do that!! Also, it's nice to see you again :)

Ghost sat in his temple silently. He observed those who came in and offered things and those with entertaining tales or genuine needs were given what they asked. Most requests though were... petty. Indulgent. A desperate plea for more attention, more money, more pleasure.

Ghost wanted to lash out at them some days. And he did. He'd curse them with impotence, poverty and isolation at the drop of a hat. It had become a known risk to everyone but...

Johnny.

His favorite follower.

He lifted his hand, letting the priest cut his wrist so blood would flow.

Ghost listened intently, letting the other prayers fall away like rushing water.

"Ghost." His name on his tongue was beautiful. "I am here to request something." Normally, Ghost would listen to his request, answer it immediately and let Soap leave. But today, he wanted it to be different.

Gently, not wanting to hurt him or any of his other loving followers, he spoke. "Everyone must leave except the current person praying."

His priests hopped to it, herding everyone out. It left Soap alone in the place of worship.

Soap looked up at the depictions of Ghost. Of dark wide eyes staring into the souls of anyone who came in. Ready to dismiss them or bless them on a whim.

"My God." He moved to kneel, averting his eyes. "I always feel your presence here. I never thought I'd be chosen to hear your voice or hold your attention like this."

"You think you hold all of my attention?" Ghost had created universes. Species. Had senses that would melt Soap's brain to even be explained. But yeah, Soap did in fact have all of his attention. He just shouldn't assume he did.

Or he could. Ghost doubted, even if he disrespected him to his face, he could stay mad for too long.

Soap tensed. "No! Of course not, it's just more attention than I'd ever expect. I'm...."

"Keep your eyes on the ground." Ghost stepped in front of him. Smoke billowed off of him, form fading in and out of existence. "Wouldn't want to drive my favorite follower insane."

Soap's breathing hitched. "Favorite?"

Ghost ignored him. "What is it you want?"

"I..."

"Spit it out."

"Health. For my family."

Ghost hummed. "Granted. What else?"

"What?"

"That's for your family. Would you like anything?"

"I... um..."

"Anything you want."

Soap nodded. "I... I don't know. I don't have anything else I desire."

Ghost hummed. "I see. How sweet." He trailed around him in circles. "Power beyond wildest dreams? Friends and worshippers? Enough money to indulgent in all forms of debauchery?"

"No. I don't find much interest in those."

Ghost nodded. "Well, I want to give you something for yourself. Selfishly of course."

Soap almost looked up before quickly remembering his place. "If you'd so please, my holiness."

My?

My??

Ghost touched him, feeling him shiver and shake, almost doubling over. Soap whimpered, burying his face on to the floor as sensations rushed through him. He ended the contact and watched him sink further.

"You're interesting, Johnny."

Soap took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Your family will be healthy. You have given me enough, today."

"If I found something to wish for, could I come back tomorrow?"

Ghost paused and mulled over it. "Come at night. You could spend it with me." He'd have to be so gentle, but the idea of holding Soap in his hands. "I won't fault you if you don't."

"I will. I'll be here. I promise, I'll..." Ghost grabbed him by the scruff and felt him twist in his hands, overcome with feelings again. Soap grabbed his leg for support and whimpered. It wasn't the most pleasant sensation for most people, but like he predicted, Soap liked it. Maybe it would become an addiction. That way Soap was just addicted to his presence as Ghost was becoming to Soap.

"You will. And I'll grant you all of your desires."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost

[makememadscientist]

I just read A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and watched the SuperCarlinBrothers videos about the Hunger Games series they put out the last few weeks. There were some interesting points made but I actually disagree completely with the theory that proposed Coin orchestrated Katniss being a tribute for the 74th Hunger Games. I think it's pretty clear that there are already rebels in place in positions around District 12 and within the industry of the Games in the Capitol but I don't think they were pulling the strings yet. They may have been instructed to aid any tributes that looked promising but I don't think it would have been anything more than that until after Katniss and Peeta won.

The videos also suggested that, as with Lucy Gray in the 10th Hunger Games and possibly (probably) the twist of the Third Quarter Quell, the reaping isn't beyond tampering with. People love that Katniss isn't a "chosen one" in the books and I completely agree. I think that her being a tribute was completely unplanned for and a result of her love for her sister.

But I don't think this discredits the idea of the reaping of tributes not being completely random. In fact, I think it's possible that there is unspoken pressure to make sure that tributes from District 12 wouldn't necessarily be good candidates because of President Snow's history with Lucy. Yes, District 12 is the smallest and poorest district. And yes, if the Career Districts actually have some people training for the Games it makes sense that they win the most often. But I also think it's telling that District 12 NEVER wins. In 63 years District 12 has won once! I don't think that is unintentional.

Here is where we kind of go into headcannon territory. Now it has been a few years since I've read the Hunger Games trilogy so take this with a grain of salt, but it seems to me that it is possible that a 12 year old girl who is known to be extremely kind and compassionate doesn't seem like an ideal tribute. I think Prim's name being called was random but I also think that it's possible that her pick wasn't as unlikely as it would appear to be.

It is entirely possible that, even though Snow is not the type of person who would ever advertise weaknesses if it could be helped and a great deal of his relationship with Lucy was obfuscated, there is still some lingering whispers about him having a particular problem with District 12 victors even if the specifics are not known. If that is the case, people trying to garner favor may influence the reaping so that tributes that are chosen for District 12 are less likely to win.

From the description I remember of Haymitch and his Games I don't think he sounds like someone who would have been expected to win. I also don't think that Peeta, although strong, would have had the drive to compete well enough to win if Katniss was not there as an incentive. Gale and Katniss both have their names entered more times than most but are also known to be capable hunters. Even the Peacekeepers (if I'm remembering correctly) know that the two are capable. It is entirely statistically possible for candidates like them to never get called at Reaping but I also think it's possible that candidates like them are specifically not chosen for District 12. At best, there may be incentive to just not say the names of people if they seem too capable or at worst their names are removed entirely from the running. If names like Katniss' are removed, suddenly a 12 year old girl with slim odds of being chosen suddenly has higher odds to battle. In which case, in a funny way, Katniss is the very opposite of a "chosen one" as the LEAST likely to be chosen.

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #president snow #supercarlinbrothers #primrose everdeen #katniss everdeen #lucy gray baird

[monpalace]

@july-angel-wings

full disclosure, i haven't touched skyward sword or first's story ever in my life aside from secondhand fanfic knowledge and tauberpa's abridged vids more than 8yrs ago,, 😁

(this turned into informal general romantic hcs with first im sorry 🗿)

anyways, i imagine first would be more than apprehensive when it comes to you rescuing him. out of survival instincts, he doesn't know how you managed to find him? how'd you break in? why were you here in the first place? were you someone else who had been imprisoned, or did you want him for your own purposes?

he's thankful, don't get him wrong, but a man questions all intentions once you've put poison in his food, even the hand that heals.

following his rescue (and the establishment that you were friend and not foe), first would likely be more open to you assisting him in his goddess-given duty. most certainly to the point that there are no secrets between you.

time would feel as though it went in the blink of an eye when it came to defeating demise— and, in a sense, it did. it could have been months, or weeks, or hours, or seconds, and he wouldn't know any better.

first wouldn't be ashamed to admit that he's romantically interested in you. he'd be normal about courting you after he grows out of the "crush formed via trauma-bond" phase and evolves into the "okay, yeah, i actually like-like you" phase.

but me, personally? i think he's really fucking stupid and doesn't know how to properly court someone. i think he's seen people court each other to many times to count in his home village, but he doesn't have fond memories of the village so it kind of murks and muddles everything to the point he's confident enough to say "yeah, that wouldn't work at all."

assuming this is first after his character development, i feel he wouldn't be ashamed to act like his old self if that makes sense? like, less of a seasoned veteran and more of just some guy on the side of the road you drive past.

pushing my "most links are illiterate" agenda to say that link courts you by asking you to read to him, sometimes teach him if he's confident enough. he says it's because he likes watching you become so invested in the story if it's good enough (and hearing your voice if you're able to speak).

uhhh,, this is where my bullshitting abt skyward sword lore comes in,,

anyways, i imagine first is able to travel between skyloft and the ground using the ancient equivalent of a skywing made specifically for him by hylia because 1.) triforce of courage, hylia's chosen hero, and protector of skyloft be damned, he is afraid of heights and 2.) he already built a house for you and him he's not moving it.

yeah, that last part was def a surprise to you.

"why don't you want to go live on skyloft permanently again?"

"we already have a three bedroom, four and a half bathroom, full kitchen, full dining room house with an entire backyard and amazing view waiting for us? why would we want to live there?"

"we?"

"🧍🏼idk what you want me to say.. it's kind of like a gift? you didn't notice how i've been disappearing the last few months?"

"i thought you were out taking care of monsters?"

"i mean, yeah? i was taking bounties so i could work up enough funds to get the stuff to make an engagement ring?"

"who are you proposing to?"

"you? who else do i tolerate enough at this point of our lives? we can turn the house into a honeymoon spot, or a vacation house if you want?"

iirc after everyone and their mother moved up to skyloft, monsters started spawning more often and dangerously, so i dont think first would mind putting in more of an effort to protect you if they were to surround the house— but i also don't think that he'd be dumb enough to not make protective measures like a gate n whatnot.

(i'm being so fr when i say he probably dug out a moat.)

anyways, yh no first is def happy to surround himself with you and whatever animal companion y'all managed to find like you're in "i am legend" or whatever.

let me stop 🗿

#fuck it. everybody look at me ramble #abt to go rewatch all of tauberpa's abridged vids brb #first is a teenager to me idk what to say #if i were first you could Not get my ass to listen to hylia #im bein so fr 😭 #LIKE BRO WDYM IM THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN DO THIS? AND IM YHE FIRST ONE? #NO SIR‼️‼️ GET SOMEBODY ELSE TO DO IT ⁉️⁉️⁉️ #grim's scribbles #loz x reader #legend of zelda x reader #lu x reader #linked universe x reader

[worriedvision]

Breach - Alhaitham (Part 2)

Part 2 of this fic! Gender neutral reader. This part is more of a build up than an actual ending, so a third part will be soon. I may or may not be tempted to write Heizou into this but shhh

--

You worked for Kamisato Ayato, and you felt like you were almost like family to them. You spend quite a lot of time with Ayaka, the sister, and she was very sweet. When she found out about your ex through looking over your shoulder when you were writing a letter to Kaveh, along with some Inazuma photography, she seems to get an interest in finding you someone.

She asks you for your type, to which you hesitate.

"Well, I don't particularly know." You giggle. "My ex was the only man I dated and had an interest in, but I think it may have been down to us just being close before the relationship..." You furrow your brows. "Does that make sense?"

Ayaka nods, thinking to herself before getting an idea.

"How about I get you a date. Thoma is a lovely guy, and he is attractive if I do say so myself." She hides her mouth behind her fan, smirking to herself.

Thoma was attractive, you must admit.

Wait.

"Thoma's single? How?" You whisper when Thoma walks by, accompanying Ayato.

"Some people are...well, picky...he isn't originally from here, you see." She explains, closing her eyes as she finishes the sentence.

--

"My lord, if you don't mind me asking, why are we giving this... Alhaitham... A chance?" Thoma asks, reading from the letter. "He's already demonstrated late attendance, and _ has been doing a great job!"

"Well, this man has more experience in paper." Ayato blankly explains. "I'm sure he had his hands full."

Thoma knows better than to ask if Ayato thought you were incompetent, nodding to himself before thinking up a way to keep you there.

He didn't want you running back to your ex, not when your ex was part of your driving force to come here.

--

"_, I must apologise for this news." Thoma states. "My Lord has chosen to take on board another scribe. I am on the lookout for any places needing your-"

"Can they be my scribe then?" Ayaka jumps in. "Please, I think it would be beneficial given the tasks I sometimes do."

Thoma smiles, nodding as he realises that with Ayaka there, Ayato wouldn't be able to refuse the offer.

You feel Ayaka judge you, gasping, and you follow her eyes only to feel your heart sink

He had come.

--

Ayato sat across from Alhaitham, clearly unimpressed by his blatant reasoning for deciding to take this job after not responding to the letter to at least voice an interest in the work the Kamisato Estate had to offer.

"I am only here to look for my lover."

"And what, pray tell, does this have to do with work?" Ayato stares daggers into Alhaitham.

"I am simply stating my reason for accepting this job." Alhaitham stares back, not caring for the social difference between them both.

"And why shouldn't I just send you on your merry way back to Sumeru? It's clear you intend to go right back once you find them." Ayato observes.

"Because I am the best of the best." Alhaitham states.

"How charming." Ayato blandly sighs. "Very well, I shall humour this."

--

"_, I've got a crush on that scribe." Ayaka confesses, trying to hide her blush with her fan as she looks over at the man following Ayato as his boss seems to be giving him a lot of work at one time. "Oh goodness, I shouldn't be staring like this - it isn't very ladylike of me." She realises out loud.

"Don't worry!" You reassure her. "I'm sure you could fish for some information from Lord Ayato." You continue.

You somehow managed to hide the fact this man was your ex. You didn't dislike Ayaka, and you knew she wasn't usually all that interested in the suitors available in Inazuma.

"Oh, I have a date set up for you." She excitedly exclaims. "This evening, I have set up an evening plan for Thoma and yourself. I'm sure you will both enjoy it." She smiles, you nodding before you return to writing out your next letter for Kaveh, detailing the fact Alhaitham took your position without even giving you a heads up.

