#the title is “lovely monsters” i feel like ive dropped that here before
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STEPHCLAIR IS BAD AND YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD
Alternative title: a very angry (and tired) Full Stop fan's thesis.
ok, so me being the stephan/sinclair comparison's strongest hater is a bit i really like to lean into, but for the sake of keeping things semi-serious i will try to keep the actual essay content as free of me ranting my frustrations as humanly possible (which i mean commitement to the bit aside this will be hard bc it is frustrating to see people calling them both the same character, at best it shows a very surface level understanding of either character and at worst it shows just reducing them to cookie cutter meme fandom archetypes neither character actually fits into, so bear with me if i slip up and make unserious comments from time to time)
so before i start the actual essay let me say this: this essay doesnt even scratch the surface of how much i hate this comparison you guys cant even possibly fucking imagine ive been obssessed and i mean OBSSESSED with the full stop office since 2021 and im glad i wasnt in the limbus prerelease fanbase because if i had to see people comparing my beautiful boy and beloved best friend to a guy we had no info about other than "hes based of the guy from demian" i would have turned into the joker this is not even about saving my own mental health this is about sparing the entire pjm fandom of the monster i would have turned into
spoilers for ruina and limbus, universe terminology heavy and surface level references and interpretations of demian by herman hesse because imma keep it real with you guys the first and only time i read that book i was still in high school and i barely remember shit.
Table of contents:
Stephan - a summary
Sinclair - a summary
2.1. Emil Sinclair in Demian (1919)
2.2. Emil Sinclair in Limbus Company (2023)
Addressing common arguments
1.- Stephan - a summary
And of course I will start with Stephan, because I love him very much, just like Liwei he's one of my favorite pjm characters (yeah i like him more than your favorite popular character don't ask) so it's not surprising that i have A Lot to say about him, right?
And of course, I do.
As I said in the serrated duo post, a core part of my perception of the Full Stop office depends on the fact that they are poor. Mentions of money are common all across many factions in the game, yes, but the Full Stops are extremely constant about money, how taking a wrong turn means losing more than they can afford, how they can't afford to drop their weapons because they were too expensive, how even getting the permissions to be able to buy and wield these weapons was ridiculously expensive and so on. Of course, Stephan is the one talking about this the most (something I will elaborate on later), but Liwei and Tamaki also make a few ocassional mentions to it in their dialogue and keypages and considering this is a shared business it just makes sense that this is something that affects all of them.
These are just some few of the callbacks to money that Stephan alone does in his dialogue, without focusing in keypage text or what Liwei and Tamaki have to say about it.
And idk man, at least to me the difference between social classes is an important aspect for their characterization, specially because of how constant the concern with money is for Stephan. From this point alone comparing them feels like erasing a core aspect of Stephan's characterization, a lot about Stephan (and the Full Stop office as a whole, let's be real here) starts making more sense once you read the office as lower-middle class (and I'm saying lower middle class because they can afford some place to live and their weapons, but to me these guys are the types who precisely because of their need to keep bullets at all times can't pay for water or electricity all the time and sometimes they simply can't afford food or if they do they can spend a week straight eating nothing but unsalted pasta).
Now, going back to Stephan being the most outward about his complaints with money, he is in general the most outward about all problems the office is facing, to the point in which he doesn't mind inconveniencing everyone else with his rants, being one of the few guests who interrupt Angela's introductory speech and getting into Tamaki's nerves (something he's well aware he's doing, as these two know each other) at least two times through the course of their pre-battle cutscene, even Roland comments after the reception on how he wishes he would always have been as open about his problems as Stephan was.
However, it's worth nothing that he doesn't spend the entire cutscene crying about his miseries, and he only starts losing hope at three key moments: when they can't kill Eileen inmediately (making them waste more bullets than needed), when Argalia shows up (forcing them to retreat and making them fail their mission, meaning they won't get paid for this after they already lost a ton of money, as well as turning the situation into something much more dangerous than what they had signed up for) and once they enter the Library (an Urban Plague grade threat they have little to no information about, when him and Tamaki are almost out of bullets so Liwei is essentially the only fixer with some chance of putting up a fight and, you know, making it out alive).
Now, while it's true that Stephan is someone who dislikes danger, he isn't someone who isn't used to seeing gruesome events, his instinctive reaction to seeing a guy getting his head put into a meat grinder was cracking jokes and calling the concept of thought gears "a load of horseshit", which is something that falls in line with him being a somewhat experienced Fixer (sure, grade 5 isn't amazing but we can assume it's still either in the higher side of average or barely above average, and for someone specialized in firearms, which are far from the best weapon in the city, getting that high means he must have some experience and skill, right? more so considering he's been at this for 5 years at most) who has seen a fair share of horrid shit and can be unfazed by (most of) it as long as his own safety isn't on the line.
Another point is... he dislikes danger and is always wary about money and expenses, to the point in which he enjoys checking his bank account (or at least he believes so, if we go for the theory of the artbook profiles being more a mix of what the characters perceive themseves as/would describe themselves as to others, which is a theory i go by, I see him as someone who's convinced he does that for fun instead as out of desperation), but this seems to be more a generalized feeling of impending doom at everything rather than something that can be traced back to a particular traumatic event (anything can be dangerous, anything can cost him money), dude's from the backstreets after all, he's seen shit and he's used to assuming the worst. How I see Stephan, he's a guy who already expects bad things to happen but once things go wrong he starts freaking out about how this time They're Screwed For Real, but he never really tricks himself into believing "maybe things will turn out just fine this time?" or who thinks "well, we've done this before, surely we can handle it again."
This is not very related to Stephan as a character in terms of personality but I think it's still an important point to make as it is particularly related to body mods, his physical condition and his body shape.
So we can easily say that Stephan is a strong dude, at least if compared to real world standards without the fancy and insane body mods we see people in the city have access to. He carries that huge rifle around with his bare hands, something that Tamaki doesn't do and that not even Stephan himself in earlier iterations of his dessign did, and his main talent (which based of my theories is something that can be assumed as "something he's proud enough of to consider it the thing he does best") is physical labor.
Pictured, Tamaki's talksprite, carrying a rifle almost as long as she is tall with a strap supporting the weight on her shoulders, like a normal person.
Also pictured, an earlier iteration of Stephan's dessign, carrying the same rifle his current version does, but also holding it with the help of a similar strap supporting the weight on his shoulders.
And finally, Stephan's current dessign, holding that shit with his bare fucking hands in an exhibition of his brute animal strength, what the fuck is wrong with this man (affectionate)
And Stephan's artbook profile, the important part here is his speciality being physical labor, not only he's strong but he aknowledges this.
However, I made a point about the Full Stop office being poor, right? Even Roland says that "giving a whole office augmentation procedures is cheaper than keeping a decent supply of bullets in stock" (not the exact phrasing).
At least personally, I see this as Roland essentially saying "it would be cheaper (and more efficient) to get body mods for everyone in the office and buy another (cheaper) type of weaponry instead", but as things stand, the Full Stops can afford to either buy more ammunition and maintain their weapons, OR to get body mods, and since their whole deal is firearms... well, they can't really Stop investing in them, meaning they have no body mods At All and they got their grades purely out of their own physical strength.
Similarly, Stephan makes a similar point about how body augmentations are required for people to be able to run while carrying their weapons around (specifically talking about the rifles he and Tamaki use).
And... you know, the whole point is that they couldn't run carrying their weapons because they were too heavy, Argalia mocked them for that, Liwei urged them to drop their weapons, something they refused to do because of the prices.
Lastly on this point, while it's true that Ruina talksprites have a very bad case of Long Anime Legs (to the point in which how Roland's legs take about 2/3 of his height is a common joke), if we focus only on his head and torso, Stephan looks pretty Wide, and not only because he's wearing thick, fluffy and multilayered clothing, as other characters wearing similar clothing styles still look thinner than him.
This is all to say: I don't think this guy is a twink, or thin at all. He's a prime example of the strongman build to me and this is yet another hill I'm willing to die on watch project moon turn him into a beanpole once he inevitably shows up in limbus and me turning into the first real world distortion as a consequence.
Finally, Stephan is very notoriously the most informal member of the office, not only being the only one who doesn't wear any sort of formal clothing fully prioritizing comfort and practicality over looks but also completely disregarding formalities with his attitude at work (again, he interrupts Angela's introductory monologue, and again, his first two lines when being introduced are him cracking jokes), being the only member of the office to swear on screen and using several informal expressions and metaphors through both the reception dialogue and his keypage story.
And for good measure, he's a compilation of Stephan being the creature he is.
The literal introduction of the characters, also known as the moment in which Stephan became one of my favorite characters because he's Just Like Me Fr
Very normal behavior for someone who hates blood and violence and isn't used to seeing it. This man is more than capable (and willing, assuming money is involved) to murder kill.
Which, I mean, this attitude is very different from what we see from Sinclair.
2.- Sinclair, a summary
In retrospect I probably should have made this one first because I'm gonna be honest with you, Sinclair is one of the sinners I care about the least (I still like him and think he's pretty cool mind you I just don't vibe too much with most of the tropes making up the character) so what I have to say about him is less me grasping for straws and subtext because I don't care enough about him to be bothered with a super serious and in depth analysis like I did with Stephan and more things we can explicitly see about him in game and things that happen in the novel Demian.
And if I can have a small parenthesis here, people saying that one of my favorite pjm guys Ever is in any way similar to a guy who despite being pretty cool is just Not the type of character I fully vibe with... really, it gets annoying fast. Anyway back to the serious analysis now.
2.1- Emil Sinclair in Demian (1919)
To be able to understand Sinclair as he is depicted in Limbus Company, it is important to first be familiar with the source material of the original iteration of the character, that's it we're doing your high school homework by compiling several literary analysis of a symbolic psychological early 20th century autobiographical novel i hope you guys signed up for this (and if you didn't, though luck! i will do this anyway, I love literary analysis).
In the novel, young Emil finds himself torn between the worlds of light (which can be equated to the Garden of Eden, but it's more tangible meaning for our protagonist is his childhood home and family, a serene and well structure/organized space where he can be innocent, untainted by the evils of the outside world) and darkness (basically all the scary shit that goes on outside, where people do evil things for the sake of it), he finds himself tempted by the violence of the outside world, particularly through the actions of his classmate Franz Kromer, which eventually leads him to consider that due to being exposed to this tainted world of evil he no longer can return to the world of good and innocence.
Here, the character of Demian acts as a guide, someone who helps Sinclair to trascend this binary perception of good vs evil and to see himself as someone worthy of happiness because him witnessing the world of evil didn't taint him as a person but rather merely showed him another face of the world, Demian here mentions the Mark of Cain as a symbol of mental strenght and freedom, considering that bearers of this mark are capable of making their own choices and should be able to go beyond their assigned roles, being able to embody aspects of both worlds. This is to say that Demian's view is less focused on good vs evil, instead taking a more order vs chaos approach (without giving an explicit moral character to either).
In the book, the symbol of a bird breaking out of the egg is frequently used to represent Emil's personal growth, the egg represents safety and innocence, but a bird must eventually leave the egg or it will die, and getting out of the egg is a process than can be seen as violent, as a bird must fight to get out of the egg, and getting out of the egg represents birth but also an irreversible change, it can be seen as breaking out of the world of light and getting permanently in the world of darkness since a broken shell can't be fixed, but it can also mean achieving the enlightment and personal balance to not feel permanently bound to a condition, place or state of being and therefore growing as a person by learning to see himself as a whole human instead of supressing his "evil side" by only forcing the "good side" to surface.
Max Demian is here to show this second meaning of growth/self improvement (while also explaining that Sinclair is permamently growing and must always keep this balance between all the parts conforming the whole being that is himself rather that trying to make parts of himself antagonize each other). This idea of personal growth being one of the core themes of the book.
2.2- Emil Sinclair in Limbus Company (2023)
With Sinclair's source media analyzed (at a very surface level, mind you), we now can start talking about the depiction of Sinclair in Limbus Company, how it parallels the book, why the book symbolism is important for this instance of Sinclair and so on.
When we are first introduced to Sinclair in the game he's clearly nervous, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do as he hasn't worked for a similar company before and he isn't used to the gruesome sight of the bus eating people, this does fit inmediately in the motif of a naive person with limited experience about the world (well, to be fair to him most people won't be seeing man-eating buses at a regular basis, but the average backstreets dweller would be familiar with equally violent situations).
With this said, despite Sinclair's obviously nervous behavior... he isn't really a pessimist like Stephan was, in fact, almost every chapter (counting cantos, intervallos and the short mini chapters such as the Dante's notes update episode) have at least one key moment with him trying to rationalize horrible stuff as something much less violent, or simply going "but I thought this thing didn't work like this..." when confronted with the more horrible realities in the city. He thought the G corp veterans were really going to let them pass without a fight, he thought the people being controlled by headhens were just actors wearing mascot costumes, he thought mermaids were the beautiful half-woman half-fish creatures he heard about in fairy tales, and there's more examples but I don't really feel like looking for The Entire Fucking Plot Because This Guy Is An Actual Protagonist Instead Of A Background Guy Like Stephan Was to make my point clearer than it already is. And it's only when he realizes that the real world doesn't fit his expectations that he panics.
Well, there is one exception to this pattern: his own canto. Here, he panics inmediately as soon as K corp's nest is mentioned and spends the first half of the chapter pleading to turn back while saying that they are going to get killed. So what is different here with the rest of the plot?
Obviously, the fact that is related to his very own very personal very specific trauma. That is to say, unlike Stephan who is wary of anything that can put him on danger or cost him more money than it should, Sinclair has a very specific traumatic event that makes him act Like That (sure, he gets scared and nervous outside that, but these are more normal "I'm unfamiliar with this and I don't fully know how to react, this is normal behavior in a human being" reactions than outright "I am Actually Terrified due to being reminded of an actual traumatic event, this reaction is a textbook definition of post-traumatic stress disorder").
HOWEVER, Sinclair being someone who's deeply traumatized and kind of a scaredy cat when it comes to violence and unfamiliar situations... it doesn't mean that he's incompetent or a bad fighter. Almost all of his identities are terrifyingly good fighters (at least in their lore), Los Mariachis fear jefe Sinclair, Cinq director Sinclair is someone most association members are terrified to duel even during training, Blade Lineage Sinclair is considered a talented killer (it's also worth noting that save maybe for the mariachi one, in none of these mirror worlds Sinclair is precisely happy of being recognized as "the guy who's very scary when he fights people", unlike Stephan who I don't think he particularly likes killing but has a more "as long as I get paid..." mentality about it), the only "not very good at this" Sinclair id I can think of is the molar boatworks id where he's more a mechanic than a fighter so he fears he's lagging behind in that aspect. Hell, even the Canon Timeline so to speak (which is to say: his base identity) has him carrying that huge halberd, going on a frenzy attacking some already mutilated inquisitor's corpse, piercing through Guido's armor and dealing a fatal blow that finally killed him for real. To compare, Stephan is good at physical work, but we don't know about his close combat capacities other than the fact that he dislikes it, for Sinclair however we know he's terrifyingly good at physical combat.
Now, I've seen a lot of people call Sinclair a twink and while it's one of these words that nobody agrees on what it means, let's give it the benefit of doubt and say "alright, for the duration of this analysis let's settle on a twink being a young looking (regardless of actual age), thin man with almost no facial/body hair".
Since Sinclair is a rich guy (not just Any Rich Guy though, we're talking of someone whose family had ties to a Wing, probably not some elite guy like Daniel or Hong Lu, but not a self perceived "mediocre" nest dweller like Samjo either), and pressumably not very experienced in combat in most mirror worlds (we know he has no prior experience in the base one where he joined Limbus, at least), let's say that he has enough body mods for him to be much stronger than he looks like despite being thin, he does look thin and young and much to my dissapointment he also has no facial hair, so yeah, under this very broad definition of the term he is a twink.
However if you start adding personality archetypes to the definition he stops being one almost inmediately, as we've been shown time after time that his "submissive" attitude is mostly a result of him not knowing too well how to impose himself and just going along with what the rest say or do, but he's starting to grow tired of that ever since Hell's Chicken (even if he clearly still isn't great at that), as it should be more than obvious for anyone who even just googled "demian herman hesse literary analysis", Sinclair is undergoing a lot of changes even now, and the game is doing a good job at portraying that.
Honestly I also think he'd be hotter with a sleeper build but really, I don't care enough about him to argue about that.
And for the last point, precisely due to his upbringing as a rich guy AND his traumatic experience with Kromer, Sinclair is not only a very polite and mild mannered guy (again, unlike resident creature Stephan), but also he tries to take as little space as possible, both literally and metaphorically, as Dante notices near the end of canto 3 when they finally comment on how Sinclair never talks about his own problems until it's too late because he doesn't want to bother the others as they probably have it worse (again, unlike Stephan "i don't mind loweing team morale and making everyone in the room uncomfortable as long as i get to vent" Full Stop office).
3.- Adressing common arguments
Alright, now that I talked about each character, let's see some of the most common arguments I've seen people use to compare them.
"They look the same!" No, they don't. The only thing they have in common is being blonde but even their hairstyles are different with Sinclair having a simple bowl-ish cut with slightly wavy hair and Stephan having curlier hair (not to mention the whole point I made about body types because I'm the sort of lunatic who cares about that stuff). I won't even bother with this argument.
"They have the same personalities!" Again, they don't. Stephan is very cynical with a lot of his attitude being clearly derivated from him coming from a poor background and having stayed there his whole life, he also doesn't care about his cynism getting in the way and bothering everyone else. On the other hand, Sinclair is someone who could almost be described as naive due to having lived a sheltered childhood and only having his experiences with Kromer and his time at Limbus as moments of realizing that the rest of the world is Not Like His Childhood House, still believing that the world is a binary of good vs evil and expecting things to turn out fine or be much better than they actually are, just to be hit with the reality of the city Not being a nice place where people are nice and polite and not trying to kill him, this is not to say he doesn't have his own issues but even Dante notices during his Canto that Sinclair makes a point to avoid bothering everyone else with his personal problems, keeping them to himself even if that makes things worse on the long run.
"Both are opposed and harmed by a lunatic!" This is an argument I've seen a lot and is incredibly filmsy at best, half of the city's population are lunatics and the other half are people who got opposed by them some way or another. Will you say that Ishmael and the rest of the Pequod crew can be compared to the Full Stop office (or really, even mention the other Full Stop fixers instead of just focusing on Stephan because he happens to be blonde and can be compared to Sinclair) because of their situations with Ahab? Or the W Corp crew who got their train targetted by Jae-heon and Elena (or, you know, the train passengers who were turned into Love townspeople or puppets)? What about the Vermillion Cross who got killed by the Reverb Ensemble? Or the Cane office fixers? or the Zwei association section 6 who got beaten to death by Gyeong-mi just because he felt like doing so? Or the Liu association section 1 who had to deal with Argalia taking Philip away? Or the Kurokumo clan members when they were attacked by Tanya? You aren't comparing them to either Stephan or Sinclair, right? Not to mention that in her weird and fucked up perception of things, Kromer was less opposed to Sinclair as she was trying to lead him to join her and her cause, even the last things she says before getting killed are her calling him to follow her.
"Both are compared to birds!" Oh, right, because I forgot that a very directed symbolic comparison to a baby bird breaking out of it's shell as a symbol of rebirth, learning about the nuances of the world and self improvement/liberation that is consistently used in the source material Sinclair comes from is exactly the same as one (1) throwaway line the big bad guy uses to mock not only Stephan but the whole Full Stop gang, right. And if you want to say "but Tamaki compares him to a bird once too", yeah she calls him a parrot because he keeps repeating the same complaints over and over, it's still not the same as a consistent metaphor.
"Both are sad blonde twinks! They're essentially the same guy." Sad? Yeah, everyone in the city is sad but their ways to be sad are polar opposites, and neither of them is the pure cinnamon roll uwu crybaby archetype people tend to lump both into, Stephan was merely having a bad day and people decided to make that his whole personality (when honestly we get more insight on his actual personality before Argalia shows up, when he's making sarcastic remarks and getting impatient because they weren't starting killing people fast enough) but he's still perfectly capable (and willing) to murder people, and Sinclair is just... someone who lacks experience about the real world and how it works and has a tendency to get nervous because of this, but he can adapt quickly to situations once he understands them. Blonde? Yeah, but I guess if that's a point to draw a comparison then we should also compare them to Don Quixote, the Tiphereths, Lenny, Yun, Lulu, Olga, every single npc, librarian, and agent who comes with blonde hair from the generator... Twinks? Stephan absolutely isn't one, Sinclair depends on how you define twink as nobody seems to get to an agreement with that, if you define it as merely "young looking thin man with almost no visible body hair" then yeah he is one, but if you go for any more specific definition than that he stops fitting into the definition almost instantly.
In conclusion: if I see anyone else comparing them I'll start blocking people liberally bc I'm sick of seeing that shit (I do that already tbh but just so you know), now scram
#pjm#library of ruina#limbus company#.🔫#this full stop office shit gets serious#probab ly not exhaustive but ive had this sitting on my drafts for way too long so i needed to post it so people understand how much i Hate#that godforsaken comparison
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find the word!
tagged by the illustrious @roguenancy <3 thank you friend this was a fun one!
my words are: soft, bright, time, reach, and burn
most of these are from yet-to-be-posted febuwhump fics because that's what my time has been going to preparing the past few weeks, but there are some old standards too!
i. soft (from a Kali-centric febuwhump fic)
Hunting down One and helping Eleven and her friends to take him down once and for all? That was an arena in which Kali was comfortable, an arena in which she got to be the victor, even in her sharing of the title.
But it hadn’t gone to plan. Of course not.
It hadn’t been a one-off and had instead turned into months trapped within the confines of this town, haunted by more than just those initial days Kali spent small and scared and broken as she ran from the lab and tried to find a way out.
She had been so young then. She feels it around every corner, amidst every patch of trees; she feels the younger version of herself everywhere and at some point during these past few months of battle it went and made her soft.
ii. bright (from a future installment of the bear au)
“You staying here tonight?” Nancy says on a tired exhale as she drops her bag and kicks off her shoes.
“Maybe,” Holly says at length, hands still on her keyboard but no longer typing.
The way her fair hair glows in the bright white light is almost unsettling. She’s such a beautiful girl.
“Couch is yours,” Nancy tells her, “I’m going to bed.”
“Mike said you flipped this afternoon.”
iii. time (from the METAMORPHOSES sequel one-shot I'm working on :) kicks feet twirls hair etc)
They decided to move to Chicago on this porch, decided to officially move into the same bedroom on this porch, decided to kiss for the first time on this porch.
It’s a near-sacred place, these panels of wood and screws, the spot that once held a beaten-down couch and now sports the beautiful handcrafted swing that Steve had made for them completely of his own volition.
It’s sacred because it’s theirs, their home, but it’s only that because they decided it would be. They made it this bubble of earnest communication and so when Eddie asks do you ever think about it with a heavy sort of sincerity lingering on his tongue, the only context Steve needs is—
“About what?”
iv. reach (another febuwhump fic, nancy character study style)
There’s a hand around her forearm just before she reaches the edge of the pool, a hand large and strong but a hand, still, which releases his grip with a half-hearted shove from Nancy.
“Don’t,” she snaps, whirling around to look at him, avoiding the confused and concerned and baffled expressions of Robin and Eddie hovering feet away at the edge of the forest like they truly don’t know what to do with themselves. “Don’t.”
Her voice is ragged, she knows. She can see the sound of it in the harsh shine of Steve’s eyes, but she can see something else there, too.
She can see something like understanding, like the crossing of a great divide between them, where they’ve both changed irreparably in the journey, but changed into the kinds of people who can trust each other above all else.
v. burn (febuwhump again, stobin edition)
There's so much to grieve, even after they win.
There's so much to grieve that Robin doesn't think it feels much like winning at all.
They keep going, she keeps moving forward, because that's what's supposed to happen and that's what they've always done, but no matter how much time passes between them and watching that place, that monster, burn, she still feels it.
Tastes it. Can't swallow around it some days and wakes up needing to rush to the toilet to puke it up on others.
It burns her from inside and as she gets her diploma, as they help rebuild the town into something still broken but at least standing, as people make plans and leave and get away, away, away from the mass grave that is Hawkins, Indiana, she keeps it there. Inside.
tagging with zero pressure but one million love: @kkpwnall @judasofsuburbia @cheatghost @fragilecapric0rnn @thefreakandthehair @yxlenas @snowangeldotmp3 + anyone who wants to join because this is simply fun!
your words are: new, try, still, part, and home
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if my body can just...chill, that'd be great. gonna try and publish two pieces by tomorrow. here's hoping i can do it!
Ooh! Regarding the Jaguar tribe, I pick the AFAB one, please!
—anonymous
ah alright, i can probably do that one first, maybe. just trying to be considerate to everyone possible!
What age you became (or started) to became a Monsterfucker?and what triggred it for you?;for me it was when i was like 7-10 because of Ben 10 LMFAO.
I had a crush on XLR8,Ripjaws (i love me some shape of water looking monster),Heatblast and Big Chill (my fav Mothman),i also loved Upgrade but when they introducted Malware it was breaking point for me,like you are bringing this EVIL AND WELL WRITTEN VILLAIN VERSION OF UPGRADE AND EXPECT ME NOT TO SIMP???
Sorry if this was asked before and thank you!
