#i will goddamn da vinci my shit out of this if i have to and im going to probably stay reasonably pissed about it for a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strangefellows · 2 years ago

Note

oh if you want servants specifically though then Karna, Da Vinci, Tristan, David, Mordred, Ushiwakamaru, Jeanne (all flavors), Diarmuid, Nursery Rhyme, Frankenstein, and Mandricardo

HAHAHAHA YES....

First impression

Karna: Oh! More Indian servants! He's pretty.

Da Vinci: ARFHEDGLFAGGAGA MONA LISA DA VINCI? OH MY GOD FATE I LOVE THIS SHIT

Tristan: Oh, Tristan and Isolde guy, I know him-- wait what the fuck (spoken bc Camelot)

David: HKJDGAGAG OH GOD DAVID'S A FLIRTY TWINK /wheezes in jewish

Mordred: I....I love....what a design....what a personality....

Ushiwakamaru: After having flashbacks to Shishiwakamaru in YYH, I was like oh...horse girl!

Jeanne: Oh! Joan of Arc, hello girl you're pretty!

Jalter: EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THIS? WHAT IS SHE BASED ON-- OH DAMN THAT FUCKSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Diarmuid: Oh another Irish hero? Who are you? [looks him up] ...oh your poor bastard.

Nursery Rhyme: LOUD SUSTAINED BABEYYYYY

Frankenstein: Oh, gorl? OH, CUTE.

Mandricardo: Who is this sad lump of self-deprecation and why is he our friend, also what the fuck is Orlando Furioso?

Impression now

Karna: I kinda love him? He's a delight and so off kilter sometimes it's sweet, he's so sincere too, what a guy.

Da Vinci: Literally the best wine aunt a protagonist could have, I miss her, but also babyvinci is adorable.

Tristan: What a moron (affectionate). He's cute, though, I love his hair, what pretty hair.

David: LMAO TWINKLORD, but also boyyyy are you okay buddy? How's it been since Temple, you good?

Mordred: PRINCE OF MY HEART, THE BEST KNIGHT, MY FAVORITE, ABSOLUTELY MY TYPE, WHAT A BEST BOY, A WONDERFUL PERFECT SABER, COME HOME RIGHT NOW I BEG OF YOU I may not need more Sabers but I desperately want you in my Chaldea :(

Ushiwakamaru: WE STAN A FUCKING QUEEN, I LOVE HER SO MUCH, ONE OF MY FAVORITE RIDERS, KICK ASS TAKE NAMES BLOW DEMETER INTO THE SUN I LOVE YOU

Jeanne: She's...pretty! And can be funny! I don't have too many strong opinions about Ruler Jeanne but I'm sure when I finish Apocrypha I'll have more.

Jalter: I FUCKING LOVE HER SO MUCH SHE'S A TERRIBLE WEEB ASS TSUNDERE BRAT WHO HAS SO MUCH JUSTIFIED TRAUMA OVER HER HISTORICAL FATE AND OH MY GOD WHAT A GIRL, WHAT AN AVENGER, BEST PEFECT WONDERFUL.

Diarmuid: Oh, you poor sweet bastard, you deserved so much better. I like Cu better in regards to Irish Lancers, but this poor man needs a vacation. I like him.

Nursery Rhyme: BABEY X100, precious angel, darling girl.

Frankenstein: DAUGHTER!!! Tho again, need to finish Apocrypha, but as I do know Caules from Case Files, I'm glad he's her Master, he's a good kid.

Mandricardo: SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY, MY FRIEND!!! MY FRIEND!!! SWEET NERVOUS ANXIOUS BOY!!! I LOVE YOU I AM GOING TO READ FURIOSO SOMEDAY.

Favorite moment

Karna: Him and Jinako's interactions, always. Him and Jinako in LB4. Him vs Godjuna in LB4. Him being an absolute dingus in events, what a sweet no braincells boy.

Da Vinci: Probably her dramatics in Camelot, but also she's just really great in general, what a gal.

Tristan: His fight with Barghest in the beginning of LB6 was absolutely fucking gold, that was the coolest goddamn shit.

David: Specifically his ultra hardcore amazing finale/death scene in the Turas Realta manga Okeanos chapter, good god.

Mordred: So far, his part in LB3 was absolutely incredible and I just love him in general, but I think what's coming when I finish Apocrypha is going to blow all of it out of the water easily.

Ushiwakamaru: Her confrontation with Gorgon in Babylonia, specifically the anime version where it adds the little nursery rhyme Ritsuka taught her as she goes down and it made me sob like a little girl, but also the scene where Ritsuka tells her about the rhyme in the first place, that just struck me into my SOUL.

Jeanne: Again, I'll have smth definitive in Apocrypha, but right now her big damn heroes in Temple made me cry.

Jalter: Everything??? But no, her antics in Shinjuku were absolutely delightful, as was everything about the Serva*Fes Hawaii event even if I didn't manage to finish it bc it was my first event in the game.

Diarmuid: His helping Team Artoria against Gilles was really good in Zero, but oof ow ouch as well.

Nursery Rhyme: Her entire storyline in Extra destroyed me.

Frankenstein: Another "get back to me after Apocrypha", unfortunately, she's not very in focus in FGO.

Mandricardo: REVE DE DURENDEL!!! GOD THAT FUCKING CG, THAT SPEECH, I LOVE YOU MY SON MY BOY MY FRIEND OH MY GOD

Idea for a story

Karna: Listen the Mahabharata completely on its own sounds absolutely fucking insane I want to know more about Fate's version of eents.

Da Vinci: Da Vinci talk to me about your life talk to me about the Borgias, I'm going to throw the Ezio AC Trilogy at your head until you tell me your version of all of that stuff.

Tristan: Again, my kingdom for KOTR back when they were alive shenanigans, what was that fucking castle LIKE.

David: COME TALK TO ME ABOUT YOUR SON DAVID, LET'S BOND OVER BEING SAD ABOUT SOLOMON

Mordred: See Tristan's entry, but also just...I want to explore his relationship with his siblings more, Gawain and Gareth etc.

Ushiwakamaru: We've pretty well explored her backstory, so let's have some fun Chaldea shenanigans!

Jeanne: I don't have very many ideas here >>

Jalter: I want her to interact with more Servants, I want her to interact with the other Avengers, I want her to interact with everyone, I love her lots.

Diarmuid: GET THIS MAN A BEACH VACATION STAT

Nursery Rhyme: Her dialogues for other people + other people's at her is so fascinating, I want to see what she gets up to daily in Chaldea. Also an Alice in Wonderland pastiche with other Servants as the characters would be fucking rad.

Frankenstein: Let this girl TALK for five minutes please. Let her have a chance to be more like the monster in the book and vocalize her trauma and desires beyond grunts and noises.

Mandricardo: Just good times with our friend, please. Though he deserves to talk to the Paladins and have a crisis or three.

Unpopular opinion

Karna: I don't have enough opinions ON him XD

Da Vinci: IDK man I just love her a lot. ARE there unpopular opinions?

Tristan: Little bitch boy (affectionate) but IDK again I don't know FGO fandom as well.

David: I do feel sorry for him given the Son situation but also I'm going to toss him off a cliff for his shit in Okeanos.

Mordred: NOOOO IDEA LOL

Ushiwakamaru: I like her normal outfit just fine, though I also like the edited less revealing ones too. She looks fine yall.

Jeanne: ....she's kinda boring, sorry XDDDD

Jalter: I like her more as a tsundere weirdo friend of ours than I did as the EVIL ANGRY VILLAIN in Orleans

Diarmuid: None here! He's a good boy. OH WAIT I don't think his comedy duo shenanigans with Fionn are funny, Fionn needs to leave him alone.

Nursery Rhyme: shrug emoji

Frankenstein: uhhhhhhhh

Mandricardo: nope!

Favorite relationship

Karna: Him and Jinako fucks me up so hard, I'm so glad she has Karna.

Da Vinci: Da Vinci and Roman were adorable, wine aunt and neurotic dad. I also love her relationships with Gordy and Sherlock.

Tristan: The KOTR Idiot Trio is delightful. Look at these idiots, no braincells, all stupid, what a bunch of dorks.

David: I love me some complicated father/son relationships!

Mordred: See above lmfao. Artoria and Mordred Good, but also OH MY GOD HIM AND KAIRI ????? KAIRI DAD MODE?????

Ushiwakamaru: Her and Benkei is sweet NGL.

Jeanne: So far in Apocrypha her and Sieg are cute friends.

Jalter: Jalter and Salter should kiss.

Diarmuid: His mutual respectful admiration with Artoria makes me smile every time, not gonna lie.

Nursery Rhyme: Her and Alice, I WEEP. But her and the other littles in Chaldea are always precious.

Frankenstein: Her and Caules, her and Mordred.

Mandricardo: MY FRIEND MY FRIEND MY FRIEND [yells] but also GOD I want to see him interact with Roland and the other Paladins.

Favorite headcanon

Karna: I don't have any real headcanons for him...Jinako taught him to play very simple video games. He likes Candy Crush.

Da Vinci: Well she's obviously transfemme. But like, it's not even a headcanon so much, she was SO probably fucking half of Florence way back when.

Tristan: Not sure about headcanons! But he's definitely somehow the sluttiest of the KOTR Idiot Trio.

David: Local man cries in his room for an hour after Temple. Local man also possibly has a physical fight with Ozy on religious grounds at some point too. I saw him fucking roast Ozy in a fic once and it was glorious.

Mordred: He's 100% transmasc and only uses she/her still because he doesn't quite get he can just....not use those anymore. He and Caenis bond over similar situations. He has a little scar on his face.

Ushiwakamaru: Not entirely ABOUT her, but for my Fujimaru, she told Ushiwaka her late little brother used to love her and sing that rhyme, and that bit from the anime def happened.

Jeanne: I don't really have many?

Jalter: She and my Fujimaru fucked at least once, after Shinjuku. She has burn scars all over her body.

Diarmuid: Poor boy might actually be a very repressed gay, or at least very very asexual. Save him.

Nursery Rhyme: The entirety of Chaldea unanimously loves her, and she's a comfort to the human staff sometimes, who she visits and sits with to help them get some mental relief sometimes.

Frankenstein: One of the less shy staff members is teaching her and anyone who wants to learn ASL! Yay, ease of communication!

Mandricardo: Man's a Saracen he's darker than the game makes him look. You wouldn't know it to look at him but he can hold his liquor extremely well and can drink most people under the table.

#fateseriesblogging

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rcksmith · 3 years ago

Text

Lust — Kaz Brekker

Gif by @kitsyoung

Request: “Hey. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you would consider writing a Kaz piece with the smut prompts 76, 1 & 33. Obviously with your au rules. If it’s too much I completely understand tho”

“7, 17, 36, and 73 from the smut list for Kaz Brekker please? If not, no worries! 💖 Thank you!”

“Holy shit that last kaz brekker smut- AMAZING. Was wondering if you could write another smut with smut prompt #6? Of course if this bothers you just ignore it. Thank you so much 🥰”

Smut prompts:

1. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

6. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

17. “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy”

33. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”

36. "If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“

73. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”

76. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nsfw, jealous, mention of fight.

Word count: 5k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

There is a theory that always, somewhere, there will be a person capable of making you lose your breath, and your reasoning, whenever he appears on the scene. Someone who robs you of your breath, your heartbeat, your ability to think clearly and your control to keep your hands not shaking.

And Kaz Brekker would always be that person for you.

From the first time you laid eyes on him, it's been a feeling of dying and going to heaven. Except that Heaven was, in reality, a hot, burning hell. Where your greatest punishment was being forced to watch his tall figure, who exuded masculinity by every inch, walking in front of you like a Renaissance painting very superb.

Nothing that Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and Picasso created has bordered on the personification of beauty that he was.

Kaz was beautiful in a very mysterious, dangerous and chilling way. You would describe his aura as the height of midnight in an enigmatic city, his hair the color of the core of sin and his features as lines that the god Ares would have drawn. Everything about him reeked of the fog of suspense stories, with a touch of lust.

All the looks he directed at you were caustic, flickering and intense as a candle flame, reverberating through your veins like angry eels and always make the room feeling charged with electricity, like the ground after the fall of a lightning. Everything between the two of you seemed to be filled with something fiery and arcane. From the gazes, the rubbing of shoulders, the times when the skins touched. Everything was a compilation of sensations that make you catch your breath whenever Kaz Brekker appeared.

He was your kryptonite. In all senses.