In the letter, you disclose the fact you're going on a date with a man called Thoma, and you were very much looking forward to seeing how it would play out. At the end of the letter, you clarify with Kaveh that you knew Alhaitham was one to be nosy with the mail if he needed some information, so you didn't particularly blame Kaveh for what happened.

You seal the letter before taking a walk to get it sent away.

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #alhaitham #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x reader #thoma #thoma x reader #thoma x gender neutral reader #ayato #ayaka

[hamofjustice]

very slight teal mask and indigo disc story spoilers (the kind that'll probably help decide if you want them or not instead of ruin it for you, probably?) and very long commentary about it. mostly about how they've chosen to advertise it

gonna hit you with my longest run-on sentence yet, here we go.

the fact that we had to datamine the teal mask, a DLC whose only returning character is jacq and does not add a line to or scene of anyone else (well, mentions of heath and clavell, i guess?) due to being available to do at any badge count, the fact that we had to dig and pry in unintended ways, just to finally prove that our implied greatest treasures nemona arven and penny would at least be available to hang out with in the indigo disc...

with no new images footage or mentions of the friend trio of in any of the six months since the DLCs were announced, and ten months after these kids opened their hearts and dorm rooms to us, saying we could hang out any time from now on, and turned out to be statues with one line of dialogue after we had already gone on an adventure with them following us around, helping us in battle, and getting to know each other as we walked, and our rival promised to keep up with our strength forever, then never got any stronger...

and now, in the narrative's timeline, we run off to another country to transfer away from our rival for life's school to one she would fit into perfectly the MOMENT she opens up to us about her problems and how she's so much happier now that we're the first person she can actually connect with and be herself around, and shows clear signs of worry that you're going to leave if she doesn't make you promise not to...

and also shortly after Arven became effectively a high school orphan, who's still treated as kind of a butt monkey dumbass for some reason, when he was putting everything he had into researching how to save his dog, his only dependable family, instead of going to class (i guess he's not telling anybody what he's going through, as usual with these kids)...

because TPC did not think these characters being present in the second DLC in any form and not actually having their newfound, hard-earned sense of belonging ruined by the basic premise of said transfer-student DLC was worth advertising at any point, and only showed off gym leaders Katy and Kofu... and that was only if you even bothered to look at the website to notice the feature at all, because hanging out with, battling, and trading with all of the past characters who aren't present in Paldea anymore is now actually a feature, but wasn't in the trailer...

is fucking mind boggling to me.

why is it a secret that they're in the DLC. why would they not just. tell people that as soon as they revealed the DLC. why is it still supposed to be a secret now, half a year later. why weren't they in the first half. why did they not think we'd be worried that they aren't in the second half.

silly me, why would you want to advertise giving people more of the story and main plot-driving characters, the main thing people defend the rushed game for, or that they might get some resolution, or reassure them that the vaguely happy ending to their sad stories isn't going to be ruined like they've implied it will be? that'd be silly. the only way anyone is going to find that out is through hacking

but at least we were finally able to pry that basic fucking information out of them against their will, the only thing I wanted to know about the DLC before I'd buy it, because they left in placeholder stubs for it by accident. oops. wouldn't want to tell people who were on the fence about getting the DLC this information on purpose or anything. need to keep it a secret

we were able to confirm through our own digging that nemona (and many others) are at least allowed to hang out with us, but the thing that would make both her as a character and me as a Pokemon player happier than we've ever been is if she actually got to enroll with us. why wouldn't she go, right? what do a school and society that don't respect her and an empty home where her parents should be have to offer, compared to living her dream with her favorite person, surrounded by people just like her? who can stop a champion from going wherever she wants? but for that to be the case, one of the "club rooms" we found references to would have to be hers. only us kieran and carmine clearly have what are marked as dorm room objects.

i'm glad we're getting what we're getting, but it's still no guarantee that nemona arven and penny will continue to be important to the story that they were the driving forces of, or get the true resolutions and healthier happy endings that they deserve, or that our "true equal" will ever be any stronger or more important to our character than our home ec teacher, or that they'll ever actually get to be a friend group on screen without life or death situations or harrowing grief being involved

oops! accidentally wrote decent character arcs and relationships in a pokemon game! they're going to spend time together in the postgame! abort abort abort quick shove them off into different countries before they hug

okay that's just me being cynical, they will almost certainly be important to the story, but... TPC has the power to make me not cynical and they keep choosing not to do that. but they do keep making really sappy recap videos using previous cutscene footage, like this attachment and uncertainty is something they're milking on purpose

maybe stringing people along with how much they miss the funny, cute, loving, strong characters, or are worried about these three lonely and isolated kids dealing with parental neglect, ptsd and self loathing, autism and motor impairments, identity issues, and more, whose problems are clearly not resolved yet if they can be at all, will... help sell more plushies and gacha pulls, and get people consuming more spinoffs, or something? idk, maybe

love to stop and helplessly gaze upon penny's depression pile every day before i go do tera raids / link battles with strangers (i don't actually do this but i might if poke portal worked indoors)

that all being said! it's pretty damn cool that hanging out with NPCs in a meaningful way and staging selfies with them and stuff is actually a game feature at all. that much is reassuring. it's a step in the right direction considering 90% of pokemon gameplay for a lot of people takes place after the credits roll and everyone normally despawns or becomes a one liner / repeating boss fight statue, or maybe if you're lucky a Multi Battle partner. it was just implied this game would be different, is all. i just don't know why they've chosen to string their audience along this way. wanting to have friends shouldn't throw up a $35 tollgate right as you go to talk to them that takes a year to open, and over six months to find out if it'll kill them when it opens.

i'd like to see pokemon postgame feel more like an animal crossing life sim type game in the future, personally, and this feature is a step toward that. i'd love if it one of your rewards for completing indigo disc was being able to take anyone you like as a follower as you go about your business and have them get on miraidon/koraidon with you as needed so your movement isn't impeded by it, even if there was no dialogue for it or anything. it's 2023, i shouldn't have to imagine something happening in a video game, or have to fill in my own fanfic to make a story satisfying, it should just be happening, on the screen. dammit. having a follower that goes with you everywhere even if you drive or have a following pokemon already was a feature in teal mask, so why not utilize it permanently?

(is the obvious player arven nemona penny 4v1 battle being saved for the final boss or something, is that why tera raids with them aren't a thing you can just do normally?)

Long story short: The basic transfer-student premise of The Indigo Disc implies that we ruin Nemona's happy ending and rub the one she really wants in her face to go enjoy it with Carmine instead for being more marketable, and I don't think they're even aware of why that would be a problem. Why have we not been reassured to the contrary in the last 6 months? I think a lot of us are waiting for this DLC anxiously instead of eagerly, especially after the first half.

#pokemon sv #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarvio #nemona #trainer nemona #arven #trainer arven #penny pokemon #trainer penny #nemonaposting #arvenposting #pennyposting #the teal mask #the indigo disk

[downbad4yoongi]

Capturing Family

For @bangtanwritershq To Begin Again quarter event

Pairing: Jimin x Namjoon

WC:4237

Rating: MA

AU/Genre: marriage au, slice of life, surrogacy

Warnings: implied/referenced homophobia, gay sex

A/N: Written as a slice of life follow up to Closer

Summary: Married four years, Jimin and Namjoon dream of a family. Surrogacy or adoption? The decision weighs heavy. Unwavering support from friends clashes with Jimin's parents' disapproval. A gallery break-in threatens their plans, but their love strengthens. Through challenges, their bond deepens, and with their friends' help, they overcome obstacles and build a beautiful, unique family. A story of love, perseverance, and the power of chosen family.

“Love, we’ve been talking about this for years now. We’re ready,” Namjoon's voice echoes through the quiet park as he takes Jimin's hand in his own.

“But what if we’re not?” Jimin asks, his eyes searching Namjoon's face for reassurance.

“Where is this doubt coming from? You’d be an amazing father, and we have wanted this for years. It’s all coming together; you’ve been at your school for several years, and I have the gallery. It feels like the stars are aligning for us,” Namjoon reassures, the warm summer breeze tousling their hair.

Jimin takes a deep breath and bobs his head a few times. “You’re right. It just feels like a lot all of a sudden.” He holds his hand up, stopping Namjoon from interrupting, “I know it’s not. This is our fourth anniversary after all, but after talking about it for so many years, it just feels…surreal.”

Namjoon gathers Jimin in his arms. “Love, every day feels surreal with you.” Leaning down, Namjoon captures Jimin’s lips with his. They stand there in the middle of the park, surrounded by nature and love.

As they make their way back to their home, a quaint house nestled in a quiet neighborhood, Jimin can't help but feel overwhelmed with happiness and anticipation. Time slips away as Jimin drives them home, their fingers intertwined and hearts full.

Their peaceful sanctuary greets them as they step through the door. The sunlight floods into the open floor plan through large floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the space and highlighting all of Namjoon's beloved plants.

Namjoon's restless fingers wander over Jimin’s form as they make their way through the shared space. A sense of peace settles around them as they enter their bedroom, a place where their love and connection run deep.

After weeks of waiting, they finally have a chance to sit down and discuss their family plans in detail. Their past conversations were merely wishes, but now it's becoming a tangible reality. Jimin plops a thick binder onto Namjoon's lap and snuggles beside him, the warmth of his body filling the space between them.

"What is this?" Namjoon grunts as he feels the weight of the binder on his thighs. The entire Encyclopedia Britannica?"

Jimin giggles and nuzzles closer to his husband. "You're so silly, honey. This is our family plan, or at least the start of it. We have a lot to go over."

Namjoon sets down his coffee and reaches for his camera, snapping a quick candid shot of Jimin before powering off the device. Jimin barely flinches, used to being photographed by now. Their walls are adorned with many such candid moments, and Jimin wouldn't have it any other way.

Pushing aside his amusement, Jimin delves into their discussion. He opens the binder and begins detailing their options.

Surrogacy or adoption?

They both agree on surrogacy.

They spend hours poring over Jimin's meticulously assembled profiles of potential surrogates. After much deliberation, they narrow it down to two women, but the conversation keeps going in circles as neither wants to back down. One woman, 32, is a kindergarten teacher and a mother of two; the other woman is a pediatrics nurse in her late thirties and the mother of one.

Frustrated, Jimin huffs and sighs dramatically before turning to face his handsome husband. "Listen," he says bluntly, "we're using your sperm this time. Let me make the final call."

The passion in Jimin's voice gives Namjoon pause, making him reconsider his stance. After some internal debate, he gives a small nod and concedes. "You're right," he admits, "we both deserve equal say in this process. I'm providing the biological material. You should have the right to choose the bio-mother."

Jimin's shoulders relax as some of the tension from their argument dissipates. "Thank you, honey," he says gratefully, crossing over to Namjoon and wrapping his arms around the taller man. “Let’s set up a meeting with this one,” Jimin decides, pointing to the kindergarten teacher.

Namjoon murmurs reassurances of his love as they hold each other tightly, unwilling to let go. After several minutes, they finally part, lips swollen from lingering kisses.

"Bed?" Jimin suggests with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Mmm, bed," Namjoon agrees with a smile.

Jimin's voice trembles through the phone as he speaks with Namjoon, his tone shrill and panicked. The news he just received is enough to make anyone anxious.

"Can't you give me any more details?" Jimin asks, trying to control the fear building up inside of him.

"Please, my love, it would be best if you came in person," Namjoon responds calmly, hoping to ease his husband's nerves.

Jimin lets out a frustrated laugh. "Fine. I'll call in a substitute and be there as soon as possible."

Namjoon barely has time to convey his love before the line goes dead. He takes a deep breath, trying to convince himself that everything will be okay. Jimin must be scared and overwhelmed, he reasons, which explains why he ended the call without their usual exchange of affection.

Within an hour, Jimin rushes into Picture This, Namjoon's gallery that’s located in the bustling downtown area. "I'm here! I made it!" he exclaims, out of breath and disheveled.

Namjoon excuses himself from speaking with a detective and meets his husband halfway across the moderate space. The contrast between them is evident - Namjoon exudes calmness while Jimin is frazzled and restless, his brown locks sticking up in all directions from running his hands through them repeatedly.

When Jimin received the call from Namjoon about the break-in at his gallery, it felt like the ground had disappeared beneath his feet. His mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios, and all he could think about was the safety of his loved one. So when their bodies collide, Jimin can't help but run his hands over Namjoon's broad frame in reassurance. He knows Namjoon is physically unharmed but needs to feel it for himself. He couldn't imagine life without him.

"I'm fine, love. Really. I wasn't here when it happened," Namjoon reassures him.

Gradually, the words pierce through Jimin's foggy mind, and he collapses against Namjoon, resting his head on his chest. "I know. I know you are, but how about emotionally? This gallery is your pride and joy."

A pained smile tugs at Namjoon's lips as he responds, "I'm still processing, but it will be okay." He rubs Jimin's shoulders comfortingly. "Let me finish up with these detectives, and then we can go home and discuss our next steps." With a quick peck on the lips, Namjoon turns to face the tall and imposing detective, leaving Jimin to survey the damage left behind.

Covering his mouth with a hand, Jimin's heart breaks for Namjoon as he takes in the chaos and destruction caused by the robbers. Priceless prints have been slashed to pieces, glass shards litter the floor, and equipment has either been stolen or smashed on the newly polished concrete.

Jimin immediately sends a text to their friends, updating them on what has happened before Namjoon leads him out of the gallery. He runs a soothing hand over Namjoon's back as they make their way to their small SUV parked behind the building.