—anonymous
you're the first one who asked!!
but uhhhh, shoot, i think i was probablyyyyyy 6 or 7 with goliath from gargoyles from early 90s??? maybe??? not too positive tbh, it had been a very long time for me. i remembered having a bit of a crush on demona too…i think her name was? the kid me was shocked to see that yes, you can pair a human up with an inhuman character, but i didn't exactly fall in the monsterfucker genre too deep until probably the mid2010s. that genre just wasn't popular before then and the internet was sorta…pretty vanilla then too, at least in my usual internet hang-outs.
oh man, ben 10. i barely remembered half the shits about that show lol watched the kid era from the beginning to the end and missed out a few on the teen era (i missed gwen's sass ngl), but i definitely lost all interest when its creator passed and the jerkwads at cartoon network or whatever company it was rebooted it from scratch and completely disrespected the creator's wishes??? like why lmao and the new style was hideous, so i p much dropped out from ben10 since and don't keep up with it at all.
Mars attacks??? Would you write for it?????
—anonymous
er one by tim burton?? unless there are other ones i wasn't aware about (the title is super common with the older media iirc), i'd have to say no. the appearance of those aliens from that movie is not…something i'd be into. sorry!
that said, i certainly did write several alien pieces, including the classic martian aliens in ufo one if you're interested! the latter was very nondescript so you're welcome to imagine whatever alien appearance you'd prefer :)
i envy how you're able to create such a specific and fascinating story
—anonymous
daw thank you! <3 my writing def ain't perfect and i know im slow as heck, but it makes me happy that i have kind readers like you reading my pieces <3
i like you
—anonymous
i like you too nonnie!
okay thats all the nonstory related asks i have atm. if there's a question i haven't answered, chances are, the hellsite might've eaten it :( if that's the case for you, then feel free to send in another one!
that said, ive been looking around for ask memes for my oc's like that classic nsfw abc's one to interact with yall and do something fun with my characters, but haven't a lot of luck finding any i liked. if you have any rec, hmu!
otherwise, <3 yall be good to one other and take care!
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Imagine #70 | Request #31 (Part 3/3 of Isaac Lahey x Alpha!Reader)
Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2 (might need to rewrite these two though)
Can I just say that you guys who stuck with this blog (and the Wattpad imagines) are the best? And to think I haven't posted in years and we've hit 6k+ followers when I came back?! I don't even know how you people are still here and loving the pieces I put out when I'm here cringing over the old works back in 2015!
Warnings: The usual when it comes to the Teen Wolf series, specifically the Dread Doctors' season, mentions of blood, bones breaking, drugs, needles, a few curse words, idk if this is angst? whump?
Word Count: 6k+ (it's probably the longest I've written omg)
Not much of a flashback or backstory (I'm out of words, I can't squeeze anymore juices out of my brain, my bad). As usual, this is note beta-ed and sorry for any mistakes! English isn't my first language :(
~
“No more, please,” weak cries fell on deaf ears as you were dragged down from one hall to another, the smell of disinfectant and rust overpowering your already sensitive nose and magnifying the headache that was present from when you took a beating earlier.
The sound of bare flesh skidding on the polished floor bounced off the walls as you tried to pull away and run from your captors, you did not care of the stinging sensation that radiated from the pads of your feet - the open wounds left untreated by the people who kept you in hopes that whatever was inside of you can take care of it on its own.
You were repulsed at the thought of them still being considered as people after what they have put you through - they were monsters.
“Just a little more, my dear.” One of the figures that held your arm sneered, the grip on your bicep tightening making you clench your jaw. You internally scoffed at this knowing well that it won’t be ‘just a little more’ with how long and how frequent it happened and will happen.
“She should be able to go through another round.” A voice, deeper than the feminine one from earlier, spoke up as you entered through the heavy double doors of a room - an operating theater you guessed from the setup. “Prep her.”
“Her vitals are stronger now.” The third person declared, their fingers flipping through the pages of the clipboard in their hands before glancing towards the monitor to one side of the room - an image of your anatomy on display with different colors corresponding to each system in your body.
“The less you struggle the faster this will be.” One of the doctors, the Geneticist, who dragged you to this hell hole hummed as she was met with resistance on your end while she strapped you down on the cold metal table, the leather rubbing your already raw skin.
Her patience with you was at a limit, she was close to just ending it - ending you. But they have already achieved so much with their craft that it would be such a waste of time and resource to start from square one.
“Remember,” The Pathologist warned as he walked closer to you once you were settled down. “The louder you scream, the more blood we take from you.”
The tears that fell from your eyes to the sides of your face tickled your ears at the threat, small whimpers coming from you were ignored.
“Might I remind you that the btch wakes up?” The Geneticist interrupted, irritation in her voice as she steadied your shaking right hand before inserting an IV cannula in a vein at the back of your hand and taping it in place. Looking up to her left, she reached for the device below one of the two bags that hung on the pole and unclamped its tube letting the mix of anxiolytic, hypnotic, and anticonvulsant start to flow down to you. She then turned her attention to the other bag beside it, a mix of amnestic, and myorelaxant drugs, and did the same - a near-perfect cocktail mix they specifically designed for you.
She reminded the other doctors that no matter how much benzos, relaxants, or other drug concoctions they pump in your veins, you will wake up in between operations screaming your head off while attempting to break free of the hold you are currently in. “No matter how much sedatives we put in her, her wolf is too strong-”
“It’s an animal-” The Surgeon spoke up.
“She’s an alpha, a pure one-” She argued again, almost growling at the hard-headedness of her co-doctors before she was cut off by the same person.
“An animal.” He spoke in finality. “We are humans - gods even! We are at the very top of the damned food chain.”
The room suddenly fell silent, your whimpers, the beeping of a monitor, and the hum of the machines somewhere in the room were the only things that could be heard as you started to feel the effects of the fluids injected into you.
The tension you felt from earlier began to leave your body just as your vision started getting cloudy, your eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. You didn’t notice the Pathologist holding up a syringe to the light, flicking the bubbles away with his middle finger and thumb a few times before the taste of rubber invaded your mouth with such force that hurt your lips, gums, and teeth.
The Surgeon that was above you, blocking the light for a few moments, had shoved the mouth guard in before he continued securing your head in the metal gear positioned above you. Your neck followed suit with a hard metal clamp attached to the table effectively locking you in place and soon, your whole body was completely immobilized with a loud click from the double lock clamps.
The tears continued to flow down the sides of your face as you fought the sleepiness, praying for this to just end. The dread of what is to come overwhelming you and making your body shake as much as the drugs and table’s hold on you would allow.
“I’m surprised the smart one hasn’t figured it out yet.” They exchanged small talk over your muffled screams as soon as you felt the sharp sting of a needle puncturing your skin and into your cervical spine; expelling whatever it was they created into your system for the nth time. Your ears hurt from the ringing in your head while your throat burned as the pain from the syringe radiated all over your body.
“I’m surprised her mate hasn’t.” The Geneticist replied with emphasis.
“My friends, let us not be complacent.” Their leader ended their conversation as he now concentrated on looking at the x-ray on the monitor showing the movement of the serum as it spread in you.
“We continue our routine - clean her up, wipe her to an extent and then return her. ” He added as he pushed more of the liquid in you with a press of a button by your head.
“Marcel, they will know, soon enough.” She pointed out. “She will start to have withdrawals if-”
“We won’t let that happen.”
~
Sneakers skidding on the floor as everyone seemed to scramble out of the way towards the door, eyes wide with fear looking at the figure in front of them.
“Y/N?”
“Alpha?”
Isaac watched as the massive wolf in front of them let out a deep growl with its teeth bared at the people that called her attention, the fur on her back and chest standing up making her look even bigger than she already is.
“Y/N,” Isaac knew that Deaton was the best person to handle all kinds of supernatural cases, hence, the title of Emissary to their pack. “It’s Deaton.”
Letting out another growl as you licked your lips, your tail flicked lowly behind you as your eyes darted to each person present in the room before landing back to one in particular who was too close for comfort.
“Y/N, hey,” His voice sounded softer, it almost made you feel a sense of comfort until his hand reached out to you and made you snap back and almost bite it off.
This instinctively made Scott pull Isaac back by his shirt to a safe distance, struggling a bit in his grasp as the beta did not want to be moved further away from you despite the situation.
“Isaac, move back,” Deaton warned when he noticed that the curly-haired werewolf was not backing down, a hand gesturing for him to move away from you. “She’s scared.”
“No, Deaton, she heard me. She’s there - Y/N,” Isaac argued before turning his attention back to you again, blue eyes already glassy as tears filled the rim of his eyes. “She heard me.”
Isaac tried to hold on to the hope that you were present underneath the wolf because he was sure he saw that familiar glimmer that was distinctly you.
Just as he attempted to reach out to you again with a whisper of your name on his lips, the same frequency you heard before rang in your ears making you seize up and drop to the ground.
“Agh! What is that?” Liam winced as his hands reached up to his head to cover his ears, eyes scrunching shut as he tried to will away the incessant ringing.
“What’s what?” Mason asked with confusion etched on his face as he looked at his friend then to Stiles and the others, the werewolves in the room in particular, doing the same.
Isaac did not care for the ringing he heard, witnessing you looking like you were being kicked or beaten as you struggled to stand up, the sound of pained screams, whines, and whimpers coming out of you pulled at his heart making him drop to his knees beside you.
His hands hovered over your form trying to figure out what to do while he avoided getting scratched by the large clawed paws that writhed with your body, Scott and Thor doing the same and looking over you trying to see where exactly were you hurting.
“Deaton,” Isaac called as he carefully placed his hand on your shoulder before hissing - you were burning up and the black color that coursed through his veins upon touching you wreaked of disease. “Deaton what do we do?!”
“What is that?” Thor asked in bewilderment as he saw what was happening with Isaac’s arms.
“Hold her still as much as you can,” The vet’s voice was calm despite the mess, going to one of the counters in the room and asking Stiles and Mason for assistance as he tried to collect what sounded like glass vials from the way it clinked in their hold.
Isaac heard Thor mutter an apology to his alpha as he tried to hold your hind legs down as much as he can, Scott doing the same by your torso and Isaac by your neck.
“Y/N,” Isaac continued to call for you as he tried to hold your front legs down. “It’s Isaac, baby - it’s me.”
“Hurry!” Scott called to Deaton as his eyes scrunched and a sheen of sweat already present on their foreheads, the ringing still present in their ears making it difficult for them to concentrate.
Just as Deaton returned and knelt by your side, carrying a stainless steel tray that contained what looked like multiple large syringes in it, the static ringing noise started to get louder making the supernatural beings in the room let out a pained groan and lose their grip on you.
It grew too much too quickly to bear, causing the lights and windows above your heads to shatter and engulf the room in darkness. As everyone ducked for cover, Isaac stayed by your side and tried to shield you from the onslaught of sharp glass descending on you.
It took a few moments before the ringing stopped and the feel of cold air entered the room, snapping them back to their senses as their eyes opened at the smell of blood it carried with it.
Isaac immediately sat up as he felt the cold tiled floor and not your warm body underneath him.
“Y/N,” was all he said before he sprinted out of the room, the others following behind him.
“How did she get out?” He heard Stiles behind him once they reached the outside of the clinic, Thor already looking around the perimeter of the establishment for any signs of you.
Isaac’s brain was running a hundred miles at what he saw and what had just happened inside, his lips quivering as he ran his hands through his hair and pulling at the roots in frustration. He sniffled as he tried to stop the tears from running down his cheeks with the heels of his hands. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing before turning to Scott.
“She’s not gone,” his alpha spoke, already reassuring him. “We’re going to find her.”
Just before Isaac could reply and shoot down the optimism his alpha had, a car screeched to a halt in front of them.
“Where is she?!” Lydia asked as she got out of the driver’s side, a frantic look in her bloodshot eyes.
“Hey, hey, what happened?” Stiles was immediately by her side, cupping her face in his hands. But Lydia only moved out of the way and turned to Isaac and asked again.
“We don’t know where she is. She disappeared right before Deaton -” Lydia was close to tears again as she groaned in frustration.
“They can’t get her back.” She said, sounding more of a beg as her voice shook a little.
Everyone in front of her stopped what they were doing and looked at the Banshee.
“Who’s they? And where do you think Y/N is?” Stiles asked before a few seconds later, realization hit him.
~
It was on the way to Eichen House that Lydia explained everything she saw that made her break all the traffic laws implemented in Beacon Hills just to rush to the vet clinic. Isaac could not shake the feeling that Lydia, a banshee – a herald of death, had visions of you in his arms already in eternal slumber. His wolf broke more than a little as she spoke more of what she saw, only a few words registering to him – Y/N, doctors, experiment, and torture.
Everything was a flash for Isaac now, he did not even realize that they were now in a tunnel under the mental facility planning on who was going where.
But once their strategy was laid out, Isaac wasted no time in trying to locate even the faintest of your scent in the damp and moldy tunnel he was walking through. He heard Stiles and Lydia speaking on the phone in his pocket that they'd found an office that had files strewn everywhere – files that specifically contained information about you and what they have done with you so far.
“Any luck finding her?” Lydia asked as Isaac heard papers being flipped on the other end of the line.
“Nope, not yet,” Liam replied.
“No, she’s not here.” Thor was next then Scott, all claiming to find only empty rooms and dungeons.
“Isaac?” Lydia asked after not hearing from him.
“None,” he answered, sounding defeated as he rounded another corner with you nowhere in sight.
Isaac could hear collective sighs as they continued their searches, his ears already drowning out what Lydia and Stiles were doing - occasionally spitting out questions of why’s as they continued to browse through what they found in the files.
His breathing became labored as his mind started to play tricks on him the further we walked down the tunnel, the source of light slowly fading the deeper he went.
Just as he was about to turn another corner, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt as though soft fingertips touched him, making his skin crawl as he turned around quickly only to find an empty space. But as he directed his attention to the other corner of the room, the colors on his face drained.
Amidst the mess of metal chains and torn blankets, Isaac watched closely as the figure on the floor took a raspy breath, eyes moving behind closed lids, lips mumbling incoherent words.
“Y/N?” Isaac slowly approached, the other members of the pack on the other line calling for his attention and asking if they heard him call your name.
At the sound of your name being called, your body went rigid. Your eyes flew open, widening as you saw a shadowy figure in front of you moving closer.
“Please, no more.” Your voice cracked from the overuse as you begged, the sound of heavy metal clinking together echoed in the empty room as you backed away slowly. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, please!”
Your frame quivered as you continued to plead, sweat mixed with blood trickled down your body as you attempted to make yourself smaller against the corner of the cell; failing from the sudden pain on the back of your neck that restricted you to move any further away from where you were.
“Y/N, it’s Isaac. I’m not going to hurt you.” Isaac ignored the voices over the phone calling for him, asking if he really found you. “You’re safe now, they’re not going to hurt you.”
Isaac almost expected for you to cower further away from him, but you didn’t – instead, you relaxed a little as his hand landed on the small of your back and the other on your shoulder effectively pulling you into an embrace.
As Isaac felt you release a breath before melting against his chest, his scent effectively calmed you down as your wolf recognized her other half. You both stayed like that for a while before he went back to examining you and what was behind you, more so what was attached to you.
Now, more diligent in his movements, his hands hovered over what seemed to be a tube attached to the back of your neck. He shifted in his kneeling position, careful not to jostle you, before taking his phone from his pocket.
“Something’s attached to her, I need to get it off-.” He informed more to Stiles and Lydia than to others present on the call.
“Don’t!” Lydia exclaimed, panicked at what Isaac was planning. “Not yet.”
“But she’s already hurting!” Isaac’s hands returned to your shoulder and back, holding you closer - as close as the tube permitted.
“That’s connected to her spine, Isaac,” Stiles added, warning him of what might happen. “If you remove it you might do some serious damage here.”
His attention turned back to you when he heard you whimper his name.
You were testing to see if Isaac was really there with you or if you were merely hallucinating again, not sure anymore of what was real after everything that happened to you for the past few years.
“Isaac?”
“Hi,” he smiled down when he pulled away from you a little, his voice shaking as he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m here.”
Your eyes focused on his face, blinking a few times before-
“No.”
That, he did not expect.
“No, no, no.” You mumbled repeatedly making Isaac more confused- were you not happy or relieved to see him with you?
“You shouldn’t be here.” As you came to your senses, you moved out of his grasp and pushed him away at the same time with the little strength you have left.
“Y/N, we came here for you. What are you talking about?” Isaac was hurt, you can see it in his face the way his brows furrowed and eyes already releasing a few tears down his cheeks.
Before you could answer back, the same ringing sounded again.
“Isaac, you have to go, please.” You cried, your own tears flowing down your cheek as you tried to pry his hands that held on to your wrists away, wanting to get out of his hold on you all the while fighting the heavy ache in your body to turn against your own will.
“Isaac, you have to get out of there!” You can hear Stiles over the phone, can hear Scott and the others running to where your werewolf was located.
“I’m not leaving her,” Isaac growled at them but his eyes stayed on you.
“You have to, plea-”
“Y/N!”
A blood-curdling scream left your lips as your body started to tremble on the floor, your bones were visibly breaking and morphing under your skin against your will yet again. The jagged edges of the broken bones breaking through skin and the movement causing purple and blue patches to decorate your flesh, all the while the liquid inside the tube that was still attached to you bubbled angrily.
“Isaac!”
Turning to the person who called his name, he suddenly felt himself being tugged down to the floor as the sound of electricity zipping past them blasted onto the steel bars of a small window on the wall overcame your pained screams.
“Y/N Y/L/N,” the static voice called.
“It’s the Dread Doctors.” Stiles’ voice over the phone can be heard, more papers can be heard being flipped and thrown somewhere. “They’re the ones doing this to Y/N.”
“I need to get it off of her!” Isaac spoke to the phone as he watched Thor lunge at one of the doctors in front of them, his clawed hand not holding back any hits he let out. Scott was next when another appeared much closer to where you and Isaac were.
Once your cries quieted down and your body settled down to small shakes - appeased from the onslaught of transforming against your will, Isaac’s hands hovered over the tube.
“You have to go before they hurt you.” It was barely a whisper when the words came out of your mouth, your body was getting too tired to fight it anymore.
“No, I’m not leaving without you, you know that.” Isaac spoke it with a voice that left no room for arguments as he held the tube in his hand and attempted to pull.
Isaac held back a sob as the screams you let out shattered through the noise of the grunts and punches being thrown. But before he could successfully pull it out, a force had hit him and sent him across the room hitting a wall with a loud thud.
“Near-perfect.” Another doctor, the same one who threw Isaac off of you, had appeared next to you with a device in his hand that, from the looks of it, controlled the tube that was pumping the liquid into you.
“Stop, please!” Your hands flew to the contraption attached to you just as Isaac charged at the doctor, sending them both to the ground.
Blinking away the heaviness of your eyelids, you tried to move from your position on the floor only to fall back down flat on your stomach. The wolf in you whined in panic, barking almost as she nudged you with her head to stand up - that you still had strength in you and she was there to anchor you herself.
“Give her back to me,” You can hear Isaac from across the room, the sight of him swiftly landing blow after blow at the doctor caught you off guard. The blood that ran down his temple to his eyes only added a level of intensity to his yellow glowing gaze as he gave a growl that had an unnerving timbre to it. “Now.”
On the other end of the room, you watch Scott claw at the doctor he was against before the mask fell off and revealed a face that was mottled, wrinkled, and scarred. If the true alpha was disgusted, he did not show it as he put his arms up to block the hit the doctor threw his way.
At the sound of a device dropping to the cemented floor, you felt the vibration of the tube behind you stop - the bubbles silencing as it halted its actions. This immediately cleared your head and relieved you of the pain, the fuzzy veil finally lifting as you took another deep breath and attempted to sit upright again.
Successfully sitting up with a few labored breaths accompanied by a wince, you lifted your aching arms and took hold of the tube attached behind you - the stinging feel of the needle made itself known as the small movement you made just from holding it jostled a little.
Taking a couple of ragged breaths again, trying to gather the courage and strength to pull the thing behind you when the air was suddenly knocked out of your lungs. The sensation of a sharp jab radiated from your side, the groan you let out echoed to the other end of the room making your eyes dart to where Isaac was.
“No,” you let out a gasp at the sight of your mate wide-eyed as he stared up at the doctor in front of him - the pain you felt on your side mirroring where the Surgeon’s swordcane embedded on Isaac’s side and giving it a twist for good measure. “Isaac!”
Your wolf’s painful yips turned to a low dangerous growl.
Feeling the familiar throb in your gums as your canines grew longer, you heard a banshee’s piercing scream all the way from the other wing of the Eichen house while a true alpha’s growl filled the place you were in.
“No more,” You say through clenched teeth, Thor’s knees buckling at the command in his alpha’s voice, Scott and the doctors they were up against stood in awe at the willpower you displayed.
“Perfect,” one of them said under their breath, the final push for perfection.
Finally standing tall, the tube attached to your neck earlier now clutched in your hand, you did not waste time as you took down each person who did you wrong.
Going for the closest antagonist in your life, Thor immediately scrambled out of your way as your claws wrapped around the Geneticists neck. You let your body move past her without letting go of your grip on her before using the momentum to lift the doctor up, the weight and force effectively disconnecting her head from the rest of her body before hurdling her to the Pathologist who was clambering away from Scott and the fight.
Everything was a blur to the other occupants of the room as you zipped past them and took down each one before you finally lunged at the Surgeon who finally released his grip on both his cane and on Isaac.
“My child-” he managed to say as your grip on his neck tightened, his feet barely touching the ground - your eyes glowing a dangerous color as you stared up at him.
You can finally see through the mask, raw pink flesh with stitches decorating it was what the steel mask protected. His mouth opened to say something but only a gurgled gasp came out as your other hand embedded itself in his chest and pierced through skin and muscle. You felt your wolf puffing up with pride and anger - you were their greatest creation and downfall.
Silence enveloped the room as the lead doctor took his last breath before you haphazardly threw him to the ground.
With his nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed, Isaac pulled the swordcane out of him. His jaw clenching before he let out a pained groan at the feel of the weapon sliding out before leaning heavily against the brick wall while clutching his side.
Your attention was immediately drawn to your other half, managing to wipe off some of the blood on your hand before tending to him.
“Hey,” Isaac greeted as he tried to not lean all his weight to you as you wrapped your arms around his waist, careful not to touch the stab wound on his side. You felt tears playing at the edge of your lashes as you buried your face against his chest, the scent signifying home.
“Can’t really ask you if you’re okay,” You managed to say once you pulled away and looked up at him.
“You’re one to talk,” Isaac replied with a chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.
You smiled, wiping the stray tear that ran down your cheek with the back of your hand as Isaac’s lips returned to your forehead for another kiss.
“Y/N, look-”
“No!”
A loud bang and the pain that came with it suddenly broke the bubble of peace you were in.
Clutching you to his chest, you saw the same confused expression that reflected on Isaac’s eyes before they darted from you to where the smell of gunpowder was coming from.
The Pathologist’s hand shook as he held the gun up, a crazed look in his eyes as he attempted to stand up from being buried under his colleague's lifeless body. He muttered incoherent words as he aimed the gun at you again.
But before he can pull the trigger, another loud thud took you all by surprise as you witnessed the man fall down flat on his face.
“Damn.” Lydia was behind him with a bloodied metal bat clutched in her hands - Stiles’ hands were up in the air, his eyes were wide as if he couldn’t believe his girl just did that.
“Well mark me down as scared and horny,” Stiles muttered under his breath, his brain replaying the moment Lydia all but took off with his metal bat and ran down the hall as fast as her heels allowed her to where they were now.
~
“Thank you, Thor.” You hugged the larger-built werewolf, his arms wrapping around you tightly but still being mindful of your current state. “But I don’t think I’m fit to be your alpha - to be the pack’s alpha anymore.”
“I will never understand how you and the others accepted me after what had happened.” Your feet dangled as you sat on a bricked fence outside of the Eichen house, the jacket from Isaac wrapped around you securely to act as a buffer against the coolness of the night.
You can hear Thor’s wolf whine at your words, his face already reflecting the sadness you both felt at what you were doing as he leaned against the fence you were sitting on.
“Alpha, please don’t discredit yourself.”
You looked up at him, not really believing his words with how much damage you’ve done to the pack - to your family.
“You are more than worthy - especially at your age.” He added, pointing out that most of the alphas out there were a hundred years older than you. “You are strong.”
“Thank you, again - for everything,” your lips quivered as you gave your best smile before glancing up to try and prevent the tears from spilling down your cheeks. The thought of leaving your pack broke your heart, they were family. But you needed to have someone better to lead and handle pack-related things -- you needed to recover.
A comfortable silence settled around the two of you before you heard Stiles and Isaac walking towards you.
“Jeep’s good to go, big guy.” Stiles said - more to Thor than you - with a tilt of his head to gesture to where they were parked as Isaac helped you to your feet and walked you towards Lydia’s car.
“You okay?” Isaac asked softly as you both settled in the back seat.
His eyes double-checked the graze on your shoulder from the bullet that hit you, his arms never leaving your side as he let you lean on him - exhaustion already catching up to you with the way your body sagged against his.
No, not really. You wanted to say as he only tugged you closer to him, the drive to Deaton being quieter save for the soft tunes the radio played.
“I will be.”
~~~
Isaac didn’t know what exactly woke him up.
Staring back at the ceiling, his ears strained to hear bed sheets rustling beside him. With the little light that passed through the curtains of the room you shared, he ran his hands down his face before turning to his bedside.
His eyes squinted when his phone awoke and flashed the time, 3:01AM it read - the phone’s screen showed a picture of the two of you together during a weekend picnic Lydia had arranged a few weeks ago. You had your eyes closed and lips smiling - a genuine smile after so long - against his neck as he had his arms wrapped around you tightly while he made a face to the camera.
Isaac stared at his phone’s lock screen a few moments longer before movement on his side and the feel of cold skin touching his leg took him out of his reverie.
Putting his phone back on the nightstand, he curled back down the covers and turned to face you. For someone who’s a warm-blooded supernatural creature themself, you sure have cold feet.