And that was exasperating in the extreme, at staggering levels. You felt your center of your sex vibrate whenever he directed you that voice whit baritone intonation and predatory looks, whenever the button-down shirts were tight enough for you to revel in the contours of his body, or sometimes when he wore the cane to signal or stopper something. This was the worst of them. His cane.

Have you lost count of how many times Kaz stopped you as counting money, by putting the tip of the cane over your hands, or stopped you from going somewhere by blocking your path with the cane, lifting the object horizontally in front of your belly. And every time you felt your legs tremble, your breath fade and a very dirty part of your brain whisper that you wanted him to use that object in you in more fun ways.

Your body was so responsive that there were times when you knew, with every fiber of your soul, that Kaz was able to read the paths in which your thoughts wandered. He lowered his gaze to you, in that breathless connection that promised to contain the most nefarious paths of sin, and maliciously curved the left corner of his lips in an arrogant, oblique expression. At such times, you could feel in your soul the words he did not say:

I know the perverted things that you are thinking.

And the truth was, he really knew. Kaz memorized every change in your breathing, every blush on your cheeks, every trembling of your hands, every your trembling look whit a frightened girl who had been caught thinking of something impure. He knew how your body was responsive, needy. And he himself had to control himself not to push you over the desk in his office and fuck you like an aggressive animal, bringing all your perverted thoughts to life.

It wasn't his physical reactions that kept him from taking action, but an even more visseral reaction than the pulsing desire he felt for you. Mine. The primal, determined, burning sensation of possession. That it ran through his veins like hot, bubbling lava. The desire was familiar, but this statement, not. Like the jealousy he felt for you, he quickly recognized the danger he was in.

If Kaz touched you…he knew he would never be able to let you go.

Mine. A statement that resonated spontaneously whenever he saw you, a testament to the reactions the two of you triggered in each other. However, not even the awareness of the dangerous game that was between you was able to dispel the climate of provocative sensuality that pulsed in the places whenever the two of you were together.

It was like playing with a powerful drug. One slip and he would be addicted forever.

On days like this, when Kaz had just come out of an exasperating meeting with Peka, a businessman and mobster who was always looking for ways to try and bring Kaz down, his already bad temper turned to terrible. He felt compelled to break something, drink a whole bottle of the best English whiskey in that club, and punch someone. Kaz felt the anger pulse through his veins, in a pure and perfect way.

He left the office, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed and descending the stairs to the center of his Crow Club, mind buzzing and anger seeping in his blood. He needed to unwind, maybe get into the car and head home. Maybe actually drink that whiskey bottle. Maybe both.

Kaz was about to take another step down, running a gloved hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, when his gaze met your figure. And that was when the already terrible temper rose to the very badly.

Normally, a vision like that would have just bothered him, a compulsion to do something. But that day, Kaz was at the height of his angriest feelings. And seeing you, bold as a goddess in that little black dress, next to Jesper at the gambling table and flirting with a guy to your left, did things with every last bit of patience and self-control he had.

His eyes never left you as he took another step, running his hand through his hair again to contain the unruly strands. You were laughing, downing another drink and placing a card on the table. You turn back to the man to your left, your eyelashes fluttered gracefully in a promise to allow him to guide your rein tonight.

But there would be no goddamn rein for that fucking guy to guide.

Kaz gripped his cane tightly, descending the other short stairs and advancing toward your with dangerous, determined, and angry steps.

"...in this part of the year, criminal law cases drop a lot." The damn guy was telling you, his boring blond hair falling over his blue eyes in a way Kaz found annoying.

To fucking hell with that blond-haired Dande.

“Y/n, Jesper!” Kaz tapped the end of his cane on the table, stopping the cards under the polished wooden end.

Everyone at the table looked at him startled, their actions frozen. He saw you swallow hard, a soft tremor sigh in your shoulders.

Good!

“Shouldn't you be at the door?” Kaz turned to Jesper, his eyes sparks with annoyance.

“Right now, Boss.” He stood up, giving you a strained smile and heading towards the door.

“Kaz…” You started, voice softly intoxicated.

You knew you weren't supposed to be at the gambling table, let alone so late at night and drunk, even if Jesper was by your side. You had the ability to win every play, in any game, and that ended up not only driving the others away, but leaving the men, already drunk and irrational, aggressive and with an extremely bruised ego. And they almost always wanted to retaliate physically. As much as there were security guards and cameras everywhere to keep something bad from happening, Kaz couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you. Not even blinking insultingly in your direction.

He sent you an icy, sharp, steady look. A clear warning for you to stop there any excuse you were about to give. To be careful with the next words you would say. You swallowed hard, looking away and getting up from the table. Slightly wobbly from the drink, you fished your coat from the chair next to you, giving a strained, apologetic smile to the guy you'd been flirting with so far.

“I better go home and call an uber and…” You started, but Kaz cut your sentence.

“I'll driver you.”

His tone exuded annoyance and impatience, giving no opening to any objections, demonstrating that he was in no mood for games. Much less defiance of his orders. You knew him too well to recognize that that night had pulled his nerves beyond what he could handle, the strain and irritation in his eyes told you something had happened beyond what you knew. His jaw, straight and strong as glass, was clenched tightly, his night-colored hair was disheveled in an overwhelmingly attractive way, and his black robes sinfully marred every line of his body.

You should have become wary of the dangerous energy that he exuded through every pore at that moment. However, to your inebriated and excited brain, Kaz Brekker has never looked so fucking hot! Your underbelly vibrated in response to the personification of sin that Kaz was, your heart racing at alarming levels as you followed him out, walking over to his car.

Like every piece of Brekker's clothing, his car was sleek black, with big black wheels, tinted glass and dark leather seats. Hades' chariot. You felt your breath catch when Kaz opened the passenger door for you, his eyes avoiding yours, his jaw still clenched and dangerous energy exhaling through every fiber of his tall, lean body.

Holy Mother of God, this man was a perdition!

Kaz contained an instinctive desire to go back inside and tell that aspiring Dande that you weren't available. Instead, he closed the door when you got in and turned around in the car, closing his own and squeezing the steering wheel harder than he would have liked.

Midnight height light streamed in through the darkened car windows and gently illuminated the curve of your cheek, highlighting your skin that Kaz might have named the color of the gods. So much attention was too seductive. Emotions and reactions still bubbled through each his vein like scandant water, mingling with months of frustrated desires and burning sexual tension.

At that moment, jealousy laced him. Mine. Amazing and at the same time propelled by dangerous strength, Kaz tried to trap that feeling back into the dungeon of his soul. He controlled his fury, yet he couldn't completely tame. Annoyance turned to anger. Starting driving the car forward, Kaz tried to think of anything but how you looked like the Goddess Aphrodite on that dark bench. Splendid as a heat ray in a winter day.

“Kaz…” You started, that gentle, repentant tone that stirred every spark in his soul.

He hated how his name on your lips sounded so sensual, so right and so delicious. He would give everything he had to hear you moan his name.

“Don't start” he warned, now not because of latent annoyance, but because he didn't know if he could stop himself if he heard your voice.

However, you didn't make things any easier for him.

"You don't have to be so angry." You go "I wasn't even using all my intellect on the game, I wasn't trying to win."

Kaz didn't even know if that was the core of the problem anymore. Was he angry that you went to a table where it was dangerous? Yes. But the waters were much deeper than that, much more dangerous. The way your smile, sweet and sensual, was directed at that guy, reeled in Kaz's mind, impregnated with the plague. He felt the blood burn in his veins just remembering how melted you looked for that man. And as much as he couldn't blame you, because you were free and single, the primal, irrational part of him screamed so much louder now.

Mine.

“This does not matter anymore.” It was the only thing he managed to say, the very sensations drowning him.

“And it wasn't even that dangerous.” But unlike him, you were obliterating the burning emotions that Kaz exuded. “There were only a few players drunker than a door, and Jesper was on my side, and also James, who was very charming and...”

Kaz almost lost direction, making the car bounce smoothly. He staked his eyes at you, puzzled and bubbling.

“James?”

“Yeah, the blond guy who…”

"I don't want to know, Y/n." He cut you off "I don't want to hear about the guys you allow to drool around you like mangy dogs."

The distilled rage was impossible to contain, and before Kaz knew it, the words were out. He turned forward again, his hands tighter on the steering wheel.

“Wait…” Your tone was slightly smug, and the way you rubbed one thigh against the other was impossible for Kaz to miss.

The grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“You are jealous?” Your intonation dropped to a low, sensual, provocative level.

Suddenly, Kaz's entire body became very aware of your body inches away. He could feel the heat that you radiated and the lyrical, sweet and sinful scent of your perfume flooded all his senses. The air grew thin, puffy and stuffy, and if it had been December cold outside, Kaz would still feel the height of summer in that car. Flashes of excitement and danger rippled through the car, and the brief silence grew even more charged with sexual tension and lustful anticipation that stirred every fiber of Kaz's being.

He made the mistake of looking at you again, and your softly mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of satisfied desires only served to incite his madness. Kaz had never understood how a man could want a woman so badly that he acted irrationally and carelessly. But now he understood. And when he realized you tried to stifle a sensual sigh from the way he was looking at you, his body won the fight against his mind and Kaz stopped abruptly the car at the red traffic light.

The sexual tension between you had become unbearable. In one moment, Kaz was fighting the series of overwhelming and disturbing emotions that dominated his entire being, and in the next moment, he had taken your mouth with his in a fiery, fierce, animal kiss. Stealing all the air from both of you, his thoughts, and his sanity.

He held your face firmly in his hands, his fingers going down to the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, turning everything into something more caustic and desperate. Yours hands went to his arms, moving up to his shoulders and cupping the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaz's tongue inched into your mouth without waiting for permission, conquering and claiming every fiber of your body, of your soul, in a continued of kisses you couldn't tell where one ended and another began.

The moan of satisfaction you let out gave him a lust and desire unlike anything Brekker had ever felt. Like hot, addictive honey down in his throat. He was still gripped by jealousy, annoyance and possessiveness. With the desire for you pulsing in his body just like his heartbeat.

Kaz pulled back millimetrically, his blue eyes overshadowed by the heat of the moment, his lips red and swollen from the sinful kisses he gave you. At that moment, Kaz Brekker looked like an angry young God, and you've never felt more attracted to someone in your life than you are now.

You looked at him, panting and needy, wishing with all your might that he repeat the same actions. And you knew he realized that. Perfectly. You saw the spark of male satisfaction ignite in his eyes as he absorbed your desire. He was so close... so very close, and you couldn't stand the enormous anxiety for a caress, a kiss, anything.

His cocky smile intensified as you put more pressure in your touch his skin, your fingers trailing down his neck and back to his shoulders, silently pleading for him to do something with you. Anything he wanted.

Kaz lowered his one gloved hand to your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing your chin and making you look at him directly, you staring into the deep, shrewd blue of his eyes. He pulled you closer by the grip on your chin, the husky, erotic words hitting your lips like a promise of sin as he said:

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to.”

It was impossible to control the loud, needy sigh that escaped, your center throbbing in despair and wetting the thin cloth of your panties. You wanted he to touch you more, pull your body against his until there was not a single sigh left, claim your soul and your body as his. You had parted your lips to say something, most likely a plea for him to continue, but the traffic light turned green and Kaz took his hands off you, straightening up on the bench and putting the car move.

In the absence of his warmth, his body, you felt cold, empty and frozen. As if Kaz were your sun and you were Icarus. Feeling the compulsion to need to get closer, complete its magnitude and bask in his rays. Every cell in your body begged for him, in needy and submissive requests, telling you to accept anything he told you, that he gave you, as long as it touched you.

“If I knew that to make you kiss me I would have to flirt with someone else, I would have done it a long time ago.” You teased, a satisfied, malicious smile on your lips.

Kaz looked at you in annoyance. In a clear warning that you should never more do that again.

"If you wanted me to kiss you like the brat you are, you just needed to have asked." He countered your game to the full.

"But if I want more than that?" But just as he knew how to play, so did you.

You swiped the tip of your tongue across your lips, kicking off your shoes and pulling your legs over the dashboard of the car, exposing your nearly bare thighs through the thin black fabric of your dress. Your actions instantly caught Kaz's eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel grew stronger and his breathing heavier.

The air inside the car became more ardent, burn, charged with eroticism and lust that left both of you breathless. An electrifying energy coursed through their bodies, as if they had been struck by a bolt of fire. You wanted him in a way you never thought you could want anyone.