The drive back home is silent except for the sound of their soft exhales as Jimin navigates them through traffic. When they arrive, they both drop their keys on the entryway table and kick off their shoes before collapsing onto each other on the cozy sunken couch - a focal point of their living room.

“Love,” Namjoon whispers, his voice soft and soothing as his fingers trace patterns on Jimin's back.

“Honey,” Jimin responds, snuggling into their tangled embrace. “I don’t know where to even start…”

“It’s okay, love. I'm here for you,” Namjoon reassures him, reaching over to grab the laptop from the coffee table.

With a few expert clicks, Namjoon has the insurance claim page open and is logging in to start the process.

But then, Jimin suddenly goes still next to him. “Love, what is it?” Namjoon asks with concern.

Jimin's eyes are glued to the screen in front of them. “Why wasn't the policy renewed?” he says, his voice shaking. “It's saying right here that our coverage lapsed.” Panic rises in his chest. “This won't be covered...”

Namjoon's heart sinks as he leans closer to the computer screen, scanning the information. "Okay... this isn't ideal," he mutters to himself. "But that's why we have savings."

“Joon,” Jimin speaks up again, his voice small and vulnerable. “The savings are for our baby...”

Namjoon's stomach drops at the thought of not being able to access their savings for such an emergency. He immediately starts brainstorming alternative solutions. “Yes, of course. We can't touch that money. What if we ask your parents for help?”

But instead of relief or agreement, Jimin stiffens beside him. “That's not an option,” he says firmly, shutting down any further discussion.

Namjoon is taken aback by this sudden change in attitude from his usually open and communicative husband. Worried now, he furrows his brow and reaches out to rub circles on Jimin's back in an attempt to comfort him.

“Jimin, please talk to me,” he pleads softly.

Taking a deep breath, Jimin finally turns to face Namjoon. Tears are welling up in his eyes as he speaks. “My parents... they weren't supportive of our decision to adopt or use a surrogate.”

Namjoon's heart sinks as he listens to Jimin's words, trying to make sense of it all. “But I thought they were okay with us starting a family?”

The tears start rolling down Jimin's cheeks now, and he looks away, unable to meet Namjoon's gaze. “They said it was fine because they thought we would change our minds. And their exact words were, 'Realize how abnormal it would be for a child to have two fathers'."

Heat flushes across Namjoon’s skin as anger and hurt course through Namjoon as he processes this information. "How could they even say something like that? You know what? Screw them. We don't need their approval or their money. We'll figure this out together, just the two of us." He squeezes Jimin's hand tightly, determined to find a way to rebuild their gallery and make their dreams of having a family come true on their own terms.

Jimin holds onto Namjoon's hand tightly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling in his stomach. "It's not just about the money," he whispers softly. "I know we can make it work, but I don't want to sacrifice our happiness for it. We deserve to have a family and give them the best life possible." Tears well up in Jimin's eyes again, but he quickly wipes them away before they can fall.

"I'm sorry, love," he says, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. Namjoon pulls him close into his embrace, holding him tightly against his chest as they snuggle into the soft couch cushions. He runs a soothing hand through Jimin's hair and presses gentle kisses to his forehead.

"It's okay, baby," Namjoon murmurs, his voice filled with emotion. "We have time." He looks deep into Jimin's eyes, his gaze filled with unwavering determination. "And we will make it happen for us. For our family.”

At the park, Taehyung carefully sets down his takeout box and spreads out a soft, checkered blanket for them all to sit on. The gentle breeze rustles the leaves in the trees above, carrying with it the sweet scent of freshly mown grass and blooming flowers. Taehyung settles down next to Jin and picks up a pair of elegant chopsticks, twirling them between his fingers with practiced ease.

As Jin hands Taehyung a plate laden with fried chicken, kimchi jeon, and mandu, he asks, "Where are y'all in reopening the gallery?"

Namjoon nods along, watching Jin and Yoongi dish out the food onto their own plates.

"We actually finished yesterday and plan to fully reopen next week."

Hoseok does a little happy dance, clapping his hands together in excitement. "That's fantastic! Are we going to have a little celebratory party?"

"Of course!" Jin eagerly chimes in. "I can bring the champagne."

"And Yoongi can create a playlist-," Hoseok starts before being interrupted by Jimin.

"Whoa, let's slow down," Jimin interjects, holding up a hand to pause Hoseok's eager planning. "We're not going to do some extravagant shindig."

Taehyung scoffs playfully, "It's not an extravagant party. It's just a small to medium celebration, you know, with some string lights, light appetizers, champagne, and maybe some decorations."

Jimin's nostrils flare in frustration as he replies, "We don't have the time for that, okay? We are trying to save-" He pauses abruptly and sends Namjoon an imploring look.

Namjoon calmly rests a soothing hand on Jimin's knee and whispers, "It's okay. Go ahead and tell them."

Yoongi swallows his mouthful of chicken before asking curiously, "Tell us what?"

Jimin lets out a sigh and traces the back of Namjoon's hand before intertwining their fingers. "We don't have the time for that because Joonie and I are starting a family."

The chopsticks with a piece of kimchi jeon clatter out of Taehyung's hand as his eyes widen at the unexpected announcement. Jin acts quickly and snags Taehyung's plate just in time before he launches himself at Jimin in excitement.

Yoongi winces at Taehyung's high-pitched squeal.

"Really? Why didn't you tell me?" Taehyung blurts out in a rush, wrapping himself tightly around Jimin.

Jimin rubs Taehyung's back soothingly before attempting to untangle their limbs gently.

"Tae, let him breathe," Namjoon urges with a small smile.

Taehyung gives one last squeeze before pulling back. "Sorry, I'm just so happy for you and Jiminie."

Jimin smiles fondly. "I know, Tae. We didn't say anything because the incident at the gallery kind of delayed things. We had to use the money we set aside for the surrogacy process to fix what was destroyed."

Their friends exchange concerned looks before turning back to them. "What happened?" Yoongi asks with furrowed brows.

Namjoon's head dips down slightly as he replies, "The insurance policy on the gallery had lapsed. So we ended up having to cover the damages and repairs out of our own pockets." He squeezes Jimin's hand supportively before continuing, "We had actually decided on our anniversary to start the process, but we had to shift our plans due to unforeseen expenses. Now we're ready to get back on track."

Jimin nods in agreement. "It wasn't the ideal situation, especially since we had been saving for years for this moment. But we made it work - I started tutoring kids after school let out, and Namjoon took on more commissions. And now, here we are, meeting with an agency on Monday."

Tae lets out a small whimper of distress. "Why didn't you come to us? We could have helped you."

Jimin reaches out to his soulmate, softly cupping his cheek. "Oh, my sweet Tae. I guess we just didn't want to burden you."

A loud, caustic guffaw suddenly interrupts their conversation, drawing their attention across the small circle. Jin sits there looking outraged. "How dare you keep something like this from us!"

Both Jimin and Namjoon are taken aback at Jin's sudden shift in tone, his voice now laced with heat and frustration. They can feel the tension rising in the room as he continues to speak.

"Do you honestly believe that anything you could ask of us would ever be considered a burden?" Jin's voice softens, his eyes searching theirs for understanding, "We care about both of you so deeply. None of us would ever see you as a burden."

Jimin's eyes start to well up with tears, knowing deep down that Jin's words are rational and true. He lets out a shaky breath before speaking, "I know that logically, but..." Namjoon places a comforting hand on Jimin's back as he struggles to find the words.

"We didn't want to impose or be seen as some charity case," Namjoon finally speaks, voicing their shared fear.

Jin growls in frustration, "How could you even think that? We love you two. You've become family to each other, and we only want to help you expand your family further." He crosses his arms over his chest in exasperation. "The nerve of not coming to us right away."

Yoongi nods in agreement, "Jin is right, Jimin-ah. We're here for you always. And personally, I would be honored to be a part of the process."

Namjoon glances at Jimin, who's nervously worrying his lower lip, both of them feeling properly admonished by Jin's words. "You're right. We would love your support as we navigate this journey."

Jin straightens up with a roll of his eyes. "Well, duh. That's what family is for."

The morning of their meeting with the surrogacy agency arrives. Jimin wakes up to the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sweet sound of birds chirping outside his bedroom window. His heart is already pounding in his chest as he pads into the kitchen, still in his pajamas, to find Namjoon pouring himself a cup. They exchange tired smiles but don't say anything as they both sip their coffee in silence, lost in their own thoughts. After a few minutes, Namjoon gently places his hand on top of Jimin's, stopping him from fidgeting with his mug. Their fingers lace together, and they squeeze lightly before Namjoon pulls him into a warm hug from behind.

Jimin leans into it gratefully, feeling Namjoon's heartbeat steady beneath his ear. He closes his eyes, basking in his partner's comfort—a mix of soap, coffee, and warm skin. He can almost feel the palpable distress emanating from Namjoon as he kisses the top of Jimin's head softly.

"Hey," he whispers, "it's going to be okay." Namjoon’s lips brush the shell of Jimin’s ear before pressing another kiss just underneath it.

He continues to trail kisses down the smaller man’s neck, nudging the collar of his sleep shirt aside to maintain contact. A shiver racks up Jimin’s spine as his head lolls to the side, leaning even further into his husband’s hold. A hum resonates through Jimin’s chest as thick fingers settle on his hips before pushing under the large sleep shirt to trail up his chest.

“Need a distraction?” Namjoon’s voice is huskily in his ear, sending goosebumps down Jimin’s spine.

Jimin whimpers, shivering in anticipation, “Namjoon,” he protests weakly. “We have to leave soon.” He can’t help the way his hips roll back a little into Namjoon, seeking more.

Namjoon chuckles in response, trailing his lips back up to Jimin’s ear and sucking gently on the lobe. Jimin moans, his eyes sliding shut as his hand comes up to grip the counter for support. “We have time.” Namjoon presses a lingering kiss to Jimin’s neck before spinning the smaller man around to face him. Pressing their foreheads together as they both catch their breaths, their heartbeats syncing.

Jimin opens his eyes to find Namjoon staring at him with so much love and affection it takes his breath away. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice thick with adoration.

Surging forward together, their lips connect. Jimin’s arms wind around his love’s shoulders, pulling their bodies flush together. The kitchen fills with the sound of their lips smacking together as Namjoon backs Jimin into the counter. His hands slide down to cup Jimin’s ass, giving it a squeeze.

Jimin gasps, opening up to Namjoon, their tongues twisting together. Moaning as Namjoon’s hands cup the back of Jimin’s thighs and lift him onto the countertop. Their mouths move seamlessly together.

Namjoon angles his hips so their erections grind together. Jimin whines into the kiss, gripping Namjoon’s shoulders desperately as he grinds down on his husband’s hard length. Namjoon moans, clutching at Jimin’s thighs, his control rapidly slipping.

Jimin’s fingers start pulling at Namjoon’s shirt, tugging it up and off of him. Namjoon breaks the kiss slightly, panting as he helps Jimin undress him. Their lips part and come back together repeatedly as they discard their clothes, pooling them on the floor with a carelessness they usually don’t have in the morning.

Namjoon lifts Jimin again, setting him back on the countertop, legs hanging over his forearms. A devious glint in his eyes as he presses their hard lengths together, grinding against each other.

“Joonie,” Jimin whines, biting his lip as their friction increases. His nails dig into the countertop as he is teased.

Namjoon pulls back just enough to look into Jimin’s eyes before grasping his chin and bringing their lips together again. Their tongues tangle in a slow-burning dance that is further stoked by their desperation for release. Both moan into the kiss as they rock together on the countertop, pants and groans filling the kitchen.

“Baby,” Jimin whines, “I need more…please.”

With his voice rumbling out, dripping with desire for the man in his arms, Namjoon pulls away a little, reaching for a drawer by the sink. He hushes Jimin gently as the other man whimpers at the loss of touch. Namjoon quickly steps back into Jimin’s arms with one of the small bottles of lube they keep stashed around their home.

Their lips collide once again, urgency and passion fueling their kiss. Namjoon's fingers grasp the lube bottle, uncapping it with a heated determination before coating his fingertips in the slick substance. Without breaking the kiss, he trails his lubed-up fingers between Jimin's spread legs, causing him to moan and suck on Namjoon's thick lower lip even harder.

Namjoon works a finger with skilled precision inside Jimin, who arches his back and keens in pleasure. Jimin can't help but nip at Namjoon's lip before leaning back on his hands and watching intently as Namjoon expertly stretches him open. Soon, Jimin is laid out on the counter, writhing and moaning uncontrollably as Namjoon drives three fingers deep inside him, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through his body.

Namjoon's fingers dig deep into Jimin's flesh, eliciting waves of pleasure as he hits that spot inside him. With a final powerful thrust, Namjoon pulls away, leaving Jimin whining in desperate need of more. In a frenzy, Namjoon slicks up his throbbing cock and drags Jimin upright, kissing him deeply.

As their lips collide, Namjoon guides Jimin's hands to grip him tightly as he spreads his legs wide. With a primal growl, Namjoon enters Jimin with force, watching in awe as his husband’s thick cock stretches his tight hole to its limits. Sweat glistens on their foreheads as they both pant heavily from the intense pleasure coursing through their bodies.

With one of Jimin's legs hooked over his strong arm and the other draped across his firm hip, Namjoon thrusts into him with purpose and force. Jimin's body responds eagerly, aching for more of Namjoon's skilled touch. He clings onto his lover, his fingers digging into his back as each powerful thrust hits him in just the right spot. Jimin can feel himself teetering on the edge, his entire body quivering with anticipation.