Isaac cupped your face before tucking a stray hair behind your ear, you were lying on your stomach facing him with your hands tucked just a little under your pillow. You were still in deep sleep but it did not look as peaceful as he remembered - your brows were furrowed, your lips moved as if mumbling something and an occasional hand twitch was what he observed.
“Y/N?” Isaac asked, his voice croaked from the lack of use as he leaned on his elbow and tried to coax you awake.
It didn’t take too long before Isaac finally understood what you were saying.
Please, no more...p-please.
Leaning over your side of the bed, Isaac flicked the switch to your bedside lamp open and tried to call for you again. He could now see the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, the sheets bunching up in your grasp as your knuckles turned a lighter shade from how tight your grip was.
I can’t t-take it anymore...
“Hey, baby,” Isaac gently ran his hand down your back a few times, trying not to ‘jolt’ you awake. He knew what methods to use in waking you up when things like these happen, though it took multiple trials and errors with a few bumps - more or less scratches - in the way. But god, he’d take you screaming and lashing out at him any day than this.
I’m sorry, I won’t do it again...
“Y/N, please wake up for me.”
It broke his heart more at the thought that while you were already together, even if in that span of time you were simply friends at first, they’ve already done a multitude of things to you.
“Y/N, I’m here - you’re safe.” He tried again, the soft kiss to your temple lingering a little longer in hopes that it might help - let you sense that he was present and you were not in danger anymore.
“Y/N, no one’s gonna hurt you,” He spoke softly.
Covering your clenched hand with his, it was all it took before your eyes flew open with a sharp gasp of air. It took some strength and swiftness from Isaac to hold your wrists when you sat up so fast - almost bumping his chin in the process - that you almost fell out of the shared bed.
“Hey, hey,” He called for you, your eyes were dilated, blown wide and looking around frantically as if you were searching for the threat that plagued your life a year ago and giving you these night terrors that prevented you from having a good night’s sleep.
“I’m here, you’re safe.” He repeated, waiting for you and not letting go.
“Isaac,” He waited a little more before you finally settled down and realized where you were, your voice shook a little as you spoke his name; eyes glassy as you looked at the familiar blue eyes that called for you.
“I’m here.” Isaac gave a small smile as his hold on your wrist loosened before sliding his hands in yours and holding onto them on your lap - the soft yellow light from your bedside lamp gave his face a soft glow; his eyes looking more kinder that it already was.
Not again. Your lips trembled as you held back a sob, you shook your head as you stared down at your joined hands.
You felt trapped.
That was the only thing you felt and you wanted out, you wanted this to stop; you want an end to this thing happening to you - you don’t deserve the man in front of you.
Having known you for so long, Isaac can already see it on your face, he already anticipated it.
“I love you,” He spoke.
Absolutely no room for arguments, “I won’t leave you.”
You felt Isaac’s hands rest on your hips as you withdrew yours from his hold and tried to stop and wipe as many tears as you could with the heel of your hands. He let you lean your head on his shoulder, the feel of his lips placing a comforting kiss to your ear should’ve given your heart a little leap but it didn’t.
“How much longer will you tell me that before you finally get tired?” You did not mean to say it out loud, you hiccupped once your tears finally settled down with your head and heart.
“Never,” Isaac said as he pushed you away a little to look at you, cupping your face in his warm hands to make you look up at him, a glint of playfulness present. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
You could only sigh and give a soft smile.
“You’re too good for me, Isaac.”
Bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles, he let them go before cupping your face again and leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your nose and lastly a chaste kiss on your lips.
“You deserve good things, Y/N.”
You deserve them after everything you went through. Isaac gave that smile he reserved only for you when he pulled away.
Lying back down, Isaac pulled you closer to him before pulling the covers up just below your chin.
“We’ll be okay, remember?” Isaac reminded you of the words you said to him when he asked you a year ago.
You did not miss the way he said ‘we.’ You did remember what he told you, that you were in this together - you’re it for me.
“I remember,” you answered, curling as close as you can to his side. The tip of your nose resting against the warm skin of his neck as he rest his chin on top of your head, arms tightening around you before they relaxed.
~
Feedbacks are always appreciated! Especially since I miss writing. But again, I won't be doing much writing anymore since I've somewhat lost touch with both my imagines blogs. I might just rewrite/refurbish some of my old imagines/drabbles.
Again, thank you so much for those who stuck by this imagines blog (and for Brett as well). You don't know how much I appreciate it, again, I'm sorry for not being active (read more here)
#isaac lahey#isaac lahey imagines#isaac lahey x reader#isaac lahey x you#isaac lahey x y/n#isaac lahey imagine#teen wolf#teen wolf imagines#teen wolf imagine
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A Soldier’s Daughter - Chapter V
Summary: Skye goes after Geralt, while the Witcher makes a series of choices, that leads to a cataclysm of repercussions, for multiple people involved.
Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/OFC
Word Count: 10,877
Previous Chapters: I II III IV
Rating: PG-13 - Witcher!AU, Slow Burn, Language, Angst, Mention of Violence, Minor Character deaths, Fluff
Inspiration: The Witcher on Netflix, with instances of the Games and Books.
Author’s Note: Tell me what you think! Thank you to the marvelous @wondersofdreaming for the encouragement and beta!
Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @bellastellaluna, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernatural, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy, @the-soot-sprite, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996, @dont8mind8me8eue, @peaky-marvel, @desperate-and-broken21, @monstersnmoney, @dancingwendigo, @redhot-mystacism, @thereisa8ella, @black-ninja-blade, @oddduckthatgirl, @rosewinx, @henrythickcavill, @tinabean37, @hnryycvll, @msblkfire84, @romangenesius, @emelinelovesjc, @strangerliaa, @lovieebby, @pinksdaydream, @fanfictionaddiction99, @seb-owns-these-tatas, @oh-for-fic-sake, @sauvage-et-libre, @mis-lil-red, @angreav, @crazyandanonymous4u, @the-mighty-jellybean @henrycavell, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, @iam-laiya, @worshipping-skarsgard, @thetruthandotherstories, @ruthoakenshield, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @theonetheycallhannah, @nina-skyee, @thatgirly81, @inanna999, @suueeeeeee, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @beckster07890, @daddys-littlewhitegirl, @magic-and-the-macabre, @stxphmxlls, @radaofrivia, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @starstruckkittyangel, @heartfelt-pen, @stuckupstucky, @dummiesshort, @la-cey, @singeramg, @queenoftheworldisdead, @brooklymw
Geralt groaned as he sat down on the bench at the far corner of a pub in Upper Posada, a mug of mostly untouched ale on the table in front of him.
The sparse patrons dotting various tables, lost in their own conversation and drinks, when the sound of a lute strung up above the murmur of voices, some of the voices dying out as the Bard in the corner diagonal of Geralt started warming up his vocal cords and dove into his first song.
“You think you’re safe,
Without a care!
But here in Posada,
You’d be wise to beware..”
He strummed his lute and slowly moved about the pub, catching a few of the pub goer's eyes.
“The pike with the spike,
That lurks in your drawers
Or the flying drake,
That will fill you with horror!”
People started shifting and giving the Bard dark looks as his song progressed, shaking their heads at him and even a few plugging their ears with their fingers. The Bard stopped by a post, resting his shoulder against it and planting his foot on top of a nearby chair, his eyes focused on Geralt, who continued to ignore him.
“Need Old Nan the Hag,
To stir up a potion!
So that your lady,
Might get an abort--”
The pub patrons turned on him instantly, tossing everything they could at him, bread, mugs and anything else they could get their hands on.
“Abort yourself!” One of the patrons roared, throwing a handful of something at the Bard.
“Hey, hey!” the Bard whined, holding his lute up to protect his young and handsome face from the onslaught. “I'm just so glad I could bring you all together like this.” He huffed, battered back to the corner he started in by the projectiles. “Unbelievable.” He sighed, putting his lute down and stooping to stuff a couple of the bread rolls into his pockets for later.
Straightening back up, Geralt, still staring down at his untouched ale, caught the Bard's attention again. Biting his lip and taking a mug off a tray of a passing barmaid, he dared to get closer to Geralt, oblivious of the vibe coming off the Witcher. “I love the way you just...sit there in the corner and brood.”
Geralt growled and looked away from him. “I'm here to drink alone.” He rasped, his mood had been sour ever since he decided to leave Skye behind at her parents' farm in Temeria, two weeks prior.
“Yeah, okay. Good.” the Bard nodded, not getting the glaring hint to piss off. “No one else hesitated to give me their opinion on my performance, other than...” He pushed off the post he was leaning on beside Geralt's table and helped himself to the seat across from the sullen Witcher. “You.” He finished, rapping his knuckles on the wooden table.
“Come on, you must have some review for me.” He pressed Geralt. “You don't want to keep a man with—bread—in his pants waiting. Three words or less.”
“They don't exist.” Geralt replied, gruffly.
The Bard blinked at him, confused. “What doesn't exist?” He frowned, shaking his head.
Geralt simply blinked at the younger male. “The creatures in your song.” He answered, after an awkward pause and realizing the Bard wasn't going to leave until he answered him.
“Oh, fun!” The Bard grinned, finding it was a game and lighting drummed his hands on the table. “White hair, big old loner, two very scary swords--”
Grunting, Geralt looked at his coin bag as the Bard rattled off descriptives about him, noting the single coin he had left from the job he did in Lyria for killing a Bruxa a few days before. Pressing his lips together, he grabbed the strings of his coin bag, letting the coin drop, quietly leaving it for the Bard and hoping he would get the point to leave him alone, as he grabbed his swords leaning against the wall behind him, stepped around the table and headed for the door.
Smirking, the Bard picked up the coin and quickly stood up. “You're Geralt of Rivia, the Witcher.” He called after Geralt, who only hesitated for a split moment, but it was enough. “Called it!” He yelled at him, grinning, and proud of himself.
The pub patrons twisted in their seats and stared after Geralt, one of them shooting up out of his seat and going after Geralt. “Wait!” He called, picking up his step before Geralt could get out the door. “I have a monster for ye, Witcher!” He said, relieved when Geralt stopped, but didn't turn back to him. “A Devil, it's stealing all of our grain.” He explained, heart pounding as he stood before the Witcher.
“I'll pay you, a hundred gold.”
Geralt turned towards the window that was by the door, weighing his interest, then frowned at the kid. “One-fifty.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.
“You leave no prisoners, so I've been told.” The kid said, holding out the stuffed coin bag to Geralt.
Taking the bag of coin, Geralt turned back to the door and strode out, crossing the swaying bridge that linked Posada to the rest of the Continent and where he had left Roach to graze on the tall grass. “Come on, Roach.” He bid the mare, untying her from the hitching post and led her up the path toward where he was told the supposed Devil resided in the hills.
“Need a hand!” A voice called behind Geralt as he ascended the upward climbing dirt road. “I've got two.” The Bard said, catching up alongside him. “One for each of the Devil's horns.”
“Go away.” Geralt barked at him.
“Yeah, I'll only be silent back up.” He said, not giving in. “I got what you were saying back in Posada. Maybe real adventures and monsters would make for better stories and songs, and you, sir, smell chock-full of them.” He rambled on. “Amongst other things, is that onions? You smell like death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak.”
Geralt paused at his use of the word, heartbreak, which poured salt into the broken pieces of Geralt's heart, adding to his pain and fueling his anger. He looked at Roach, as if to ask, 'should I kill the Bard?' Then, turned to face him.
“Come here.”
“Yeah?” The Bard grinned, naively stepping closer to Geralt, only to be given a stiff punch to the stomach, knocking all the air out of his lithe body and stumble to the ground, onto his hands and knees.
“Come on, Roach.” Geralt said, turning back up the road and continued on, sure that the annoying Bard would get the point to get lost and leave him be, before he did something worse.
But, aggravatingly enough, the Bard didn't get the hint. After a few minutes to recover his breath and get back onto his feet, the Bard was running up beside him again. Geralt twisted Roach's reins around his gloved fist, trying to hold himself back from tossing the Bard over the side of the road that let out into a steep cliff and the valley of Posada below. The Bard babbled the whole way up the mountain towards the supposed location to the 'Devil of Posada', as the Bard was calling it.
“Were I to join you on this feat, to kill the Devil of Posada. I could relieve you of the title of Butcher of Blaviken. I could be your barker, telling the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf.”
“Butcher is right.” Geralt huffed, rolling his eyes.
“You mind, if I hop up there with you?” the Bard asked, his feet killing him from walking so far. “I'm not wearing the right shoes for all of this.”
“Don't touch Roach!” Geralt barked at him, sharply, but pulling Roach to a stop.
“No, right. Fine.” the Bard sighed, frowning.
Geralt got down off Roach, noticing the Bard flinch as he did, fearing that Geralt was going to hit him again, which did nothing, but inwardly made the Witcher feel even worse. Skye would have told him off, for being so mean and hitting the Bard for no reason other than being annoyed by him for not getting the hint and buggering off. Sighing, Geralt led Roach the rest of the way up the path and found a sturdy tree to tie Roach's reins to it.
“You know, the Elves used to all this place Dol Blathanna, before bestowing it to the Humans.” the Bard said, gazing around the mountain side. “Then, vanished into their Golden Palaces, in the mountains.”
Shaking his head, Geralt disappeared through the tall grass and brush, leaving the Bard to continue on with his ramble.
“There I go again, just delivering expositions.” Then, noticed Geralt walking off. “Geralt. Geralt! Where are you going?” He called after him, jogging to keep up. “What are we looking for again?”
“Blessed silence.” He rasped, moving between two rock formations and missing the comfortable silence that would fall between him and Skye.
“Yeah, I don't really go in for that.” the Bard shook his head. “Have you ever hunted a Devil before, Geralt?” He asked, wanting to get as much information out of the Witcher as he could, for future songs and poems.
“Devils aren't real.” Geralt huffed, like it should be obvious. “Sometimes there's monsters and sometimes there's money. Rarely both.” He explained, moving slowly as he scanned the area. “That's the life.”
“Then, what are we hun--”
“Shit!” Geralt barked, something wheezed through the air and struck him on the forehead, leaving a deep gash behind, as he retreated backward to the cover of one of the rock formations.
“Act Two begins!” The Bard announced happily, throwing out his arms and stepping forward.
“What was that that hit you? It was like a teeny cannonball from a—oh my gosh” He paused, catching sight of a pair of horns in the tall grass in front of him. “Geralt, it is a devil. I have to see this amazing, this marv--” Another projectile flew through the air and struck the Bard in almost the exact same spot on the forehead Geralt had been, then dropped, like a lead weight, sending up a plume of dust as he hit the ground.
Geralt lifted a brow at the downed Bard, half thinking how nice it was he had shut up, before pulling aside some of the tall grass beside him, and started slowly stalking forward. The bleat of a Goat broke the humid air and Geralt was rammed in the gut, sending him flying backwards to the ground beside the Bard.
“Leave me be!” the Goat-like creature screamed.
“You talk!” Geralt barked, jumping back up onto his feet, stopping the creature from ramming him again, and tossed it to the ground.
“Of course I talk.”
“What happened to you?” Geralt asked, holding the creature down with a forearm to its chest. “Your mother fuck a goat.”
“I'm Torque, a Sylvan.” The Creature barked, struggling. “A rare and intelligent creature.”
“You're a dick.” Geralt laughed, amused by the situation. “With balls.” He added, laughing at him.
“Balls I got from humans, who left them out to poison me.” the Sylvan growled, yanking out a handful of Geralt's hair. “Did your mother fuck a snowman?” He asked, turning Geralt's joke around on him.
Amusement lost, Geralt punched the Sylvan square in the face, bloodying its nose. “You are intelligent, I'll give you that. So, I won't kill you.” He told him, sympathetically. “But, you can't stay here.”
“Neither can you.” Torque replied, and a moment later, everything went black for Geralt.
Skye had zero luck catching up with Geralt, but hadn't let that stop her, she knew she'd cross paths with the Witcher again, it was just a matter of time, patience and listening for the right tales about him. She had heard from a farmer outside of Hagge, who had seen Geralt passing through, on the road towards Lyria. So, she turned herself and Arthas that direction, arriving four days later and stayed for almost two days, asking anyone and everyone, if they had seen the Witcher and found someone, finally, that said they had, that the Alderman had employed the Witcher's help killing a Bruxa nearly two weeks before, but they didn't see what direction he had left in.
She had started to worry, though. Her gold was dwindling, as hard as she was trying to spare as little of it as possible, as was her food source. She had come across a farm just outside of Lyria, a crop of corn growing high in the field, and waited until nightfall to secret herself into the field and picked several ears of it. Skye had also bought a small role of fishing line and a hook, teaching herself how to patiently fish in the streams she came across. Other than that, she'd go a day or so without eating, trying to keep her supply going a little while longer.
Picking a new direction, Skye rode from Lyria to Vergen, opening to get lucky there.
“Have you seen the white-haired Witcher, Geralt of Rivia?” She asked the first person she saw coming into the city, but they just shook their head and went on their way.
Sighing, Skye led Arthas through the city, stopping every so often to ask someone if they had seen Geralt, but none of them had. Discouraged, Skye found a shady spot to rest, the hot day wearing her down. Removing her water skin from Arthas's bag, she took it to the small fountain in a square in the middle of the town, refilling it, then cupping her hands and taking deep mouthfuls of the cold mountain water, sighing as it refreshed her dry mouth, even splashing some in her hot and dirty face, and the back of her neck. Going back to Arthas, Skye removed her coin pouch from one of his saddlebags, pouring the pitiful amount of coins out into her hand and counting them.
“Thirty.” She sighed, a deep anxiety settling into her tired bones. “We have thirty gold left, Arthas. We should have just turned back and gone home. But, that won't help us find Geralt, the pig-headed lout.” She grumbled, putting the coins back in their bag. “A month and a half of trailing him and nothing, but week old accounts.”
“When I do find that dumb Witcher, I'm shoving my boot down his throat.”
She had said all these threats to Arthas before, usually after scouring the last known place Geralt was seen at or rumored to be, tired and tossing on her bedroll as she camped at the edge of town or between cities. But, deep down, she didn't mean any of it, she missed him, her heart only aching more and more, the longer they were apart. It was later that night, while she was sitting in a tavern, slowly nursing an ale and sheltering herself from the Spring rain that had started falling just after noon, when a few drunks started piping up with a song that had Skye's blood freezing in her veins.
“When the White Wolf fought
A silver-tongued devil
His army of elves
At his hooves did they revel..”
Her head jerked towards them as they continued to sing and even got a few of the other patrons to chime in with them.
“Toss a coin to your Witcher
O Valley of Plenty!
O Valley of Plenty!
Toss a coin to your Witcher
O Valley of Plenty!”
“Hey.” She barked at one of the revelers at the table beside hers. “Where did you hear that song?” She asked, her hands shaking as she grasped her mug.
“It's being sung in damn near every tavern across the Continent.” the man at the table laughed, and chugged down the rest of his ale.
“Who's song is it?” Skye demanded, pulling out a gold coin and waving it in his face, knowing it would give the drunk incentive to answer her properly, if it meant his next drink was on her.
“A Bard, Jack or something.” He said, bloodshot eyes following the sparkling coin.
“Jaskier, you idiot.” A female sitting beside him snapped, shaking her head. “By far a better lay than you ever have been.” She added with a huff.
“I'll give you another one, if you can tell me where to find him.” Skye said, after dropping the first coin into the man's beefy palm.
“Somewhere near Rinde.” The woman said, arm shooting across the man and snatching the coin from Skye before the man could.
Downing the rest of her own drink and rushing out of the tavern, Skye found where she left Arthas and tore through Vergen and out the gate, riding in the direction of Rinde, like the hounds of hell were after her.
“Ah, Geralt! I heard you were here, are you following me, you scamp?” The Bard asked, finding Geralt standing beside the lake in his hometown of Rinde.
“No.” Geralt rasped, fussing over a fishing net for a few minutes, before tossing into the lake, for the hundredth time that morning.
“Well, I am starving, fancy sharing some of your catch with me for breakfast?” He asked, tilting his head at the Witcher.
“I'm not fishing, Jaskier.” He sighed, pulling the net back in and found it empty.
“Then, what are you looking for?” the Bard frowned, growing concerned by the exhausted look and dark circles on Geralt's face.
Taking up the net, Geralt moved farther down the shore of the lake, looking for a fresh spot. The Bard followed after him, watching him for several moments as he repeatedly tossed and pulled the net in and out of the water, each time coming up empty.
“Talk to me, Geralt, what's the matter?”
Geralt opened his mouth, brain working to form the words that would explain his thinking, on how he was feeling; but failed and said the first thing that came to his mind. “A djinn.” He uttered, laying the net out on the bank and untangling it again.
“A djinn, like a genie?” Jaskier frowned at him, blinking at his friend. “The float-y fellows with the banned magics and wishes, that djinn?”
“Yes.” Geralt replied, standing up and swinging the net back into the dark waters.
“Geralt.” He laughed, amused, and shook his head at the Witcher. “Why would you--”
“It'll give me wishes!” Geralt hissed, startling the Bard. “It's in this lake somewhere-” He swept his arm out over the water. “And I can't fucking sleep!” He yelled, eyes glowing with his anger.
Jaskier gulped at Geralt, eyes wide with surprise at his friend's agitation. “Is this a problem, where you're trying to rub salve on a tumor?” He asked, even more concerned for the White Wolf.
“No.” Geralt barked, but faltered as he started to throw the net back in again. “That's not it.” He added, softly.
But, that was exactly what he was doing.
He had heard about a Wizard trapping a djinn in a bottle several years back and thought nothing of it, sure it was stuff and nonsense. But, since Skye, since leaving Skye, Geralt had thought about the djinn more and more, slowly convincing himself that finding the djinn would be the best solution to the growing hurt he had inside of himself, that was keeping him wide awake at night, or any other time he tried to find sleep and peace. He had convinced himself that wishing he and Skye had never heard of each other before, would be the best for both of them. He could go back to being an emotionless and unbothered Witcher and Skye could find someone worthy of her love and devotion. But, even then, Geralt knew it was nothing but smoke, that even if he could find the fabled djinn in the Rinde lake, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to wish her away from his mind.
Let alone his heart and soul.
“Why do you want this djinn, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, sitting down on a fallen log beside him on the lakeshore.
“Because.” Geralt huffed, he really didn't want to tell the Bard, knowing Jaskier would poke massive holes into his reasoning, without even trying or meaning too.
“You know, my muse and reason for living in this world, the Countess de Stael, once told me, 'that Destiny is just the embodiment of the Soul's desire to grow.' Though, that was before she left me, rather coldly, I might add.”
“Did you sing to her before she left?” Geralt asked, squatting by the lake's edge.
“I di—what's that supposed to mean?” Jaskier frowned, catching Geralt's dry insult.
Geralt paused what he was doing and looked over at Jaskier with a look that said it plainly.
“Oh, we are having this conversation!” He hissed, narrowing his eyes at the Witcher. “Go ahead, Geralt. Tell me what you think of my singing.”
Standing up and casting the net into the lake, Geralt frowned. “It's like ordering a pie, and finding it has no filling.” He told him, bluntly.
“You, sir!” Jaskier barked, wounded. “Need a nap! Are you trying to hurt my feelings, Geralt!”
Geralt reeled the net back towards the shore and perked up, feeling a weight to it, and pulled it in faster, finding something caught up in the net that wasn't a fish. Squatting down, he quickly untangled the net from around the object and felt a bittersweet elation, seeing the clay amphora with a wizard's seal on the cork.
“It's down—downright uncouth of you, if I'm--”
Jaskier paused in his tirade seeing Geralt standing up with the amphora in his hand, wiping the dulse and grime off of it.
“Wha-wha-what is that?” He stammered, moving closer to Geralt for a better look at it.
“It's a Wizard's seal.” Geralt answered, gripping the seal. “The djinn!”
“Do you mind--” Jaskier asked, grabbing the handle of the amphora and tried yanking it out of Geralt's hand, which was futile.
“Jaskier.” Geralt hissed, tugging back on the vessel. “Give it back.”
“Not until you apologize for that bit about my fillingless pie.” the Bard replied, grabbing the amphora by both handles and struggling with Geralt, who held onto the seal with a single hand. “Take it back, then you can have your djinny-djinn-djinn.”
“Let go.” Geralt ordered him, gruffly, jaw tight, and barely using his strength to hold onto the bottle with one hand.
“No! No, you let go, you horse's arse!” He barked back, giving the amphora one good jerk with his body.
The seal on the amphora came free with a wet pop, leaving Jaskier holding the bottle and Geralt, the seal. Both of them looked between the two objects, waiting for the djinn, or anything, to happen now that the seal had been broken and the urn was open.
But, there was nothing.
“Hm.” Geralt grunted, disappointed.
“Well, that was a bit anticlimactic.” Jaskier sighed, tipping the vase upside down to see if anything fell out. “Or was it?” He asked, perking up, as a stiff breeze rustled through the fallen leaves and trees by the lakeside, stirring through Geralt and Jaskier's clothing and hair.
Excited at the prospect of having a djinn at his disposal, Jaskier rushed to the edge of the water and started barking out orders at the invisible entity. “Djinn! I have freed thee and from this day forth, I am thy lord and master!” He howled above the still stirring winds.
Geralt stood in place, glancing around as a cold chill raced down his spine, his gut telling him something very malevolent was surrounding them, no doubt the djinn, for being locked away for countless years and Jaskier starting to bark out his first wish.
“Firstly, may my rival, Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck with apoplexy and die.” He said, with surprising coldness. “Secondly, the Countess de Stael must welcome me back with happiness, open arms, and very little clothing.”
“Thirdly--”
“Jaskier!” Geralt barked, grabbing the back of the Bard's expensive and flamboyant shirt, and yanked him backwards, halting him from making his third wish. “There's only three wishes.”