Kaz took a deep breath, and looked at you with dangerous predator eyes as he said:

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week."

The words made your body tremble. But if Kaz was trying to dissuade you, that was the last thing he should have told you. Instead of taming the fire inside you, it threw gasoline into the aggressive fire. You pressed your thighs together, your body sensitive to his words filled with burning promise.

In five minutes of insane courage, you took your feet off the dashboard, leaned toward Kaz, and brushed his neck with your lips. In slow, burning, hot kisses, you traced a path to the pulse in his neck, opening your lips slightly to brush your tongue over that pulse point.

“Please.” You beg.

Kaz's moan was low, but loud enough in your mind. You were being his undoing and you knew it. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and came to an abrupt stop. You would have lost your balance if Kaz's hands hadn't clung to your waist, pulling you in one movement to his left thigh, pressing your soaked core into the black fabric of his pants.

You gasped loudly, or he, or both. And in the next moment, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was more aggressive, possessive, angry and ardent. Kaz kissed you as if he wanted to decree you his, proclaim his possession. You didn't see when he removed his gloves, but the touch of his skin with on your thighs was all you could think of.

“Kaz…” You moaned into his mouth, and the grip on your thighs moved up to your hip, digging his fingers into your thin dress-covered skin with such force it was sure to leave marks tomorrow. "Please."

You knew what you were begging for, but the moment Kaz forced your waist to move against his thigh, rubbing your pulsing core against his thigh, you forgot even your own name. And Kaz knew it. Then, like dominant man who wanted to see you surrendered to him that he was, his mouth went to your ear as he whispered:

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Kaz wiggled his thigh against you, making your clit roll against the soggy fabric of your panties.

You moaned loudly, your hands tightening on his shirt, your face hiding in his chest as an overwhelming, aching pleasure invaded your system. It felt good, but unbearable for being so little, churning something in your belly that made you despair for more.

"Y-yes." You whimpered, rolling your hips on his thigh.

Kaz's bare hand crept up the slit between your thighs, your dress already balled up at the top of your waist, and dipped his fingers into the juncture of your pussy and his thigh, pulling your panties to the side and making you feel the fabric of his dark pants against your wet, hot flesh. You moaned louder, your grip on his shirt tighter and your hips rocked harder for have any friction.

“Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? Is that what you've wanted all this time?” His words, husky and strong, in that intense, dominant intonation, sent all your self-control to hell.

"Yes." You sobbed. “I-I need you."

But his hand in your panties went up to your chin, and he forced you to look him in the eye once more. The electric intensity of that look turned you on even more, making you gasp as his thigh still rocked against your throbbing clit.

“After that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy” It was very hard to think with all the stimuli he was giving you, but the thunderous blue eyes warned you to pay attention to his words “Do you think you deserve me to fuck you?”

His gaze invaded you so deep and so warm and intense that you wondered if he was trying to leave a burning imprint on your soul. All over your body, overwhelming desires resonated, and you gave in to the compulsion to roll his thigh further, whimpering from the pressure on your clit.

"I'm s-so sorry." You whimpered, eyes pleading with he "It won't happen again."

"Won't happen what?" He tightened his grip on your chin, not painfully, but firmly to get your attention.

"It won't happen again, Sir."

The reward for your obedience came in an aggressive, hungry kiss, his hand in your chin dropping for your hip and wiggle his thigh at your needy pussy.

"Do you want to cum?" He teased you.

"Yes, S-sir."

"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

Then, as if to reiterate his statement, his mouth clutte to yours once more, his thigh swayed with more vigor and his bare hands moved up to the neckline of your dress.

His warm palms and long fingers lowered the straps of your dress and released your braless breasts, your nipples hard with pleasure and your breasts swollen with arousal.

Your moan was muffled by Kaz's, and he just released your mouth to lower his lips to your left breast, capturing the innocent nipple with his mouth and rolling his tongue across your flesh. You moaned louder, your waist twisting desperately against his thigh as your hands tangled in the strands of his black hair.

Kaz delighted in every inch of you, his hands going back to your waist as his mouth attacked your other breast, leaving a trail of hot saliva on his tight, needy nipples. Brekker was consumed by a fierce hunger and need, so overpowering that he pressed his fingers to your skin as if you were his last meal. He'd wanted for so long to do all that, to dive into your body like a starving man, savoring every inch of your warm skin.

Letting out a loud, delighted moan, Kaz increased his thigh movements as he suckled on your nipple, feeling flung to hell heaven as you squealed softly and collapsed onto his thigh, smearing his black fabric with your hot cum. But Kaz couldn't care less about the fucking pants. His cock hard and rigid as a sword hilt throbbed desperately, commanding him to sink into the heat of your slippery walls.

"This is much better than I dreamin." You whimpered softly, your face still buried in his neck, your waist wiggling slyly in his thigh.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" He teased you, taking his hands to your panties away from the center of your pussy and pulling them between your legs, tucking them in his pants pocket.

You nodded, your mouth dipping into his neck in broken kisses as your hands went to his pants belt, trying to get rid of any barrier between the two of you as quickly as possible.

"Please, please." You begged, flustered as Kaz stopped your hip movements with his hands "I need to feel you inside me."

Your plea was sated with an arrogant kiss as Kaz reached for his pants, pulling the fabric of the boxer together and letting pop out his dick throbbing, pulsing and his swollen head, brushing in your pussy with lazy strides.

"S-sir!" You cried, trying to earn more.

"Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you."

The strong, long arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your chest against his chest as Kaz guided his dick to the entrance to your pussy, with one hand. He play whit you, pressing his head into your entrance just enough to make you feel the pressure, recoiling when you swayed frantically for more. The painful pleasure sent tears to your eyes, and you sobbed loudly as you were just toy in his hands.

A few hot tears ran down your face as you whimpered, helpless in his arms to get what you wanted.

"You know, you look real pretty when you cry." Kaz pressed his mouth to yours.

In that second, he completely sank his dick into you, swallowing your loud scream as the thickness of it widened you and hit the bottom of the well. The grip of his arm around you tightened, and Kaz lifted you and brought you let down badly, drown his dick even more deeply inside your hot, wet, desperate walls.

"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, his mouth leaving yours, but not pulling away enough and letting you feel his hard breath hit your lips.

You followed his thrusts, bouncing your waist up and down hard and letting his dick beat frantically inside you, robbing you of your breath and your ability to think. Your moans mingled with his, the pornographic sounds of their bodies crashing together were loud and you thanked God the car windows were black and the street was deserted.

"So fucking good slut!" Kaz growled against your lips, one hand leaving your body to snake down to your throat, maintaining a firm, dominant grip.

You moaned his name and his title between loud moans and broken sobs. Yours hands closed around the shirt off his shoulders and the waist shimmied between the thrusts, making sure his dick was completely inside you.

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat!” Kaz tightened his grip on yoir neck, watching you tilt your head back and expose your entire body to the delight of his eyes.

He growled louder, spurred on by that sinful sight, and increased the rhythm that pounded inside you, filling every inch of you and sinking down as anatomically as possible. Kaz felt possessed by a wild beast, insatiable and euphoric, and each thrust he gave you was more force he inflicted on you, marking you as his.

Kaz pulled your neck to him, pressing your mouth to his as he growled against your lips: “Mine.”

You nodded frantically, the apex bursting in a burst of pleasure as his dick came out and sank in hard, desperate, urgent strokes.

“Yours”

You promised, kissing him urgently and swallowing a low cry as his dick shuddered inside you, flooding you with the hot liquid until your walls overflowed, giving you a feeling of being incredibly full. You whimpered into his mouth, exchanging a sloppy kiss as Kaz gave you a few more thrusts, making sure his cum would fill your every inch, not letting you dare waste a drop.

“Mine” he repeated through the kiss.

so, the weather??? HAHAHA, anyway friends, i hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget consult the rules if you want to request for some Kaz smut. Love u. O

#kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x kruge #kaz brekker au #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker could break my legs with his cane and i would say thank you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker #shadow and bone smut #inejgayfa #jesper fahey #kaz x jesper

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years ago

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WIJ Day 9: Falling

CW: Building collapse, trapped, broken bones, fires/burns, nightmares, brief pet whump at the end, very brief vague ref to expected noncon that doesn’t happen

Beringer, Marc Sonders, and Mallie Sonders originally appeared in Telling Time and Hold On. This is for @whumpmasinjuly day 9, prompt: Falling

Houston, Texas, 2004

One moment, Miguel and Penny were sitting on the couch in his seventh floor apartment, and everything was absolutely fine. He had the Xbox controller in his hand, frowning as he watched the Elite be made an Arbiter, wondering how that tied into Master Chief and where the game was going next. “Look, Pen, I get to play as one of the Covenant.”

“Cool.” Penny was curled at the other end with a book. She didn't look up.

“Yeah, this game is going like a whole different direction than Combat Evolved, this is neat.”

“Definitely.” She still didn’t look up.

He huffed in good-natured, affectionate annoyance. God, he loved her so much.

One moment, everything was perfectly fine.

The next, he heard a sound.

Miguel looked up to see a crack in the ceiling that hadn’t been there five minutes before. “Penny? Do you see-”

She blinked, tearing herself out of the story, and followed his gaze. Her eyes widened, and his last good look at her would be seared into his mind until he begged them to take it from him. Her hair was still wet from her shower, laying dark over one brown shoulder. He remembers - or he would remember, for a little while - how her chest hitched under her tank top as she took in a sudden, sharp breath. “What do you think that’s about?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know. Uh, let’s-... let’s go downstairs and report it.” He grabbed his cell phone off the side table, while Penny dog-eared her page and set her book down. He remembered, for a long time, what book she was reading - The Da Vinci Code, because her coworkers wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Yeah, that’s scary shit. Want to get a hotel for tonight?”

“Definitely. No way I’m staying here until they fix whatever the hell that is. Maybe the upstairs people have a water leak?”

“Maybe-” There was a low rumble - the sort of thing they felt more than saw. Penny’s voice cut off, and she gasped. “Miguel! Look!”

He glanced upwards and he saw the crack in the ceiling get bigger, right before his eyes. It snaked further across the ceiling in both directions, and the goddamn roof over Miguel’s head seemed to… sag, a little.

“Oh, shit,” He whispered, and didn’t even bother to turn off the video game. He just dropped the controller and grabbed her by the arm. “We gotta go, Penny, come on, let’s go. I think the roof’s about to fall in!”

The walls around them seemed to shudder and change somehow. When he got to the door, it felt jammed shut, and he had to let go of Penny’s hand and shove his cell phone at her so he could grab on with both hands and yank as hard as he could to get it to swing open. The bottom edge, which had always been perfectly set just above the floor, scraped along the doormat and then dragged the floor.

“The walls moved,” He whispered. “The walls are wrong.” His mind couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing, and he hesitated too long.

“What?” Penny asked.

“The walls-”

He would remember the seconds of that hesitation ticking by, afterward.

“The walls are wrong-”

He would wonder if they would have made a difference.

“Penny… the building’s gonna fall!”

Maybe they would both be dead, if he’d been even a second faster or slower to realize what was going on. Maybe that would have been better.

“Oh my God,” She whispered.

He grabbed her arm and ran.

His bare feet hit cold concrete as he raced down the hall for the staircase throwing open the heavy reinforced door meant to slow down a fire. As they passed over apartments, he could see lights turning on, hear people calling out to each other. He refused to think about them, to think about anyone but Penny, anyone but himself.

“Miguel, oh my god-”

“Just run!”

They made it into the stairwell as the rumbling became a roar. The fluorescents overhead flickered wildly as he took the stairs three at a time, making it down one flight of stairs, then a second.

It happened so fast, in the end.

It happened too fast.

He had enough time to dive, pulling Penny with him into a corner underneath the fifth floor stairwell. He threw his arms around her and held on as tightly as he could, crushing her against him as she screamed.

It sounded like a whisper as the wall next to them cracked apart and gave way, and then there was nothing holding them at all.

They were falling.

The floor was still underneath him, chilly concrete painted with some kind of smooth sealant, but the wind whipped his hair and the air felt like sandpaper blasting against his skin. He screamed, too.

The roar of the building collapsing was louder.

They fell, every second slowing to individual ticks of time. He clung to her, and her nails dug into his back near his shoulder blades.

What a weird fucking way to die, he had time to think, before all thought was gone as they hit the ground.

Pain spiked up his leg and he screamed in a new way entirely. The force of their landing threw Penny away from him. He reached blindly for her and grasped only empty air. “Penny! Pen!”