"Do you think you can come untouched for me?" Namjoon's deep, raspy voice sends shivers down Jimin's spine, intensifying the pleasure he's already feeling. "Show me how much you want it, baby. Come just like this."

With Namjoon's words urging him on, Jimin lets go and gives in to the intense pleasure building inside of him. His body trembles and quakes as he reaches his peak, unable to hold back any longer under Namjoon's skilled touch. Their bodies move together in perfect harmony, reaching new heights of ecstasy together.

Namjoon's fingers dig into Jimin's skin, leaving red marks in their wake as he yanks him closer. Their bodies collide with a force that sends them both tumbling over the edge, cries of pleasure escaping their lips as they reach their peak together. Jimin trembles with each thrust of Namjoon's cock, his insides filled with a thick heat that spreads through his body. Their chests coated with evidence of Jimin’s desire. The sensation is overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing over him as he surrenders to the intense pleasure of their love-making.

Breathless and entwined, they take a moment to catch their breath before reality comes crashing back. "We're going to be late," pants Jimin, his chest heaving as he speaks.

Namjoon's hand rubs soothingly along Jimin's hip, the sensation calming him as their lips meet in a final rush of pleasure. With a soft groan, Namjoon pulls out of Jimin, both men feeling sticky and satisfied. Helping Jimin down from the counter, Namjoon rushes him off to the shower, eager to wash away any traces of their passionate encounter.

Returning to the kitchen, Namjoon quickly cleans up their mess with practiced efficiency. Several minutes later, the kitchen is sanitized, and Namjoon joins Jimin in the shower. He takes over washing his husband's body, reveling in their intimate closeness. A gentle smile graces his lips as Jimin returns the favor.

After a thorough cleansing and refreshing shower, the couple steps out of the steamy bathroom to dress for their looming life-changing meeting. The air feels charged with anticipation as they prepare for what lies ahead.

"Ready?" Namjoon asks, extending his hand to Jimin. A smile lights up his face, radiating warmth and assurance.

Jimin’s heart flutters at the sight, and he gladly takes Namjoon's offered hand, intertwining their fingers comfortably. "Ready as I'll ever be. Let's do this, husband."

#bangtanwhq #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts fluff #park jimin #bts ff #bts #kim namjoon #minimoni #established relationship #marriage au #surrogacy

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Bringin' Home the Rain - Chapter 5: "Foundations"

Masterlist

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 8.8K Chapters: 5/5 Rating: Explicit

Chapter Summary: You've passed the point of no return, but even now Ulysses Klaue seems determined to drive you mad.

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Minor Injuries, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Masturbation, Smut, Smutty Smut, The Smutty Kind of Smut, Smut With Accidental Feelings, PWP, But a bit of Plot if you squint, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Teasing, Oral (M! Receiving), Reference to Predator/Prey, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom, Hair pulling, Begging, Finger Sucking, Spanking, Nipple Play, Oral (F! Receiving), Cock Warming, Mild Size Kink, Daddy Kink, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Needy Dom, Aftercare

A/N: Well, here we go! I really want to thank everyone so much for reading and following along as I figured this out, and anyone who has commented or left feedback in any way has been so appreciated. 💕 This started a three chapter rough draft back in May 2021, and has been sitting in the back of my mind since then. I'm so happy that I started this blog and found some lovely people who maybe would want to read a silly little fic I wrote, otherwise this likely wouldn't have seen the light of day!

So, thank you again for reading, mind the new tags, and I hope you enjoy this final chapter. 😉

**********

Title is from the song "Bringin' Home the Rain" by The Builders and the Butchers.

AO3 Link

You're evil as the demons that haunt you Forgetting what it was that they taught you And now there's no one left to stop you Or to catch you when you drop

“Now, take your clothes off for me.”

You hear the words but your vision is still swimming, your limbs shaky and hot, and with the ghost of his fingers still lingering against your tongue you can only stare as he pulls his belt all the way through the loops, dropping it to the floor with a metallic thud.

The sound of your name cuts through your reverie. 

“Did you hear me?” Klaue prompts.

“I did.” You give him a languorous smile, your hands drifting to the hem of your shirt. “It’s just that I was...still thinking about your fingers in my mouth.”

“Yes, you do seem to like using your mouth.” Klaue huffs a laugh before his eyes harden. “It’s going to get you into trouble.”

“I’m not already in trouble?” Tilting your head you frown in mock inquisitiveness.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Klaue replies slowly, pointedly flicking his eyes to where your hands continue to linger at your waist.

“What happens when you decide?” You ask, shifting on your feet when his eyes lock with yours, the flicker you can see even in the dim light daring you to find out.

"Take off…your clothes." Klaue’s voice is gravely quiet, and not filled with an abundance of patience.

Taking a steadying breath and fighting the temptation to keep pushing, you finally start to follow his command. You remove your boots first, glancing up to see him watching you intently, heat flaring low in your belly at the pleased look in his eyes. Straightening back up you lift your shirt smoothly over your head and let it drop to the floor, his eyes following your hands to where your thumbs hook in the waistband of your pants, pushing them past your hips and down your legs until you can step out and kick them to the side.

It had been on a whim that you’d chosen the underwear you did when you went back to your room to hurriedly change, the only set that wasn’t purely utilitarian. You had rolled your eyes at yourself at the time - what do you even expect to happen - but now you’re grateful for the impulse as you straighten your shoulders and wait, letting him take in the sight of you in black lace, the animal hunger on his face making your cunt throb.

“Not done”, Klaue rumbles, the smirk on his lips belying the control that you can sense slipping. An expectant look falls quickly into impatience while his fingers work to free the last of the buttons on his shirt until it’s hanging open, and you lick your lips when you see the grey flecked curls that spread across his chest and down his broad abdomen.

The air in the room feels charged and a shiver ripples beneath your skin as you bring your hands up behind your back where your fingers find and release the clasp there, then ease the straps from your shoulders, slowly exposing your breasts before letting it fall to the floor with the rest. It’s a heady feeling watching Klaue’s eyes slide a shade darker as they pass hungrily over your body, like the first sip of honeyed liquor that burns your throat but leaves a sweet tingle on your lips. 

You feel somehow more than just exposed under his gaze, as though he were seeing deeper than your skin, finding a hidden sliver that you didn’t know existed at the core of you. You find that you desperately want to know what it feels like to stand fully naked in front of him, want to know what else he’ll see, anticipation sending a shiver down your spine when your fingers ghost along the band of your underwear.

“Wait.” 

You stop at the word, your brows creasing with a faint frown. 

“Turn around,” he continues.

Though you’re uncertain at the shift you do what he says, slowly turning around and then waiting, considering what he might want.

“Did I say stop?” Klaue husks. “I don’t think I said stop.”

An idea swirls into your mind, then. With your back to him you start to tilt forward at the waist while at the same time slowly sliding your underwear down your legs, continuing to bend further than you realistically need to until the fabric is at your ankles, your position now a mimic of what you had done earlier in your workroom. Only this time there’s nothing covering you.

You tilt your ass up to expose yourself further, and when you chance a look back you see that Klaue's eyes are fixed between your thighs, his lips slightly parted, and you know that he can see what you can feel, your folds wet and shining from what an afternoon of frustration and just his fingers had done to you. When you start to straighten back up you hear a rough whisper. 

“Don’t move.” 

Keeping your hands braced against your shins you listen to Klaue’s heavy footsteps approach, feel him stop just behind you, and then you flinch at the skimming touch of his fingers along the outside of your hips as he traces your curves before sliding up to fit his hands in the dip of your waist. You can imagine him gripping you like this to fuck you back onto his cock and you think - hope - that’s what’s about to happen, but then he’s sliding his hands back down to your thighs, and when he nudges the backs of your heels you lose your balance and have to quickly reach your hands out to catch yourself on the edge of the mattress.

You hear him shifting and suddenly Ulysses Klaue is kneeling behind you, directly in line with your sex.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs as he settles behind you. “Is this what you wanted to show me?” His words are teasing as he drags his fingernails along the backs of your thighs and up over the curve of your hips. Stealing your words with his touch you can only gasp as he continues trailing a path across the sensitive line where your thighs and ass meet, goosebumps flushing across your skin and you shift awkwardly, trying to squeeze your legs together to get some relief from his inflaming touch. 

Just as you’re starting to sink into the sensation of it he spreads his hands flat on your ass, gripping you firmly to spread you open, his thumbs playing near your soaked entrance where he can see your slick mixing with fresh arousal and starting to drip down your thighs.

“Is this all for me, darling?” His words make you shiver and you’re sure that he sees your muscles clench in response.

“Yes,” you moan, greedily pressing yourself back into his hands. “God, yes.” Your body trembles and you start to pant as he continues to tease you, skimming just around the edges of your folds. His breath is warm on the backs of your thighs and you think he’s going to put his mouth on you but then he moves away, sliding his hands down your legs instead.

“Don’t move your hands,” he directs you, helping you step out of your underwear while you’re still bent over and then standing back up.

Your hips slide back, seeking him, and you don’t have to move far before you’re pressing against the tented fabric that’s stretched across the curve of his cock. He keeps his hands at his sides as you roll your slick center along the hard ridge him, your mind going loose and syrupy at the sensation as you lose yourself in the building heat of it, but then he pulls away from you causing your hips to dip back as you lose the resistance, and he chuckles at your whine of protest.

"Look at the mess you made." he tsks, the front of his pants now damp from where you were rubbing yourself against him.

"I think you're the one who made that mess," you reply, breathless. It's not your fault what he does to you, after all.

Jumping at the sound before you actually feel it, the sharp slap on your ass sends a spike of heat up your spine and your eyes are wide when you jerk your head to look back over your shoulder, fists tightening in the fabric under your hands.

Klaue is completely still other than a slow furling and unfurling of his fingers.

Your mind is heavy with arousal yet simultaneously crystal clear. Your eyelids are heavy now as you look from his hand back to his face, fighting the giddy smile that’s sliding across your mouth as you sigh and arch your hips in acquiescence.

A grin curves his lips as he lands another smack, harder this time, keeping his palm against your ass and massaging the spot that’s heating up now. Leaning over you his other hand slides into your hair and then he’s gripping it tight and pulling you back up, and you feel briefly weightless as the brace of the bed suddenly disappears from under your hands.

Pressing his face against your neck the scruff of his beard prickles against your hot skin, the musk of him filling your senses.

"Who made this mess?" He growls in your ear. It’s not a question.

"I did," you pant.

The third time his hand makes contact is the hardest and you yelp at the sharp sting that sits on the penumbra of pleasure and pain and you moan at both as you grind your ass back into his hand, the heat in your core coiling out into every limb.

"Would you like more,"  he squeezes your reddening cheek to emphasize his meaning. “Or would you prefer that I fuck you?"

"Mor- no, wait!” Your senses are reeling and it takes a good few seconds to straighten out your thoughts. “Fuck me, please." You feel him laugh against you at your panicked stammer.

Releasing your hair, he turns you around.

"Are you going to listen, then?" 

"Yes." you answer firmly, a pleased spark illuminating his eyes.

Now that you’re facing him, though, your attention is drawn to his bare chest and suddenly all you can think of is touching him. You need to feel his skin.

At first Klaue watches your hands warily as they start to move so you're relieved that he doesn’t stop you when you slide them up his chest, soft hair and warm skin beneath your fingers feeling like an indulgence after how many times you’ve thought about it. 

Dipping under the edges of his unbuttoned shirt you push the fabric aside, helping slide it off his shoulders and arms until it drops to the floor. For a moment you just look at him, taking in the firm curves of broad muscle, the way the tendons flex in his neck and jaw when your hands continue to wander across the broad planes of tattooed skin, fingers finding pathways between the ink, trailing over his belly and inexorably down to the tantalizing vee of muscle that dips below his waistband.

Klaue’s breath hitches when your hand slides over his erection and he quickly grabs your wrist, halting your exploration.

“None of that now, darling," his voice trembles and you're pleased that you've managed to bring down a corner of his defenses, even though you can immediately sense them strengthening again.

“Sit down,” he commands, stepping you backward with hands on your hips until your knees hit the mattress and you can’t help but tip back, landing with a bounce. Klaue follows you down so that he’s on his knees again, in front of you now.

”I’m..still not sure if I-” you start to reiterate your uncertainty, but your words trail off when his fingers press into the soft flesh above your knees, firmly coaxing your legs open. Leaning back on your hands you’re mesmerized by the sight of Klaue kneeling in front of you, his eyes heavy and focused only on your cunt as your slick folds open up for him.

"I’m going to taste you," he says with a rough sigh. 

Not a request but a foregone conclusion as broad hands slide up your thighs to span flat across your hips, pressing into the curve where they meet your thighs and framing your cunt as an artist deciding where to begin. His thumbs press and spread you open so that a little more of you is exposed, skating inward but not quite reaching your cleft. 

Taking you by surprise he suddenly leans forward and you gasp when his mouth closes around one of your nipples, holding it between his lips and quickly flicking his tongue across the very tip of the sensitive peak before releasing it and moving to give equal treatment to the other. Your body arches as sparks of bright heat jolt from the point where his tongue is awakening your nerves to slide straight down to your core.

Klaue keeps a tight grip on your hips to fix you in place as you writhe and he presses more firmly with the tip of his tongue, continuing to flick and circle while your body stiffens with waves of clenching ache until you’re breathless and trembling, your knees reflexively squeezing his waist where he sits between them.