“Oh, come on, Geralt! You've always said you wanted nothing from life.” Jaskier argued, angry. “How was I supposed to know you wanted three wishes, all to yourself!”
“All I want is some damn peace!” Geralt roared back at him, teeth bared.
“Well, here's your damn peace!” He hissed back, smashing the amphora on the ground.
Geralt growled at the Bard and bent down to start picking up the pieces of the vessel, accidentally cutting himself in the process. The wind around them kicked up and a sharp pain seared through Jaskier's throat, leaving him wheezing and struggling to breath.
“Ger-Geralt.” He rasped, tearing at the collar of his shirt. “Geralt, the djinn.”
Shooting back to his feet, Geralt turned towards the lake and thrust out his arm for his Aard, striking the djinn and sending it screeching away. Glancing down at the deep cut on his forearm, Geralt turned towards Jaskier and frowned, seeing his neck swelling, and grew instantly concerned for his friend.
“Jaskier?” He whispered, as Jaskier reached out for him, rested his hand on his back and took his arm, steadying him. “Fuck.” He snapped, watching Jaskier cough up a mouthful of blood.
Not wasting a moment, Geralt supported Jaskier to Roach, got into her saddle and pulled Jaskier up behind him. Making sure the Bard was holding on tightly, Geralt spurred Roach hard in the sides and set out for Rinde at a steady gallop, the sound of Jaskier's struggled and painful wheezes in his ear as they rode.
“Is there a doctor here!” He called out seeing an Elven guard standing watch by the road.
“Yes, yes!” The Elf nodded, taking a puff off of his pipe and pointed to a white tent just behind him with the stem. “Chireadan, the Elf healer.”
Pulling Roach to a stop and swinging his leg over the saddle, Geralt slid to the ground, grabbed Jaskier and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, half supporting and half dragging the Bard into the tent. The Elven healer, Chireadan, was bent over another patient that was laying in one of the four beds in the modestly sized tent, as they burst in. Hearing Jaskier's throaty wheezing and seeing the blood dripping from his pale lips, the Elf politely abandoned the patient he was tending to and motioned Geralt to a bed he could sit Jaskier on.
“What's happened here?” He asked, pushing away the open collar of Jaskier's shirt, eyes wide at the fat swelling of his throat, that looked like the vocal sac of a frog, it was so large and inflamed.
“A djinn.” Geralt replied, looming over the Elf and Jaskier, protectively.
“Like, a djinn in a bottle?” Chireadan frowned, shocked. “It's like a fairy tale.”
“Minus the happy ending.” Geralt retorted, pressing his lips together. “Can you cure him?”
“Oh dear.” the Healer gasped, Jaskier pitifully grasping and pawing at him as he continued to examine his throat.
“What?” Geralt hissed, not liking the Elf's tone or facial expression.
“I promise you, that I have the best medical education and training here in Rinde. But,...” The Elf started to explain to them both, deeply concerned. “these are magical injuries. I can help the pain.”
Jaskier nodded his head at that idea.
“But it's like..”
“Putting salve on a tumor?” Geralt asked, lifting brow at Jaskier.
“No.” Jaskier rasped and wheezed, shaking his head at the Witcher.
“His throat has been attacked by the djinn.” Chireadan elaborated to Geralt. “If the magic isn't halted, soon enough, it will spread.” He picked through various bottles of dried herbs and liquids, pouring a few into a small glass cup. “He can die.” He said bluntly, not wishing to sugar coat it.
“Fuck, Geralt!” Jaskier whined, frightened.
Geralt grabbed Jaskier's arm and laid his hand on his back, trying to comfort him the best way he could. “We won't let that happen.” He said with an awkward assurity.
“Here, drink this.” Chireadan held the elixir to Jaskier's lips, helping him carefully swallow it down.
Jaskier groaned and whimpered as he sipped down the foul tasting solution, making his throat feel like he was drinking liquid fire. Geralt stared down at him, frowning, as he worried, and mentally beat himself for being so reckless. Everything he feared would happen, was happening. First, he'd hurt Skye by breaking her heart and abandoning her, then in his selfish quest to rid himself of the agony caused by his own ridiculous mistakes and choices, it ended up backfiring, and catching poor Jaskier in the crossfire. He had wounded the love of his life and just might have killed his best friend.
The weight of his choices since leaving Kaer Morhen were crushing him down more and more.
“You'll need to go to another town, to find a mage, who can cure him.” Chireadan said, breaking through Geralt's mental cloud of guilt.
“There's no mage here?” Geralt frowned, brow deeply creased.
“The town official said, they are dangerous.” The Elf shyly replied, biting his lip and unable to look Geralt in the eye.
“What aren't you saying?” Geralt pressed, narrowing his eyes at the healer. “Tell me.” He added in a low rumble.
“There is only one mage, I was tasked with bringing this mage in. But,” He paused again, and only continued with Geralt's threatening step forward. “I was unable to capture them, I was incapable of infiltrating certain defenses of theirs. So, the mayor had another do it, and has the mage locked in his home.”
“That was so fucking hard, was it?” Geralt snapped, hauling Jaskier to his feet, and starting for the flap of the tent.
“Wait.” Chireadan snapped, stopping Geralt from leaving the tent. “You have to be careful, the mage is rather cunning and malicious.”
Geralt rolled his eyes, he wasn't afraid of mages, he'd dealt with hundreds of them in his life, one more won't do him any harm. “Right, I'll go find him.”
With a sigh of relief, Skye finally made it to Rinde, only stopping long enough to allow Arthas to rest and be watered. The ordinary five day trip from Vergen, only took Skye three, bound and determined to catch up with Geralt before he could vanish into thin air again.
“Ms, you can go no farther!” a guard said, stopping Skye at the gate.
“What?” Skye snapped, frowning at him. “Why not?”
“It is too dangerous, you must turn back.” He told her, waving her away. “I am sorry.” He added, but Skye didn't move.
“Why is it dangerous?” She demanded, leaning forward in the saddle.
“There is a manic Witcher on the loose, the officials are trying to restrain him, before his rampage endangers anyone else in the town.”
Skye blinked at him, mouth hanging open and slowly turned Arthas away from the guard and gate. “Geralt, what the hell are you doing?” She frowned and rode a little ways away, out of sight of the guard.
Hopping down from Arthas's saddle and tying him to a tree, Skye snuck around, trying to find an opening or unmanned gate into Rinde, so she could get through. Crouching behind a low wall, Skye watched the guard stationed at the gate she had just tried to get through, stopping another person trying to enter Rinde. Taking the opening, she quickly ran for the gate, slipping through and dodging behind a nearby building as the guard turned back towards the gate. Checking to see if the coast was clear, Skye started moving through the mostly empty streets of the ordinarily bustling town of Rinde.
She heard a loud ruckus coming from a nearby shop, its doors busted open and the sounds of screams of help and pain coming from it. “What is the chance?” Skye huffed to herself, rolling her eyes and heading towards the shop, the Pawnbroker's, read the sign above the door.
Lo and behold, there was the infamous White Wolf, having obviously smashed nearly everything in the Pawnbroker's shop and now had said Pawnbroker, trapped in a corner, where he was mercilessly kicking him between the legs. Even Skye winced at each of the full strength kicks to the poor man's genitals.
“Help me!” The Pawnbroker howled, shaking in agony and fear, as he saw Skye standing there, mouth hanging open.
Snapping out of it, Skye advanced on Geralt. “Geralt, stop!” She barked, wrapping her arms around one of his and yanking as hard as she could. “Stop this, Geralt!” She begged him, giving up on pulling him and tried pushing him sideways, only getting a similar outcome.
“This isn't you, Geralt!” She screamed, punching him in the shoulder and side. “Please!” She pleaded with him as he continued to kick the Pawnbroker, acting as if her blows were nothing more than the pathetic bites of a flea.
“Motherfucker!” She howled, managing to wedge herself between Geralt and the Pawnbroker, blocking a couple of the kicks with her own body, bruises forming within seconds after each blow. “Come on, Geralt!” She panted, frantically searching his face.
His eyes were glassed over, face set in a snarl of anger, yet somehow blank and distant.
“What's happened to you?” She whined and hissed as she blocked another blow, punching him in the chest a few times.
“Magic!” The Pawnbroker screamed, as Skye missed a blow and he got another kick between the legs. “That bitch of a mage has taken control of his mind with her vile magic.”
Skye's shoulders dropped, “Not again.” She sighed, then slapped Geralt across the face, hoping it would snap him out of it, but it only seemed to anger him more and shift his full focus onto her. “Oh fuck.” She whimpered, gulping up at him.
Geralt grabbed the front of Skye's shirt, yanking her against his heaving body, then twisted sideways and shoved her away; sending Skye flying through a bank of shelves that crashed down on top of her as she landed, knocking her out. His influenced attention losing interest in both the Pawnbroker and Skye, and turning on his heels, Geralt strode out of the Pawnbroker's shop and stormed towards his next target. Whining, the Pawnbroker gingerly crawled out of the corner and towards where Skye was laid out, a trickle of blood streaming down her forehead, from a cut at her hairline and above her left eye.
“Girl.” The Pawnbroker groaned, gingerly shaking Skye, half terrified she was dead.
“Kobus!” A voice screamed out, as a soldier filled the broken doorway of the shop.
“Here, Berg.” The Pawnbroker, Kobus, shouted back, still trying to stir Skye.
“Who is she?” Berg asked, picking his way through the ruined shop.
“I don't know.” Kobus responded, pushing away the blood matted hair on Skye's face, trying to see how bad the wound was. “She took some of the punishment the Witcher was giving me, then he tossed her into my shelves.” He explained, wincing at the nasty gash.
“Here, splash her with this.” Berg said, taking a water skin from his belt and handing it to Kobus.
Uncorking the water skin, Kobus tipped it upside down and poured all the water out of it, over Skye's face. With a sputter, Skye came back around, coughing as some of the water went in her nose, and tried sitting up, woozy and aching. She looked at the two men standing over her, recognizing the Pawnbroker, but not the other man.
“Who are you?” She asked, finally managing to sit up.
“I could ask you the same.” Berg replied, lifting a suspicious brow at her. “What is your relation to the Witcher?” She asked.
“He owes me something important.” Skye replied, stumbling to her feet and leaned against the Pawnbroker's counter.
“And what would that be?” Berg pressed her, narrowing his eyes.
“That's my personal business.” She snapped, gingerly touching the cuts on her face. “Looks like he's going to owe me a hell of a lot more, when this is all over.” She added to herself, pushing off the counter.
“I don'--”
The sound of screams in the streets stopped Berg from interrogating Skye further, all three of them stumbling out of the shop at the sound of them. Skye groaned, rolling her throbbing eyes back as she watched Geralt forcefully drag another man out of his shop, the Apothecary, it looked like, and tossed him into the middle of the street. Nabbing the Apothecary, before he could crawl away from him, Geralt hauled the Apothecary up onto their feet, yanked their belt free from the loops of their trousers, which fell down around his ankles, and promptly started thrashing the Apothecary's ass with the belt.
Skye, Kobus and Berg's mouths dropped to the cobblestone street as they watched him spank the poor Apothecary.
“Witcher!” A voice yelled and an Elf came running into view and towards Geralt, trying to stop him from doing any further damage.
Skye tried to run forward, but Berg grabbed her around the waist, holding her back. “Arrest them!” Berg yelled to several other guards, who were likely standing around with slack jaws, but they quickly jumped into action, seizing the Elf and, after a mild struggle and a blow to the back of his head, subdued Geralt.
The soldiers carried Geralt and the Elf away, and Berg turned his attention back to Skye. “What are your dealings with the Witcher?” He asked her again. “Be truthful this time, or you will be joining them in their cell.” He warned her.
“I hired the pig-headed lout to kill a drowned dead on my farm and he took the money I paid, then ran.” Skye hissed, hotly. “I want it back!” She told him, repeating the same twisted lie she had been telling anyone that asked, it had become second nature over the last several weeks.
“Well, you won't be getting your money back from that Witcher.” Berg huffed, letting her go. “He's attacked two of the Rinde council members.”
“And he'll be hanged for it, too!” The Pawnbroker growled, lip twitching and stood in a slight hunched position, hand resting gingerly on his wounded crotch.
Skye let out an angry and disgruntled huff, despite her stomach twisting into nauseating and icy knots. “As long as the jerk gets what he deserves for taking liberties with people.” She spat out, feeling her knees shake as her mind raced to figure out a way to save Geralt from the gallows.
“Geralt!”
“Skye.”
“Geralt!”
“Skye.”
“Ger—wake up!”
“Skye?”
“G—wake up!”
“Wake up!”
“Hm.” Geralt groaned, the sound of Skye calling him slowly fading and changing, until he opened his eyes, a blurry vision of someone in front of his face, until it cleared. “Chireadan?” He frowned at the Elf healer.
“At long last.” Chireadan replied and stepped back from Geralt, the tinkling sound of chains following his movements.
Geralt looked around the strange vaulted and brick ceiling and walls, feeling the tight iron clasped around his wrists. “Where are we?” He asked, his body throbbing as he laid on the cold, hard floor of the dungeon cell, before sitting himself up.
“The spa.” Chireadan replied, irritated. “Where do you think? I hope your rampage was well worth it.” He added, more angrily.
“Rampage?” Geralt frowned, steadying himself. “What did I do?”
“Where do I begin?” the Elf asked, lifting his brows at the Witcher. “You attacked a Pawnbroker in his shop, kicking him in the delicate places.” He explained, as Geralt moved about the cell.
“Hm.” He grunted, shaking the secure bars on the windows.
“You dragged out the Apothecary, yanked down his pants and thrashed his arse with his own belt.” Chireadan continued, as Geralt shook the cell door. “Both are on the town council, that are trying to overthrow the mayor and kick out the mage you sought help from.”
“Do you remember none of this?” He asked, once Geralt gave up on trying to find a way out.
“Like a faded dream.”
“Your punishment will be passed by the very members you attacked,” Chireadan said, grimly. “It's more than like to be death.” He added in a more somber tone. “By hanging.”
Geralt sighed and shook his head, “That's one way to get some peace.” He mumbled, sitting back down on the floor, his back against the wall, literally and figuratively.
“Why did you go to the mage after I told you not too?” Chireadan berated him, shaking with anger. “It's like you thought the scorpion was more beautiful than the spider, because of its lovely tail!”
“You didn't exactly tell me who she was.”
Chireadan relaxed, knowing that getting angry at their situation wasn't going to get them out of it. “I admit I could have warned you better about Yennefer.”
“You're under her spell, aren't you?” Geralt rasped, looking the Elf in the eyes and reading his body language.
“No.” Chireadan shook his head, tired and defeated. “It's a simple problem of body chemistry.” He admitted, begrudgingly.
Geralt blinked at him, tilting his head forward. “You're in love with her?”
“Yes.” He nodded, biting his lip. “I believe we both understand each other now.”
An opening door reverberated through the brick dungeon and the sound of steps approaching echoed towards them. Geralt and Chireadan stood as the owner of the steps appeared in the arched doorway that opened into a room to their cell.
“Ah, fuck.” Geralt grumbled under his breath seeing the guard he knocked out, so he could gain access to the Mayor's house and get Jaskier to the mage, Yennefer, before he died.
“You remember me, Witcher?” the Guard asked and leaned his forehead between the cell bars, grinning at Geralt.
Geralt pressed his lips together and smiled tightly back, giving the guard a soft nod of his head.
“I did not know you were a Witcher, last we met.” the Guard chuckled, his expression smug. “I've always wanted to play with one of you, and it looks like I get to, before we hang you in the morning.”
Skye had stayed behind Berg from a safe distance as he left the main area of Rinde. She knew he had to be someone of importance since he could order the soldiers around without being questioned. So, she trailed after him and did her best not to get caught or draw any attention to herself.
Ducking into a side alley, Skye pressed her back flush to the wall as Berg stopped and looked around, before entering a building two doors down from Skye's hiding place. Calming her heart, Skye slipped back out onto the walkway and quickly made her way to the door Berg vanished into, pressing her ear to the smooth and worn wood. Hearing the faintest muffled sounds through the door, Skye carefully opened it and slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.
Scanning the plastered and river rock room, Skye tiptoed towards the only other door there was, behind a counter and large desk. The door was propped open and creaked as she tried pushing it open, making her wince, before she squeezed her body through the available crack, the door complaining as she did. Skye stood glued to the wall beside the door, heart pounding, as she expected Berg or someone else to come into the hall and find her there. Luckily, it didn't seem like anyone heard the door, or anyone was around at all, but she knew at least Berg had to be, there was nowhere else for him to be in the building.
Tiptoeing slowly over the slate flooring and taking one careful step after another, mindful to the squeak of her leather soles as she did, Skye found there were five arched doorways along the hall she was in, two to the left and three to the right. Biting her lip, Skye poked her head around the first doorway on the left and found an empty and shabby office, then moved across the hall and peeked into the first doorway on the right, finding an empty cell. Crossing to the second doorway on the left, she found another empty cell, then moved across the hall again, to the middle doorway along the right side of the hall, but froze, hearing the soft echo of a voice, Berg's voice.
“I did not know you were a Witcher, last we met.” Berg was saying.
Biting her lip, Skye zigzagged across the hallway until she made it to the last doorway on the right, she squatted down and carefully peeked around the corner. She saw Berg standing at the cell's bars, the Elf that had tried stopping Geralt in the street, then Geralt himself, who looked like he had snapped out of the trance the mage had put him under.
“I've always wanted to play with one of you, and it looks like I get to, before we hang you in the morning.” Berg told Geralt, sounding extremely excited about the prospect.
Skye jerked and slapped a hand over her mouth, hearing the door at the end of the hall start to open. Thinking and moving quickly, Skye ran down the hall and dove into the doorway of the closet cell, just as steps came up the hall, going towards Geralt and the Elf's cell, the jingle of keys thumping against the new person's thigh.
“You asked for the keys, Master Berg?” the person asked, stopping in the doorway and lifting the keys from the loop of his belt.
“Yes, Daren.” Berg nodded, grinning maliciously at Geralt and stepping away from the cell door.
Daren stepped forward, flipping through several of the keys until he found the one for Geralt's cell and opened it for Berg. Stepping inside, Berg ordered Daren to lock the door again behind him.
“I'll call you, when I've finished with the Witcher.” Berg told him, flexing and popping his gloved fingers.
Daren locked the cell and went to the little office Skye had seen on her inspection of the hallway. Listening carefully, Skye heard the scrape of the wooden chair legs on the slate flooring and Daren's groan as he lowered himself onto the chair. Taking the cue, Skye crouched and slowly crawled into the hallway and along with wall, back to Geralt's cell, peeking around the door as Berg sized up Geralt, who was unfairly shackled to a short chain, fastened to an anchor in the floor and clasped around the wrists, there was no way for Geralt to fight back or really defend himself against Berg. Berg slowly bent down and grabbed the chain to Geralt's cuffs, wrapping a bit of it around his hand and yanked Geralt towards him, using the forward momentum to drive him knee into Geralt's stomach, and unable to properly catch himself as Geralt fell, hit the ground face first; making Skye wince.
Berg grabbed the back of Geralt's shirt and pulled him up onto his knees. “What's the difference between a Witcher and a tub of dung?” He asked, then kneed Geralt in the face.
Geralt groaned at the blow, wobbling on his knees, but started laughing and nodded his head. “I know that one.” He chuckled, amused.
Yanking him to his feet, Berg punched Geralt in the kidney, turned him around and struck him across the face, sending him stumbling back into the cell bars. Skye watched Geralt's beating with a twisted heart and hopelessness as she tried to figure out how to get him out of there. But, the answer came for her, literally. So consumed and distracted by watching Berg beating Geralt, Skye missed the steps coming up behind her, until a hand twisted into the back of her shirt, making her yelp as she was pulled clear off her hands and knees, and slammed against the brick wall by the doorway. Daren pinned Skye to the wall by the shoulders, his face so close to hers, the tip of their noses brushed.
“Who are you?” He hissed, hot breath wafting over Skye's face.
“Who are you?”
She echoed back, blinking at him as her hand slowly moved towards her scabbard and her sword, but her face paled, when she touched her bare thigh, realizing she had forgotten her sword on Arthas's saddle outside of Rinde. Daren felt the movement of her hand through her shoulder and glanced down, chuckling, when he realized what had caused her to go ashen, and met her eye again.
“Forget something?” He teased her, smugly.
“Not really.” Skye replied, then drove her knee up into his groin, causing him to howl at the top of his lungs.
The three men in the cell heard his yelp of pain and froze, heads snapping to the doorway.
“Daren, what is all that!” Berg yelled out to his deputy, but didn't receive an answer. “Daren!” He barked, growing heated as Daren didn't answer him or appear. “Daren!”
Daren stood up, looming above Skye as he did, chuckling, despite his pain, at her audible gulp at seeing how big he actually was. She tried kneeing him again, but Daren blocked it with his hands and elbowed Skye sharply in the gut, driving all of the air out of her lungs and leaving black, flashing spots in her eyes and her still throbbing head spinning. Grabbing the front of her shirt, Daren snapped Skye off the wall and took a step back.
“Aye, right here, Berg!” He finally called out to him, who had kept shouting for him. “Looks like we have a little sneak.” His laugh was raspy as he shoved Skye backwards into the room.
Tripping over her feet, Skye fell backwards and hit her head on the slate, gasping with pain and getting more spots in her eyes. Geralt was leaning his shoulder against the brick wall, trying to take advantage of Berg's pause in beating him to catch his breath and prepare himself for whatever else the guard was going to treat him too. But, looked up, when the deputy finally answered Berg and shoved in what had been keeping him so long. He felt his stomach give out, seeing Skye roughly shoved into the room and the sick smack of her head hitting the ground, his mouth hung open as he stared at her, shocked to see her there, and in such a sorry state. She had blood caked into her hair and drying down the side of her face, and covered in cuts and painful looking bruises.
“Her again!” Berg barked, stepping up to the cell bars, to get a closer look at Skye.
“Again?” Daren frowned at his boss.
“Yeah, she was in the square, when the Witcher was on his spree.” He explained, jabbing a thumb behind him to Geralt. “She even tried stopping him from beating Kobus. Ended up taking most of it herself.” He chuckled, amused.
Geralt's eyes flared with shock, hearing that Skye had tried getting between him and the Pawnbroker, realizing that several of her wounds and marks were from him, and that he hadn't dreamed of her calling his name, she had actually done so.
“What is your business with this harlot, Witcher?” Berg asked, turning back to Geralt, then saw the look on the Witcher's face. “Oh, you know her.”
Geralt's face went stony instantly, trying to guard against anything Berg could use with his and Skye's connection, to further harm him, and ultimately, Skye. But, it was too late, Berg had seen the expression on Geralt's face and in his golden eyes. The two guards took infinite amusement out of this new development, glancing at Skye and Geralt, than at each other. Berg leaned down and picked up Geralt's chain again.
“A Witcher with feelings.” He mused, a sick and sinister grin on his bearded face. “How sweet. I wonder how much he feels, Daren.” He inquired of his partner.
“We could find out.” Daren smirked, understanding Berg's hint as he leaned over Skye, who was starting to come back around, having momentarily lost consciousness.
Daren moved around to Skye and drove the blunt and rounded tip of his worn boot into her ribs, causing her to cry out and roll onto her other side, curling up to try and protect herself, tears rolling down her cheeks. Geralt jerked against his shackles and Berg, instinctively trying to get to Skye, despite a locked cell door between them, halting his progress to protect her.
Laughing, Berg slowly reeled Geralt in by his chain. “What is vile..” He pulled the chain in faster. “deviant and repulsive?” He asked, suddenly yanking Geralt forward and punching him across the face, sending Geralt spiraling backwards and to his knees, facing Skye.
“A Witcher without a nose.” He laughed, taking great pleasure in the tandem torture.
Geralt gulped down the thick saliva in his mouth, swaying back and forth on his knees, blood dripping from a split lip and a gash just below one of his eyes. He struggled to keep his eyes open, his vision fuzzy as he helplessly watched Daren continue to assault Skye. She whimpered as another boot tip connected to her spine and kidneys, trying to curl up and protect herself the best she possibly could. But, Daren wasn't having any of it, he straddled Skye's body, grasping her by the shoulder and pressed her down onto her back, forcing her to uncurl with a blinding slap across the cheek, that made her ears ring and left a bloody split across her bottom lip.
Skye shook her head, trying to relieve some of the agonizing pain in her face and head. Daren started to strike her again, when she pulled her knees up towards her shoulders and kicked out both feet at the same time, connecting to his chest and sent him flying backwards into the wall behind him and down to his hands and knees. Geralt couldn't help the smirk on his face, the pride he felt, as Skye defended herself, but it was short lived, when Berg rammed his foot into Geralt's back knocking him flat to the ground, groaning as he again went face first.
“Is that your little whore, Witcher?” Berg rasped, pressing his heel down on the back of Geralt's neck. “How much you must have paid her, that she'd follow you so far and want to try and rescue you.” He taunted him, stomping on Geralt's back.
“She must be good in bed.”
“Not when I finish with her.” Daren growled, using a bench against the wall to pull himself back onto his feet.
Skye was laying splayed on the floor, trying to recover herself, as Daren got up and advanced on her. She looked up at the domed stone ceiling, trying to muster any amount of energy to fight back and defend herself against whatever it was the Redanian guard had in his mind. Geralt shuffled and carefully pushed himself back up onto his knees, spent and battered from everything he had been through since finding the djinn in the Rinde lake, from heartbreak, to almost killing Jaskier, who he hadn't seen since the mage, Yennefer, had healed him and managed to get control of Geralt's mind, to send him on a rampage to avenge and payback the people that had tied to ruin whatever plans she had going. Now, there was Skye, the biggest surprise since he arrived in Rinde three days before, laying out on the floor as bloody and exhausted as he was. His fear spiked seeing Daren advance on her, grabbing her by the ankles and yanking her to him so hard, her arms went over her head, the rough flooring scratching up her back as her shirt rode up.