“Miguel!”

He hit the ground, rolled, slammed into something like a rock with the breath knocked out of him. He gasped, rolled onto his back, and was shocked to find himself in the dark still breathing, staring upwards but seeing no stars.

No lights.

There was another rumble, and he flinched and covered his head, but nothing happened. Eventually, he pulled his hands slowly down.

The air reeked of smoke and that smell of building materials that he remembered from his time working construction back in high school, summers spent helping his uncle and dad for handfuls of cash he’d spent on girls, boys, weed, and movie nights. Way too many CDs, too, filling his CD book he kept in his car until he had to buy a second, filling that one, too. His eyes opened and closed without his say-so. He had grit in them, or it felt like it, and he coughed as his lungs kept inflating.

“What the fuck,” He whispered.

Then, from somewhere nearby, he heard Penny crying.

“Pen-... Penny-... where are you?”

“Miguel… what h, happened to us?” Penny’s voice cried out, somewhere close by but with the smoke he couldn’t see her. He coughed again, lungs fighting every breath - there was something wrong with a rib on his left side, it ached when he breathed, but it hurt so much less than his leg than he barely noticed. He lowered himself as close to… what used to be a floor… as he could get.

Little easier to breathe down here.

What had they taught, when they used to visit the fire department in elementary school? If there’s smoke, get low to the floor, because smoke and heat rise and you can make it to the door. Check the knob-

But what if there wasn’t a door, any longer?

What if he wasn’t even in a room?

“Keep talking, Pen, I’m coming to find you,” He groaned. His fingernails dug into what felt like pebbles, and he was making tiny trenches in the ground as he moved forwards, his leg shrieking agony, ignored for now. His teeth ground together.

“Miguel… I’m over here, baby, pl-... please, I’m stuck, please-”

He’d remembered her face, when he first saw her again, for a long time, too. Until he had thanked them for agreeing to take the guilt and the regret away.

He found her, only a few feet away, and she had blood in her hair and on her face, mixed with dust and dirt smeared all over. One of her arms didn’t look right, and he refused to look too closely at it, then. He refused to see the bone, visible through a break in her skin, through the blood.

For the moment all he saw was her face and that she was still alive.

For a second, his relief was greater than his terror.

Somewhere off to the side, he heard a cat meow, the scattering of bits of stone, the sound of it racing away from the rubble.

“I think-... I think that’s Abigail Henderson’s cat,” Penny managed, and then she coughed, so hard he knew even then there was more broken than her arm. “It has that weird kind of me-... meow. Miguel, what-... what happened? What just h-happened-”

“The… the whole building fell, I think.”

“Why?” The cry was a wail, not really a question.

He tried to answer anyway. “I don’t-... I don’t know, Pen.” A hint of cool air whispered around him, and he shivered. But the smoke seemed to clear, for just a minute, too. He could see, now, why he couldn’t see stars. “Oh, shit, I think we’re… I think we’re underneath it.”

“Underneath-”

“The building. Or… what was the building.”

Above him, there was concrete, and twisted metal, wires torn apart from each other. Incongruously, he could see half a sofa sticking out over to one side, the other half just… gone. Nothing left. Papers were everywhere, a smashed desktop monitor. A hairbrush, neon green backing, and he just stared at it, trying to understand.

Everyone’s entire lives buried down here with them, like a city after a volcano.

“What?” She tried to roll over, cried out in pain, and went still again, craning her neck instead to look up. “Oh-... oh my god.” Her voice shook, and he covered the last bit of distance between them to grab onto her hand, leaning his forehead down until he felt her fingers twitching against his skin. “Oh my God, we’re… we’re buried al, alive-”

She started to cry, sobbing helplessly, loud wracking sobs that made her hiss in pain, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. He just held on, as best he could, because he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to help.

Faintly, he could hear other people calling out to each other. He could hear water rushing from broken pipes somewhere nearby. There was a new rumble, something shifted, and people screamed. He tensed, lowering his head, but… nothing new fell on them. The rumbling stopped.

“I think we’re-... we’re in a pocket, or something,” He said, his voice coming out airier than he meant it to. He couldn’t comfort her if he sounded scared, could he? He tried to swallow, but even his saliva felt thick with dust and smoke. “Penny, I think we’re… I think it’s pretty stable right here. We just have to wait for the, uh, the firefighters-... they’re going to send firefighters, right?”

“Um, yes, r-right, I think they send firefighters. I saw-... I remember from when that place fell, the, uh, the vacation place-”

“Right, right, that place in Florida, the firefighters were on the scene super fast. We just have to hold on for a little while.” He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. “Just… just a little longer. Can you-... can you move at all?”

She swallowed, looking at him, the whites of her eyes seeming too bright in the darkness. She shook her head, looking back over her shoulder. The sob she wasn’t allowing out any longer was still in the thick of her voice. “I-I’m stuck under something, Miguel. I’m… oh god, I’m stuck-... my l-legs-... something’s on my legs-”

“Okay, uh, maybe I can pull you out-” He managed to get onto his knees, despite the pain racing through his nerves. He gritted his teeth and held her shoulders, trying to pull backwards.

She shrieked, holding tightly to him, clawing at him. He pulled and pulled but then her screaming fell apart, broke back into sobs, shaking her head. She had moved... maybe an inch. “Stop! Stop, I can’t do this, stop stop stop stop-”

“It’s okay,” He whispered quickly, letting go and settling back down in front of her. “It’s okay. I’m done, I’m done. It’s okay.”

She nodded, weeping softly.

He looked at the concrete and rebar and everything else on top of her, then back to her, seeming so... so small. “It’s okay, Pen. The firefighters will have something to move that off you, you’re going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. We’re okay. We’re not dead, we’re not dead.”

Yet, his brain filled in, but he recoiled from that thought. He had read books on people who survived weird things like this, and they all said that believing you would live was more important than anything else.

Don’t lose hope. Don’t give up.

He looked around the little open space they were in, bordered on every side by ruin and rubble. His own ankle and leg throbbed, but it was… it wasn’t important, compared to so much of what he could feel right now.

He couldn’t stop thinking they would get out, or maybe they wouldn’t.

“Right, it’ll be f-fine.” She nodded, but she didn’t believe him. He didn’t believe himself. “They’ll save us.”

“They will.” He put a hand to the side of her face, and she tipped her cheek into it, eyes closing. He kept his forehead against hers, breathing slowly in and out, until his racing heart began, finally, to calm. The adrenaline just couldn’t keep rising any longer. “Penny, they will.”

The pounding headache started sometime around when the adrenaline crashed. But he kept whispering to her, as much as he could, until he ran out of words, and then they simply laid there, breathing together in the dark.

When they heard the sirens, they both began to shout, hoping someone would call back.

Someone did.

They waited, listening to the rescuers working to move enough of the wreckage to find them. Miguel found a loose piece of metal he refused to think too much about - somebody’s bedframe, another piece of a person’s destroyed life - and banged it against a nearby pipe to make noise until his arms wore out.

He broke the pipe enough to get some water from it, so he and Penny could have a little to drink. He moved to her with water cupped in his hands for her to sip.

The firefighters kept saying, just hold on a little longer, we’re coming for you, we’re working your way, just hold on.

Just hold on a little longer.

By the time the rescuers were close enough, though, the fires had spread, and their pocket of air was starting to heat up.

Beringer’s eyes open in the darkness. He stares upward, seeing no stars, and feels his breath coming in harsh rasping gasps, shallowing fighting for air against the smoke filtering down into his lungs.

“Penny,” He whispers, and doesn’t know whose name that is. Only that she’s dying, and he’s watching her fade, hour by hour, as the smoke gets thicker.

His hands move up to his own throat-

And find his collar, still there, the tag clinking softly, worn metal against his desperately seeking fingers. He rubs at his number, at his name, again and again. Runs his fingers over the leather that curves around his throat, eyes closing as tears prick hot and demanding against the insides of his eyelids.

They force their way out, run down the sides of his face, dampen his ears and then soak into the pillowcase beneath.

His heart pounds, but he doesn’t remember why.

Falling, and fire.

And her voice.

Penny, I’m so sorry-

Kid, you gotta get outta there right the hell now or it’s going to fall on you-

I’m so sorry, g-goodbye, I’m so sorry-

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers, without remembering quite who he owes the apology to.

There’s a warm hand on his shoulder through the cotton of his shirt and he startles, jerking to the side with a whimper, looking up wide-eyed to find Marc Sonders leaning over him, wearing just a white tank top and boxer shorts. In the other queen-sized bed, Marc’s little girl shifts, murmuring to herself, her loveys clutched to her chest, their soft little heads just under her chin. He has seen Mallie asleep for naptime or overnights a hundred times.

People who think children sleep silent or still are people who have never had them. Not that Beringer has, but…

But every child was his, for as long as he could care for them, until WRU ripped them out of his arms when they got too old to stay.

Never again.

“You okay?” Marc asks, in a whisper. There’s real concern in his face, his voice, his eyes. He’s so easy to lie to, so easy to fool.

Beringer wants to whisper, I was going to hit you over the head, and you worry about me? Which one of us has had our brain emptied out, exactly? But Marc doesn’t know that part, about how Beringer was going to hurt him. So all he does is swallow, lick at his lips, and slowly nods. “I’m-... I’m okay. Just-”

“Nightmares. Yeah, you guys get those a lot.” Marc glances back at Mallie, then carefully seats himself at the edge of Beringer’s bed. “You usually show up running from the kind of stuff that causes nightmares, they tell us. Although I guess if you don’t have ‘em before you show up, we make sure you get ‘em, huh?”

Beringer pushes himself up to seated, back against his damp pillows, looking closely at Marc. His short hair is all mussed up from sleeping, and it’s… kind of adorable-looking. “Do yours get nightmares from you?” He asks, leaning forward to wrap his arms around his legs.

Marc looks down. His half-smile is only a little sad, in the dim blue light that makes its way through from outside the window, around the edges of the heavy curtains pulled tight. “Not from me,” He says, finally. “But some of them come with nightmares, when they start. Things that they tried to get rid of keep coming back up. The Drip works, it really does, but if there’s really severe trauma, sometimes… sometimes-”

“Sometimes,” Beringer whispers, thinking of another terrible late-night movie, of sitting up glued to the screen watching shuffling zombies while the kids and the other daycare pets slept. “Sometimes, the dead don’t die.”

“Uh… right. Yeah. Or, abusive parents, whatever. I get them in with the counselors, I get them meds to help them sleep, whatever work signs off on. But none of their nightmares come from me, at least. That’s… that’s something, right?”

“It’s something.” Beringer can’t quite keep the dry humor from his voice, and both of them huff soft laughter, trying not to wake Mallie up. “How close are we to Hope, Marc?”

“I don’t know. I just know it’s in Montana, near the border with Canada, kind of close to Idaho. Probably… two more days in hotels before we get there. Is that okay? Mallie can’t really handle those all-day car rides super well-”

“That’s fine. That’s just fine. We should probably go to a store and get new clothes, though.” Beringer hesitates, then reaches out, and closes his hand over Marc’s, feels his fingers shift underneath his grip before Marc turns to look at him. “Marc… do you want to kiss me right now?”

Marc’s breath catches. He looks away, then back, but sidelong, as if afraid it will all dissolve. His cheeks have gone all red, just like on TV. Beringer feels his scars shift and itch, the ropey burns that had worked up his back as he had fought like hell to get through to the firefighters, to the rescuers holding out a hand, begging him to push himself through the space, to survive-

Penny was still alive when he left her-

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

Forgets her.

Marc is still watching him when his eyes open again. He smiles, but it’s slightly sad, and soft. “Not tonight,” Marc says, gently. “But if you want… do you want to watch TV for a while? Just until you feel good to go back to sleep again?”

Beringer had expected heavy hands, hard kisses. Had expected to have his own boxers pulled down over his hip, to have to make frantic explanations he can’t quite recall when Marc sees the burn scars that cover his legs, his shoulders, his back, parts of his stomach and chest. When that doesn’t happen, it takes him seconds to process, and then he smiles - brighter than he means to, more sincere than he intended - and nods. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, Marc.”

“Cool. Good. All right. Just stay there.”

Marc stands, wanders over to find the remote where it still rests on the TV stand, and comes back. He climbs into Beringer’s bed, but all he does is sit with his back to the headboard and his body on top of the covers. He turns the TV on and picks some random James Bond movie playing at 3 am, settling back to just… sit there, with Beringer, in the dark.