You’re starting to think that you’d be ok if he just kept doing this when with one last flick of his tongue he sits back onto his heels and presses his lips to the inside of your knee, the drag of his beard tickling your skin. 

“You’re rather sensitive there, darling.” he teases.

“Mmmyeah.” you pant, still breathless. “I think- I think maybe you could do that all night if you wanted.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Klaue smiles against your skin and you try to ignore the swirl of hope at his words, at the thought that this won’t be the only time, that maybe he’ll want this - want you - again.

Your legs start to open wider of their own accord as his lips slide closer to your aching center, but when your arms buckle and you start to lie back he stops you, reaching an arm around your waist to drag you back to sitting.

“Stay like this,” he says firmly. “I want you to watch." His full lips are wet and glistening, matching the shine he’s left on your breasts, and when you nod they return to your thigh, sucking on the soft skin for a few moments before moving to find a new spot, leaving a trail of faint, rose petal bruises for you to discover later. It’s a concerted effort to brace your arms and hold yourself up as he continues his path inward, but you manage. Because right now the only thing you want is to be good. 

Anticipation fills your lungs, leaving room for almost nothing else as he finally reaches your mound and pauses to inhale you before meeting your eyes as if to make sure they’re still on him, his hands spreading you open to expose all of you now, shining and swollen, and a shuddering gasp escapes your lips when his tongue flicks out to finally taste you. 

The tip of his tongue explores you slowly, sliding through your folds, tasting, divining, making soft, wet noises as he starts to take you apart at the seams and you’re shocked at the delicate violence of it. 

"Sweet cunt." You almost don't hear Klaue’s whispered groan as he drags his nose through the thatch of hair between your thighs, inhaling you more deeply, and then for a moment he stops and looks at you; not moving, just looking as his breathing becomes slow and rough.

His attention should make you self-conscious but it's just making you more turned on and you’re sure he can see fresh arousal coating your sex, but you don’t have time to wonder about much else because then his lips close over your clit, dragging a moan from your throat as you try to control the buck of your hips while still trying to keep yourself upright. 

He doesn’t use his tongue now, instead he simply rests his lips against the sensitive bud and then slides slowly across it in a teasing drag, slipping and gliding against your inflamed nerves until you’re nearly on the edge from the slick friction, startled by how quickly the heat is pooling as his lips gently torture you, and then-

-he pulls back again, returning to his previous activity of kissing your thighs. 

“Fuck, why’dyoustopkeepgoing.’ You breathe out all in a rush.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his question infuriatingly coy.

“What?? Yes, oh my god,” you whine, rolling your hips against nothing and Klaue raises a Puckish eyebrow as you awkwardly writhe in front of him. 

“You didn’t seem sure, before.”

“Jesus, I am now, ok?” You know how pathetic you sound but can’t manage to care.

“Of what?” he coaxes you “Tell me.”

“That I want you to eat my pussy,” you moan, unable to hold back the desperation from your voice. “I want you to make me come on your tongue. Please.”

"Well, since you asked so nicely." His eyes flick back up to meet your pleading gaze. "But I'm going to need you to say my name first, darling."

"Please, Ulysses." With a rock of your hips you sigh his name.

He groans, rolling his erection against the side of the mattress.

"That does sound lovely coming out of your mouth," he grits, eyes still on you. "But that's not what I meant.” Klaue’s voice goes deep, and the timbre of it combined with the Cheshire grin on his lips tells you exactly what he meant.

You laugh, suddenly giddy as it dawns on you, and it’s not that you’re averse to it but the only time you’d said it before it had felt silly more than anything and you almost had to stifle a laugh at how out of place it sounded coming out of your mouth. But now, open and needy and aching for this man, every nerve desperate to burst into flame, you realize that you want to.

“Say my name and I’ll take care of you, Mot.” 

It feels worshipful, the whispered groan against your thigh. You watch him transcribing a prayer of fitful shapes on your skin with his tongue, tracing patterns older than Eros that you wish he were drawing on your clit instead, and then you feel something breaking open inside of you and it comes out in a rush of desperation mixed with utter certainty.

“Please, daddy. I need your mouth on my pussy, make me come, please.”

The last word falls to a keening cry when his mouth closes over you, no tentative exploration now as his tongue slides obscenely through every dip and fold of your sex, making sure he leaves none of you untouched, licking and sucking and truly tasting you now, the wet sounds he’s making against your cunt obscenely loud in the small room.

Then he drags his tongue down lower to dip inside of your entrance, his mouth open and panting over you and your arms shake as you watch him press further inside of you, tasting your essence as it leaks out onto his tongue.

He pulls away again but your moan transforms from protest to pleasure when he slides his middle finger into you the same way did when he had you against the wall, but now with you spread open like this he can press deeper, all the way to the knuckle and you can feel the ridges of the rings on his fingers bumping against your sex as he slowly strokes in and out of your tight heat. Your head lolls back when he adds his index finger and even though it’s a tease of what you really crave, the sweet stretch of it makes you sigh in relief.

"If just two fingers has you in such a state I can't wait to hear the sound you make when you take my cock.” You clench around his fingers at the deep rumble of his words and you can feel yourself sliding closer to the edge when he swipes his thumb over your aching bud.

"You don't have to wait," you reply, pleading, feeling your mind slipping away as an aching pressure swells deep inside you.

"But you do." he growls back, continuing the slow stretching pump of his fingers, watching where they disappear, slick and shining inside of you. “Because right now you’re going to come for me.” Klaue returns his mouth to your clit, pressing his tongue flat and stroking you firmly, the needy movements of your hips giving him their rhythm to follow. 

You try to stay upright but as your pleasure builds your arms buckle he doesn’t protest this time when you fall to your back, instead he simply moves one of your legs with his free hand until it’s positioned on his shoulder and then wrapping his arm up and around your thigh

Done with words now you can only make soft pleading whines with every ripple of Klaue’s tongue, his compulsion to tease you finally replaced with a single-minded determination to devour you. Capturing your clit in his mouth he draws his lips up and over the sensitive bud, releasing it with a soft, wet suck, continuing this until the rock of your hips becomes a little sharper and then starting to trace patterns with his tongue, searching for and finding the angle that makes you stiffen and working that spot until you’re trembling against his mouth.

The sensation keeps building hot and fierce and you feel like you should have peaked but you’re still rising. You can feel it deep in your core, in your thighs, curled behind your sternum and you can only inhale short gasps, your hands trying to grip the blankets above your head in your fists in an attempt to tether yourself. 

You’re not in control of your body any more, nor the sounds that you’re making as you moan unintelligible sacraments and when you nearly buck him off he pulls his fingers out of you to quickly grip your other leg, and you can feel the flex of his biceps against your thighs, pinning you, keeping you locked in place under his mouth.

“Ulysses??” Not a question but a plea, it’s the only word you can form right now as your vision blurs at the edges and for a split second you’re afraid he’ll stop, but then he’s groaning against your cunt, lips trapping and sucking your clit with a sudden fluttering suction and your back arches off the bed as you finally crash blindly into your climax. 

It hits you like a wave in the ocean and you dimly hear yourself crying out as you tumble blindly, barely able to catch your breath between the waves of it as he continues to suck and circle your swollen bud with his tongue, unrelenting as you writhe and moan and if you could form words you might be begging him not to stop, oh god please don’t stop. 

When your trembling hips finally start to relax into a softer rock against his mouth Klaue releases your clit and slides his tongue down to where you’re soaked now and then licks a stripe all the way back up your slit before resting his open mouth over your sex, soft and warm, and you shudder at the vibration that spirals through you as he moans softly, drinking in the last pulsing waves of your orgasm that roll against his tongue.

Cool air soothes your heated flesh when he finally pulls off of you, untwining his arms from your legs and standing up. As your vision swims back you’re half aware of him removing the rest of his clothes and boots.

“I think you’re ready for me to fuck you now, hm?” He looks down, smirking at the sight of you limp and panting on the bed, fabric still gripped tight in your fists.

That snaps you out of it. Your eyes fly open to see his broad, inked form standing over you, the scruff of his beard still glistening with your release, and when you see his cock hanging heavy against his thick thighs you sigh and instinctively open your legs wider, your body still aching for him, to be filled by him.

“Please,” You sigh with a languid nod as he steps back towards you.

”Impatient, are we?” Klaue taunts, the mattress dipping as he kneels and slides an arm under the arch of your waist to move you, always so damn smug as if it wasn't his intent all along to make you this way,

“Back” he says, and you try to help but barely have a chance to react before he’s lifting you, hauling you up the bed and you can only hold on to his shoulders and brace yourself until he has you positioned where he wants before pushing himself back up to kneel between your thighs, his hands quickly coaxing your legs back open. 

“Beautiful,” he sighs, and when you glance up at his face you’re surprised to find him looking directly into your eyes, and now you feel self-conscious. A rosy flush blooms across your chest and you’re burning so hot you almost can’t stand it, you need to get out from under his gaze so you reach for his hands where they rest on your knees, running over his fingers and up his forearms. 

“I need you. Need you inside me.” You moan and he inhales a sharp hiss through his teeth when your hand wraps around his cock, the tip dark and shining, and you can’t help a hum of appreciation as you grip him, hot and velvety under your fingers. 

"Jesus, you’re so fucking hard. Liked eating my pussy that much, did you?" You sigh, sliding your thumb along the sensitive underside of the head. 

"Stop." Klaue’s voice is dangerously quiet and you barely hear him, so distracted by the way he's thrusting slightly into your hand.

"Stop." He growls louder through clenched teeth and releases your legs from his grip. "Or you'll get nothing."

Your stomach drops as you quickly pull your hand away, yet even while hoping that you look appropriately chastised, you can’t help when your eyes are drawn to where his cock is resting on your abdomen. While you're certainly becoming quite familiar with him you only now seem to realize just how big he actually is as you look at the length of him lying thick and heavy against you, framed by the vee of your thighs.

"Oh." You release a shaky breath and he smiles at your expression of realization, licking your lips as you consider the reality of fitting him inside of you.

He doesn't touch you or himself for the moment, simply watches you with an appraising stare as you start to writhe nervously, and it’s not long before you let out a frustrated whine and adjust your hips so that you can rub your sex along his rigid length. But the friction isn’t nearly enough when his cock is so fucking close to where you want it, so you try to pull back enough that you can coax him towards to your entrance.

“God, please," you beg. "You’re going to drive me insane. I need you to fuck me. Ok? Don’t you want to feel how wet you made me? How tight I am for you?” You look up at him, desperation in your eyes.

Klaue’s eyes darken and he doesn’t have to say it this time, the command is clear from his expression and the way his hands move back to your legs, fingers digging into your flesh, and you close your eyes and work to still yourself until the only movement is the rise and fall of your chest.

“You’re learning,” he says with a pleased look. “Good girl.” Rewarding you by pushing your knees further back toward your shoulders he grips his cock and drags the tip through your folds, slicking himself up before sliding down until the thick head finds your soaked entrance. 

Realizing that you can feel him shaking, you glance up to see him watching you, the crease between his brows deep with concentration as he waits, and only when you meet his eyes does he start to press forward. 

Your eyelids flutter and a sigh of relief slips from your throat as he finally starts to stretch you open with a shallow thrust, pushing in just a couple of inches before pulling back out. Then another slow rock of his hips and he slides a little deeper now, his controlled movements making you acutely aware of every shift, every ridge of him as his cock drags against your inner walls. 

Klaue may be taking his time and letting you adjust to him but his features are tight with focus, sweat beading on his brow, and you can feel him working to hold himself back. His breath hitches as he presses forward against, watching where he’s disappearing inside of you until he’s maybe halfway sheathed. 

Just this stretch is already more than you expected, and even though it feels so fucking good and you just want to open up and take all of him you can’t help the tension that coils within you, and he must notice because you hear the rough gravel of his voice drifting up through the delicious ache of it all.

“Relax,” he hushes and leans over you, moving until his mouth is hovering above yours, flicking his tongue against your lips to coax them open and when they part as you tip your head up to meet him he captures your mouth, immediately licking deeper as you respond eagerly. Tasting yourself on his tongue as he deepens the kiss you can feel yourself softening, opening for him, and when you roll your hips again he slides a little deeper, your moan deepening in kind as you stretch to accommodate his girth. 

You let your hands slide across his shoulders, running up around the back of his neck and over the prickle of his shorn hair and he grunts against your mouth as you take him another inch. Pulling away from the kiss he drags his lips to you neck, raising goosebumps where his tongue laves across your skin, and when you feel his teeth slide along the curve of your shoulder your entire body arches all at once and you’re shuddering and rutting until he’s completely sheathed, the rough hair at the base of him pressed flush against the inside of your thighs.

"That's it. Knew you could do it." Then he’s pulling all the way back out of you and you’re whining at the loss even as your chest swells from his praise.

"Look at me.” His low command brings your focus back to him as he lines himself up again, chest heaving as he presses just inside of you, that intoxicating, molten look returning to his eyes. "You tell me if it's too much. Understand?"

You weren't quite expecting that, and it takes a moment to wrap your head around the shift.

"Because I'm done being gentle," he grits out and your skin prickles with anticipation as you moan and rock your hips, trying to take him further inside of you, but he holds you in place, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

"I understand." You finally say with a nod, and hunger singes the edges of his smile at your words.

A strangled cry wrenches from your throat as he buries himself in you with a merciless thrust, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the bittersweet pleasure of the sudden breach, and the relief of finally having him coupled with the blissful sound of his long groan as he enters you has the feeling of gold light sliding through your veins. Giving you no further chance to adjust he thrusts again, and again, grunting every time he bottoms out and you try and fail to stifle your cries as he hits the deepest part of you, fucking you with hard, steady strokes. 