“This is it, Witcher.” Berg said, out of breath as he stood behind Geralt, pulling a long club from his belt.
Daren leaned over Skye and wrapped his hands around her throat, she gurgled and choked around his broad and meaty palms, gripping and clawing at his wrists and arms, feet pathetically flailing between his wide spread and planted legs. Geralt watched her face start to change colors, a white-hot anger broiled up inside of him, tensing up and swelling his already massive and thickly muscular body, angry at the audacity of Daren to put his hands on Skye, furious that he couldn't get to him and snap his measly neck and save Skye, before it was too late.
“Any last words, Witcher?” Berg asked, slapping the club in his palm, smugly. “Make them good.” He chuckled.
Geralt growled deep in his throat and chest, hands squeezing into fists as he rested back on his heels. “I want you to burst, you son of a whore.” He hissed, roughly.
An unnatural breeze stirred up in the otherwise stagnant cell and Berg's back stiffened, his mouth falling open and his stone-blue eyes bulged out of their sockets. With a look of terrified shock and horror on his face, the pressure inside Berg's head expanded, until it popped like a water balloon, spraying blood and matter on the walls and the side of poor Chireadan's face as he stood there behind him, watching all the events with a dumbfounded and helpless shock. Chireadan blinked several times, trying to keep himself together as he felt the warm blood, skull bits and brain matter slide down the side of his face and neck, an eye watering lump of hot nausea rising up in his gullet, but he managed to shove it down and keep himself from fainting.
“You--” He shook his head and gulped down the persistent nausea again. “You are the-the one with the...wishes.” He said, around the lump fighting to get out of his throat.
Geralt's mouth hung open as he yanked up the black sleeve of his shirt, seeing an identical cut on his forearm above the first one. He realized now, that whoever removed the seal from the amphora, was the person that had control over the djinn. That the first cut to his forearm was caused by him, angrily, telling Jaskier that he had just wanted some peace, he had caused the djinn to magically attack Jaskier's throat, to shut up him and grant Geralt's wish of peace. The same for the second cut and the popping of Berg's head.
His head and eyes snapped up, seeing Skye still trapped underneath Daren, who had only applied more pressure to her throat in his rage for Berg's strange and sudden death. “The keys!” Geralt barked, spinning around on his knees towards Berg's body, looking for keys.
Chireadan's eyes panned over Berg's body, until he remembered. “He doesn't have the keys.” The Elf told Geralt, frantic as Skye's struggle started to fade. “He has them!” He gasped, pointing to Daren with his bound hands.
Geralt shot a look at Daren and Skye, her face and lips starting to go blue and her hands weakly wrapped around his wrists, starting to slip away from them. She was fading quickly and if Geralt didn't act even faster, she'd be dead in a minute. He looked down at his arm, at the thin bloody scratches on his thick forearm and realized what he had to do, so he cleared his dry throat.
“I wish,” He whispered, and the djinn's wind kicked up again around them, as he mumbled the wish out, too quiet for Chireadan to hear.
Then, suddenly, Skye's minty-green eyes flew open and she took a deep, wheezy breath around Daren's iron grasp. She squirmed against him for a moment, before letting go of his wrist with one hand and reached for her ankle as she brought a foot up, her hand wrapping around the handle of her father's dagger, having forgotten she had the weapon strapped to her ankle and calf. Yanking the blade free from its sheath, Skye gripped the hilt tightly, raised it, then plunged it into his back, slipping the sharp tip between two of his ribs and into his kidney. Daren instantly released her throat, allowing Skye to gasp for several more lungfuls of air, the color slowly returning to her face and lips.
“Skye.” Geralt let out a soft breath of relief, almost bringing tears to his eyes.
But, the war wasn't over yet.
Skye had yanked the dagger free as Daren stumbled away from her, howling with pain and anger, then started at her again. But, Sky brought her knees up, catching Daren as he started to fall on her, bracing the pummel of the dagger against her chest and letting Daren fall on it, the tip piercing through his chest, killing him, finally.
“Fuck.” Skye huffed in a weak and rough voice, swallowing down thick saliva as she tipped to one side to get Daren off the top of her, then laid there for a few minutes, dizzy, falling in and out of consciousness as her whole body, inside and out, throbbed and bleed.
“Skye.” Geralt called to her louder, frightened as he watched her lay on her side, facing away from him, terrified that she was dead, but gasped, hearing her pained groan. “Skye!”
Fighting off another wave that threatened her to lose consciousness, she rolled onto her back, and laid there for a long moment, then struggled to sit herself up, holding her head in her hands once she managed that.
“Geralt.” She whined, looking over at him, warmed to see his relieved smile, but was too battered to return it.
Sighing, Skye snatched the cell keys from Daren's belt with numb fingers, then pulling herself to her feet, staggering and widening her stance for a few minutes to keep herself upright, then moved to unlock the cell door.
“Here, here.” Chireadan offered, seeing Skye struggle to work the key into the lock, and reached through the bars to open it.
“Thanks.” Skye sighed, clearing her throat and shaking her head, trying to keep her eyes open.
“Skye!” Geralt called out, as the shackles around his wrists fell free, and quickly moved forward. “Gods, Skye.” He panted heavily, wrapping an arm around her swaying hips, steadying her. “What the fuck were you thinking, coming after me?” He chided her softly and meaninglessly.
Skye didn't answer for a moment, she just leaned in against him, the solid warmth of his body and his scent filling her bloody nose had a strong effect on her, her struggle against staying conscious vanished and she was alert and clear headed. That's when she yanked her body out of Geralt's arms and looked up at him, furious and boiling with rage.
“What was I thinking?” She shouted at him. “What was I thinking! What the hell were you thinking!? Leaving me like that!”
“I was--” Geralt tried to explain himself.
“You were what!?” Skye barked at him, her voice echoing and amplified. “Being a pig-headed lout! Abandoning me like some sort of wounded animal that you didn't have the bloody heart to put out of its misery!” She continued to berate him, suddenly striking him in the chest, in her fit of rage.
“Sk-” He tried to get a word in, his shoulders slumping.
“I hate you!” She hissed and punched him in the chest again. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, Geralt.” She howled, her anger losing out to her anguish, her punches growing weaker and feeble.
Geralt gripped her wrists and pulled her against him again, resting her head against his chest and cradled the back of her head. “I know.” He whispered into her dirty hair. “I know, Skye. I know.”
She sobbed into his chest, depleted and done, her hands gripping the back of the leather shirt he wore. “I came..” She choked and wiped her nose on her bloody sleeve. “I came...because..” Her mouth worked for a moment, tears making her face even more of a bloody mess.
“I-I..I l-love..you, Geralt.” She sighed, going slack against him.
Geralt squeezed his eyes shut, burying his nose into her hair and nuzzling the top of her head, a thick lump in his throat. “I-I..” He folded his arms around her, squeezing despite the agony both of their bodies were in.
“I love you too, Skye.”
-- Chapter VI --
#A Soldier's Daughter *Fic*#Viking-Raider Fics#Geralt of Rivia#Geralt#the Witcher#Witcher#Henry Cavill#HenryCavill#Jaskier#Joey Batey#JoeyBatey#Rinde#the Continent#Rating: PG-13#Djinn#genie#Wishes#the last wish#bottled appetites#Geralt of RIvia x OFC#Geralt of Rivia/OFC#Geralt/OFC#Geralt x OFC#Language#Angst#Fluff#Witcher!AU#Witcher AU#geralt z rivii#Chireadan
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Going Native
Resident Evil Village is going to drop soon and, while i adore the RE franchise, I'm not going to partake in it just yet. Mostly because i don’t have a PS5 to properly indulge in all of it’s glory but moreso because i f*cking hate first person shooters. Always have, always will. They’re crazy disorienting and take me out of the immersion. There are a few exceptions but only because i don’t actually play any of them. I watch them being played, which is here this come in. RE VIII has been one of the best titles to actually see played, most because i f*cking love this story. Game play stuff is also an upgrade over the previous title, cribbing a great deal from RE IV, everyone’s favorite but mine, so i can see this game doing gangbusters. Also, it’s f*cking gorgeous. Like, this thing pushes the RE Engine to the extreme and it looks beautiful for it. But, like i said before, I'm a narrative guy so let’s get into that.
Resident Evil Village is a direct continuation of Resident Evil VII Biohazard. It stare Ethan Winters, protagonist from the previous title, on a whole new, even more f*cked up, misadventure through some really ridiculous f*ck circumstances. This asshole apparently married his admitted terrorist wife, Mia, and sired a baby named Rose. We open this game seeing their happy little family, with Mia reading an incredibly inappropriate bed time story to her infant, while being even more inappropriate about Ethan witnessing her cooking. What the f*ck is THAT about? All of a sudden, Chris Redfield unloads on the house, downing Mia and putting Ethan on his ass, before double-tapping his wife and stealing his kid. Ethan wakes up in the middle of vaguely European village of f*cking Lycans, and the game begins in kind. That’s about as far as i am going to get into the plot because, spoilers, but it’s enough to set the stage for the absolute sh*tshow Ethan is going to have to maneuver in order to save his kid and his own f*cking life.
Admittedly, I'm not a fan of Ethan as a protagonist. I came up on classic Biohazard so characters like Leon S. Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Jill Valentine, and Chris Redfield, are kind of my go-to. In fact, my favorite character is actually Claire. he has all the gusto and ingenuity to keep me engaged. Leon is close second and Jill shines bright in III. Never really got behind Chris all that much and V did nothing to help that but I'd take him over Ethan any day of that week. That said, as far as overall narrative arc, it’s hard to argue that Ethan is far more the complete character. In two games, we have almost the entire development it took literal decades for the others to reach. VIII goes a long way to making Ethan feel like a whole character, an actual person, than any other single entry gas, for the rest of the RE protagonists. I still think he’s kind of a wooden plank but i have to concede dude is far more compelling that Chris has been in years.
What is a Resident Evil game without monsters? Listen, i love the human charterers to varying degrees but my absolute favorite thing about Resident Evil, is f*cking G. G is everything to me but, i must say, Lady Dimitrescu is fast approaching that pedestal. Alcina is one of the most terrifying villains I've seen in these games. She could legitimately give REmake Mr. X a run for her money, Chick is THAT stressful but she’s just one of several. Heisenberg, Mother Miranda, Moreau, The Hag, and so many more, add a certain flair, a certain credibility to Ethan’s forthcoming trilogy, than just Eveline and some f*cking Molded. Resident Evil VII as very obviously an expanded tech demo for the games that came after but VIII is definitely the pinnacle of that type of design.
Overall, from what I've seen of Resident Evil Village, this thing is contender for one of the best in the entire franchise. It’s definitely leaning into more action oriented playthrough, something I'm pretty wary of, but it’s done a decent job of maintaining a balance between the two. Like i said, this feels like IV in all of the ways that are important. It has a merchant an item box, and it’s definitely more run-n-gun. Village has some of the most intricate BOWs and a narrative that really keeps you invested. I don’t like Ethan all that much but i was definitely interested in what the f8ck as going on, overall. I still personally believe that II is the best of the franchise but i can see people making a strong argument for Village. It did not disappoint me and i haven’t even payed. Yet. Definitely on my list for the PS5 library and it’s an FPS. That, alone, speaks volumes to the quality of this title.
#Resident Evil#Resident Evil Village#Resident Evil VIII#Biohazard#Biohazard Village#Biohazard VIII#Capcom#Ethan Winters
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Going Native
Resident Evil Village is going to drop soon and, while i adore the RE franchise, I'm not going to partake in it just yet. Mostly because i don’t have a PS5 to properly indulge in all of it’s glory but moreso because i f*cking hate first person shooters. Always have, always will. They’re crazy disorienting and take me out of the immersion. There are a few exceptions but only because i don’t actually play any of them. I watch them being played, which is here this come in. RE VIII has been one of the best titles to actually see played, most because i f*cking love this story. Game play stuff is also an upgrade over the previous title, cribbing a great deal from RE IV, everyone’s favorite but mine, so i can see this game doing gangbusters. Also, it’s f*cking gorgeous. Like, this thing pushes the RE Engine to the extreme and it looks beautiful for it. But, like i said before, I'm a narrative guy so let’s get into that.
Resident Evil Village is a direct continuation of Resident Evil VII Biohazard. It stare Ethan Winters, protagonist from the previous title, on a whole new, even more f*cked up, misadventure through some really ridiculous f*ck circumstances. This asshole apparently married his admitted terrorist wife, Mia, and sired a baby named Rose. We open this game seeing their happy little family, with Mia reading an incredibly inappropriate bed time story to her infant, while being even more inappropriate about Ethan witnessing her cooking. What the f*ck is THAT about? All of a sudden, Chris Redfield unloads on the house, downing Mia and putting Ethan on his ass, before double-tapping his wife and stealing his kid. Ethan wakes up in the middle of vaguely European village of f*cking Lycans, and the game begins in kind. That’s about as far as i am going to get into the plot because, spoilers, but it’s enough to set the stage for the absolute sh*tshow Ethan is going to have to maneuver in order to save his kid and his own f*cking life.
Admittedly, I'm not a fan of Ethan as a protagonist. I came up on classic Biohazard so characters like Leon S. Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Jill Valentine, and Chris Redfield, are kind of my go-to. In fact, my favorite character is actually Claire. he has all the gusto and ingenuity to keep me engaged. Leon is close second and Jill shines bright in III. Never really got behind Chris all that much and V did nothing to help that but I'd take him over Ethan any day of that week. That said, as far as overall narrative arc, it’s hard to argue that Ethan is far more the complete character. In two games, we have almost the entire development it took literal decades for the others to reach. VIII goes a long way to making Ethan feel like a whole character, an actual person, than any other single entry gas, for the rest of the RE protagonists. I still think he’s kind of a wooden plank but i have to concede dude is far more compelling that Chris has been in years.
What is a Resident Evil game without monsters? Listen, i love the human charterers to varying degrees but my absolute favorite thing about Resident Evil, is f*cking G. G is everything to me but, i must say, Lady Dimitrescu is fast approaching that pedestal. Alcina is one of the most terrifying villains I've seen in these games. She could legitimately give REmake Mr. X a run for her money, Chick is THAT stressful but she’s just one of several. Heisenberg, Mother Miranda, Moreau, The Hag, and so many more, add a certain flair, a certain credibility to Ethan’s forthcoming trilogy, than just Eveline and some f*cking Molded. Resident Evil VII as very obviously an expanded tech demo for the games that came after but VIII is definitely the pinnacle of that type of design.
Overall, from what I've seen of Resident Evil Village, this thing is contender for one of the best in the entire franchise. It’s definitely leaning into more action oriented playthrough, something I'm pretty wary of, but it’s done a decent job of maintaining a balance between the two. Like i said, this feels like IV in all of the ways that are important. It has a merchant an item box, and it’s definitely more run-n-gun. Village has some of the most intricate BOWs and a narrative that really keeps you invested. I don’t like Ethan all that much but i was definitely interested in what the f8ck as going on, overall. I still personally believe that II is the best of the franchise but i can see people making a strong argument for Village. It did not disappoint me and i haven’t even payed. Yet. Definitely on my list for the PS5 library and it’s an FPS. That, alone, speaks volumes to the quality of this title.
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White Butterflies pt iii. || Hvitserk Lothbrok x Reader
Words: 2028
Warnings: Mentions of arranged marriage, drowning, (veiled threats?)
Summary: An owl’s cry is bad luck
A/N: Ah, took a couple of days, sorryyyyyy
i | ii | iii | iv | v
This story doesn’t follow the plot, so you don’t have to know the story to understand it.
“Princess Y/N” Bjorn greeted you, “Come with me, Ivar’s going to announce the raids.”
“Firstly, we can stop with the titles, I’ve been here almost two months now, we’re friends, no?” you grinned, and he nodded, beckoning you to join him on the path to the hall, “and secondly, since I am no shield-maiden, do I really have to have my afternoon spent watching men argue and shout over their mead?”
He laughed, “All the same, you are a member of the family, and I feel that you should find out, I wanted you to know earlier, but Ivar refused.” you frowned, curious, but followed him into the Great Hall. You picked out your husband and Ubbe in the crowd, greeting them and kissing Hvitserk on the cheek.
Ivar called for the attention of the hall, and the room fell silent. “People of Kattegat,” Ivar started, “I have called you all here to announce the destination of our summer’s raids.” the crowd cheered enthusiastically, spilling ale in the process, “Now, I understand that you all have been asking for the last few weeks, and I’ve come to my decision. We’ve fallen out with plenty of countries, and so I feel we shouldn’t take on more than we can handle, no? That is why, in a moon’s time, we will be travelling to the home of my dear brother’s wife, Y/N.”
Cheers went up around you, but Ivar and Hvitserk kept their eyes on you, watching for a reaction. Standing there, you realised that your mother had done an amazing job on training you to keep your emotions private. You stood there, straight-faced and calm, but internally panicking.
“Brother,” Ubbe said, “By doing this, you breach the terms of the agreement one that you signed, it would be unwise to do such a thing. They have a large army, a strong one, have you considered that it would not be so wise?”
“We have the largest army in the world,” Ivar said, a cheer went up, “And we have an inside woman, no?”
Stares turned to you, and you sighed, stepping forwards. “My king, it would be an honour to help you in this attack. Though I must admit, women were not told battle plans and such where I come from.”
“Well I suppose you’ve just got to tell us all you know, hmm?” he said, as if he expected nothing less.
You walked away, full of panic. You did not care for your family, your country or its people - there wasn’t a single good person in that court - but you were worried. If your father found out he would try to get to you - contact you or hurt you - he would do anything to turn you back to your old country. He would expect it. You had no doubt he would hurt the people you were close to, maybe even kill them, if it meant you helped him. You felt a hand on your arm.
“Y/N,” said Hvitserk, “Are you okay?” you turned abruptly to face him.
“My family is many things, but they are not high-minded people.” you said, “I have seen both cultures, and you, as vikings, in the way you fight, you are honourable, and honest, but they will stab you in the back, they will poison you and manipulate you to meet their own ends. Their army is smaller, but they will find out our strategies and plans. To do this, we would have to fight in the least viking way possible.”
Hvitserk stared at you, and you continued, “Ivar is punching above his weight, and I don’t want to watch a futile battle. I’ll help, but don’t expect me to support this. I don’t love them, but I also don’t want this to start a war, and by doing this Ivar is starting a war that I don’t think he’ll win.” You pulled your arm out of his grasp and exited the hall, inhaling the cold, fresh air.
“Y/N,” Arthur greeted, and you looked up from your embroidery.
“Arthur,” you forced a smile, “What brings you here?”
“Theodore.” he says, and you frowned lightly.
“What’s Theo done?” you said, trying to be as polite as possible.
“Theodore told a servant girl that you were… courting… a boy from Lord Jackson’s court.” he sat down in front of you, and glared into your eyes. You held the stare, swallowing the fear induced by the glint in his eyes. Like he was mad, like he would kill you. “Now,” he began, drawing his dagger, and holding it to the light, “You are young, too young for betrothal, but in a couple of years, no doubt, once you’ve got your monthly blood, you will undoubtedly marry. And you know, our family is the most important thing.” he lifted the blade so that you could see your face staring back at you, “so we can’t have you marry some unimportant, good-for-nothing Lord in one of our own courts, can we?”
“Mother said-”
He pushed the flat side of the blade against your collar bone, the edge cold metal threatening to twist and slice your skin. “Mother knows that you will marry to form an alliance, and if you stray from the path that your father is building for you, then people will get hurt, and you are too kind to let that happen.” the blade twisted, and drops of blood trickled down your skin.
“Thank you for your counsel, brother.”
You’d known then that everything he’d said was true. You’d spent your whole life preparing for this marriage. You’d learnt Frankish and German and Latin fluently, and could just about get by in at least four other languages, so that you could speak to any foreign suitors and handle visitors to your court. You’d learnt to write, read, sew and embroider so as to have reputable skills to help in your life. You’d learnt manners and etiquette to impress suitors. You’d been taught how to veil threats, hide emotions, and test other’s certitude.
You had been prepared for it, yet when it had happened, you couldn’t have been in more shock. You had been thrown into a world with different Gods, customs and celebrations. You already understood and spoke the language, but were nowhere near fluent, and struggled to keep up with conversation, especially given the refusal to teach any language relating to another religion.
You felt out of your depth.
*
You stood on the docks of Kattegat, the sea stretched out before you, turbulent and stormy. The waves rising metres into the air, and winds cold and harsh against your skin, biting and clawing at you. The swell of the wave was noticeable from the moment it entered the fjord, rising and surging towards you with purpose. You wanted to run, to get out of the way, but your feet were stuck, you couldn’t move. The wave only seconds away from hitting, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
As the impact hit you, you were blown away, floating in the undercurrents as water took the town as its own. The wave pulled back, and you were swept away, out of the fjord, and into the endless waters of the sea. Your lungs screamed for air, but you couldn’t tell left from right, up from down. The depths gave you no means of escape, and your lungs were collapsing, you were sinking. Forced by the water, your mouth opened, and water filled your lungs.
But you did not die.
You hung there, in the middle of the sea, breathing water. You pulled yourself forwards through the water, your eyes wide open, stinging, but seeing. You pulled yourself through the water, and realised that you suddenly knew how to swim. You felt yourself begin to relax and felt your guard drop. You regained your bearings.
But then the water became a mess of fangs and scales and blood and you were disorientated and hurt again. Panic filled your system and you pushed yourself away, trying to escape the huge writhing body that was thrashing all around you. You found yourself watching the thing from a distance, before you saw its eyes.
Evil, red, hateful, they caught you in their gaze, growing bigger, more vicious, bloodthirsty and hunting. You saw its fangs, pale and sharp and full of venom, its scales smooth and perfect. This - this thing - was a monster, a beast, made for murder and hate and unspeakable deeds. It was hunting.
And you were the prey.
The mouth of the serpent came close so quickly that if you shut your eyes you would have missed it. It was so big that for a split-second you realised it would swallow you whole, and you were as small as a mouse is to a bear.
You were going to die.
Air filled your lungs as you sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, panting. Everything was blurred and all you were aware of was your breathing - shallow, quick and ragged - everything else was unclear.
You felt faintly aware that someone had sat up next to you and you could feel their arm over your shoulders, pulling you into them, stroking your hair, kissing your forehead.
“Y/N, are you okay? Y/N, tell me what happened, talk to me, me heart, talk to me.”
The murmur pierced through your dumb state, and everything came back into focus. You could feel tears streaming down your face. You brought your attention to Hvitserk, whose face taught with concern, eyebrows pulled down to a frown, his eyes, dark and strong, but he too looked scared witless, on the verge of tears.he took your face in his hands, “My Princess, tell me what happened.”
“I, uh, I was at the docks.” your speech, you realised, was broken. This was the most vulnerable you’d ever been in front of someone, “and there was this - this wave. It was coming towards me, so fast, and it seemed… almost, I don’t know, angry. It flooded all of Kattegat - the whole thing - and took me with it back out to sea. And I was trying to hold my breath - obviously - and I don’t know how to swim, so I was panicking. But - but I could breathe.”
He frowned, “Underwater?”
“Yes, it was like I was breathing the water itself.” you sighed, “But then, just as I got my bearings, this huge thing came and it was, like, thrashing, around me. I - I got away, but this, giant, huge… snake, I think, it saw me. And it looked like it wanted to kill me, for no real reason. And it surged towards me, it was so big that it fully, like, I don’t know, it consumed me?” you looked at your lap, and felt tears falling.
“Hey,” he looked into your eyes, “hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. But do you know what this means?”
“No,” you said, “I’ve never had a dream like that before.”
“You could breathe underwater, that means you have Njord’s favour.”
“Njord?” you asked, despite how you were trying to learn about the Gods, you didn’t know them all.
“The God of the Sea, and the Wind, and of Trade.” He explained. “We should tell the others of your dream, it’s important.”
“Important how?” you asked.
“Important because we want to have his favour for our sails to your land.” he kissed your nose, lightly. “It’s daybreak anyway, come to our meeting with me later, help us out.”
“For you,” you kissed him, and then left the bed, calling a thrall to help you dress. Hvitserk left quickly, kissing your cheek and assuring your attendance to the small war council.
You went to the yew tree before the council, and prayed. You prayed for family, but not family that shared your blood. You prayed for the family whose home you lived in and whose success depended on you. You wondered what had become of Theo, and if your family was still healthy, and you questioned if you wondered this out of love or curiosity, and if they thought the same of you. Somewhere, in the distance, an owl called.
tag(s): @soleil-dor @siliethkaijuy
#hvitserk#hvitserk x reader#hvitserk lothbrok#hvitserk lothbrok x reader#hvitserk ragnarsson#hvitserk ragnarsson x reader#bjorn#bjorn ironside#bjorn lothbrok#bjorn ragnarsson#ivar#ivar the boneless#ivar lothbrok#ivar ragnarsson#vikings ubbe#ubbe lothbrok#ubbe ragnarsson#vikings#history's vikings#vikings fanfic#vikings fanfiction
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'storm' for ramvers:) also i loved your ramvers fic(s)! didn't know you wrote for then too. every ship ive soo much as looked at you've got it covered lol.