Beringer turns to look at him, the lines of his profile written sharply in the cold light of the television. When his hand moves, hesitantly, Marc feels his questing touch and their hands press together, palm to palm.

That’s it.

Marc doesn’t push for a kiss, or say Beringer owes him anything for this escape. Beringer looks back at the TV, but he doesn’t see - or hear - a thing.

Shit.

He’s still falling, isn’t he?

Just a different way of hanging in the air before he hits the ground and breaks.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @orchidscript @whump-tr0pes @hackles-up

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fridayiminlcve · 2 years ago

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bac for a minute only to bitch about this guy in my class. hes a goddamn grade A asshole. quotes andrew potate chips all the time, says there are some positive aspects to slavery and how he wishes black people were still slaves in america, calls dark skinned guys nigger and whatnot and tells them to go back and work in cotton fields, is genereally a pervert lmao like today he took my friends brand new eraser and played with it by pulling it out of the apsara cover and putting in back in and saying really weird sexual stuff like mmm yeah nice and slow damn thats a tight one no worries i can get it in what a long eraser. today in english class the guys were being rowdy and shit and my teacher is like the girls of this class are so much smarter and more empathetic than the guys and he shouts "if girls are so smart then why is there no female elon musk or female mukesh ambani or female messi or female da vincis. females cant do anything lol" i swear im going to fucking lose it if i be in his prsence for more than a month i will actually kill him i told him to go kill himself once but hes under the notion that i like him or somethign anyway i hope i can obliterate people because he deserves to have his balls ripped off and eyeballs made into soup. one note = one cast

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whumpster-fire · 1 month ago

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"If Plato or Alexander the Great or Gengis Khan or William the Conqueror or Leonardo Da Vinci had the opportunity to work at a minimum wage job that they didn't really enjoy until they were too tired to do anything except go back to their apartment to drink and jerk off until they fell into a shallow, stressful sleep before waking up to do it again tomorrow they would definitely do it because that's obviously way better than how they actually lived."

I think this can be summarized as: the people at the top ranks of pre-industrial societies had a vast, vast amount of access to other people's labor. The low end of modern industrialized societies generally have access to devices and infrastructure which let you do things that would have taken a huge amount of labor in pre-industrial societies for little effort, but it still requires some work on your part. Directly paying for someone else who's anywhere near your income bracket to do shit for you gets expensive in a hurry.

E.g. things like the washing machine, the vacuum cleaner, or the dishwasher save absolutely massive amounts of labor but if you're a poor person you're clearing the table, loading the dishwasher, emptying the dishwasher, taking out the trash, vacuuming your floors, and lugging your own laundry to a laundromat or to the shared laundry room in the basement and arguing with your neighbors about the ettiquette of moving clothes out of the dryer when it's done running. I doubt Genghis Khan was doing his own dishes or laundry so he would probably not consider that an upgrade.

In general if you have to worry about "Private taxi for my burrito" type expenses you do not in fact live like a king, even if there are a lot of individual luxuries in your life that were completely unavailable in the past.

And also while I wouldn't give up central heating / AC / running water / internet / healthcare that actually mostly works even if it's too goddamn expensive to live like William the Conqueror, I'm also pretty confident that people who literally had "have someone executed for pissing you off" levels of social power wouldn't be all that interested in working retail or food service.

I think @Earlgraytay has me blocked, though I don't specifically remember having any arguments with them, but I wanted to respond to a post of theirs which asserts that I live better than *anybody* who lived in a pre-industrial society, and I will phrase my skepticism like so:

I'm going to go ahead and say that I don't think this is actually obvious.

I'll even say that the more names I add to that list the more facially absurd it sounds.

I don't want to go back to the past and the people who idolize the past are often deeply confused individuals.

But the result of this is a counter-movement which, rather than attempting to figure out what *aspect* of a past society might have appeal, instead simply argues that it doesn't matter because whatever it is could not possibly be more important than Spotify.

And the problem becomes massively bigger if you actually allow people to compare themselves to "Kings" rather than the working class clods of a previous time.

Yes, I live a lot better than a medieval serf. I am really, *really* not convinced that I am living a wholly better life than Gengis Khan or Alexander the Great (Let alone Socrates, Confucious or Leonardo Da Vinci) just because I have a flush toilet.

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brw · 3 years ago

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wait i saw you already answered a scarletvision one so im gonna change my ask to doomreed

Gives nose/forehead kisses

at first reed exclusively he's gonna stretch his gross dinosaur neck over to give a Smooch HOWEVER once victor gets used to Affection™ he will Go In For It.

Gets jealous the most

easily victor reed is too dense to notice someone flirting w/ his lover and victor is mentally ill <3

Picks the other up from the bar when they're too drunk to drive

victor would not risk vulnerability by getting drunk and its a semi popular fanon thing that reed is a lightweight so. victor <3

Takes care of on sick days

both of them but especially reed victor trusts like two people maximum to help him when he gets sick and that's boris and reed. reed absolutely loves the chance to get wet cloths and hot water bottles out.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day

honestlyyy it might be victor?? like i feel like getting him out of his armour into beach wear is an incredible enough feat in its own right that reed is happy to leave it at that but victor's like if i've debased myself into wearing a speedo i might as well do it right. to the water we go.

Gives unprompted massages

both of them ; that armour is fucking HEAVYYYYY and victor's shoulders are VERY fucked he needs the relief and i think victor enjoys reed turning into a Literal Puddle that he'll just do it whenever.

Drives/rides shotgun

victor had a chauffeur he refuses for him or reed to drive ^_^

Brings the other lunch at work

reed probably brings snacks when victor is committing Science Crimes and vise versa but in all honesty i don't think either of them can cook. they probably both ask boris to bring the other a proper meal at different times it fhat counts??

Has the better parental relationship

despite his parents being long dead victor. nathaniel richards is just an absolutely awful father reed's relationship with him is. Poor. tbh his mother seemed nice & good enough but she died when he was fuckin 7 so her influence on his life. remains to be seen.

Tries to start role-playing in bed

neither of them but if it would be anyone it would be victor. reed is asexual and i have decided sex neutral he does not care if it happens or not he has no Strong Opinions it is a thing that happens and if victor has any thoughts on How it should Happen that's up to victor. the idea of victor wanting to try some kinky rp is. really funny tbh.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

reed just sort of melts while drunk so it's gonna have to be victor. provided he doesn't start crying first.

Still cries watching Titanic

honestly victor he'd do it silently with his mask on so reed doesn't know.... reed does not cry during movies. he finds most of them kind of stupid.

Firmly believes in couple costumes

i don't think either of them in all honesty neither of them are the type to dress up in costumes either way? i think both of them would need to be forced into it by somebody jdjsdd.

Breaks the expensive gift rule

victor more than reed but both of them, reed i think tends to make things as gifts when they do them to make sure they're really meaningful, victor meanwhile is like i searched the world and murdered 10 people and staged a heist to get the original of this da vinci portrait you said you liked once or some shit ajdnjdndnf

Makes the other eat breakfast

victor. he's like do you have any idea how hard it is to import maple syrup when ur running a dictatorship. eat the goddamned pancakes richards.

Remembers anniversaries

despite all fans try to tell me otherwise i do think reed remembers more dates than they give him credit for... and i can see victor straight up not registering that anniversaries are a thing you're supposed to celebrate. tbh i don't see either of them making that big a deal of it bc both of them are mostly Ambivalent but i'm gonna say reed over victor.

Brings up having kids

reed i imagine! i mean he has two of them and victor is Absolutely Terrified of messing up with his new 20 y/o daughter so i think reed would have to bc he's a lot more comfortable with the subject.

send a ship and i'll tell you who...

#thank u <3 #ask games} answers #bisexualwolverines-main #bisexualwolverines #doomreed #r: enemies to lovers slow burn (its been 60 years)

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galiifreyrose · 3 years ago

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Yknow what? I AM gonna gush about my story! Because I am having a GOOD night with it tonight and FUCK it feels good!!

When I started this, I had a boatload of memories and emotions to unpack, and only one short story worth of fic writing experience. And yknow what????

Not only am I so fucking proud of my actual writing, even if it’s not the best, it’s PRETTY GODDAMN GOOD!!! And yknow what I’m even more proud of? The fact that I have actually managed to plan out AND EXECUTE 3 distinct acts across about 21 chapters. Like yeah, I set out to play with certain themes. I have some big concepts and emotions to work with.

But how satisfying??? To actually be getting to the point that I’m getting to see the seeds planted in Chapter 2 actually grow into something tangible in Chapters 8 and 9? How zazzed I am to know that the little inklings I’ve dropped in Chapters 7 and 8 are going to come back as a howling gale force in CHAPTER FUCKING 19???

I don’t know if I’ll ever pull anything off like this again, because it’s so incredibly from the heart. But goddamn. I LOVE plotting big thematic multichaps like this. It’s SO rewarding to see the ideas that were just me slinging shit at a google doc are now like, major cornerstones of the narrative?

When I set out, all I had was a string of individual scenes and a lot of feelings and it’s just... so incredibly satisfying. At this point, there’s even things creeping in that I didn’t plan to embellish, and it’s just happening naturally. That I managed to construct myself a framework solid enough that there’s room for growth like that within it.

I’m having the goddamn time of my life with this. It’s always that ebb and flow of “I am the worst” followed by “I am the best” followed by “I should never write again” followed by “I am the next Da Vinci” but that’s just how it goes and jasdklfjlsdkfjsad when this is finally over it’s going to be so HARD to part with it.

#rini rambles #ask me about my nasa story

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yanderepuck · 4 years ago

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The mansion in the 21st century

For the sake of our sanity we are going assume they are all still alive in the 21st century since we don't know when everyone was turned (just that Will was first)

We're also gonna pretend that Sebas is still around(I don't think he'd accept being a vampire???? But for the sake of this he's gonna be here)

Arthur is his full whore self and is with guys and gals. He put the bi in bitch

Leonardo is also bi(historically there's no record of him ever being with a woman)

Imagine the shit posts on social media

Arthur has an Instagram and he posts about everyone's life, even using their names, but no one takes it series

A few times a week Arthur does something called "where is Leonardo sleeping today?"

Vincent uses tiktok for art

Theo has been able to get in contact with more artists all over and be able to sell their art. It's made it a lot easier for him and even though it's a lot more work he enjoys it

Dazai is also a shit poster, only he asks weird things that keep you up at night

But Dazai also publishes short stories. Probs has a blog.

I could also see Dazai basically running an animal shelter in the back yard. He gives off Disney princess vibes. Only it's like ducks, a bunch of birds. A horse or two and some sheep.

Will has probably moved back into the mansion since everything he has done has been forgotten by society.

He finds it odd how kids in schools study is plays and have to analyze it. He's just like "everyone's gay and every other line is a dick joke???" But he still doesn't speak normal.

LEONARDO GOT BACK INTO PAINTING.

Leonardo and Vinc would both have a tik tok and Instagram to show off their work and their hella popular

Isaac wanted to keep a low profile, but since the internet isn't face to face with people, he's able to publish his findings without having to actually deal with society. He's just social awkward okay

Sebastian also has a blog. He calls everyone his roommates and he's like "you'll never guess what my roommate did today"

Arthur collects mugs.

During that Italian hand meme, everyone paid more attention to Leonardo to see how often he does it

He does it too often and he doesn’t realize it

At some point Dazai HAS yelled “DO IT FOR THE VINE”

He was probably yelling at Theo

Want to know whats really dangerous?

Shakespeare learning modern slang

No one in the mansion knows what he’s talking about in the first place. Then suddenly he goes “For never was a story of more woe. O bard Alexa, play us Despacito”(I will not take credit for that. I remember reading that phrase LONG ago)

Isaac says “Me” “Same” and “Mood” a lot

He sees garbage on the ground and goes “It’s me”

Dazai is into anime don’t @ me

Also. Napoleon is also bi as all hell

Drunk or not him and Sebas have made lip contact at least once

Imagine what Mozart could do with music now.

He still loves his piano. Nothing is better than physically playing an instrument

He probs went viral for a hot minute when Arthur posted a video of him playing piano

Comte is even more of a tired mom.

HE’D SO BE A PINTEREST PERSON

You know how people make board for their friends?

He does that with everyone in the mansion

I honestly know nothing about Jean and Napoleon. I’m sorry for their lack of content. Plz add things for them.