With another thrust he suddenly stills, keeping himself fully sheathed in your tight heat, using his weight to press himself as deep into you as he can and leaving you desperately trying to writhe your hips beneath him even though it’s pointless, because he now has you effectively pinned to the bed with his cock.

“Jesus, you feel-” he drops his head and pants against your neck, his words dripping against your skin like burnt honey. “You’re so fucking tight. Perfect cunt.” 

"What are you doing?" You moan, swallowing a sob. The sensation of him buried in you like this is beyond intense, it’s all you can feel, every shred of your awareness tied to where all of him is stretching and filling you and you're not sure if you can take it, yet you still need more. 

“What's the matter, darling?" Bracing on his elbows Klaue looks down into your face, seeming to enjoy your sweet agony beneath him. "I'm giving you what you wanted. Been begging for my cock all night, said you wanted me to make you take every inch of it. So you’re fucking taking it now, aren’t you?” His only movement is a roll of his hips to push himself deeper.

You can barely form a coherent thought, pleading curses falling from your lips as you’re caught in a whirlpool of bare, mewling need. 

"You've been so good for me.” He rolls his hips again. “But you've also been mouthy.” He chides and with a frustrated noise you hook your legs around his waist, pressing your heels into the small of his back to try to find some purchase to rock beneath him. “But you knew you weren’t going to get away with that, didn’t you?” 

The taunt of his knowing words suddenly brings you back, a reckless tingle sharpening your thoughts, and even though you’re fairly certain that you’re going to lose your mind from the overwhelming and relentless stretch of him, you force yourself to take deep breaths until your head starts to clear and your body relaxes, making it seem as though you’re giving in to him. 

Then, eyes heavy with lust you lean your head up, your voice low and needy when you whimper against his ear. 

"But I thought you said you were going to fuck me, daddy." 

Klaue’s smile is wild and a spike of adrenaline courses through you when he pushes himself back up, and abandoning whatever plans he had to continue teasing you he hooks your knees in the crooks of his elbows, forcing your legs back and open as he leans over you, bracing his hands on either side of your body and thrusting into you with a punishing snap of his hips. Pinned beneath the weight of him you can only cry out at how deep his cock feels now as he starts driving into you hard and fast.

“You mean, like this?" he growls above you, your only reply a stuttered “yes yes yes” as he finally fucks you, as he finally lets go, sweat dampening his curls and slicking your thighs, making the slap of his hips against yours wet and loud as he fucks into you, barely giving you a chance to breathe. 

"Poor thing, did you think I wasn't going to fuck this needy little cunt of yours like you deserve?" 

You can’t think of anything beyond how good you feel, the solid mass of him pressing down, shaping you beneath him so that you fit together the way he seemed to know that you would, replacing the ache of need with the ache of being split open and impossibly full.

“Christ, you feel so- is this where you want me? Tell me where.” Klaue stammers, a desperate edge to his words and you understand what he’s asking.

“Come inside me, please.” You beg, desperate to feel him.

“Come on my cock then, darling, and I'll give it to you,” he grits through clenched teeth, fucking into you deeper, pulling out as little as possible now and every roll of his hips creates an agonizing friction against your clit. The delicious mix of agony and pleasure with every thrust builds up and up and up until with a clenching cry your orgasm surges through you and you surrender to the feeling of everything all at once: heat and cold, tension and liquid, pitch dark and blinding light, and even through the thick haze of it you have a clear awareness that he’s ruined you completely, because how could you possibly want anything else after this?

Klaue is lost in you now as your cunt grips his cock, groaning praises as he fucks you through it until you feel his rhythm become frantic, his features twisting in ecstasy and then with a final rough thrust he stills, shaking against you until with guttural moan you feel his cock throb as he spills himself inside you. Releasing one of your legs he grips your shoulder and pulls you against him, keeping himself buried as deep as possible as he shudders, hips jerking against yours and you moan in bliss as you feel the warmth of his spend coating your walls, filling every last inch of you completely.

Eventually he releases your other leg and falls against you, though you keep your legs wrapped around his waist as you run your hands across his shoulders and catch your breath.

“Fucking made for me, darling,” he pants into your neck. “Could fuck you all night. My god."

You can only make a sound that’s a cross between a protest and a laugh at his admission.

"Hmm, maybe not this time." His low chuckle vibrating through you. "But you are going to give me one more."

You laugh again, not thinking that he could be serious as he pushes himself back up to kneeling, but when you look up at him you catch the rough glint in his eyes as he watches you expectantly.

“Wait, you’re not..I already- ”

"And I," he cuts you off with a quick thrust, "already told you that you're going to come as many times as I want.” 

You shake your head, incredulous even as you become distinctly aware that he’s still hard inside you.

"Jesus, I- Ulysses, I really don't think I can." 

"It also seems like you still have a few too many thoughts in that head of yours, don’t you?" He taunts while his hands slide across your hips and up the curve of your waist.

"Yes," you whisper, dropping your head as you recognize your own words spoken back to you.

"I want that to stop." He thrusts again, slowly, and the squelching slide back into you has you groaning as he watches the mess of his cum mixed with your release leaking out from where you're joined, dripping down to stain the fabric beneath you. 

Gathering some of the mixture from where his cock still stretches you open Klaue drags his thumb back up to your clit, using the sticky slick of both of you to slide just around the over-sensitive bud and you whimper as eddies of heat start to swirl again, unable to help the rock of your hips as he teases your aching flesh.

“There she is,” he hums as your muscles flutter around him, but it’s still so much and you can't quite let yourself submit to it. Squeezing your eyes shut you try to just focus on your breath as he continues to gently nudge your clit with a slippery thumb.

"Are you fighting it?" he asks, a fierce mirth in his voice. "That isn't going to work."

You reach your hands up to grip the slats of the headboard, and though you’re not sure whether it’s to brace yourself or to pull away Klaue seems to take it as the latter because he's gripping your hips and pulling you firmly against him, sliding his cock back into you in an agonizing grind, more of his cum leaking out of you as he presses deep.

“Please, let me feel your perfect, greedy cunt squeeze my cock one more time." 

The unexpected neediness in Klaue's voice sends another thrill of heat through your core.

“I want to. For you.” You sigh, licking your lips when you feel him twitch inside of you at your words.

“Then just breathe, darling.” The low grit of Klaue's voice soothes you as he slides his hands up your thighs and stomach to cup your breasts, brushing over your nipples before rolling them gently between a thumb and forefinger and making a satisfied grunt when you clench around him. 

Reaching further up he tugs at your arms, coaxing your hands away from the headboard and positioning them behind your knees so that you can hold yourself open for him.

“Just like that.” His words are deep and pleased as he admires you, a hand moving to your cheek, and you can’t help pressing into his palm. 

When his thumb brushes against the corner of your mouth you unconsciously turn your head to flick your tongue out and then he’s quickly pushing past your lips, letting you swirl your tongue around the digit for a few moments before pulling it out and sliding his first two fingers in to replace it, a heated grin curling his lips as he feels you relax into his touch.

“Just need everything, don’t you?” His eyes are a tempest blue as he looks down at you.

You can only hum around his fingers in reply, keeping your eyes on his as you take them deeper into your mouth, sucking and sliding your lips around them, and then he's pressing against your tongue, fingertips reaching the back of your throat so that you gag slightly, the ripple running from your neck down your spine to where you arch and roll your hips.

He continues this until your eyelids get heavy, your mind slipping away as he fucks his fingers into your mouth, his other hand returning to your center where he rests his thumb just against your clit, allowing you to take what you need, the rock of your hips becoming more insistent as you feel the heat of the orgasm he wants from you starting to rise.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth he instead grips your thigh below where where your own fingernails are digging crescents into your skin as the pleasure swells up, every muscle taut, your cunt tightening around his girth until you’re almost pushing him out but he ruts forward to keep himself seated deep inside of you.

“There you go, I can feel it.” Klaue's face is a mask of concentrated lust coloured by an unnamed emotion that slides beneath his features. “So, do I know what you need, then, darling?”

You can only nod your head and keen as you hang over the edge.

“Say it.”

“You know what I need Ulysses, ohh don’t stop- ”

Your climax is sharp and bright as you tip over the edge with a choked cry, and you dimly hear him groaning your name as you come undone around his cock one more time. Light burns behind your eyelids as his thumb rubs firm circles on your clit, teasing out every little jerk of your hips, every last clenching wave of pleasure you’ll give him. Finally, it’s too much and you reach down to grab at his hand in protest and mercifully he lets you pull his fingers away from your overwrought sex as you finally collapse.

“Ok,” Klaue purrs. “Ok.” Slowly, he eases his cock out of you and you both moan at the loss, but when he doesn’t move any further you blearily glance up to see that his eyes are fixed on your ruined hole with a look of pained reverence, and when you feel the warmth of it you realize that he’s watching his cum dripping out and pooling beneath you with the rest of the mess you made.

With a rough sigh he pulls his attention back to you, and sliding his hands up your thighs he helps ease your legs back down as the ache in your hips from being in this position for so long starts to set in. You’re limp and unfocused and starting to shiver from the sudden lack of him as you come down, so he shifts you over and pulls the clean side of the blanket over you, covering you as much as possible.

You’re not sure how long he stays there but eventually you feel him get up and walk to the washroom. Lying with your eyes closed you listen to the quiet sounds of water running as he cleans up. 

Returning to sit on the edge of the bed a hand touches your shoulder and you turn your head to look at him.

“You should drink something,” he says softly. 

You realize that he’s holding out a glass of water and you’re so grateful as you become instantly aware of how incredibly parched you are, but when you open your mouth to thank him you instead let out a choked laugh which quickly dissolves into surprised tears.

Laughing again as tears spill and streak down into your hair you try to turn away and cover your face, but he sets the glass down on the side table and you feel his fingers firmly gripping your chin. 

“Look at me.” Klaue’s voice is calm but insistent. “You did so well, darling. You don’t need to hide.” When your eyes meet the seriousness of his the tension goes out of you, and you finally feel yourself starting to come back into your body.

“I’m ok.” You sniffle and swallow your tears. “Really.” After watching you intently for several moments he eventually seems satisfied and hands the glass of water back to you. 

“Drink. Then shower.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed in underwear and a t-shirt, wet hair tucked up in a towel, you watch as Klaue finishes getting dressed.

“Can I ask you something?” You say softly.

“Of course,” he replies, his gaze inquisitive as he tucks in his shirt.

You’re not even clear on exactly what you want to say and there are about a hundred thoughts fighting to get to the tip of your tongue. 

“How did you..know.” You try to bite back a smile, amused that you somehow feel shy even after what had just transpired between you. “I mean, I feel like I barely knew.”

He makes his way over to where you’re sitting.

“I didn’t, really. Not at first." He starts, sounding thoughtful. “But I wasn’t lying before, I did notice you right away in Utrecht. A beautiful woman alone? That’ll always draw the eye.” He says, grinning at your blush. “But then you walked right up to me and, well, I can’t say that’s something that happens very often. So you definitely had my attention.”

You look up at him standing over you, and even now you find yourself squeezing your thighs together at the sight.

“Then I looked into your background, and it turns out you're a bit of a risk taker, don’t like to settle in one place for long. Always looking for something. You intrigued me.” His eyes pass over your bare legs as he speaks.

“But then, yesterday,” Klaue pauses (and, god, was it only yesterday?), his voice dropping to that honeyed whisper again. 

“The way you reacted when I touched you. The way you pushed yourself back against me, rubbing right against my cock.” You flush and start to look down, but he hooks a finger under your chin so you meet his eyes. “I knew I could get you to let go. I just needed you to admit it.” 

“I might have sooner but I just..you throw me off balance,” you admit. "I don't usually need other people. I've always been fine on my own, I prefer it, honestly. But every time I would see you it felt like I couldn't look away. I tried not to think about you, and I did actually manage for a while. But then that guy attacked me.”

Klaue’s eyes go dark at the reminder. 

“The way touched me, and told me I had to rest.” You shiver at the memory of his firm command. “Then I really couldn’t stop thinking about you. Or your hands, for that matter. And I..”

He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“That night was the first time I thought about you, when I touched myself.” You sigh, letting your legs drift open slightly. 

Klaue's breath quickens and he leans down to curl his fingers around your elbow, pulling you to standing. 

“When you say things like that to me, darling," he grits out, both hands gripping your hips, and you brace yours against his chest. "You said you didn’t know yourself, but you could have fooled me."

“I’m- I’ve never.. Listen, I’ve always liked it a little rough, I suppose. But any time I tried to ask for..more, guys would either shut down, or just not get it,” you shrug. “So I usually just let it go. It wasn’t worth the energy.”

“I’ll never understand.” Klaue shakes his head in exasperation, his hands sliding up under your t-shirt to find bare skin. “They’re all fools. The most arousing thing a woman can be is turned on. Every time I make you come, turning you into more and more of a needy mess, it just makes me want to do it again. And again. I want to find out what makes you feel good. I want to make you need me so badly it hurts, and then I want to be the one to give you relief.”

You can’t help the soft moan that comes from your parted lips at his words, but while you try to work out a more coherent reply his phone buzzes, and with a sigh he pulls it out to read the message before frowning and slipping it back into his pocket.

“I need to go,” he says, begrudgingly. “I’m leaving in the morning for about two weeks.”

Your stomach drops with disappointment, but it’s tempered by the realization that he’s telling you how long he’ll be gone.