🤩 thanks anon!! so many good ships, not enough waking/not working hours in the day. ramvers is absolutely one of my favorites to write, the fluff potential is just as endless as the angst. also i am 90s kid so the references in the movie felt like a personal attack
#11 Storm: a too-long backstory sandbox 😅
For days, the meteorologists had watched and issued warnings about the tropical storm barreling across the southern Atlantic and along the Gulf of Mexico. On August 3, 1970, the upgraded Hurricane Celia it made landfall near Corpus Christi, Texas, wreaking havic on the coastal town, knocking down buildings like dominoes, washing away roads like sand, and roaring with winds that sounded like rocket shells to the families who had remained, huddled in shelters and basements and bathrooms.
One of them had been six-year-old Maria Rambeau, frozen with terror as she sat frozen with terror in her family’s dark basement. It sounded to her like the world was ending at the top of the stairs, and water had started leaking through the walls, puddling in the low spots in the floor. Maria clung to her older brother’s arm while they stared in silence at the rumbling ceiling, occasionally releasing a cloud of dust and dirt after a particularly loud bang. Maria felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink for fear that her whole world would be ripped away.
When the storm passed, Maria emerged to find half of their house gone, smashed to splinters, and in the ensuing days, as the Rambeaus packed up to relocate with family in Louisiana, the death toll in Texas would top out at 15, and Celia would long hold the title of the costliest storm in the state’s history.
As the years passed, Maria learned to manage her fear of storms, of thunderclaps and dark skies at high noon. She might’ve enlisted in the Navy if not for the way trickling water still made her pulse tick faster, and the very thought of being surrounded on all sides in the belly of a metal ship for months on end… No, the skies were Maria’s home, and besides, nobody flew fighters in storms.
Much to her chagrin, Monica loved storms, a trait very likely learned from Carol, who after growing up in the land of tornadoes found hurricane season somewhat quaint… especially after gaining her powers. A bolt of natural lightning would be like an ant bite to Captain Marvel, and gale-force winds like a pleasant breeze.
That had been something of a problem in the years that Carol had been missing. Their daughter had lost her example of confidence and wonder, and too often, Maria had felt too nervous herself to properly comfort Monica through roaring storms that tore the limbs off trees and shingles from their roof. Monica was strong, though, and during storms or clear skies, she made Maria more and more proud of her with each passing day.
Still, Maria was tired of cowering before storms. She’d zipped through space in extraterrestrial crafts, held laser guns and battled movie monsters come to life. Storms seemed like a reasonable foe to conquer.
Carol had listened to her plan with widening eyes, and when those ran out of real estate, her eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline. “That is… dramatic.”
“Says twinkle fists,” Maria shot back, arms crossed over her chest.
“Are you sure?”
“Are you sure you can hold up your end?”
The mild challenge made Carol scoff, and Maria knew the conversation was over before the blonde added, “Pfft. Easy.”
And so, on July 18, 1997, almost three decades after the night in the family basement, Maria Rambeau instesd donned a lightweight spacesuit that Carol brought her from another world. Her wife still looked a bit worried as she fastened the last airtight cuff, her forehead adorably wrinkled when she stepped back.
“I want to do this,” Maria murmured into her helmet, which would transmit to Carol’s own suit. “And… I’ll have you there, with me.”
The blonde’s expression softened, and her lips quirked into a smile as Maria grasped her hand, giving it an extra squeeze for good measure. Usually, she could feel the heat from her supercharged wife’s skin, but the suit effectively blocked it, and she supposed that was good for what was about to happen.
“No pressure,” Carol stilled joked against her lips, and Maria gently thunked her helmet against the superhero’s forehead. It was a poor stand-in for a kiss, but Carol would probably make her refit the whole suit if she disengaged the face shield, and it got her signal of affection across.
The first drops of rain were starting to plink against the metal roof of Maria’s workshop, and she blinked reflexively at the drops spattering against the glass shielding her eyes when they stepped out from the shop’s refuge. Carol folded her arms around Maria’s chest, attaching a bungee cord between their suits for good measure, and after a quick 3-2-1 countdown, they jettisoned together into the darkening sky.
Hurricane Danny roared ahead, drenching the Louisiana delta, and Maria’s heart started thudding against her ribcage. It certainly looked different, from a few hundred feet in the air. Carol’s alien fire burned up the rain before it reached them, but Maria could feel the outer winds, and each flash of lightning turning the sky to daylight made her muscles tense. But Carol was right there, holding her firmly to her chest, giving her encouraging squeezes whenever she felt Maria go stiff.
The hurricane-force winds were at the eye of the beast, but Carol didn’t take her through them; the superhero turned and zoomed higher, until the rain broke over their heads, and it was just stars above. Maria would never tire of that view.
“Look,” Carol’s tinny voice chirped in her ear.
Maria tilted her chin down as they stopped to hover in place. She’d seen astronauts’ photos of hurricanes before, but they didn’t do an ounce of justice to the effect. The slow swirl of the clouds, the way lightning illuminated puffy sections in white-blue. The storm was still mostly over the ocean, tracking a strange, jagged path across the gulf states.
“It’s almost pretty,” Maria said, not entirely consciously. “From up here. But I’d hate to be on a boat down there, right now.”
Carol’s glow brightened. “I’ve seen better.”
Maria twisted a little in her arms, enough to see the cheesy grin her wife was flashing over her shoulder, nose wrinkled. “You stop.”
“What? I’m adjusting your associations with storms. And I meant it.” The blonde adjusted her hold as Maria turned back around, dropping one hand to grip Carol’s tightly. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Maria had no sooner sighed the words before Carol took off, hurtling them back down, towards the massive eye of the hurricane. This time, Maria closed her eyes against the rush of panic, fighting off flashing memories from her childhood—the helplessness, the way her imagination turned breaking beams into skyfall.
“It’s just heat and water, that’s all,” Carol was saying as they dove through the clouds, purposefully dipping ito the place where the winds blew hardest, and the rain became a sheet. The sound, even through her suit, drowned out nearly every thought, all sound completely overtaken by endless water… and she could still feel Carol holding her tight. Her arms were sure and her flight steady. Maria opened her eyes.
Behind her face shield, it almost looked as though they were moving through a choppy ocean, except for the bubble of safety in Carol’s glow, and Maria imagined this might be how it felt to be in one of those ocean cages, where you could get “up close and personal” with sharks. Except, Maria’s foe was on all sides, and her metal cage was the strongest in the universe. Heat and water. Life or death, depending on the form. That, the engineer in her understood well.
Maria’s nerves seem to peak along with the winds, like a wave breaking on a rocky shore, and a final burst of adrenaline had her shouting into her helmet, a crowing victory call that no one but Carol and the hurricane could hear, and her wife’s musical laughter filled her earpiece.
Veering sharply to the right, Carol took them through the wall of the storm, and as suddenly as they’d dove into danger, they were floating in cool, calm air, high over an churning ocean. Water fell off them in a miniature falls, and Carol gingerly turned Maria in her arms.
“Better?”
“Better,” agreed Maria, reaching up to open her helmet, now that they’d returned to human-friendly heights. “Just heat and water.”
Carol nodded, smiling as Maria looked around the surreal column over the ocean, illuminated by the moon and Captain Marvel herself. When she turned back, Maria couldn’t help but capture her wife’s lips in a kiss, taking another small victory in the way they dipped in the air and Carol’s small noise of surprise.
#not entirely happy with this#but regardless THANK YOU for the prompt#trashy writing#ramvers#danbeau#long post#the keep reading isn't working
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Light The Candle (Xellina)
Fandom: Slayers
Characters: Lina Inverse/Xelloss
Word Count: 1514
Warnings: xelloss, unbeta’d, vague allusions to Lina being Lon’s host, mazoku flirting
Summary: Her eyes slide closed and she laughs wryly, leaning imperceptively into his touch. "What a pain, I don't want to be a monster magnet."
Notes: for the Slayers Secret Santa 2019 hosted by @slayersweek. This goes out to you @glittercanblog! I’m sorry it’s late-ish and kinda short, but I hope I managed to get your prompts well enough! I feel like I’m slowly building an out of order xellina verse dsjhsdjsdhj. I didn’t lift the title from it, but this fic was written to Carino by The Marias.
i.
"You're alone," Xelloss says, dark eyes sliding open slightly, a glimmer in the gloom of the forest. Lina's fearless gaze catches his, unintimidated by the predatory appearance his split pupils give his carefully pleasant smile. He stretches out on his seat high up a towering tree, lounging across a thick branch. Making a show of looking around, searching for Gourry and the others; he tilts his head and makes a curious noise low in his throat when they fail to appear, "How unusual."
Lina's mouth purses into an unimpressed frown. "Yeah, well sometimes a girl needs her alone time for treasure hunting."
Laughing softly, Xelloss drops from his perch and wanders into her space, circling her slow and wolf-like. He puts his hands up in mock innocence when Lina snaps him a smoldering glare. "Now, now, Ms. Lina, no need for ugly looks." He rounds her left side, catching the edge of her cloak and tugging it playfully. "It's just refreshing to see you after so long."
Lina arches an eyebrow but besides the low zest of irritation, Xelloss feels no fear or trepidation from her. She crosses her arms over her lithe chest, hip jutting out and foot-tapping as she keeps him in her line of sight, "Just what do you have planned now, fruitcake?"
Xelloss smiles. "Thwarting boredom." His main body unravels in the astral plane, a thin piece of himself sliding from his physical shadow, a tendril of formless black. It threads itself with her hair, braiding into the red strands and tugging playfully.
Lina jumps with a short, startled yelp, her hands flying to her hair. Instinctively spinning around to see what it was, she turned her back to Xelloss, losing sight of him. Cutting the connection with his shadow before she can catch sight of its source, he moves in like a predator taking its chance. Curling around her right shoulder while tapping her left, making her spin in another circle, growling as she does. Wrapping his arms around her, he cups her cheek, ruffling his gloved hands through her hair, he chuckles. "It seems you've got something stuck behind your ear, Ms. Lina."
"Wha- Xelloss-" she growls, stiffening in the cage of his arms. Lovely embarrassment and annoyance blossoms up from her skin like warmth from the hearth. It tastes smooth and sweet, like a confection. He chuckles again, willing the shadow into shape and pulling it free from red strands.
Holding a dark petaled flower in front of her nose, he unravels from around her and presents the flower properly with a flourishing bow. "For you, Ms. Lina," He says, winking cheekily at her. The flower is a terrible thing, its stem dark and withered like a dead tree branch, the bloom itself the color of a fresh bruise, red veins running through each petal. At its center protruded a small cluster of white filaments, the peeking anthers like tiny fangs, giving the flower the appearance of a tiny fanged maw.
Lina twitches, her expression flattening. "That's horrible," she says, flicking careless fingers at the flower still being held up to her.
Not bothering to feign a pout, Xelloss smiles wider. "I think it's rather lovely."
She shakes her head, surprising him. "The flower's fine," Lina snorts, snatching it away from him and pinning it recklessly back behind her ear. A thrill goes through him, feeling a piece of himself being handled so roughly. Being kept so close. Her prideful, unwavering gaze finds his once more, pinning him in place like the flower. "It was that two-bit birthday party sorcerer's trick you pulled." A disgusted scoff leaves her, a vehement sound from such a little body. "Something behind my ear? Ugh, that's bad, even for you."
Stomping closer, chin held high and looking down her nose at him, Lina pokes him roughly in the chest, digging in her finger. "That's why I'm demanding emotional compensation."
ii.
"I'm surprised you're helping me," Lina says, her eyes intent on the faded runes embossing the spines of the two tomes in her hands. "Or rather, I'm surprised you're helping without giving me the runaround, this time."
Xelloss taps a finger to his chin, smiling vaguely. "Well, of course, Ms. Lina. We're comrades, aren't we?" After a moment, his smile widens, pleasantly grating at the corners as he slides another tome between her line of sight. "And you did ask, didn't you, Ms. Lina?"
Shoulders hunching up to her ears, Lina snatches the book away from with a snort. Her thin hip checks into his, irritation flowing over his pallet refreshingly, a little tart when surprised pleasure lances through the annoyance as she reads the rune titles.
Like the strawberry lemonade he had once in the outerworld.
How fitting.
Bright eyes slide his way, something not quite like a grin quirks at the corners of her mouth. "I did ask, yeah," she begins, clever fingers flicking through the pages. The tome's ancient spine complains as she lays it across her forearm, flipped open to a diagram.
Power whispers from the page.
iii.
"You're always watching me," Lina says. There's no anger or accusal, just calm fact and maybe a little exasperated amusement. "I don't get it. What's the gain here? Your lord can't possibly care about one bandit killer that much," She points out, stretching out without a care, her chin propped on her palm. Her fingers and cheek are covered in smeared ink. In the low lantern light, the ink catches the flickering light, dark and glimmering.
If Xelloss had a human's penchant for wishful thinking, he might have imaged the ink to be ichor, the burning blood of the gods and their servants. "Modesty doesn't fit you, Ms. Lina," he chides. "You know you're much more than that to the monster race."
Lina traces her fingers over the symbols, the shape of a name older than creation. Her eyes shutter, lashes fanning over her cheekbones, bronze over ivory. The silence dreams between them and Xelloss thinks of ashes and gold. He reaches out and touches her cheek, his thumb sliding over the corner of her mouth, tracing the bow of her bottom lip.
"How did you know?" Lina asks, not pulling away. Her question could be for a hundred things, from the significance of the tome, to knowing what she truly is beneath that mortal shell of hers.
The answer is all the same. She is Lina Inverse, and she has touched the golden nothingness behind creation. That's all that matters.
Xelloss smiles. "That's a secret."
Her eyes slide closed and she laughs wryly, leaning imperceptively into his touch. "What a pain, I don't want to be a monster magnet."
iv.
"Ms. Lina," Xelloss says, dark eyes burning.
"Don't talk," she scolds, head buried in the pillow of her arms. Red hair falling sprawling atop the desk and books, framing her like a halo of flames. Her bare, pale, lithe spine curves into a fascinating arch and Xelloss traces his gloved fingers down the length of it, stopping at the waistband of her tights. The wings of her shoulder blades tense, sliding beneath her skin as he drags the ink brush from her nape to the dip in the small of her back.
"Ms. Lina," He tries again, leaning forwards, pinning her down with a steady, deceptively strong hand. Nudging his mouth against her ear, tucking back the fall of thick waves, he makes a soft, tutting sound. "I can't finish the seal if you keep squirming."
Shifting on her knees, the chair creaks beneath her, a shudder running through her tiny body. Her shoulders hunch, and she turns just enough to glare at him, red-cheeked and scowling through the veil of her hair. "Oh just get on with it, I know you're almost done." Her eyes avert, sliding to the grain of the wooden desk. Her embarrassment perfumes the room, but a sigh passes through her, and she relaxed.
A soft hum leaves her as Xelloss swirls the brush, taking care to write the runes. A stopgap, a very small one, against the inevitable. Even Lina, as fascinating and bold as she was, couldn't fight creation, couldn't fight the void. "This is what you wanted," he reminds her, slowly, deliberately using his index finger to wipe away a stray line on the small of her back, causing her to twitch and arch under his touch. "Nothing would have stopped you from taking the manuscript and having one of your friends do this," he points out, chuckling when she hisses, tucking her hands beneath her chin, not arguing for once.
"You know why I chose you," She says, finally.
In a fit of what would be vanity in any other being, Xelloss signs his work with a small, toothy flower above her hip. Touching the drying ink, willing power through it, letting it sink into all that pale skin like a brand, like a claim.
Like a promise.
"Because even when you're all alone, I'll be here," Xelloss answers.
Like a threat. Like a claim. Like an oath.
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WWE Wrestlemania 36 - Preview & Predictions
Heeeeeyyyyy heeeeeeeyyyyyy its Wrestlemania....fighting to survive....
............. Coronavirus, social distancing, injuries, sickness, poor booking, late booking changes, trying to get people to pay $60 on PPV instead of free on the Network, etc etc etc
Brock Lesnar (c) vs Drew McIntyre: WWE Championship Match
I really really feel for Drew here, probably the most out of anyone on the show with the lack of an audience as well as the lack of crowds being able to watch in Scotland in bars at the Hooked On Wrestling events, as they would have been SUPERB for both atmosphere and something they would show constantly on tv after the win.
But no, sadly instead of holding this off till later in the year we still have to proceed and deal with it, gutted.
I feel this match could go 25 minutes long and be one of Brock’s longest matches for awhile, in them asking Brock to make Drew look THE STAR in beating him and beating him well. Plus, they cant have both this AND the Goldberg match go less than 5 minutes.....can they?
Wish they would have gone OTT with this and had it filmed at Lesnar’s ranch and be falls count anywhere, Drew turns up saying nothing will stop him from winning the title so he’s there to claim his prize on Brock’s turf. Then gone made fighting around the farm, oh well there’s other matches on this show that will seemingly be booked to shit.
Drew wins, they need to make sure he then moves into feuds with big names and wins clean each time to really invest it all into Drew and see what happens - MCINTYRE
Goldberg (c) vs Braun Strowman: WWE Universal Championship Match
What is there to be said here, Roman had to drop out because they stupidly had him around sick people with his health past, they decide to replace him with Braun who last month lost his title to Sami Zayn, not to mention they didnt even announce it till Smackdown last night without even mentioning Reigns by name after having HHH announce earlier in the week it would be done in an interesting way.............
This should go short with ideally Braun going over, have Bill take the lead hitting all his offense, big spear then as he goes to lift him for the Jackhammer he cant lift him and Strowman bursts out of it hits his finish and pins him clean while in monster mode.
Braun starts the big push from nowhere while at the same time this leaves it open for Goldberg to potentially come back for a rematch, as he didnt have anytime to prepare for Strowman and his game-plan for the bout. Not that I want Bill always around the title scene when he turns up but if they can get Braun going over him clean twice it really helps out a current full time guy under contract WHAT A CLEVER IDEA THAT WOULD BE!!! lol - STROWMAN
The Undertaker vs AJ Styles
I really have no desire to see Taker in a big singles match at Wrestlemania or any other big show ever again, let alone it being in a match with AJ who could have an awesome match with most others on the card. This match should really have turned into the OC vs Taker/Aleister Black if they HAD to go with these guys together, the rub that would have given Black would have been MASSIVE!! Imagine the innovative entrance they could have come up with for both guys together, truly letting Taker pass his aura across to someone new....just goosebumps thinking of how they would look....but nope.
Instead we end up with a feud built around shoot promos about Takers wife doing AJ’s Styles Clash finisher.....
The worst part is that I see Taker going over, not sure if it was confirmed but it was mentioned he’d have 2 others with him who most likely will turn the tide of the match, dont get your hopes up for Black here instead, im guessing its Kane and Big Show....seriously....please be wrong - UNDERTAKER
John Cena vs The Fiend Bray Wyatt
I really wish if they are going to bring back guys who haven't been on the road full time then PLEASE bring them back with a solid storyline that makes sense and that’s been built up for awhile to make sense.....not this. Truthfully they need to build these matches with the sole purpose of having the other guys who could/should have been the spot to be able to turn around and say, ‘you know what, this makes alot of sense and will be great so I cant hold it against them and moan’. Honestly that’s all it needs.
And secondly they really are lucky there wont be a live audience there for the match, the cheers the Fiend would have received over Cena would have drove them wild in editing after trying to build Bray as the crazy heel.
After dropping the title Bray NEEDS the big win here to keep his aura something they can use well, the more they have him lose the quicker that appeal will drop, and for me with Wyatt that doesn't mean he can take loses as long as he isnt pinned like others can ANY loss hurts someone who can teleport (?!?!) - WYATT
Edge vs Randy Orton: Last Man Standing
Edge is the guy in second place behind Drew for me feeling gutted there wont be an audience around for this, imagine coming back after years away and the thought you could never wrestle again through fear of dying then finding you CAN wrestle again.........only to be risking it all in an empty building.....FUCKS SAKE!
This should be great and given the time to have the emotional side of it pour out strong, we should be getting Edge taking a beating to the point that Beth will come out to support him then have her feelings develop to the point she will want him to stay down and stop the pain. Yeah this will be great - EDGE
Becky Lynch (c) vs Shayna Baszler: Raw Women’s Championship Match
I dont think the result should be in question here, Shayna HAS to win and go on a dominant run with the belt, ideally booking Becky to come back in contention for SummerSlam to rematch.......sadly everything's in the air with the world.
For me, and remember those words, Becky’s reign has been abit of a meh fest in-ring, apart from the Sasha bouts, and the extra focus on her has highlighted her ring work which really isnt the strongest part of her game (Not saying she’s terrible at all, but could she please drop the awkward leg drop from the ropes lol). At the same time alot of that is down to how she’s booked as management seem to go on a few months run of wanting the women to be the main focus, then quickly changing their mind and dropping it back massively. Also, the lack of depth with the women’s division's is a problem with them being split over the shows, same with the men to a degree and is the reason we see feuds get dragged and dragged for months, with less women it means we hardly get anything that feels fresh which needs to be key - BASZLER
Lacey Evans vs Sasha Banks vs Bayley (c) vs Tamina vs Naomi - Smackdown Women’s Championship Fatal 5 Way Match
What a mess this is, I have no desire to see Banks/Bayley again for at least another 5 years...........but id much prefer that to having Tamina suddenly dragged on tv and put into the title picture. I get that the roster like her and she’s probably a really nice person to be around and supports the other women massively when needed, but for a viewer she brings NOTHING and hasn't for YEARS, all she’s doing is taking up a roster spot that someone way more deserving could be in from NXT for example. And yes, ive seen the random accounts on Twitter hoping she wins the title............jeez
Wouldn't have a problem with any of the other women taking the win here, sucks that Dana had to pull out as she has really shown improvements the past few months and deserved her place here easily - BANKS
Rhea Ripley (c) vs Charlotte: NXT Women’s Championship Match
So we definitely are back to saying ‘women’s’ champion again are we? They dropped it the other month but seem to have quickly gone back to it.
Big match for NXT here getting a Mania slot, I really hope that Charlotte doesn't get the win and belt but her winning opens up more fresh options for the future on the women’s division on the show. As long as Charlotte doesn't keep doing her thing of wearing massive heels in-ring to show how much bigger she is to everyone else, for some random reason it annoys me and doesn't need to even be done.
I feel if Charlotte does win the title they will very quickly move another NXT star over to Raw/Smackdown to replace her or hype a new debut upto the draft which MAY be soon - CHARLOTTE
Kevin Owens vs Seth Rollins
The problem with having so many matches at Wrestlemania is that one like this goes so far under the radar its criminal, both guys are great and can pull out something special for the big show....not sure they get the time they will want even with a two night show. This feud will most likely continue so dont worry about who goes over - ROLLINS
Sami Zayn (c) vs Daniel Bryan: Intercontinental Championship Match
Exactly the same as the match before and even more so, a quality match that probably wont get the most time but will be a really fun ride to be on - ZAYN
Jimmy Uso vs John Morrison vs Kofi Kingston: Smackdown Tag Team Title Ladder Match
Yeah dont ask, they had to remove the Miz as he had Coronavirus symptoms but still wanted to do the ladder stipulation...
Honestly the tag division has to be up there for the most stale division in the company, similar to what I said about the women having the Uso’s and The New Day in a match in any combination is just soooooo over done.
Last month I predicted Morrison and Miz to retain and drop the titles tonight but now I hope they keep them, then drop them to Heavy Machinery as soon as they can - MORRISON
The Street Profits (c) vs Austin Theory & Angel Garza: Raw Tag Team Championship Match
Love the SP’s but this really isnt needed in the slightest, I guess the next few matches will be exactly the same. - STREET PROFITS
Elias vs The Baron King
Exactly - Elias
Aleister Black vs Bobby Lashley
Please have Black go over quick - BLACK
Otis vs Dolph Ziggler
At last a match that deserves its spot on the card, a long term story that’s been developed well and is building to more with the stakes changed down the road. Easily an Otis win with Mandy ending up in his arms for the big smooch - OTIS
The Kabuki Warriors (c) vs Alexa Bliss & Nikki Cross: WWE Women’s Tag Team Championship Match
Lets throw the titles we’ve forgotten about on the show too!! Feel for all the women that have been around the title scene here since the belts came into existence, so much promise over multiple brands that went NOWHERE! - CROSS/BLISS
Kick Off Matches
Drew Gulak vs Cesaro
I think Gulak sneaks the win out with his TECHNIQUE!!! - GULAK
Natalya vs Liv Morgan
I hope Liv picks up the win and they give her more tv time and focus, Nattie winning doesnt really do much for anyone apart from her - MORGAN
2 nights, lots of matches, lots of things not needed get ready to be mildly hyped!!!
Enjoy
Bye for now
Andy
#WWE#Wrestlemania#36#raw#smackdown#nxt#Brock Lesnar#drew mcintyre#goldberg#Braun Strowman#roman reigns#becky lynch#shayna baszler#john cena#the fiend#bray wyatt#bayley#sasha banks#undertaker#AJ Styles#kevin owens#seth rollins#john morrison#The Usos#the new day#the street profits#angel garza#austin theory#Andrade Cien Almas#aleister black
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When Night Comes (8)
Chapter Title: Love At First Bite
Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x Hunter!Barton!Reader x Vampire!Steve Rogers
Summary: Hunting is usually easy for you, so why is this one so hard? Because of those two gorgeous beings you have ran into. Ever since you moved to their town your mind has never drifted away from those two mysterious men but you are going to have to bury those feelings deep below the surface and make your father proud for the threat that’s about to come. It’s not right and you know it, Humans and Vampires can’t be together let alone live among each other. Loving the monsters always turns out badly for the human, right?
Chapter Warnings: lil bit of fluff, angst, violence, mentions of blood, badly written Smut 18+, NSFW, M/F/M, Slight Dom/Sub (more like Dom/Dom/Sub) Blood Fetish.
Word Count: 4027
A/N: I apologise it’s a long chapter and that is has taken me so long to upload. There is a lot of mention of blood so if you don’t like blood you can skip the smut.