Imagine everyone playing Mario Kart

Not every week because they all have lives outside the mansion. But at least once a month they have a game night

None of them are really TV people. They’ll watch movies but that’s about it

They’d all watch documentaries on themselves, and point out everything that is wrong, and even be like “where the fuck did they get that from?”

Because I have watched documentaries on him. Often a Da Vinci documentary will mention was arrest with sleeping with another guy. The rest of the guys are waiting for him to call that bullshit and he’s just sitting there eating popcorn.

Meanwhile Will is in the back like “Eyy! Me too!”

“Did that really happen?”

“What? Me getting arrested? Yeah”

“No, well yes, but did you sleep with another guy?”

“Yeah”

“Was he worth it?”

“I don’t know which one their talking about”

Chaotic bisexuals everywhere

Arthur however has watched the BBC Sherlock series.

Arthur and Dazai would probs watch the most tv out of all of them.

I say this cause Dazai would be into anime and Arthur got hooked on NCIS

Arthur write quite a bit of short stories that he’s gotten published

Will would love that goddamn Leonardo DiCaprio version of Romeo and Juliet. I hate that movie with a passion

Also, I can’t imagine how many jokes they’ve managed to come up with about Leonardo DiCaprio to Leonardo.

If Arthur and Mozart can stay up for days with coffee, imagine what an energy drink would do to them

All of them in modern fashion???? HOT DAMN

Will likes the Titanic

I see Theo being the one that’s into MARVEL and DC movies

Imagine showing Vinc Bob Ross

Leonardo and Isaac are Tony Stark(Ironman) and Bruce Banner(Hulk)

Everyone in the mansion is into conspiracy theories .

Comte himself is a conspiracy theory

One night Napoleon is like “Guys. Look. Aliens” and they all watch conspiracy theory videos.

It’s the one thing they can all agree on that they have in common

Vinc and Leonardo also enjoy pinterest because of all the art/crafting/diy things they find.

Arthur 100% listens to ebooks

THE MANSION IS A POKEMON GO GYM. But they aren’t all on the same team so battling can get serious some days

They all still have pets

Honestly. At any point in time, not just modern. They made fun of each others accents.

Lets be real. Will would end up liking anime too

SNapchat filters on the guys?? The dog filter on Theo??? Flower crown on Vinc??? Face swapping everyone with everyone???

One of them is bound to have a candle obsession and I want to say its Comte. Only he buys them and doesn’t burn them. Sebas ends up slowly taking candles from the stash and burning them in a few rooms.

The music room smells like chocolate but Mozart can’t find the candle.

Leonardo's room is even more cluttered. He has too many hobbies.

Vinc making his own paint??? I’d love.

Theo and Arthur cried a little when their favorite bar shut down.

Masterlist

#this is a long one but i know its gonna have a second part #there's no way i'm done with the guys in modern day #too many possibilities #also sorry about no Napoleon and Jean #I don't know their personalities at all #I only interacted with NApoleon in isaacs route #and i've never interacted with Jean #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #cybrid #ikemen series #plz add your own hcs #i like to read them

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wonderlustxennial · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on TFATWS Season 1, Episode 3

This shit has gotten ridiculous, so I’ve decided that I’m going to start doing reaction posts, rather than posting 20 individual observations. The following was written after my second viewing.

DISCLAIMER: Some of these are my observations, but others I didn’t notice until my favorite YouTube and Tumblr analysts pointed them out. I’ll try to drop credit where it’s due.

NOTE: There’s something I wish more people were talking about, and it’s down in the Madripoor section. If I’m reading this wrong, I would appreciate getting some help in seeing it. So, if you’re game, please check it out and let me know your thoughts. (#tw:racial bias)

[spoilers below the cut]

Walker Raiding the Flag Smasher Sanctuary

Here we get a further illustration that Walker not a defender; he’s working in the interest of fascists. Also, he’s on an invisible countdown to flip his shit. ALSO-also, dude just told the GRC cops not to give anyone “a second…to breathe.” (Marvel, what are you doing? I am not accustomed to relevance from you.) Did you notice the juxtaposition of Bucky asking the cops, “Don’t you know who he is?” to get the cops to stop harassing Sam, against Walker asking, “Do you know who I am?” while roughing up a refugee for not cooperating with him? Same asshole move, very different contexts. Anytime someone thinks it’s a good idea to say, “Do you know who I/this am/is?” they’ve already lost face.

Zemo in His Cell

Clearly, I’ll have to get better about zooming in on stuff, because this is the first time I’ve seen anyone catch that the book Zemo is reading in his prison cell is about Machiavelli AND Leonardo da Vinci; specifically, about how their friendship and exchange of ideas was highly influential on the future of the world. So, does Zemo think he’s Machiavelli or da Vinci, AND who is his “silent” partner? [I didn’t notice that, until The New Rockstars pointed it out (at 04:00 https://youtu.be/xHXhbw_EGL8) annnnnndddd now I’m going to have to read that fucking book (Fortune Is a River: Leonardo da Vinci & Niccolò Machiavelli’s Magnificent Dream to Change the Course the Florentine History by Roger D. Masters, and the bump in book sales is about to have Masters owing Marvel BIG TIME).]

Zemo Is “Royalty”

And here we have my first problem with this episode. BARONS ARE NOT ROYALTY. They’re nobles—low-ranking aristocracy. But do you know what does check out? Zemo and his butler’s thinly veiled distain at entertaining the two low-born Americans.

On the Plane

Look out, y’all: Satan just took the wheel.

THE NOTEBOOK/S

If Bucky has Steve’s notebook, what happened to the one he had in Romania? In CA:CW, I was stressing throughout that WHOLE fight and chase sequence that followed Bucky running from his apartment; not for his safety, but because I hated how vulnerable it left him to have to run without his notebook. I’m not even kidding. Because Steve picked up that notebook, right? Did he think to take it with him? Surely, an embassy or intelligence service swept Bucky’s living space afterward, so who has it now? THIS is the shit I obsess over. Who has that fucking notebook? WHO??!

TROUBLEMAN

There are at least three different things at play here. First, Sam’s enthusiasm and nostalgia for this relic made me tear up a little. He was so hopeful that Bucky would share Steve’s appreciation this classic piece of socially aware art. Second, we get more evidence that Bucky might be having a harder time adjusting to life as a white man in the 21st Century than we’re led to believe Steve did. Third, we know from Zemo’s interactions with his steward just seconds before that, when he praises Troubleman, what he’s actually doing is virtual signaling to build trust with Sam and put Bucky on the back foot. Fourth, I don’t think Sam knows for sure if Zemo appreciated it as much as it says, but he intuits enough about Zemo’s character to be aggravated at the inference they might have something in common; or, that Zemo might be manipulating him to empty rapport. (RIP, Marvin Gaye. You weren’t done.)

DAS OFFENE NEIN IN DER LIEBI

The New Rockstars win again. (Seriously, I have to start paying closer attention.) A book using mythology to explain the psychology of relationships, just before Zemo namechecks Red Skull. Oh shit, y’all.

ZEMO’S PHILOSOPHY ON SYMBOLS & POWER

The slipperiest thing about Zemo is that nearly everything he says has a kernel of truth; you just have to dig out what his true intentions are. Honestly, this is what makes him…I don’t know that he’s the most dangerous villain in the MCU, but it certainly sets him apart. He’s both educated AND smart (the latter doesn’t necessarily follow the former), and he’s particularly insightful in his ruminations on power and its potential to corrupt both the people who hold it and the people who admire them. Bucky and Sam both loved Steve deeply and believed wholeheartedly in the capacity he served as a defender; however, they have a tendency to over-romanticize both. Multiply that problem by the millions who never personally knew him and, when he’s gone, you get…fake!Cap.

More Relevance from Marvel

I read that Marvel had to do reshoots because a few of the themes in this show hit a little too close to home after the pandemic hit (also because the Black Widow movie was supposed to hit first, but again…global fuckery, so they had to shuffle a few plot points.) But also, refugees? “Displacement” camps? Hoarded resources? You don’t say?

Madripoor

Or “When Murder-Sugardaddy Goes Slumming with His Awkward Sugarbabies and Heinous Fuckery Most Foul Ensues”

AT THE CLUB

THE POWER BROKER. THE POWER BROKER. THE POWER… Soooooooo. Many. Name drops. At this point, I don’t even care to speculate on the identity of the mother-fucking Power Broker. Just surprise me already.

And here’s my (potential) second problem with this episode: The Black bartender doesn’t recognize the Black man he’s presumably seen before.

A CAVEAT TO START: I bartended very briefly in one of my many former lives. I was terrible at it. But here’s what’s relevant for the moment: when you work in the service industry, you meet a lot of fucking people, and you don’t necessarily remember them all. I would work giant events where I would serve 1,000+ people in a night, and people would complain all the time that I was carding them even though I’d served them previously. (1) I live in a state where alcohol is highly controlled, and the ABC Board is zealous about doing stake-outs to catch vendors serving to minors. The ABC Board enforcers would only see me serving someone without having carded them first—not all the times I served them previously. None of these people were EVER worth going to jail for over alcohol. Get your fucking card out—EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME. (2) Dude-man-bro, I’ll have served 1,000+ people by the end of the night. Get your fucking card out, EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME.

I’m not saying this bartender in a rogue nation should’ve carded all of his patrons; I’m only saying that when you work in the service industry, you can sometimes serve someone 20+ times before you finally recognize their face or learn their names, and the process can start all over again if they haven’t come in for a while.

Here’s the real issue with this scene, as I see it: In-group bias is an actual thing. There are disciplines of social psychologists and sociologists who specialize in studying it. We’re supposed to believe that the “Smiling Tiger” person Sam is posing as is well-known enough, both by reputation and in that establishment, that the bartender remembered his favorite drink but not Sam as an imposter? I can believe Selby, a Caucasian-European woman, didn’t recognize him on-sight. [Frankly, Whites can often (regrettably) get away with not making any effort to overcome cross-racial bias.] But what about this bartender not recognizing a notable local criminal’s face when they belong to the same racial group, when we’re led to believe he’s served him many times before? And how did he know Tiger-whatever’s favorite drink if the guy had never been in the club? Are we to infer this guy wasn’t high enough on the local criminal food chain to have merited an introduction to Selby?) Is this a plot hole, or am I reading too much into this? I just wonder, given how much this series has devoted to exploring racial relations.

Sam just saw Bucky the most vulnerable as I think he ever has. For the first time, very little was left to Sam’s imagination as to what it must’ve been like for Bucky and Isaiah to have been exploited. And Sam is so good, he can’t help but jeopardize the mission to check on the friend he can’t acknowledge to himself he’s found in Bucky. (He also has no guile, which is so very Steve of him! I’ve just loved Mackie’s performance this whole show.)

I don’t know what to think about how easily it came to Zemo to objectify and use Bucky, again—even if only to pretend.

Bucky is the MCU character I most identify with, but I don’t care to analyze the way the bar scene made me feel. I will say this much, though: THIS is how badly Bucky wants this whole thing resolved. He subjected himself willingly to the stuff of his nightmares, even if to just to perform in the world’s most dangerous live-action role play. As many people were taking pictures in the bar, it’s pretty safe to say that this charade is going to going to have long-term consequences.

People are talking about Bucky “suddenly losing his super-speed” when they had to hoof it away from the bar like it’s a lapse in characterization, but it’s not. Bucky could’ve taken off and left both Sam and Zemo sucking dirt, but he lagged to stay with them. He didn’t ghost them.

SHARON IS A BLACK-MARKET ART DEALER

Godammit. I despise the practice of the filthy rich removing fine art and cultural artifacts from the public view so they can use them for tax breaks and currency. Way to push my buttons, Marvel! And I’m so sure the National Art Gallery of Art and all other art museums worldwide will I mean WON’T appreciate Marvel calling into question the authenticity of their collections, seeing as museum funding and attendance is already anemic thanks to the pandemic. I know it’s bad priorities on my part, but that’s temporarily preempted how much I should probably sympathize with her after her abandonment.

EDIT: The person who gave Sharon the intelligence will figure she had something to do with his demise just a few hours later. I wonder if that will help/harm her ability to do business. Also: holding the barrel of that assault rifle while it fired off rounds should’ve burned her hand horribly.

ZEMO BREAKS THE INTERNET

Did anyone else think “Sprockets!” when Zemo started dancing??!

NAGEL

This is two references to Langley in one episode. For anyone not aware (especially non-Americans), “Langley” is commonly used to reference Langley, Virginia, which is where the most prominent institution is the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (C.I.A.) headquarters. Both Hoskins and Nagel name dropped them in the same episode. Shit.