“So, you want to see me again?” You ask, once again feeling silly at how bashful he makes you.

"I want to see all of you again,” he growls and pulls you against him, his hands reaching down to roughly cup your ass and angling his mouth to hover above yours.

“Ok.” you breathe, relief and anticipation swirling through you. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Because I haven’t forgotten that you said I could fuck your mouth, darling.” he murmurs against your lips and you press your body flush against his. 

“Hmm, I did, didn’t I?” you start to reply, but then his lips are on yours, cutting you off with a swipe of his tongue and you quickly deepen the kiss in turn, but before long you’re interrupted again by the buzz of his phone and with a sigh he finally pulls away from you.

“One more question” you say as he moves toward the door. “You said something. Before.” You shiver as you think about the words he whispered in your ear the first time he made you come. “Klein” means small, I think. But “mot“?  

“Smart girl,” he says, crooking a smile, and then after a pause: “Little moth." 

It might be the first time he doesn’t meet your eyes, and you tilt your head inquisitively while pushing down the tendril of affection that’s blooming in your chest.

“I noticed that you sometimes wander around at night,” he offers, shrugging as if it were a simple explanation.

“How- ? You’re not even here most of the time!” He grins at your exasperation

“I told you that I-”

“Yes!” You say, bemused, holding up your hands. “Yes, you know everything that goes on in this place. You know ‘every inch of it.’” You smirk, making quotes with your fingers, parroting his own words back to him, now.

“Not quite yet I don’t.” His eyes slide pointedly down your body. “But I will.” Your lips fall open wordlessly as he turns and opens the door. “Think about me while I’m gone, darling.”

Then you’re staring at a closed door.

Goddammit.

It’s going to be a long two weeks.

A/N #2: Another quick note, that although this part is finished and can function as a stand alone story, as I mentioned in my WIP post, Klaue and Reader will continue to get up to shenanigans! I do have other things I also want to work on so I don't really have a timeline, but updates will be made as things move along.

Thank you so much for reading, I love you all!

#bringin' home the rain fic #ulysses klaue #ulysses klaue smut #ulysses klaue x reader #ulysses klaue x f reader #ulysses klaue x you #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction

[brineffxiv]

We gather in Limsa Lominsa, awaiting the boat that will take us to Sharlayan, where we will reunite with Krile and set about attempting to solve the many problems that face us.

Hoary Boulder and Coultenet stop by to see us off and to make sure we've got everyone's well wishes and assurances that they'll take care of things while we're gone. And so, with mixed feelings of excitement and trepidation, we set off!

Be still my heart! Is that the voice of Emet-Selch!?

It is him, isn't it?? Oh, I have missed you terribly. Are you narrating this expansion? How? You're dead. Oh, I might cry.

Oh no, now I'm definitely going to cry. Why is the sad music playing!?

Goodness, Tataru couldn't spring for a cabin? Even a bunk? We've just got to sleep here on the floor? Maybe I will go for that walk.

Uh...

Oh, my God.

Hydaelyn. I... have some questions. I feel. Somewhat betrayed. More so on behalf of my friends, than myself. For while it is true you have never - that I know of - done wrong by me, I have complaint over how you have treated my fellow warriors of light and your oracles.

A hard choice, to be sure, but I wanted to know more than I wanted to rage.

And now I wish I had chosen the other answer. No, it is not clear to me why now. Why not before, any of the times before? Why not tell us yourself? Why did you not reveal the truth about yourself and the "servants of darkness" ? Why did we have to find out from Emet-Selch what was really going on here? Don't you think that was a little bit important? If you wanted me to trust in you, why have you never been forthcoming with me?

No thanks to you.

And that's another thing. I realize, as a primal, you are bound by the desires of those who brought you forth, from that moment in time. But. What would be so bad about the restoration of the old world? The way we are supposed to be? Why fight so hard to preserve the broken remnants of an accident?

Now, certainly, in the present, we are peoples worthy of living on. But why initially? In the immediate aftermath of the sundering, before we had rebuilt, why not help put the world back together? Was your drive to subdue Zodiark so strong that you could not consider anything that would bring him power?

It seems to me, that as the fight went on, the Ascians became increasingly more in the wrong. But at the start. From where I stand. You were the villain.

Why do you value me so highly. That you would expend the effort to say these words to me when you left Ardbert to languish in perpetual solitary confinement for over a century? When you allowed a succession of Minfilias to fight and die without a word? When your neglect forced the champions of the First to turn to the Ascians for help to save their world? They gave their lives and you wouldn't even speak to them!

I am so mad. I am so very angry with you. I do not understand, and I am furious that you would expend the effort to speak with me just to tell me we're in danger. No duh. We've got a rogue Ascian determined to reenact the Final Days. A problem we wouldn't have if I hadn't gone and killed off the people who were keeping him in line.

If that's supposed to make sense to me I have to tell you it doesn't. How in the world am I supposed to find out what you promised in another age.

I can tell you care about me. You maybe even love me, as a mother should love a child. And I think there is a part of me that reciprocates. That Rhesh'a loves you too. But we cannot see past the injustice of it all. A mother should not pick favorites among her children.

Ahh and now we arrive at Sharlayan. Endwalker is shaping up to be a doozy; I'm already emotionally exhausted.

I am. Unprepared.

Eeee! New city! And Emet-Selch is introducing it to me! Happy happy day!

What happens if we get refused entry? Do we have to get back on the boat?

Right, got it. No talking about the Scions. My lips are zipped.

Ah, yes, I should get around to playing Eureka at some point...

Haha omg. That was... SO long ago. Even longer for G'raha. He went away and lived an entire life and more in the meantime.

I've always wondered what was behind the placements of Archon marks? Clearly the neck is standard, but Urianger chose to put his on his face for some reason? And the pictures I've seen of Louisoix show him with his on his forehead. Hmm... Things to think about.

Trust Fourchenault to have made things difficult. At least Alisaie and Alphinaud aren't precluded from entering. Thankfully it seems that being disowned didn't revoke their citizenship.

I am an Artisan, thank you very much. I didn't level all my DoH/DoL skills to 90 by Stormblood for nothing now.

AHAHAHA! Poor Estinien. He can't think of a job.

Thankfully, Krile arrives to the rescue. Estinien is officially a mercenary. And we are now free to explore Sharlayan, myself with G'raha and Krile in tow!

And here is where I must stop the post, as I have hit my max image allotment, lol. Welcome to Endwalker.

#ffxiv liveblog #rhesh'a tag #krile baldesion #hydaelyn #emet-selch #thancred waters #y'shtola rhul #estinien varlineau #g'raha tia #tataru taru #baseless speculation #thoughts on lore #i finally get to pick that bone with hydaelyn #it does not go well #endwalker

[negentropies]

hate being a hardcore plotter with terminal writer brain because i can't even fucking like something without picking it apart like a rotisserie chicken carcass and trying to fix all the weird holes in the plot that won't let me sleep at night

so anyway, heres a bullet point essay on my thoughts on the bhaal plot bc it doesnt make any fucking sense and its been driving me insane and patch 5 was just the final nail in the coffin

so bhaal's motivations are . muddy. in the case of most durges, it seems he crafted durge as his most perfect champion, let them get a little bit of life experience, and then led them to the bhaal temple where they became its leader with the intent of ???? murdering lots of people and getting more followers ?? i guess ???? omnicide only really became a possibility after they hatched the elder brain plot with gortash, but they were very much already a cult leader by then. regardless, we establish that as of ~15 years before the start of bg3, bhaal wants to use the brain to murder everyone in the world. HOWEVER. if you just so happen to be an oathbreaker paladin durge and face sarevok and become an unholy assassin, you get this dialogue:

this suggests that bhaal's goal is to walk the planes again? which doesnt seem like it would have anything to do with omniciding the world, since gods get their power from the number and fervor of their worshipers. as i see it (ty moth) his goals seem to be as follows: expand his divine portfolio and worshiper base to obtain greater divine status -> reclaim his divinity and re-ascend to full godhood -> rebuild his church into something more coherent and structured -> walk the planes again -> fuck with bane and myrkul

if the absolute plot succeeds and durge takes control of the absolute in bhaal's name, i see no reason why he'd rid himself of a massive new worshiper base, since followers of an exarch (durge in this case) also count as followers of an exarch's god (bhaal). if anything, it would make more sense for bhaal to EXPECT the absolute plot to fail. this way he fucks with myrkul and bane and gets rid of their chosen as well as substantial chunks of their followers.

like yeah, sure, having the entire absolute cult under his control would be cool. it'd probably make him a powerful enough deity to get him out from under bane's yoke once and for all. but it's also worth noting that bhaal hates bane SO fucking much. bane poached his servant loviatar to take her as his consort and then there was the Gortash Situation, so that hatred could mean he'd lose sight of that power and make it so he'd be happy if the elder brain plot collapsed, as long as it meant he could make bane look stupid or undermine him in the process.

this brings me to the new patch 5 epilogue, which inspired me to write down my ramblings in the first place. if you either lose to orin in the duel or you embrace bhaal, then destroy the elder brain, you become this urge-crazed, twitching murderer good for nothing except crashing parties and siring more bhaalspawn. which like . doesn't make sense to me? it's outright stated that durge becomes nothing but a vessel for bhaal. bhaal has been established as extremely patient and more than capable of cooking up plots that could span centuries (see: baldur's gate 1 and 2), so i don't know why he wouldn't just use his newfound puppet bhaalspawn as a mortal avatar to restore his church and facilitate his return to power in a faerûn where myrkul (bane also, but less so) had to take a step back to recoup.

the characterization of bhaal and pre-lobotomy durge makes me a little confused in general. gortash frequently talks about how intelligent durge was and how their strength came in their intense self-control, and in the fact that bhaal let them pick their battles. going off of this, i expected durge to be kind of a stick in the mud compared to the other bhaalists, and we get SOME of that? there's a journal entry you can find from durge to orin where durge insults her for "posing [her] corpse-dollies" instead of just killing and being done with it. however, from the flashbacks and other conversations with the bhaalists we get, our vivisection-loving cannibalistic necrophiliac doesn't really have a leg to stand on here. it really seems like the larian writers had two separate, incongruous visions for durge and tried to mesh them together to limited success

now can we talk about sarevok. can we talk about sarevok? can we talk about how utterly batshit insane it is that fucking SAREVOK, who literally attempted to usurp bhaal to become the new lord of murder, would have gotten so much power and favor from his father? it's clear from durge's internal narration that they hate sarevok's guts. they straight up get inspiration for killing him. so... why did durge ever answer to him? why did bhaal let his perfect clone and champion into the hands of a son he hates and who tried to usurp him?

which all leads me to my conclusion that the baldur's gate temple of bhaal is, in fact, a heretical sect. and more importantly, that durge was led to it with the intent that after they'd exhausted the temple's use, they would off sarevok once and for all, gut the temple completely, and rebuild something new and worthy of their father from the ashes.

everyone at the bhaal temple is interested pretty much exclusively in the ritualistic aspects of murder, while in contrast, durge is (stated to be) more interested in efficiency and (apparently?) restoring their father to power and helping him walk the physical planes once more. again, this is all incongruous with other aspects of their characterization, but i'm going to chalk that up to messy writing. this would also track with durge being raised outside of the bhaal temple, ensuring that no matter what, bhaal would get to them before the temple did. sceleritas fel in particular is shown to be loyal to durge and bhaal exclusively, while not caring for orin or sarevok. the pieces are all here for a religious schism that just . never happens

so, if we pick up some of what larian is putting down and ignoring the rest, a possible version of events would be:

-> sarevok the attempted usurper establishes the temple of bhaal in baldur's gate as a niche, heretical sect focused exclusively on ritualistic murder, with no intention of expanding bhaal's portfolio beyond that

-> bhaal crafts durge, lets them form an identity outside the temple, then brings them in to lead, use, and subsequently destroy the baldur's gate bhaalists

-> durge and gortash hatch the elder brain plot. no matter if it succeeds or fails, bhaal will still win one way or another, whether it be getting a new legion of followers through his exarch or by crippling myrkul and sticking it to bane

-> orin (and probably sarevok) misunderstands bhaal's edicts, interpreting them as him wanting to use the brain to murder everyone in the world. orin fucks everything up when she lobotomizes durge but tbh, that still doesn't really matter. either she dies and bhaal gets rid of a heretical and unstable spawn or she becomes his puppet, just like durge should have in their bad ending

going off bhaal's characterization for the previous games, he is fundamentally a patient plotter with lots of foresight and also immense rizz. omnicide via elder brain is like . the stupidest scenario for him when there is so many other different ways to take this. where is bhaal sending in his perfect murder catholic spawn into a den of murder pagans !! where is the bhaalist religious schism !!!!!

thank u for coming to my ted talk

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #i guess #LARIAN !!!! LARIAN WHEN I CATCH YOU !!!!!! #.txt

[mdhwrites]

So do you ever think that the whole Cat God thing in the Amphibia felt kinda out of left field? Like aside from Anne rambling when high on painkillers (which is not good foreshadowing), the Cat God feels like it came out of nowhere with barely any build up and only really exists purely so they wouldn't have to end the show with Anne 100% dead.