New Town New Faces, Target Practice, The Stranger in the Bar, Town Rumours, Don’t Stay Out After Dark, Don’t Go into the Woods, Watch Your Neck Kid, Love At First Bite, New Rivals, Kill or be Killed, Last Warning, Tragedy Strikes Again.
It was a huge plus that Wanda was part witch, she put a seal around the room so that only you could get in and out without getting trapped on the other side unlike Brock, If he falls for the bait then he’s going to be stuck in that room unless something happens to Wanda. You waited in the kitchen staring out the window holding your mug of coffee to your chest, you silently prayed that this plan works usually your plans always worked so this one should be a piece of cake, right? Well you can only hope for the best.
“Hey, you okay?” two strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, you didn’t need to turn and look at who the arms belonged to. Steve. You took a deep breath in and let it out as you forced a smile to appear on your face. You finally crane your neck to look up at Steve, planting a kiss on his jaw.
“M’fine.” You hummed, it wasn’t very believable. Steve could see right through your lies, sometimes. He raised an eyebrow at you, you huffed a laugh and placed your mug down on the counter then turned around to face your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m fine Steve, I promise I’m just nervous. I’ve hunted vampires a million times but nothing as close to this with magic and with nice vampires.” You closed your mouth quickly and went wide eyed. “Not that that is a bad thing, you know what I’m going to shut up now.” Your cheeks flushed a light pink colour and you sheepishly look up to meet Steve’s blue eyes. Steve’s hand cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead.
“Out of all the vampire huntresses I’ve ran into over the years none were like you, this is going to work. Look around you, we are all here cause we trust you.” You looked at Wanda and Natasha who were working in the living room while Pietro and Bucky were leaning against the wall talking. “We all wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.” You smile and rest your head on his shoulder as he slowly sways you from side to side.
“I swear to god if you two keep doing the PDA without me I swear I will kick both your asses.” Bucky mumbled enough for Steve to hear, he chuckled and whispered in your ear what Bucky had said. You lift your head and a smirk appeared on your lips.
“I find that hard to believe Barnes.” You winked playfully at your other boyfriend who did it back. Then the mood in the room changed quick, you felt Steve tense and everyone else seemed to do the same. “What?” You looked up at Steve who had a very serious look on his face.
“He’s close, everyone be on guard.” You followed Steve into the middle on the hallway, Bucky looked at you then frowned at Steve.
“Steve, she can’t be this close to Brock. Not till we get him in there.” Bucky paced towards where you stood. Both of them nodded at the stairs and you quickly caught on. “He’s in the driveway.” Natasha, Wanda and Pietro stood behind Steve and Bucky. You could now hear Brock’s footsteps on the wooden floorboards of the porch. You waited on the stairs, gripping onto the wooden banister waiting for your que.
The whole house was silent, those who had heightened senses couldn’t even hear anything either. It was dead silent. It was killing you, Brock definitely wants a dramatic entrance and he’s going to get one along with a grand finale. Oh you’ll make sure of that. Out of nowhere your front door shattered into splinters and planks of wood on the floor and there stood Brock in all his glory with the most angry look on his face, fists clenched, heavy breathing and his teeth on show.
“Why could you not have just let her die.” Brock huffed, relaxing his stance and smiling bitterly at the little group of vampires in your hallway. “Speaking of which, where is she.” He knew where you were.
“Last chance Brock. Walk. Away.” Bucky warned, his voice deep nothing like the voice you are use to. Brock huffed a laugh and walked into the hallway very slowly, taking his time to look around the room. You peeked down the stairs and only seeing the back of Brock’s head then your eyes locked with Bucky’s, he nodded his head forward but that wasn’t the signal that was something else but you chose to stay where you are, keeping an eye on where Brock would go next.
“You shouldn’t be the one to order me about Sergeant. It’s not your place.” Brock continued to walk further into the hallway then stopping in front of the double doorway of the living room, you along with everyone else were silently hoping he would go in. “But I will allow this one slip although I’m not leaving so soon , not without Y/n. Dead or alive.” He finally got into the living room and drop himself down on one of the sofas facing the small group of vampires. “Ain’t anyone going to join me?” he held his hand out at the empty sofa in front of him. Taking a deep breathe you climbed down the stairs and walked passed your friends into the living room also.
“Hey there. You should have left when you had the chance.” Your voice showed no emotion at all, nothing but a cold harsh tone was delivered as you stood behind the sofa.
“I can leave whenever I like. It’s almost cute to think you can stop me and tell me what to do.” He got up and mimicked your tone then stomping towards you. You took a few steps back till you were out the room and a loud shriek of pain left Brock as he shot out his arm to grab you. “What is this?” he growled.
“Just a simple spell used against vampires. As long as you’re in there you can’t leave only Y/n can cause she is human.” Wanda spoke up, feeling confident that she managed to accomplish a spell. “Also you just made me a hybrid , I was a witch before so I guess I should thank you.” Wanda smiled.
“Sorry not sorry Brock. But as a huntress I can’t have someone like you run around killing people for fun, now can I?” You adjusted your stance, crossing your arms and glaring at Brock. His eyes drifted from yours, Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Wanda and Pietro who was very uncharacteristically quiet. “I’m not done with you yet so get comfortable, it’s going to be a long night.”
3 hours passed and after the first hour you hooked Brock up to an IV but full of vervain water to weaken him. You sat in the kitchen on the counter where you had a good eye on Brock and Bucky sat on a bar stool beside you, resting his head on your lap as you run your fingers through his hair. Steve walked through and perched himself behind Bucky but on the counter. Not a few minutes later Bucky abruptly sat up at the sound of car arriving into the driveway.
“Y/n were you expecting any more company?” Natasha quickly paced into the kitchen with a concerned look on her face. You exchanged looks with everyone, you were just as shocked as everyone else.
“Wanda, Pietro keep an eye on Brock I’m going to-”
“Y/n, why the hell is our front door in pieces? What the hell is going on here? Natasha?” Your dad made his way into the front hall and stopped just before Natasha, now you were confused. They knew each other?
“Vampire. In the front room.” Was all you could say. Pointing to the double doorway you took your dad’s arm and dragged him so that he was in front of Wanda, she moved out the way to let Clint look at the man who was hooked up to the vervain water IV.
“Brock? He’s not a vampire Y/n, he’s a hunter.” Clint scoffed and turned to look at you. Then back at Brock. “Never mind I can smell the vervain, fuck sake how could I be so stupid.” Your father dragged his hand down his face and sighed.
“It’s fine dad, we’ve got him now.” You sighed back and dragged him into the kitchen to tell him the plan.
Brock sat in the chair silent. He was a sneaky bastard but no one expected that he removed the IV needle and was faking the whole time, that’s why Clint could smell the vervain, it was leaking all over the carpet. He looked up at Pietro with a mysterious look in his eyes and Pietro walked over to Wanda, pushing her into the room with Brock and he grabbed her neck and in one swift effortless motion he broke it. The seal was down and everyone rushed into the front hall, Bucky and Steve were the first to attack Brock but they were no match for the weakened vampire, Natasha was next and she just went through the window. Brock looked between you and Clint deciding who he’ll attack, you were too slow to move and everything was over so quickly it hurt your head to piece together what happened and Clint was on the floor bleeding from the neck and Brock was gone.
“What the fuck was that?” Natasha hissed, getting up off the floor.
“Brock is always one step ahead. The bastard!” Bucky seethed.
“Dad! Steve? Bucky? Do something please!” You crawled over to your dad and take his hand in yours, you couldn’t think straight the only thing that was on your mind was your father and keeping him alive. But Steve and Bucky weren’t by your side it was Natasha she bit her wrist and let a few drops of her blood into Clint’s mouth to heal the nasty bite mark that was on his neck that Brock had made. It was sure that Clint and Natasha knew each other but how? When Clint regained consciousness not long after Natasha’s blood healed his wound he still looked at her shocked, you along with Bucky and Steve looked between the two in confusion but the silence broke when Wanda groaned and got up.
“What the hell Pietro? Where is he? Where is my Brother!”” Wanda freaked out but no one even noticed Pietro was missing nor what had gotten into him. “He took him! We are going to kill Brock I don’t care how!”
“Wanda we will get Pietro back I promise, we will.” Steve tried to calm her down.
“But how Steve? He is always one fucking step ahead of us!” You yelled in frustration, getting up and stomping to the “was” front door. “How is it so hard to kill a vampire? I’ve done it a million times it should be simple!” after realising what you said you cursed quietly to yourself “I’m sorry guys I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Can someone explain to me what the fuck is going on.” Clint spoke up, you had a lot to explain mainly the fact you are dating 2 vampires and the fact you nearly died.
“Uhhh, dad this is Natasha which you know already, Wanda, Steve and Bucky who I am dating.” you spoke quickly when you explained yous were dating but the look on your fathers face, he was not impressed. You then started to explain the situation with Brock but Clint interrupted you.
“You are dating vampires!? Y/n what have I told you? Vampires and Humans can’t live among each other and are dangerous.” He was angry, very very angry with you and it hurt you a lot.
“But I-” You stuttered.
“I don’t want to hear it, now I better call your mother and tell her I’ll book a hotel room for us and you can find somewhere else to stay.” that last part hit you hard, the tears clouded your vision and your world was just starting to crumble. Did he really just tell you to go somewhere else? You watched as your father walked out the house and got in his car and left.
You didn’t move or make a sound, you just stood there letting it sink in before you collapsed to the floor but still no tears. Steve and Bucky wasted no time and were by your side.
“It’s okay, you can stay with us for a while until Brock is gone.” Bucky helped you up onto your feet and hugged you close why Steve was behind Bucky. You weren’t listening you were to distracted from the fact your father just told you to leave and that it was going to be a while for him to forgive you.
“I don’t want to be here. Take me anywhere better than here.” I whispered, your throat was dry and sore from trying to stop the tears. Everyone nodded and before you knew it you were in Steve and Bucky’s house, well more specifically their room.
It was just you and Steve for a while, you were lying on his bed with you head resting on his lap as he stroked you head to comfort you.
Bucky was down stairs telling Natasha and Wanda to find a safe place to stay and hide till someone thought of a plan and they complied, vanishing till they were needed. Natasha said Wanda could stay with her since her brother is missing, well with Brock.
Bucky entered the room, sitting next to Steve and resting his head on his shoulder. This would be the longest you’ve ever been without saying a word to them, you weren’t going to blame them cause it wasn’t their fault. Sitting up straight and looking out the window in front of you, you sighed rubbing your hands over your face, while your two boyfriends moved to sit behind you. Still not saying a word they moved closer to you both at the same time planting a kiss on your shoulders then up your neck, you smiled and moved to turn around but they thought you were going to tell them off but you weren’t.
“Trying to get my mind off things, boys?” You smiled at them but they kept a straight face.
“Not forcing you into anything Y/n, if you don’t want us to do anything you aren’t comfortable with then we respect that and back off.” Steve spoke softly and moved closer to you to cup your cheek and give you a gentle, loving kiss. “It’s up to you.”
You thought for a moment, there really was nothing that could go wrong well maybe but surely one of them can control themselves “I want this. Please. Both of you.” You nodded looking into Steve’s eyes then Bucky’s and they nodded back. You moved and sat on your knees, kissing Steve but this time a little more desire and need, your hands were in his hair while his were on your hips. You were completely lost in the kiss you forgot about Bucky until you felt the bed dip behind you and he started to kiss your neck, sucking bruises on your pulse point but he couldn’t compose himself and got a little carried away and bit into your neck but not enough to break the skin and bleed but to leave a little mark. You gasped at the sensation but Bucky got the wrong idea.
“Shit, Y/n I’m sorry I didn’t mean…” you turned your head to face Bucky and gave him a kiss on his jaw.
“Do it again. It felt so good.” You moaned. At first Bucky wasn’t so sure of the idea and was hesitant to do as you asked and looked up to meet Steve’s eyes and even he was a little shocked that you had asked Bucky to bite you again. You realised that Bucky looked almost uncomfortable so you pulled away from Steve and moved closer to Bucky. “Hey It’s okay I can take it.” You cupped his cheek and brought his face closer to yours.
“But what if I hurt you again or I won’t be able to stop.” Bucky gently grabbed your wrist but didn’t move them, he couldn’t bare to meet your eyes.
“You won’t and Steve is here, we’ll both make sure you won’t lose control, right Steve?” You looked back at Steve and he nodded.
“Exactly.” Steve took Bucky’s free hand in his and you turned your head to look at Steve then back at Bucky. Bucky’s blue eyes met your (E/c) ones and he kept eye contact with you as he brought your wrist to his lips, he kissed your wrist then bit down as gentle as he could make it. You closed your eyes as you felt his fangs pierce your skin it didn’t hurt as much as it did the last time but it still felt uncomfortable, Steve took the opportunity to start kissing up your neck, your jaw then he turned your head to look at him and he kisses you deeply to distract you from the pain in your wrist.
Steve and Bucky both pulled away from you and appeared at the end of the bed. “How is this supposed to work?” You asked but it came out a whisper, both the boys looked at each other then smirked back at you.
“You don’t have to worry about that Y/n, just relax and enjoy.” Steve spoke and everything became a blur, all there of you were now fully undressed and you were on your back leaning against Bucky’s chest and your head in his shoulder while Steve sitting between your legs, he was slowly kissing up your legs causing you to grow impatient then he stopped at your thighs.
Steve looked up meeting yours then Bucky’s gaze. He stared a little longer at Bucky, smirking and you notice his fangs look pointier than usual. You craned your neck to look up at Bucky then a sudden pain in your thigh stole your attention causing you to gasp in pain, you sat up and looked down at Steve who had bit you far too close to your sex. Soon your pain turned to pleasure and you leaned back down on Bucky’s chest and he attacked your neck by kissing and lightly nipping at it but he stopped when he noticed the bite marks from the last time he bit your neck.
“Bucky. It’s okay I want you too, I can take it.” You moaned, feeling Steve bite the other thigh in the same place didn’t hurt anymore, Bucky growled and bit into your neck but still being careful with his actions. They haven’t even touched you yet and you were already a moaning mess.
You don’t know how long you three were like this and already you were feeling tired and they could tell and they pulled away giving you a second to breathe. You can’t deny that the way Steve and Bucky looked with your blood covering the lower part of their face did something to you the evidence was all in your panties, you had no idea you had a blood fetish and deep down you felt shameful and filthy. You watched as Steve crawled his way up to Bucky leaving you sandwiched between the two vampires, they kissed each other hungerly and you watched them and to think you couldn't get turned on even more, you felt Bucky’s cock twitch against your lower back and Steve’s against your pelvis.
Feeling adventurous to start to plam Steve though his boxer briefs, you didn’t get very far before his strong hand gripped your wrist and he came face to face with you. His gorgeous blue eyes were now red and lust blown a sight like this was exquisite.
“Ah Ah. Only good girls who are patient get rewards.” Steve said slowly and darkly, it made the hairs on your skin stand on edge. Steve quickly kissed you with the same passion as he did Bucky moments ago, the taste of iron on his tongue hit yours and you moaned into the kiss but he then pulled away from you and loosened the grip on your hand pulling you up against him. Soon you were flipped and put on all fours in front of Bucky who seemed to be enjoying the scene before his eyes. “Are you going to be a good girl?” You kept your eyes on Bucky, his eyes were the same as Steve’s. Red and Lust blown. You nodded at Steve’s question but that only earned you a loud smack on your ass, you squealed and looked back at Steve who was sitting on his knees.
“Yes sir.” Your voice came out shaky but it wasn’t supposed to. Steve seemed satisfied with your answer and moved closer to your wet core, licking a long stipe over your pussy you moaned loudly as he continued his work on your pussy. Bucky hooked his finger under your chin making you look at him.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me too?” Bucky smirked at you and you repeated your last answer. “I’m not as much as a pain in the ass as Steve.” You couldn’t understand what Bucky had meant as your mind was too busy elsewhere. Before you Bucky removed his boxers and freed his erection and you looked at it with wide eyes. “Go on, you can have it.” You wasted no time in wrapping your lips around his shaft and bobbing your head up and down, you and Bucky both moaned and you felt your orgasm approaching you fast and soon you came but Steve didn’t stop. Bucky wasn’t that far behind you, spilling his seed into your mouth and you swallowed every last drop.
Steve pulled away and you let go of Bucky’s cock and collapsed in a heap on the bed. You were too busy catching your breath again while Steve and Bucky were kissing each other again.
“She tastes amazing. I want a taste for myself.” Bucky moved towards your tired body and picked you up and set you on your knees between his legs. “We’re not finished with you just yet baby. I hope you’re okay with that and poor Stevie hasn’t had a chance to cum yet.” You kept your eyes on Bucky. “We can’t leave Steve hard especially when he hasn’t had all the fun yet.” You broke away from Bucky’s gaze and met Steve’s, you reached your hand out for him and he took it.
“You can get your reward now.” Steve stroked your face and wiped away some of the blood off your face then you lowered yourself down to Steve’s cock, licking the underside of his length then taking him in your mouth much like what you did to Bucky except Steve’s hands tangled into your hair then he helped guide you up and down his cock. Bucky waited and watched you suck off Steve and not long after he started to eat you out, you moaned at Bucky’s sudden attack on your pussy and the vibrations went right through Steve causing him to moan louder and he stopped moving your head and began to face fuck you. Steve didn’t last long and came in your mouth, you swallowed like what you did with Bucky and you came not that long after.
You collapsed on the bed once again as Steve and Bucky left the room for what was only a split second to get a damp cloth to clean you up let alone each other. The two boys assessed your body for the bite marks they had left on you and if needed they bandaged them up like your wrist, neck and both your thighs. Your body was exhausted and you felt the sleep take over your vision but before you drifted off properly you were picked up by a pair of strong arms.
WNC - @imaginesforthepeople, @lexie-mo , @attorneyl , @mia-at-work , @andiyholly, @lunarwolf13oo
Permanent - @doowneey, @m-a-t-91 , @fuckthatfeeling , @jitterbuck , @ria132love , @pvnk-bivch , @etherealmandi , @pri00r , @5aftermidnight, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @lanijoyxo, @typicaltrashbagg
#marvel#Avengers#avengers fanfiction#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x steve rogers#bucky barnes au#vampire au#vampire!bucky barnes#vampire!steve rogers#vampire!stucky#stucky x reader#Steve Rogers#bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers#steve rogers au#stucky fanfiction
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Top 5 Games of 2019
It was a little tricky to construct a top 5 for this year, though there have been a couple of surprises. I wasn’t expecting the year to be a bit crap as we are no w on the cusp once more of a new generation. But 2012 wasn’t all that bad of a year (PS4 and Xbox One would release in 2013) and at the moment, everyone is doing alright. PS4 has sold through over 100 million systems, Nintendo are definitely on an “on” generation with Switch, Xbox has been able to get back into peoples good books with things like Game Pass (on both Console and PC, their PC side they seem to really be turning around), there’s even interesting things happening in the mobile space with Apple Arcade.
This won’t be the last year where my top 5 games are full of current gen titles, I am expecting the new systems to drop in around November, last time it was hard to find a top 5 specific to PS4 (as I listed each platform separately back then). It IS however, another list of mostly AAA tier games. If you want to know what smaller more “interesting” games I have been playing, check out my honourable mentions at the end.
Also, follow me on Melee. It’s this new image blogging service from Imgur which you can download now on the IOS App Store (its just on iPhone at the moment) and it has seemingly been built to help people share gaming related clips and images off of places like Twitter and Instagram (and err, here on Tumblr). I posted a couple of daft clips of me failing in Modern Warfare and Destiny 2 and it didn’t take long for them to amass a few likes and comments.
That sounded like a sponsored advert but ain’t nobody paying me for this. Let’s get into my top 5
5. Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order
I was about to select Gears 5 to be my number 5 until I saw sense and cast my memory back to when I started playing Jedi (all the way back in November. I was impressed by its intense action, impressive visuals and great characters. I especially enjoyed the 4 armed pilot who always complains. I did feel that towards the end I got sick of managing large groups of enemies so I dropped the difficulty to get through it, but I still haven’t achieved 100% of activities on all planets so I can still go back to it one day.
4. Borderlands 3
We all knew this was coming but not even I had any idea that we would have been actually playing it in 2019 way back at the start of the year. For me, I look at the game. I don’t care about weird magicians or their insane sounding legal woes, all I’m interested in is the work of a team who deserved better for their last title, but am still glad returned to what they do best, looting and shooting. I enjoyed rejoining these characters I have followed over the last 10 years, all the referenced to older games, cameos from characters from Tales From the Borderlands and The Pre Sequel and was sad to see some people go. I still have about a year of extra content to go through and I really appreciate the efforts they have made to make the game last longer than just one playthrough through in the Proving Grounds, Circle of Slaughter and Mayhem modes. Though I have always tended to stick to Borderlands games and create builds for each and every vault hunter, so I will be doing that.
3. Mortal Kombat 11
It’s been a while since I last put a fighting game into my end of year round up. And I HAVE fallen off MK11 a little bit, but this entry reminded me of how impressive it is for Nether Realms to pack their fighting games with some many things to do and keep people playing outside of just going into matchmaking and fighting others. The Vault this year is basically another little adventure full of exploration and puzzle solving and the Towers of Time give you plenty of challenge and direction of many months to come. You also have to give the developer credit for never backing down on the brutality of the game, they must have all got their heads together after DC Universe vs. and vowed never again to make watered down versions of Fatalities. It is a game that keeps getting better and better.
2. Call of Duty Modern Warfare
I was debating whether or not to include this years CoD. I always get the same type of enjoyment out of it each year, people complain that it never changes but I’m glad it sticks to a formula. Of course they are not identikit games, there are new maps, new modes, new ways of building your loadout and new touches, like how in this year you can snap to edges to stay in cover while you shoot, there’s the new special equipment system where you can drop ammo or reduce your footstep noise. Having doors you can either peek through or smash open adds another level of strategy, there have been times where I have been able to escape being under fire by closing a door, re-positioning and then wasting whoever just wanders in.
The campaign this year, good to see it back, but whatever, the co-op mode is Spec Ops again, like it was back in MW2 and 3 but on a much larger scale, I have yet to complete one of these btw. But as always, it’s the multiplayer that does it for me and Modern Warfare deserves credit for being what must be the first AAA game to feature cross platform play, not just launch with it. I know that games like Fortnite are popular, but I don’t see that as a AAA title, it doesn’t have the full package, it’s just a mode and it started off small. Call of Duty is expected to be big each year, has a lot riding on it and allowing for cross play is a big step. I especially appreciate being able to play with a keyboard and mouse on PS4 and being able to matchmake only with people playing with controllers on PC, in fact, I have never really given the game much of a shot on PC before as I know people just fall of it, there has often been low player numbers reported on the PC versions of CoD and it looks like it won’t have that problem this time round due to cross play.
Modern Warfare still has to contend with Destiny 2 and Overwatch for my time as my main multiplayer game but it’s still as fun as ever.
1. Control
Put this down as my main “surprise” game of 2019. A game which was not on my watch list, though I was aware of it as you can’t ignore a game from the makers of Max Payne (I did skip Alan Wake and didn’t care much for Quantum break though). Bought it at the last minute before its release, downloaded it and was wowed by the sinister nature of the environment you run around in. This weird fictitious US government agency which looks into paranormal activity which you seem to have become in charge of because you picked up a mysterious weapon from the deceased Director while searching for your brother. What then follows is about 12 hours of wacky powers and odd video clips as you unearth what has been going on in this strange ever morphing building.
I especially loved how the game never holds your hand too much, the map of each floor is vague enough that you also have to rely on in-game signposting to move around, as well as a bit of memory work. There is also great humour involved too in some of the PSA posters on a lot of the walls, the antics of the caretaker and the videos you find of Dr. Darling throughout the game.
I did have a few weird technical issues with the game throughout playing, but still found it to be visually pleasing, there was this weird hitch that used to appear after coming out of the pause screen that always threw me, it would be followed by a few moments of low performance before getting back into the smooth action. But this didn’t stop me from having a great time with Control. Perhaps the game that will be the most prominent in my head when I think of 2019.
So there you have it, control is my best game of 2019. But let’s look at the other new games I played throughout the year in my honourable mentions:
Gears 5
The Outer Worlds
Days Gone
Apex Legends
Far Cry New Dawn
Trover Saves the Universe
Concrete Genie
Devil May Cry 5
Tom Clancy's The Division 2
And also a special mention to these old games that were rereleased/remastered/repackaged etc in 2019:
Borderlands Game of the Year Edition Remastered
Halo Reach
And now, a look at the games I have on my watchlist for 2020:
Cyberpunk 2077
Last of Us Part 2
Ghost of Tsushima
Halo: Infinite
Watch Dogs Legion
Phantasy Star Online 2
Gods & Monsters
Doom Eternal
Overwatch 2
Diablo IV
Minecraft dungeons
Marvel's Avengers
Carrion
Streets of Rage 4
Will they all even come out? Let’s find out, happy new year!
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Title: A Different Time
Summary: After a bit more chaos the day finally chills out.
Pairing: Ivar x Reader
Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen
You were unsure what to do, who to comfort first.
Ubbe and Hvitserk had each other, and Lagertha was taming Bjorn. So Ivar it was.
You went around to your room and walked through the connecting bathroom.
‘Ivar?’ you called softly as you entered the room, trying to prepare whatever disaster you might walk in on.
What you saw when you walked in proved you were right to be tense, Ivar was on the ground as if he had fallen from his chair and he was convulsing.
You rushed to his side and take him into arms, at first you thought you he was having a seizure, but you looked at his face and saw that his, while wide with fear, they were focused.
A panic attack.
‘Its OK Ivar, I’m right here, I’m with you.’ you said.
Still he couldn’t get in good breath.