The Sugars Roll Up to Zemo’s Latvian Bolthole

Bucky’s mission just got a helluva lot more complicated. Sam might have bought the “just going for a walk” bit, but I doubt Zemo did. Bucky owes the Wakandans, but he still needs Zemo. Oh, boy.

Wrap-Up

I’m going to keep coming back to how unexpected it’s been to me that Marvel has finally started to course correct, focusing on characterizations and bringing in themes that are relevant to current events. WandaVision’s explorations of Wanda’s mental health and Monica’s forging of her new identity and TFATWS trying to engage with the audience on topics like race, violence, exploitation, and identity is hugely compelling to me. It’s a fucking TV show, but at this point in popular cultural history, I can’t think of anyone/anything else better positioned to address all of this in an entertaining and accessible way.

#entertainment #mcu #tfatws #spoilers

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reflectionsofacreator · 4 years ago

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You know. I know that we’ve met Leonardo fucking da Vinci, and that he and Ezio were best friends and might’ve boned but like. The 8 y/o kid me who just found out about what Cool Shit Benjamin Franklin did is really warring with my “really, we’re just. Meeting Benjamin on the street?” Cranks that Suspension of Disbelief dial way up tbh.

Insert the “I can excuse Eve and Adam being genetically engineered humans created by an ancient race that predates ours, technology so advanced that it’s like magic, the whole ass concept of genetic memory, various people having lowgrade psychic powers that let people see goddamn auras, or creating ultra powerful assassins that have a hand in every single political event in the course of history, but I draw the line at meeting Benjamin Goddamn Franklin.”

I have weird sticking points, I know.

Admittedly I thought that one of the names on the paper that Reginald gave Haytham was Benjamin Franklin, due to my shitty textures the first go around, but nah, there’s apparently at least two Benjamins in colonial America. Who knew. Certainly not me with my very vague memories of highschool American history :D

Benjamin: You must be new to Boston. Haytham: Why do you say that? Benjamin: You’re still possessed of virtue. To stop and help an old lout like myself...

It interests me that Ben points out that Haytham is a good man, because this is kind of par for the course for Assassins -- helping out and doing sidequests because they can.

Related, this opens up some sidequests in the city -- Benjamin asks you to find some of the pages of his Almanac, “If [you] have the time, hurrah. If not-- no harm done.” I’m assuming that Ben Franklin will have more of a story later, instead of just being a sidequest dispenser, but we’ll have to wait and see.

#creator plays ac3

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chaldeaslunchbox · 5 years ago

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HAPPY 2020 FROM MOD LANCER!!!

Well, well, well, it seems that the new year is finally upon us!

Firstly, thank you all VERY MUCH for your support this last year! I made this page in January so it has been about one year since this fun experience began. I followed quite a few hc pages on here with my other account and absolutely loved the creativity (and cuteness) each writer put into each and every scenario and it absolutely brightened up my day whenever there was an update from any of them!

To be honest, I only started playing FGO as a fluke; I got into the Fate Series as a fluke. I didn’t get into it bc I looked at the story and was like “Omg so amazing I want to watch it.” Nope.

I got into Fate bc I was itching to find series that had Mitsuru Miyamoto in them, and I came across Fate/Apocrypha and saw Caster of Black was voiced by him. Thus came the pitfall of my Fate obsession when I began watching Fate/Zero to get some context on what is this mess of a universe and so that I could at least understand the story while listening to one of my favorite seiyuus. It was a weird entry into the Fate universe, but I am glad I like it enough to experience it for all its worth. There is always so much exciting news happening in the Fate universe, like new anime, new games, etc. Personally, I am most excited for the Fate/Stay Night Heaven’s Feel III: Spring Song, the conclusion to the epic trilogy, release this year!

For this past year, I hope I could spark that same feeling of joy in you, whether it be a hc of a servant you’ve always loved or just all the randomness we had with our Demon Slayer x FGO ideas, anything really. Even though I am slow as heck with updates, you all are so patient and supportive and I genuinely appreciate all the love you all send to me and I hope in the future I can continue receiving your support.

Well, that’s all for me being a super sentimental blob (for now)...

So, just as the new year means new resolutions (which, let’s be real, are meant to be broken. My clowning ass couldn’t handle the pressure) in the real world. In the FGO NA world, we have finally approached a new adventure with the Lostbelt Arc!

Kind of spoilery LB prologue screenshots and commentary below if you haven’t read the Lostbelt prologue yet so you have been warned:

The one and only Mapo Tofu man, in the flesh (and blood), feeling extra spicy. Lots of people hate him for what he did to best girl da Vinci, but my heart is always with Kirei.

Speaking of da Vinci, I know she didn’t die die, but I still died inside at this scene.

ANASTASIAAAAAAAAAA I’m so excited for the first Lostbelt chapter you don’t even know.

I thought this image was super beautiful. Just as an overall though, I’m definitely curious about the 6th Lostbelt Crypter, Beryl Gut. At this point there’s no info about him + he’s not released in JP yet + he’s the Camelot belt so I’m like: WHo ArE YOU?? Screw Wodime and his op-ness, I want more info on the 6th guy.

This is a screenshot from the trailer. Now after finding out the shit that happens in the Atlantis Lostbelt thanks to JP being ahead 2 years, it’s just like, damn, Goetia/Romani, you’ve been hiding in plain sight.

(I am also legally obligated to reference Muramasa bc he appeared very briefly in Atlantis and now I am back to screaming “MURAMASA WHEN”)

Lastly, when nutty Tamamo popped up out of nowhere w the huge-ass gun, I was actually going to burst out laughing bc goddamn it’s so out of place. I cannot take this image seriously.

#mod lancer speaks #happy new year #fate grand order #fgo #fate go #fate series

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markoftheasphodel · 5 years ago

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queenlua said: 1) wait which duke, my euro!history is extremely poor, and 2) i TOO have used the “contingencies for contingencies” at work before omg i squeaked at that line, 3) i’m hyped to hear you’re fond of claude and i am twitching to see you finish the game because i have SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS MAN omg etc

3) Oh yeah I love Claude. I mean I am very obviously partial to clever and intrigue-happy archers with sharp tongues but WOW, Claude.

1) OK. So the Duke of Milan in question was Ludovico “Il Moro” Sforza, and if you learned anything about him via tumblr it was probably lies counterfactual.

[Counterfactual tumblr likes to claim Ludovico as a POC but his nickname of The Moor derives not from any known or credibly suspected African heritage but because he had unfashionably dark coloring. If you want evidence of actual POC Italian dukes, Florence is right over there --> but anyway, moving on.]

So Italian politics circa the 1490s are hideously complicated and involve power players like the Republic of Venice, the Duchy of Milan, the Kingdom of Naples, the Papal States, and the Holy Roman Empire. By the time Rodrigo Borgia becomes the Pope (yes) the intrigue levels are already higher than the spire of old St Peter’s. One thing leads to another and Il Moro, a guy who just can’t stay out of intrigue and is mostly quite good at it, decides to invite Charles the Affable, King of Goddamned France, to cross Milanese territory and go down and mess with the Kingdom of Naples. Charles has a vaguely legit claim to Naples through his grandma and he is not the brightest guy in Europe but he does like to play soldier. So Charles comes down with 25,000 men (including Swiss mercenaries) and seizes Naples and starts calling himself its King. Within a month of this, all the Italian states are shitting themselves because holy shit there’s a giant foreign army in Italy now and they’re totes happy to massacre people who get in their way. Anyway, so now Il Moro, the Borgia Pope, Venice, and rival claimants to Naples join forces with the Holy Roman Empire to get the French the fuck out of Italy. This new League of Venice takes major losses but Charles has to retreat back to France so it’s all a wash. Also the first major recorded outbreak of syphilis occurs in the French army during this war (1494-95), giving the disease the name The French Pox.

But then Charles smacks his head on a low doorway on his way to a game of tennis and dies. He’s got no surviving kids, so the throne of France passes to his cousin Louis of Orleans, who is waaaaay more clever than Charles and also has a legit claim to the ducal seat of Milan through his grandma. Louis has already proven himself a competent commander in Charles’s Italian misadventure. This is a guy whose personal emblem is a porcupine. He’s not the most glamorous dude on the continent but you don’t want to mess with him. Louis rebuilds the army that Charles left in a mess (including more Swiss mercs), systematically gets permission from various dukes and whatnot to cross their territory and also signs a treaty with Spain because Ferdinand and Isabella (yes), specifically Ferdinand, have an actual claim to Naples as opposed to the bullshit claim advanced by Louis which amounts to “My ded cousin Charles held Naples for a year or whatever” and doesn’t hold up to scrutiny. So Louis has agreements that he and the Venetians will divvy up the Milanese territory and he and Spain will divvy up the Neapolitan spoils.

And then he shows up in Milan and is like “Hey Ludovico you backstabbing SOB whose family usurped my grandma’s duchy, remember me?” And Il Moro is like “Oh shit, come help me my Italian allies.” And the other city-states of Italy are like “No fucking way in fucking hell, you invited the goddamned French here in the first place so FUCK YOU.” And the French take Milan and Ludovico finds out the Swiss mercenaries he relies on turn out to not be super-willing to die for him on other Swiss pikes and he’s captured and sent to France. Louis gets Milan and Leonardo da Vinci and accidentally sets up the chessboard for the rise of the Spanish Hapsburgs, but that’s a WHOLE ‘nother story.

And this is why you don’t invite a massive foreign army to cross your lands to go mess with the people you actually have a problem with.

[Machiavelli had salty things to say about both Ludovico and Louis, btw. Good reading even if he was biased as hell.]

#queenlua #mark rides with the deer #mark the history geek

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letstalksymphogear · 5 years ago

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Symphogear, Ep. 6 (Cont.)

Hibiki, having seen a horror upon horrors, immediately asks Tsubasa if she’s okay. Tsubasa points out she’s a hospital patient, why would you ask this question, you insensitive prick. Hibiki points to the following scene:

Now, you may be asking yourself. “How does a formerly comatose person who is now bedridden on an IV drip manage to do this much damage?” Simply put, Tsubasa has a very chaotic aura. She doesn’t even have to take stuff out of her room; the places she goes to just naturally wind up like this. It’s a metaphor for how much of an absolute mess this person is simply by existing.

“l-look i just- its hard to organize things and- im more of a visual person and-”

“BITCH YOU LIVE LIKE THIS?”

Hibiki unwittingly gets her revenge on Tsubasa. She doesn’t realize it, but her lecturing Tsubasa on what an absolute mess every facet of her life is could possibly be heralded as her lowest point in the entire series.

No, wait. Thinking about it now, this is her second lowest. We won’t see her lowest until GX comes along.

“hibiki, every single bone in my body is broken, you dont have to break my pride too”

Hibiki, being an absolute darling, actually picks up Tsubasa’s mess. This is more than she can say about her own messes.

“haha, miku usually does this for me! wait- wait a minute.”

“i dont get it. i tried to kill you. i tormented and ignored you. i refused to help you for months. i failed to train you on any facet of combat as your senior. i nearly let you get kidnapped and, failing that, nearly killed myself while making you watch, which ALSO didnt help you not get kidnapped aside from scaring the shit out of that weird lady. why are you... helping me?”

“because either we’re going to be very good friends or im going to toss you out the window personally!”

“oh god, that aggression screams kanade. i cant not like her.”

Absolutely annihilated. Just kick her while she’s down in her Taco Bell spiral of humiliation and self-discovery, Hibiki.

“it’s okay, tsubasa! you may be a terminal dumbass, but im sure if we all work together, we can share our braincells and become collectively smarter, for each other!”

“interesting theory. how many ya got?”

“ZERO!”

They trade the kind of banter two people with 0 brain cells would have and then Tsubasa points out Hibiki is doing a great job in her place.

“hey hey HEY HOLD THE PHONE IVE LEARNED MY LESSON IM NOT TRYING TO REPLACE YOU OKAY IM NOT YOU, IM JUST HIBIKI, DOING HER JOB, ALRIGHT”

Meanwhile, in the library, Miku is looking at books, as she does what she says she’s gonna do, unlike a certain other person cavorting with cute idols.

“The Gay Way: How to Get Your Same Sex Relationship Back On Track, by Dr. Lesbe Honest. wow, this one is right up my alley.”