So... I really like it. It's maybe one of the few really good fake out deaths out there because it would have genuinely sucked if Anne were dead at the end of the series but having her briefly die for once has an actual POINT to it in the story, as well as one other part I like about it that I'll get to. Most things that do this sort of death can't say they have a real point to it. For them, it's just a heroic sacrifice to show things are serious and then it's various levels of questionable of how they turn it around when they get back. *glares daggers at Kingdom Hearts 3*

Amphibia is all about change though. How change can be painful, how it can be great, the good, the bad, and what we must sacrifice for it. A story about change that never addresses death is arguably incomplete in its themes. Death is one of the most painful changes in our life after all and rarely do we get to have a choice in the matter. Rarely does it get to mean something. Anne at least got to have it be her choice and to have it be in order to save the world she loved and change it for the better, while the Core wanted to change it for the absolute worst.

So her dying makes sense. It's kind of just the natural final note for the theme to go out on. So how do I justify the god coming out of nowhere?

Well, a lot of it has to do with Amphibia's writing. For once, not just that it is a looser sort of show with a better comedy focus than something like TOH. No, this time it has to do with the writing around the stones and around the god. The stones are always portrayed to us as gifts. Even Aldrich says it is their greatest treasure and that no one knows where they came from. They have prophecies about it. It's very BIG fantasy. Not High Fantasy but BIG, the sort that includes gods and what not. Honestly, one could argue it's taking cues from Greek storytelling in that way with chosen heroes, divine gifts, etc. like that.

So when the god appears and says the stones were all a game/test... Yeah, I buy it. They are unfathomably powerful, they aren't fully known by anyone, no matter how much anyone claims to understand them and all you have to do for their full power is to ask. Send a prayer to the one who made them.

But it gets better. I LOVE that it was an offhand thing for the god that then got annoying. That they decided to change things for no reason by giving mortals unlimited power and had to scold itself for TEN THOUSAND YEARS for what a mistake that was. It treated life as a game, fucked around and found out.

Which actually brings us to the final thing: The fact that Anne's kindness is rewarded. While community and change are major themes of the show, the driving force behind pretty much the entirety of the show is compassion and understanding as what brings about positive community and change. In her sacrifice, she showed the ultimate compassion she could for her world, her friends showed understanding by knowing they shouldn't stop Anne if this was her choice and for that, she is given the chance for godhood.

But Anne doesn't back off from her choice. She accepted death and she doesn't see herself as a queen. She isn't about to become like Sasha or the Core and take power just because it's in front of her. Not when she's made plenty of mistakes during the show. In that humility, she is given a chance to finish growing but they don't take back the impact on the theme. She still accepted the ultimate change. She even accepted it over power over everyone because she didn't just assume it'd be a purely positive change for everyone.

And all of that is part of why to me, the catgod works. Admittedly, from a pacing standpoint, it's about the only way to pull Amphibia's tone back to where they can start cracking jokes and what not and have an ending that feels like Amphibia rather than some dower, bittersweet farewell which is in and of itself smart for the show.

There's a LOT in Amphibia like this. Where if not for smart, cohesive choices made on all levels, and a genuine understanding of what it is on all levels, the choices wouldn't work or they'd be stupid or rushed, etc. like that.

But Amphibia is smart enough to make it all work, almost like a capricious god playing with a world, though not without a couple cracks at the fault lines. But that's just texture since a perfect product is a boring product.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#amphibia

[notthestarwar]

Jango part 4

You’re going to die [...]

[...] And you play along because it’s funny, because

it’s written down,

you’ve memorised it,

it’s all you know.

-Richard Siken

“Tragedy is restful; and the reason is that hope, that foul, deceitful thing, has no part in it. There isn't any hope. You're trapped. The whole sky has fallen on you, and all you can do about it is to shout. Now don't mistake me: I said "shout": I did not say groan, whimper, complain. That, you cannot do. But you can shout.” — Jean Anouilh, Antigone, 1942 (translated by Lewis Galantière, 1951)

Fox

Cody

Boba

Kix

Obi Wan

Anakin (1 2 3 4 5)

Jango (1 2 3 4 5 6)

Clones

Is Jango a father to the clones

So I've said it before but I very much think of Jango’s death as inevitable. He was always walking toward that end. The thing I find really fascinating about him as a character is that he really didn't have to do any of the things he did. He could have chosen to try to be better but he just didn't. Anyone else in his position probably wouldn't have made the choices he did, but the person Jango's life made of him, always would have.

I think it's really interesting to look at his motivations as honestly I think he's largely lying to himself, his motivations don't make sense because they aren't really his motivations. It's just layer upon layer of the lies that he tells himself over the years. I think the fact that he was once able to lead the Haat'Mandoade, who were following tenets that stress the importance of caring for children, of serving your people, defending your culture; really shows that Jango was not always the person he is by the time he arrives on Geonosis. Something big happened, and it changed him.

I don't think the people that followed him to galidraan were the type of people to put up with a weak leader, or someone that didn't truly stand for those values. Mandalorians aren't exactly the type to put up with a leader they don't believe in. But they did, even at 13, he was considered to be a representative of their cause, they all believed him to be a strong enough leader, to follow. Not only that, but years later some of the survivors of the true Mandalorians follow him to Kamino. They believed in him to such an extent that years later they're still following him, even in something that's in such opposition to their beliefs.

So if Jango was once someone else, someone that wouldn't have worked with the Kamineese, someone that wouldn't have done what he did, what happened? Well, obviously he lost everyone time and time again. He was betrayed, he was enslaved. And I think all of that was more than enough for him to really lose himself. The Jango Fett that we see in aotc, is a product of the life he's lead and that person always would have made the choices he did. Every choice he made led to the next. He really was his own worst enemy, and he never could have stepped off the path that would eventually end in his death, because he didn't believe himself to have a choice even when he doesn't. Jango escapes slavery but he's never really free from that point onwards, he doesn't believe himself to be free and so he remains enslaved to himself, to his cause.

He can't escape his fate because he doesn't think there's any other option. Everything he does, only moves him closer to that end and his cause, is a prison. He didn't choose it. He feels that he owes it to those he survived. He survived and they didn't so now all that's left is to try and do the only thing that's left to do for them. The truth is, Jango isn't really doomed by the narrative, and it's not trying to save him either. He's just a side character. So he is the one driving this. He can't be anything more than what he is, because he already believes himself to be dead. His death is a sure thing, he doesn't need to bother trying to survive, Because It Already Should Have Happened, he survived the unsurviviable again and again, so now he's just a ghost. Living on borrowed time, nothing to do but to enact revenge.

There's nothing left for him, he doesn't feel he has a choice but to carry on walking this path, he knows he's going to die. He also knows, that the things that set him on this path didn't have to happen. Bad luck set him on this path and now he's sure he's stuck on it, so he keeps doing things that keep him on that path. He feels that he's been cursed, that fate has doomed him, and he's furious about it. But he doesn't feel that anything he does can save him, so instead he keeps walking that path, raging all the way. He will leave his mark on the galaxy that made him this. His anger is never ending, because its rooted in his grief, and Jango has so much to grieve.

He's living in a tragedy, because, though he doesn't know it, he is free. Jango is the reason that Jango is walking towards death, he could stop at any point, but he never will, because he doesn't know he's free. So he continues. Jango doesn't fall, he climbs down lower and lower, losing more and more of himself, and completely ignorant to the fact that he could just stop climbing, that he could change direction.

I definitely think there are parallels to be found between Anakin and Jango. We get these glimpses in the background pre empire that show the cruelty that is so present in the galaxy. Horrific things were happening to people far before the Republic fell. Circumstance meant that anakins betrayal meant something, just like Jango's own, but the things that led them there were not unique. The empire rose because the Republic was full of people that were not thriving under it's power, and when given the choice they turned the cruelty that had once been turned on them on to others.

I think there's a certain mundanity to Jango's story. He isn't special. It could have happened to anyone else, and many people living his life, would have lost themselves by the end of it. Had he made better choices, maybe the empire would have never gotten that foothold with order 66, but he never would have made better choices, his past made him in to a person that wouldn't. And if it hadn't been Jango, Palpatine would have found someone else. Because there's a sense that pre empire the galaxy is full of people like Jango and Anakin, people whose past has left them angry and afraid, and who can be manipulated to Palpatines ends.

Jango's story is a tragedy, but it's one of many. It's not THE tragedy. Jango's story is only background. He dies far before the end, and he isn't someone that's remembered (because even if some remember 'the Jedi killer', the clone template, nobody really remembers Jango. His story, the tale of what made him the person he was in the end, died with him really. Boba wants to remember him, but he didn't ever really have a chance to know him.) I think there's something tragic in itself about none of it really nattering in the end. Jango betrayed himself for nothing. He caused all that pain for nothing. In the end he didn't matter.

#Jango #Jango Fett #character web #sw webweave #star wars web weave

[alovelyburn]

Hey! Been a bit of a quiet fan for a while, but I was showing the old 97 anime to my Partner, and I had a thought I hadn't seen anyone else discuss. In Casca's flashback, did Griffith intend to give Casca the sword? I looked back in my volumes, and I think the answer is probably, but heres the idea: Griffith's band had the intention of robbing the Noble, who griffith cuts to get his attention, and then has a speech about how entitled Nobles are. So then he throws down a sword and is like "If you have something to protect, take up the sword"

In that moment, Casca grabs it instead. And then Griffith is just kinda going to leave her after comforting her afterwards. Like, clearly yeah its meant as a moment Griffith Empowers Casca to protect herself, but we also know that she idolizes Griffith, so she could also be misinterpreting his intentions.

I'm not trying to be a buzzkill or anything here, but I think the chances that he was actually throwing the sword to the noble are pretty close to zero. There are a few reasons, some character-centric and some narrative-centric.

From a character-centric point of view, it doesn't really make any sense for him as a person. Griffith hates nobles. His disdain for their sense of superiority and entitlement is touched on from time to time - like when he complains to Guts that he has to deal with them in order to seek status, not to mention his barely veiled distaste for people like Julius or the Queen. It's also pretty evident in the way he's running Falconia because he's out there insisting that they educate commoners and give everyone the chance to advance based on their abilities and drive. More than that, though, Griffith himself is a walking indictment on the nobility's stranglehold on power. By contrast he's much more sympathetic to the needs of people who weren't born to power.

He's also pretty consistently protective of Casca in that kind of situation - he has the impulse to defend her vs Wyald as well, he just... can't. And when they first start working for Gennon and she's shaken by the child sex slaves, he picks that up and tries to comfort her.

He also shows no particular tolerance for that kind of behavior in general - one thing that's consistent across both the original and the reborn Band of the Hawk is the standard of behavior he holds his men to. Apostles aren't allowed to vent their violent impulses, for example, and notably, the Golden Age Hawks aren't exactly leaving a trail of plundered and raped people everywhere they go. He controls the damage done as much as possible.

My point being if he comes across a peasant girl being sexually assaulted by a drooling nobleman and makes a disdainful remark about the noble thinking he has the right to do whatever he wants just because he was born noble, I just don't see his next action being to throw the nobleman a sword. When he asks if being noble means he's been chosen by god, it's not a real question, it's an insult.

Also, just logistically speaking...

He threw it to Casca. If it were any closer to her, it would have pinned her.

But also, me being me, the main issue I have here is that it would have little effect on the narrative while still somehow undermining the point of the story.

Let's say that Griffith was throwing it to the noble. Why? Not just why would he, Griffith, do it, but why would Miura put it in the story? Like what purpose would that misunderstanding serve, given that Casca didn't perceive it that way and neither did anyone else, and then it never came up again?

If it were revealed during the Golden Age it could have been used to help Casca move on from Griffith but at this point it really wouldn't add anything.

And yet, at the same time, it would create issues within the narrative - it undermines the horror of Griffith's moral reversal if he was rapist-friendly the whole time, for example, and also... Griffith's story is meant to be a fall from grace, not a progressive reveal that he was always a huge dick. The fact that he begins as an idealistic kid who protects random girls and takes in everyone who wants to hang out with him and doesn't start to change until he's hit with a reality stick is critical to the tragedy of the narrative.

This is kind of a tangent, but it does come to mind a lot when I read fan theories: for me, when assessing the likeliness that a theory (mine or anyone else's) will pan out there are a few critical questions to answer: What would that add to the plot? Would it clarify or just muddy the waters? And if it's muddying the waters, does the mud contribute anything necessary? Would it actually make any difference or just be a point of trivia without much impact? And of course "would the character do that," but...

To me the most critical question is always "if this were true, what would it change?" This is the most important question for two reasons.

First, because if a story is constructed with any competency at all, then everything (or nearly everything anyway) has a reason to be there whether that reason is plot development, character development or, ideally, both. So if the answer is that it wouldn't change anything really then it's probably not true.

Second, and just as importantly (maybe even moreso tbh), is... sometimes it would change things, but the change it would create is kind of obviously wrong because if it were correct then the story wouldn't be doing what it's doing, or the point would have to be a different point.

An easy example is the theory that Zodd is Guts' father. I don't really care whether or not he is, but I don't believe the theory to be true, because Miura had said that Guts being human is the point. Making him half-demon would be change the point being made, thus it's probably wrong.

Most of the popular Griffith interpretations fall into this category as well because, as we frequently discuss, if he didn't love the Hawks/Guts then he wouldn't be Femto right now ("if it were right, then the story wouldn't be doing what it's doing") and the whole purpose of Griffith's arc in the Golden Age is undermined if he isn't what he's presented to be - a well-intentioned and idealistic but flawed man struggling under the weight of his own dreams and promises (the point would need to be a different point).

90% of the time if I disagree with a fantheory or interpretation it's going to be for the final reason tbh. Because ultimately the future is open but the past by its nature has to lead to where we are.

Sorry if I'm being a bummer, but thanks for the ask. <3

#ask #anonymous #ariel talks about berserk