‘OK, listen to me Ivar, we are going to take a deep breath. Breath in for four seconds.’ you said before taking a breath, making sure to watch Ivar do the same.
‘Good, good; now lets just hold it in for five seconds. One, two, three, four, five; now let it all out.’ you instructed,
Ivar let out a long sigh and seemed to calm down a bit, you and he did the exercise a few times until he was calm enough to speak.
‘There you go.’ you sighed in relief.
‘Sigurd will never forgive me no matter what I sacrifice...I will never forgive me.’ Ivar sobbed.
‘We will never return to Kattegat and it will be my fault because I killed him...my own brother.’ he cried.
You held him close.
‘Don’t you lose hope Ivar, things will get better, we’ll figure something out. For right now why don’t you get in bed and I’ll tuck you in and you can sleep until you feel better.’ you offered.
He wiped his eyes before he nodded and pull himself up onto the bed.
You pulled the covers over him and rubbed his hair gently ran a hand through his hair before you kissed his forehead.
‘Sweet dreams Ivar.’ you whispered.
Ivar didn’t say anything back, he just turned over and pulled the covers over his head, the way a child would after a bad day at school.
You sighed sadly before you turned and left the room.
Once you were back in the hall you were about to go and check on Ubbe and Hvitserk when you heard a knock on the door.
You waled over to the door and looked through the peephole.
Alvin.
You rolled your eyes as you open the door.
‘You really couldn’t have chosen a worse time to show up unannounced.’ you said as you stepped outside closing the door behind you.
‘If I had called you wouldn’t have answered.’
‘No I’d answer...and tell you I don’t want you near my damn house.’ you sassed as you folded your arms.
‘Please (Y/N) let’s just talk, just the two of us. There isn’t a girl in my car and I even deleted every girl I had in my phone. I just...I want you back.’ he said reaching out to grab you by the waist.
You backed away from him.
‘What you do now doesn’t change what you did, or all the girls you did it with Alvin. So try peddling that “baby I want you back” shtick for the next girl, maybe she’ll fall for it.’ you said.
‘I’m not peddling anything, I miss you. I know I was wrong going out looking for sex behind your back. You weren’t ready, I respected that and didn’t want to force you, but I wasn’t patient enough to wait for you to be ready and found someone else.’
‘A lot of someones.’ you said.
‘Yes a lot...and each time it was wrong. The other girls they were just...sex and nudes, you were everything that mattered. A person to talk to, a friend I could trust and a good girl to bring home and settle down with.’
‘I was good to you Alvin, better than you deserved. I don’t like making the same mistake twice. We were a mistake; I’m not ready for sex, you aren’t ready wait for sex.’ you reasoned.
‘I’m ready to wait for you now.’
‘It’s too late Alvin.’ you said.
Just when Alvin was going to speak the door opened and there stood Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk and Lagertha.
‘Who the hell is these people?’ he asked as he tensed up his body language.
‘We heard the door open and thought maybe it was Sigurd again.’ Hvitserk said as he looked at Alvin.
‘Is this Alvin?’ Lagertha asked.
‘Yes, he was just leaving.’ you said as you tried to herd them back into the house.
‘The one who made you cry? This is that Alvin?’ Ubbe asked as his looked your ex up and down, sizing him up.
‘Yes, everyone jus-
‘Good, just what I needed after the day I’ve had.’ Bjorn said as he stepped past you and got in Alvin’s face.
‘You got a problem old head?’ Alvin asked defensively getting in a fighting stance.
Bjorn didn’t seem to notice the change in position at all, he just grabbed Alvin by his shoulders and lifted him off the ground.
‘What the fuck?! Let go of me old man!’
‘Bjorn put him down! No fighting! I told you no fighting!’ you yelled as you tried to make the beast of a man put down your poor ex.
With a heavy sigh and the roll of his eyes he dropped Alvin like a sack of potatoes.
‘All of you inside, we’ll talk later.’ you said as you went to help Alvin stand back up.
They all spared Alvin one last look before they went back inside.
‘Nah, what the hell was that shit who the hell were they and why they in yo house?!’ Alvin yelled angrily.
‘Foreigners! I rented out some of the rooms for extra pocket money, they stay here until their visas expire. They were who I bought the clothes for at Walmart, I was going to tell you but you looked busy.’ you lied.
‘That big ass old motherfucker...tell his ass to get back out here!’ Alvin said angrily.
‘No! That man is veteran a damn good one from the stories he’s told he could kill you! Alvin just go, we are over and that old man is just having a bad day and so are you. Please please please just walk away, don’t tell anyone don’t call the cops or they could get in serious trouble. Alvin please do this one thing for me if you ever cared at all, just walk away and forget this.’ you begged.
He was still angry, you could see that, but he looked at you and sighed before he nodded.
‘I don’t snitch...not even on big ass old heads.’ he said.
You sighed with relief.
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t sweat it...and (Y/N), I am sorry for what I did. If by some miracle you ever decided to give me a second chance I’d take it, and I would be better.’ he said before he turned and left.
You watched him get in his truck and drive off.
Now that he was gone you had a whole other monster to deal with inside.
You went inside and there they were on the couch with faces ready for a scolding.
‘I’m not mad or disappointed so I’m not going to yell, none of us need that right now. Today has been...today fucking sucked.’ you said bluntly.
‘I had to work, I got sexually harassed and you all have had a visit from your brother, my ex popped up and you nearly got into a second fight after we had avoided the first.’ you summarized.
‘Yes today...fucking sucked.’ Lagertha agreed.
‘I say we spend the rest of this long ass day watching TV, and eating our feelings. That’s how most people handle a bad day.’ you said as you set the TV up and pushed play on the show.
You head back into the kitchen to get a few bags of chips and Little Debbie snack cakes from the pantry, using your shoe to prop the door open just in case.
You came back into the living living room and put all the goods on the table and opened a few, showing them how to eat the snacks before you sat down on the love seat and opened a bag of Cheetos while the show played.
You all fall into a comfortable silence while watching Merlin, the vikings didn’t ask questions they just sat on the couch and ate.
Finally, things were chilled...for now at least.
#ivar lothbrok#ivar the boneless#ubbe lothbrok#hvitserk#bjorn ironside#lagertha#ivar x reader#a different time series
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Fic: The Evolution of Fox
Title: The Evolution of Fox
Author: @campaignofmisinformation
Rating: PG
POV: Third Person: Mulder
Timeline: Post Season 9 AU, Canon Divergent after Scary Monsters
Summary: Four times William calls Mulder Fox and one time he doesn’t.
Author’s Notes: @noamchimpsky‘s head canon about Maggie being the reason William calls Mulder Fox, along with Toddler actor William and Gillian’s Daddy/Fox exchange inspired whatever this is. And of course, @tofutti-rice-dreamsicle is bae as beta. Even though we completely devolved into horrifyingly terrible alternate endings there at the end.
i.
The thump of his tattered bag on the floor makes him wince. He feels like an invader in this place that used to feel more like home than his own. What was once an immaculate living room is now cluttered with colorful toys and toddler paraphernalia. So much has changed, more than he had imagined during long, lonely nights spent far away from here. From them.
“Mulder?”
He hears her calling from the guestroom, the one he’d slept in during late night cases and post parental deaths, and tries to find his voice.
“It’s me,” he whispers. But he isn’t sure who “me” is anymore. He’s lived 10,000 years in the last 367 days.
“William, wait!” Scully yells, two seconds before a toddler appears in the hallway. The boy halts as soon as his eyes catch the stranger in the living room. Mulder can’t breathe. William points at him.
“No! Mama!” the boy yells and Scully scoops him up from behind. He buries his face in her neck.
At the sight of her, Mulder’s lungs resume functioning and he gulps down air. He’s eternally thankful he’d spent the previous day reuniting with her, alone. It’s the only thing dulling the tightness in his chest. His son is afraid of him.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Scully soothes, kissing the boy’s head. “He’s not going to hurt you.” She throws Mulder an apologetic look and resumes stroking William’s hair. “Remember Grandma’s pictures?” William nods. “And the stories she tells you about Fox?” “Foss?” William asks and pats Scully’s face. Mulder’s eyes burn.
“Yes, baby. This is Fox. This is your daddy,” she says, voice breaking. William studies Mulder intently.
“No.”
ii.
Lying on the couch with one arm over his eyes, Mulder broods. He’d spent the last year dreaming about his son—holding him, kissing his hair, reading him stories, loving him—but the toddler with the blocks across the room won’t come within five feet of him. Earlier, he’d tried to sit on the floor and play but William had gathered all his toys and put as much space between them as possible.
So, he’d retreated to the couch, the only place in the apartment he feels at home.
There’s a knock at the door and William squeals.
“Gamma!”
Mulder lets his arm fall from his eyes. It stings that to his son he’s a stranger while Mrs. Scully is a treasure but he knows it’s his own doing. For the past year, she’d been filling the hole he left.
Sighing, he stands and stretches while Scully opens the door.
“Hi Mom,” she says and goes in for a hug but William throws himself between them.
“Gamma! Up!” he shouts, arms stretched over his head.
“Hi little one.” Mrs. Scully scoops up her grandson and receives a sloppy kiss as she turns to hug her daughter. “Hi honey.” With a hand on Scully’s shoulder, her eyes begin to scan the room. “Is he here?”
Mulder steps forward, eyes cast down, and clears his throat. “Hi Mrs. Scully.”
“Fox,” she whispers and rushes toward him, William still on her hip. “You’re okay. Dana and I were so worried.” Wrapping an arm around his waist, she pulls Mulder close and rests her cheek on his chest. William simply stares at him, his eyes large and wary, but curious.
“I’m sor-” Mulder starts to respond when she steps out of his embrace and cuts him off.
“None of that, Fox. That’s between you and Dana. I’m just happy you’ve returned to us. For both your-”
“Foss?” William interrupts, pointing at Mulder. “Foss?”
“Yes, honey. Fox. You know all about him, don’t you?” She turns to Mulder. “Dana wrote story after story about you for me to read to William. He loves them.”
Mulder looks to Scully and tears cloud his vision. When he blinks them away, she’s smiling at him. He loves her so much it hurts.
“Foss! Foss!” William squeals, bouncing and clapping his hands.
Mulder turns to his son and smiles. “Hi,” he says quietly.
“Hi,” William all but shouts and grabs at his nose.
iii.
“Scully, are you sure you want to do this?” Turning toward the mirror, he knots his tie. “We can wait for a night when your mom is available.”
The bathroom door opens and Scully sticks her head out.
“Mulder, for the last time. We. Are. Going. Out. You’ve been back for weeks and hardly left the apartment.” She opens the door, revealing an unzipped, low-cut blue dress and what he refers to as fuck me heels. “Not to mention, I would like a night with you all to myself. To do,” she steps toward him and pulls on his tie, “adult things.”
He swallows. “Believe me Scully, I would like nothing more. But overnight at the Gunmen’s? I cannot picture them changing a diaper.”
She turns her back to him and lifts her hair. “Zip me.” Slowly, he drags the zipper up. His knuckles graze the soft skin of her back, and she leans into him. “They’re very good with William, have watched him countless times with no trouble, and he adores them. Especially Frohike.” She drops her hair, turning to face him. “And Mulder, William is safer there than at my mother’s.” She tugs on his tie again, bringing him down for a kiss, and starts to retreat into the bathroom. “Go get his stuff ready while I finish up, okay?”
Mulder walks quietly down the hall, shoving down feelings of unease at the possibility of erasing the slow, yet steady inroads that have been building between him and his son. For the first time, William had requested that Mulder read his bedtime story. While Mulder sat stunned, his son had crawled into his lap and shoved The Very Hungry Caterpillar in his face.
It feels wrong to leave him tonight, but Mulder knows he’s being irrational. William would be asleep the whole time anyway, he tells himself, as he creaks open the bedroom door.
“Foss!” William is awake and standing in his crib. “Up!” Reaching toward Mulder with one hand, he balls the other and shoves it in his mouth.
“What’re you doing up, little man?” Mulder asks as he lifts his son from the crib. William burrows into his neck and he feels his heart inflate. Rubbing the boy’s back, Mulder sits in the rocker beside the crib. “Are you excited to see Frohike?”
“Hit-ee,” William whispers. Leaning back, he puts his hands on either side of Mulder’s face and smiles. “Hi.”
Mulder smiles back. “Hi buddy.”
iv.
“Fox. Socks. Box. Knox,” Scully reads with William on her lap. Mulder points to himself, the pair of socks on the floor, a box next to the socks and William’s stuffed hippo. “Mulder, you’ve been doing this routine every night for the last month. It’s okay if you want to change it up.” “Foss, Sauce, Boss, Noss!” William squeals and claps.
“No way! He loves it.”
Scully rolls her eyes and smiles. “Your Daddy’s silly, isn’t he?” she whispers in William’s ear, but he just points to the book. “Okay, okay. Knox in box.” Mulder puts the hippo into the box. “Fox in socks.” Sitting on the carpet, Mulder pulls on the socks.
“Foss Sauce!”
“Knox on Fox,” Scully reads, trying mightily to keep William from ripping pages as he flails his arms. The hippo takes his place on Mulder’s head. “In socks in box.” Attempting to step into the box while balancing the stuffed hippo, Mulder’s socks lose traction and he crashes to the floor.
Scully laughs, and William hurls himself out of her lap toward Mulder.
“Foss owie,” William says and places open mouth baby kisses on both Mulder’s knees and then his face. “Aw ettah.” Mulder feels no pain.
v.
William is finger painting in the kitchen when Mulder arrives home from his run. Scully always lets him paint on Saturdays which means the entire area is covered in plastic and William has used himself as a canvas. Mulder kisses his head as he passes on the way to the fridge. Grabbing a water, he pops the top and drains it in three gulps.
“How was your run?” Scully asks, pouring herself a coffee behind him.
“Good,” he replies, striding over to pin her against the counter. “Missed you.” Tucking a hair behind her ear, he kisses her and grabs a coffee mug. “How long has he been at it?”
“Awhile. I’m surprised he hasn’t tired of it yet.” She takes a sip of coffee while Mulder pours himself some and joins his son at the table.
“Whatcha painting bud?” He tries to make out something recognizable but it’s mostly a giant brown blob. “Foss.”
Mulder tries to see any likeness of himself, but it’s the art of a toddler so imagination is important.
“Ohhh, it’s beautiful. It looks just like me!”
William stops painting and stares at him. “No. Is Foss.” “Fox?” Mulder asks, pointing to himself.
“No!” William leaves the table and disappears into his room. Mulder glances at Scully, worried she’s going to freak about a paint covered toddler traipsing around the apartment. She isn’t. She looks wistful, a small smile gracing her lips. William returns with a book and hands it to Mulder.
“Foss sauce.”
Mulder’s confused, he thought he was Fox in socks. Sure, they hadn’t done the routine in a few weeks, but the kid is already replacing him? Sheesh.
He points to himself again. “Not Fox in socks?”
“No,” William says and climbs in his lap. Brown paint covers his sweats as William points to his chest. “Dada.”
Scully lets out a little sob and Mulder stops breathing.
He points to himself once more. “Dada?”
William grabs his face, gurgles and erupts into a grin. “Dada,” he squeals and burrows into his father’s neck. Mulder smiles, misty eyed, and wraps his arms around his son.
Unnoticed by all, Fox in Socks slips to the floor.
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12 ‘Unpopular’ Viddy Game Opinions
I’ve seen this topic floating around a lot, but didn’t think I had enough ‘unpopular but maybe not’ opinions about games to make a post. Turns out I do! So if you see this and I say something blasphemous, remember it’s just my opinion and my personal experiences with the games I list. Hope you enjoy or hey, maybe even agree with some of this!
Note: Can’t stress enough. This is just me. Also, spoilers under the cut!
12. The opening of Kingdom Hearts II isn’t as terrible as everyone says
Okay, so it’s not brilliant, but at the same time, I don’t think it’s the worst. For those not in the know, KH2′s opening is a basically a massive slog where you play as a character you don’t know or care about with seemingly no real link to the events of the previous game. The general consensus is that there’s some interesting stuff in here, but it’s buried among endless dialogue that really doesn’t mean much. And they’re right, but I really think there’s some great stuff here that people tend to gloss over. The music and the motif of Twilight Town is atmospheric, there’s some genuinely intriguing plot elements that are woven into Roxas’ story and believe it or not, the stuff that happens here is intrinsic to the rest of the game. So yeah, it drags on a little, but I don’t think KH2 would be miles better without this opening.
11. I loved Breath of the Wild’s final boss
One of the problems I see talked about with Breath of the Wild is that the boss fights are fairly mediocre, especially the very last one, Dark Beast Ganon. And I couldn’t disagree more. I think every boss in the game is wonderfully crafted, intense, challenging and great for testing you on what you’ve learned throughout the game by encouraging you to make creative use of your slate powers and the flurry rush technique. And while Mr. Pig Man at the end here is sort of easy and short, it serves as a brilliantly epic finale to damn near perfect game. While the difficulty is mostly gone after the mammoth fight with Calamity Ganon, it’s still just as intense as you frantically fire off arrows into the massive beast in front of you. Plus, the design of this thing is one of the best looking monsters in the game, so I really don’t understand the dislike for this ending.
10. I really like Crash of the Titans
Okay, so maybe childhood nostalgia has something to do with this pick, but every Crash fan I’m aware of seems to hate this game. But I don’t really know where the hate comes from! I played the PS2 version of this and I thought it was a genuinely fun 3D platformer with a variety of locations, good visuals, well-designed boss battles and even a vague story you can sort of follow! The game’s main gameplay feature is also brilliantly integrated, as using Aku Aku to possess various monsters throughout the game keeps everything interesting. One thing I will say though, that tiger dude you have to fight about halfway through is the most annoying thing I’ve ever had to endure in a game.
9. Life Is Strange: Before the Storm is BAD
I loved Life Is Strange when it first dropped, so I was beyond excited when they announced a prequel from Chloe’s perspective. But I really think they dropped the ball and they dropped it hard. But everyone else seems to adore this game! For me, this wasn’t a touch on the original. For a start, they dropped out one of the main mechanics of the first game, the time travel, which they then replaced with a much less interesting ‘Backtalk’ feature, which was then only used about twice throughout the game. Instead of interesting, developed characters reacting to genuinely dangerous or heartfelt situations, it felt to me like a bunch of one-dimensional teenagers who are edgy for the sake of being edgy. Chloe spends the majority of the game being a dick to her mother and bunking off class to spend time with Rachel, who she has literally known for like a day and their sudden relationship drops out of nowhere. Not that I didn’t enjoy the emotional moments of their relationship, it just didn’t feel like it stemmed from anywhere, unlike Max and Chloe from the first game. And the game’s attempts at villains were also rubbish compared to the first, with Damien (random scary knife guy who doesn’t really tie into the plot that much) and Eliot (who doesn’t appear for the whole game and suddenly goes full incel on Chloe when she breaks into Rachel’s house). Yeah I think you can tell I had some problems with this one.
8. Dishonored: Death of the Outsider was also a hot mess
I LOVE the Dishonored series. The first game and its DLCs are amazing, the second game was arguably even better. And then this happened. In this one, you play as Billie Lurk, a character I love, and Daud comes back, a character I also love. But both of them are incredibly badly written and it doesn’t feel like there’s any development to them or even much reason for them to do what they’re doing. This entry took the mystery surrounding the Outsider and basically did a big poo on it, giving us the revelation that he was apparently HUMAN this whole time. I think that was the nail in the coffin that made me sort of think this was a bit rubbish. While the combat and side missions were as brilliant as ever, the level designs felt less creative than other entries in the series and lacked variety or colour, all the side characters were entirely forgettable and to wrap it all up, they killed Daud offscreen. Out of nowhere, they just killed him, mentioned it offhand in a cutscene and that was that. If you like this game, fair enough, but it kind of baffles me that more people don’t see this in the game.
7. Mario Galaxy 2 is good. It’s just sort of good
Some people cite this as being one of the best 3D platformers of all time, and that’s fair enough, but I just kind of see this one as ‘good’. Sure, it has a good, satisfying control scheme for the most part, the level design is creative and the bosses and puzzles are pretty standard for a Mario title, but still enjoyable. However, sometimes, the floaty physics and weird knockback effect from jumping into walls led to quite a lot of unfair deaths, especially if I’d been punished for messing up already by losing a life, only to then immediately be punished again by falling into the void. Plus, I found Yoshi near impossible to control at some points with the motion controls. So yeah, this one is genuinely enjoyable, but I don’t think I’d personally put it with the best of all time.
6. I LOVE Dragon Quest IX TO DEATH
This is a game in a legendary franchise that consistently almost always see ranked at the very bottom of the pile in the series. But I really don’t understand how or why. Okay so your protagonist and party are basically silent and don’t have a lot of character, but I don’t see this as a reason to totally write off the game! The side characters, villains and story are all amazing and well-developed, the world is huge, colourful and interesting, the monsters are brilliantly creative and Dragon Quest’s signature lame sense of humour is gratefully carried through the whole game. The music is always brilliant and atmospheric and the bosses are just as memorable as each character you meet. What was everyone’s problem?? This is genuinely one of the best RPGs I’ve ever played and if you haven’t had a chance to pick it up, it is so, so worth it.
5. Sonic Adventure is a broken mess
So before I kick this one off, I’m not someone who hates Sonic and I’m not here to slate the whole franchise, but considering this game is often considered to be one of the best in the series, I thought it was definitely worth addressing. When I first played this, I literally couldn’t believe this was made in 1998, AFTER Mario 64 and yet it’s so broken! The physics and control scheme are totally wonky and hard to control, the unending amount of glitches make a fair amount of the stages almost unplayable, the voice acting and facial animation is cringey and oddly broken and yet, this was all on the Dreamcast. The most powerful console of the time. And I don’t think I even need to mention how boring some of the later stages get, with Big the Cat’s fishing section being the main offender. I can’t vouch for Adventure 2 as I haven’t had a chance to play yet, but I really hope it isn’t like this.
4. Dragon Age Origins is the best Dragon Age
Dragon Age has always been a popular RPG series, but I think it properly shot to fame once Inquisition dropped in 2014. And don’t get me wrong, I liked Inquisition! The world was colourful and expansive and the characters were fairly memorable, but I still think the best experience you can get is in the series’ first entry, Origins. While it’s pretty easy to see that it’s slightly dated considering it’s ten years old now, the best characters and story in the series I think is here. Each companion you recruit is varied and developed and the story wraps up brilliantly in the end with each companion and army you meet playing a different role in the final battle. Plus, I kind of can’t forgive Inquisition for making Leliana lose her sense of humour and making her kinda boring.
3. Oblivion is better than Skyrim
Okay so I’m not sure exactly how unpopular this is, but I just thought Oblivion was miles better than Skyrim ended up being. Just to clear it up, I still love Skyrim and I thought it built on the series’ combat system and variety of enemies really well and still provided an enjoyable experience. But Oblivion feels like more of an adventure you feel at home in. The story is dense and full of twists and turns. The soundtrack has some of the most atmospheric music I’ve ever heard, the world is full of bright colours, each city is vastly different and has its own lore and I found some of this to be absent from Skyrim. I’d go into more detail, but I think the simple fact is that Oblivion had so much more I liked than Skyrim.
2. I don’t think The Witcher III is all that amazing (in some regards)
This by no means says that I don’t like the game, because I do, but I think it has more flaws than people let on. Now, don’t get me wrong, a lot of the stuff people praise about this game is true, the quests are in-depth and masterfully crafted, the characters, especially Geralt, are extremely memorable. In fact, Geralt is one of my favourite game protagonists. But most of the problems I had were in terms of the gameplay. The combat, while fast-paced and satisfying, can sometimes feel a little finicky, so a lot of precision is needed. However, I felt that the world itself didn’t particularly interest me and the music is often ambient but outside of combat, isn’t anything special. Mostly though, the leveling system I found to be a bit wonky. I did absolutely everything I could in the first area of the game; all the side quests, treasure hunts, killed a whole bunch of monsters etc. And then I arrive in the second area and find I’m too underleveled to do literally anything. The majority of the quests have too high a level cap, a lot of the monsters kill me very quickly. And because the bulk of EXP farming is in the quests, I’m sort of stuck in an endless loop of constantly not being strong enough to do anything. On top of that, all my equipment keeps breaking and I’m finding that repair kits are extremely few and far between and that makes me even WEAKER. It’s something I’m gonna need to persevere with I think, but hey, this is just my experience with it.
1. Ocarina of Time, as amazing as it is, may have overstayed its welcome as best game of all time
I reckon this might be the most controversial, so it’s number 1. Let me preface this by saying I really like Ocarina and I agree that it was innovative for the RPG genre at the time. There’s a hell of a lot in this game that we have to thank for the games we have today. But considering how far the gaming industry has come since then and the sheer amount of high quality games we’ve been getting year after year, is still fair to call this the best game ever? When more recent games have taken what Ocarina started and built upon it? Games like Breath of the Wild, Horizon Zero Dawn, Red Dead Redemption II, God of War all gave us expansive, beautiful worlds and a story you can really get stuck into. And all the time, more and more games of this caliber are coming out. So yes, of course Ocarina of Time deserves a place in the hall of fame, it was revolutionary and still holds up really well today! I just can’t help but think there have been plenty of games since then, as flawed as some of them may be, that have improved upon the formula tenfold since Ocarina’s release.
Thanks for reading if you got this far! Just to reiterate, these are all just my opinions and my experiences with the games I mentioned, so pls don’t attack me. Got any viddy game opinions you think are sort of not popular? Drop them down below if you feel like it!
#zelda#loz#nintendo#nintendo switch#kingdom hearts#ocarina of time#botw#breath of the wild#oblivion#skyrim#dragon age#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#dragon quest#mario#Super Mario#Dishonored#life is strange#gaming
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