Okay, I’m gonna be honest with you. I literally forgot they show you the title in this. Imagine my face when I made up that title on the spot only to be hit with this little number. Holy shit, Symphogear. There’s this thing called subtlety. I’m begging you. We get it.

OH, AND IT GETS BETTER, BECAUSE

THE AUTHOR OF THE BOOK IS THE WRITER OF THE SHOW

IT’S LITERALLY GOT HIS NAME ON IT

THIS IS THE EQUIVALENT OF WRITING A STORY AND THEN INSERTING A BOOK CALLED “LEARN THE PLOT” WRITTEN BY YOU, IN UNIVERSE

KANEKO STOP THIS BALONEY, PLEASE

AND LIKE FUCKING CLOCKWORK SHE JUST- SHE TURNS HER HEAD AWAY FROM THE BOOK TITLED “THIS IS THE PLOT MOTIF” BY “AUTHOR” AND THEN FUCKING

SHE CONVENIENTLY LOOKS OVER TO THE DISTANCE

AND SHE SEES HIBIKI WITH THE HOT IDOL MIKU WAS INTO, THAT THEY WERE BOTH A FAN ON, AND SHE’S JUST CHILLING THERE AND MIKU WAS TOLD HIBIKI’S ON SERIOUS BUSINESS

AND THE HOSPITAL QUARTERS ARE SOMEHOW CONVENIENTLY CONNECTED TO THE FUCKING LIBRARY ON FULL DISPLAY BECAUSE GOD KNOWS EVERYONE IN A LIBRARY HAS TO WATCH SICK PEOPLE DIE IN REAL TIME

AND NOW MIKU IS THINKING “OH MY FUCKING GOD IM BEING CHEATED ON” AND HER FEELINGS ARE HURT FOR THIS TOTALLY CONTRIVED FUCKING COINCIDENCE

AND SHE’S ALL “BOO HOO HOO I’VE BEEN NTR’D! THIS WAS A CUCKING PLOT THIS WHOLE TIME! WOE IS ME!” FUCK YOU. THIS IS THE WORST. THIS IS ABSOLUTE GARBAGE WHY WOULD YOU- WHY DO YOU EVEN NEED TO SET THIS UP? THERE’S SO MANY BETTER WAYS TO DO THIS!

AND SHE’S JUST STARING BACK AT THE BOOK WRITTEN BY THE SAME ASSHOLE WHO WROTE THIS ENTIRE DAMN SCENARIO IN THE FIRST PLACE, AN EVIL GOD MOCKING HIS SUBJECTS IN THE FACE OF SCRUTINY FOR DRAMA WITH THE MOST CLICHE LOVE NOTES IN A GODDAMNED SOAP OPERA

AND HIBIKI IS NONE

THE

FUCKING

WISER

SYMPHOGEAR SURE IS GREAT, HUH? I SURE DO LOVE SYMPHOGEAR WITH ALLLLLL MY HEART. WHAT A WELL WRITTEN MASTERPIECE! FUCKING BELONGS IN THE FUCKING MOMA!!!!!

Okay. Okay. Let’s get that out of our system. The worst is over. This is the, uh, crescendo of the bad side plot as it inevitably sets itself on the road to resolution. I’m not going to have an aneurysm. My brain is not going to split itself in half. We’re good. I swear, we’re good.

Tsubasa, meanwhile, wants to understand why Hibiki fights, wrestling with the Da Vinci code that is her own emotions. She points out the fight against the Noise isn’t a game, and it ain’t no comic book bullshit either. It’s real, it’s out there, and it’s not pretty yet easily marketable as cute mascots. And what does our protagonist say? No making it up, she literally says:

“i dunno”

Not a damn brain cell in her body, but props for keeping it real. I’d likely say the same thing.

This is the face of someone currently sucking air through their teeth at the raw frustration that someone would be dumb enough to risk their life for the sake of only helping others.

“listen. im gonna keep it real here. i suck at literally everything. math. social studies. writing. helping people is all i have, because its not a competition. you just... you do it. you dont get better at helping people, you just help. like, thats it. i dunno what else to tell you.”

Then Hibiki points out that she feels it all started with Kanade saving her, and the speech implies its a ‘pay it forward’ sort of affair. She was saved, and so she should save others. Unfortunately, it comes off more as a guilt complex. “I lived, and I feel bad about that, so I gotta save everyone else” kind of stuff.

“its my coping mechanism for my countless traumas!”

“i get it now. you’re just as much of a mess as i am. you just dont show it as much. that kinda thinking’s gonna get you killed.”

Tsubasa then correctly points out that it is a kind of survivor’s guilt, where she wants to be released from the pain of old wounds, completely unaware of the irony of her statement.

“yeah. i get ya. we’re both wrecks. but... we can be wrecks working together.”

This would be the part where she says I’M SORRY but apparently we just don’t fucking do apologies in Symphogear, huh? Too good for ‘em, eh?! God.

Then they go outside and talk more about stuff and Durandal. The summation:

“do you have the capacity to live a life forever kicking ass?”

“yeah”

Hibiki, coming to terms with how she wants to deal with shit, manages to sharpen (haw) her resolve as to who she is and how she uses her abilities.

Meanwhile...

youtube

“i cant believe hibiki is having an affair with an attractive idol popstar. especially my favorite one from their old band. not only is she cheating on me, but she’s cheating on me from one of the five people on my lists id immediately get with if i had the chance. it feels like a double betrayal. a real life one, and a fantasy one... why do i find this weirdly hot...?”

“HEY NEWCOMER WELCOME TO THE CUCK AND BUCK WHERE WE SELL FRESHLY FRIED CUCKS FOR ONE BUCK, REAL EASY, REAL CHEAP, GOOD OL’ FASHIONED JAPANESE SOULFOOD”

“ive come to take my throne. i’ll take the ‘one flew over the cuckoo’s nest” and have the three eggs over easy with the ‘easy sleazy pancakes’”

“make it an extra lonely helping. this is gonna be a long afternoon.”

“ahhh. a freshly cucked newcomer coming to the cuck and buck to duck amongst their bad luck run amok, huh?”

“listen dont sass me about my busy girlfriend with your dr. seuss antics just gimmie the food and lets get this over with”

“no problem! sorry, they just come easy. it’s hard to buck at the cuck and buck when rhymes you huck make you wanna fu-”

“FOOD. NOW.”

Miku then ponders about how her feelings may have spiraled from a process of over thinking, or possibly hunger. Maybe both. Maybe Hibiki isn’t cheating on her. Maybe the reasons are more complicated than she knows. She briefly contemplates communication; a futile gesture when it is Hibiki safeguarding a secret she is forced to keep for incredibly stupid reasons.

“thanks for the food, miss. it really helped sort my feelings out.”

“no probs, kid. here at the cuck and buck, the only thing we cuck here is... our hearts.”

Meanwhile, Hibiki is still hanging with Tsubasa. Hey, if you’re gonna hang out with a critically acclaimed popstar, might as well squeeze every minute out of it, right?

“so... taco bell, huh? im surprised you actually like taco bell now. maybe you just like fast food styled psuedo-mexican restraunts? have you tried chipotle?”

“i... maybe you’re right, actually. i’ve grown to love taco bell, but... maybe i should expand my horizons. kanade did say... singing makes you hungry. maybe thats what she meant. i should take to new life experiences...”

“yeah! i can take you to all the good fast food places i know!”

“dont you have a girlfriend?”

“she can join us! she’s a big fan of you after all!”

“hey- hey wait! m- more friends? more... more friends... more friends.....”

“more friends...”

Meanwhile, a crisis develops.

Chris, having heard the f-word (friendship), is heading immediately to do the exact opposite of this.

She’s taken some pointers from Tsubasa, t-posing to assert dominance.

“how the fuck is she even flying”

“i cant wait to tell hibiki how much i love and appreciate her despite the weird NTR aura surrounding this whole situation”

“yeah, that’s right! i’m meeting the Gremlin in the park for an asskicking, don’t worry!”

“oh, speak of the devil! hibiki! i love and appreciate you despite the weird ntr auras!”

“miku- wait. oh no. i saw this happen in sam reimi’s spiderman 3. im fucked.”

“YOU GUESSED CORRECTLY, PIDGEON BANGS”

I know I’ve joked about homewrecking, but this is ridiculous.

Chris realizes there’s someone else around she may have potentially hurt. This is surprising, given murder is not something she has shyed away from, but she’s slowly climbing that ladder of morality, so cut her some slack for taking it one rung at a time.

“im losing my girl. losing my grip. now im about to lose my life. this NTR business truly is the worst.”

Chris has accidentally employed the Dio Brando style of disposing of people, which consists of throwing a vehicle and smashing them until dead.

“you’ve taken one step too close to my heartstrings, Gremlin, and for that you’re about to understand the full definition of an ass kicking.”

Hibiki fucking punches the car. Everything is forgiven in this episode for now.

“i... hibiki... are you... a street fighter character? holy shit. oh my god. hibiki oh my god you’re a street fighter character. thats been the true problem here. you’re a street fighter character now. oh my god. cheating? how could i have thought cheating was involved? you were literally just becoming a straight up superhero! oh my god. the abs! the washboard abs! the signs were all around me! the only thing you went to do behind my back was kick ass!”

“i’m sorry. i need to go kick ass now.”

The good news is all that tension just got evaporated. Miku sorta gets the truth now: her girlfriend hasn’t been cheating on her, she’s just been trying to save the local tri-county area from the grips of inter-dimensional alien eldritch entities controlled by a Gremlin and her Mistress. It’s a lot to take in, though.

These two are about to fight head to head. Last time, Hibiki was but the pupil. Now, she is the Master.

“can’t touch me, goldie locks. lemme do you a favor and CRACK THAT WHIP!”

“oh my god hibiki’s gonna fight that weird looking person”

“naruto running deeper into the woods isn’t gonna stop me from beating your ass senseless, fists for brains”

“thats because i wanna talk, asshole”

“wait. wait, what? you... you want to talk? to me?”

Hibiki proceeds to aggressively describe herself to her. Name, identity, blood type, age, the works. This is because she’s trying to befriend her, because Hibiki feels fighting people is bad, and that talking is more useful than fighting. This is a recipe for suicide, normally, but in this instance...

“what in the goddamn hell... i... um... nice.. to meet you...?”

Hibiki deploys a counter-T-Pose to show kinship, feeling that they don’t have to fight like this since they’re not Noise.

“talk may be cheap but it’ll make kicking your ass all the more easier, nerd”

Chris learns this, in fact, does not make the ass kicking all the more easier. Hibiki’s fresh new moves manage to dodge whip after whip of Chris’s attacks, and it’s really starting to annoy her a lot.

“pain in the ass. so you learned how to fight, huh? fine. you’ll tire out eventually.”

“let’s just talk, seriously! or maybe we can bond over board games-”

“i FUCKING hate board games. the fuck are you, a grandma? just fight already! people cant understand each other anyway!”

“JUST DIE ALREADY!”

“i was told to kidnap you. but im exerting a loophole today; no one told me to do it alive”

“the only kidnapping going down is me, sleeping in on a thursday afternoon forgetting class exists, you neon porcupine. so come at me. can’t kick me ass if you dont come any closer, right?”

“WITH PLEASURE!”

“ive watched the entirety of dragonball z, i know exactly how this fight’s gonna go down”

“finally. looks like i got y- hey, wait, what?”

“ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY JANKING MY LEG? THIS BITCH IS LITERALLY GOKU? PULLING KAMEHAMEHAS AND SHIT? WHY? god. its me. yukine chris. why do you hate me. why do you drag me through all this shit only to be hit in the head with some real anime baloney. why. please. have some mercy.”

“i dont know what a goku is but sure, yeah, why not”

“im going to kill her. oh my god. she doesnt even know who goku is.”

“get that tentacle shit away from me. im not fucking around anymore. we’re going to have a heart to heart whether you like it or not!”

“oh shit she found my weakness. really close melee combat.”

“MADE A FRIENDSHIP GIFT FOR YA. IT’S A FRESHLY MADE KNUCKLE SANDWICH, STRAIGHT FROM THE DELI”

“OH GOD, PLEASE, NOT MY FACE”

“REQUEST ACCEPTED, PAL”

Hibiki punched her so hard that she physically destroyed the entire armor Chris was wearing in a single blow.

“she... she doesnt punch ME like that... i mean, probably because she loves me, but..”

“did... did she just kill that person...? hibiki...? you, uh... you alright...?”

#symphogear #recap #comedy #anime #a lot of cuck was said here

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