#finally getting offa my arse

[eolewyn1010]

@awordwasthebeginning tagged me to answer 15 questions and tag 15 people, let's see how I fare.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yeah, both after my mom's grandmother and after my father's grandmother, although I only use one first name in everyday.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Couple weeks back, when I caught up on the finale of Owl House. This show is so good.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

More in writing than in speaking, but yeah.

5. What sports do you play / have you played?

Sports... *hisses at the word* Uh, I don't think Yoga counts. A bit of calisthenics if I can bother? I go on walks sometimes? Eh. Something I can do alone, in any case. In school, P. E. was a humiliation on a regular basis.

6. What's the first thing you notice about other people?

Basic politeness. Say hello, be clear about what you want and don't infringe on other's personal space? We're peachy. Hear music on the train without headphones, think traffic was made Specifically For You, yell at or condescend to people? I can plan your death within 15 seconds of learning of your existence.

7. What's your eye color?

A kind of greyish blue.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. They can suffer on the way there, but where's the point if it doesn't pay off?

9. Any special talents?

I was told I'm both a decent writer and cook, is that special? If you want something useless, random and slightly freaky, I can do a weird thing where I make my pupils tremble.

10. Where were you born?

The federal state with the ostensibly worst German dialect (slander), Saxony. We got a pretty baroque city here tho, so there.

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing and, when the muse turns her attention back to it, drawing and sewing. Also, cooking. And watching tons of series with my friend to yell and snark about them together XD

12. Do you have any pets?

Not atm, but I'm holding out hope.

13. How tall are you?

1,62 m or 5'4" for my non-metric fellas

14. Favorite subject in school?

German (Literature) and History. Heh, I guess while I collect new fancies and interests every month, my true passions were set in stone early on. It helped that my teachers for those were awesome.

15. Dream job?

I think deep down, I still wanna be a writer. It's not highly realistic, but it's what I think I'd be best at.

Tagging... uh, I'm always so out of my depth at this part. @chaoticpartners-incrime @poodlewithaguitar @str4wanzerin @chrisoels @cricrithings @herzeliebes-waltherlin @mutantenfisch @thotstochter @kittycatalex @owlbear33 @breaddo @krejong @scifi-mistica @fallingforfandoms @mynameisactuallylenny

Oof, are those fifteen? Uhm, tagging with zero pressure, you guys <3 Take care and be prideful!

#tag thingie #thanks! #finally getting offa my arse

[whorror-jpeg]

Eternum//ii

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Summary: After being turned into a wolf, Geralt struggles to find his way back to his body, unable to talk or do basic human things. In his journey, he meets a young woman, who hopes to help him.

Warnings: violence, light misogyny if you really read into it, adult language

Author’s Note: none

Previous, Next

Geralt had figured out he was in Temeria. Not at all pleasantly, by any means, but at least now he knew. He stalked around a small village outside of what seemed to be the outskirts of Vizima, closer to the forest. He trudged through quietly, if he tried hard enough he could pass as a dog, acting tame-like.

Geralt found no such luck.

“Wolf!!” A scared voice yells, childish in nature. Still, he continued walking, hoping that if he’d remained calm no one would actually bother him.

How wrong he was.

A large rock had been thrown harshly, hitting the back of his head with an aggressive thump. Without control, he whimpered before snarling, whipping his head around. Behind him stood a crowd of somewhat nervous and definitely angry people. A man picked up another rock, chucking it at Geralt, hitting the wolven head above his eye. Blood trickled down his face as his head was thrown back from the rocks force. Quickly, more rocks were being gathered and thrown at him until his legs gave out from the pain. He refused to harm these people, he didn’t blame them for attacking a monster. A few from the group gathered around him, large sticks and branches in hand, one carrying a much larger rock than that of the ones thrown before. He looked up at them before laying his head on the ground in defeat.

“Stop!” A voice yelled. Geralt’s head lifted once more, this time in response to the sound, “leave him be!” It yelled.

I’ll be damned.

It was the same woman as before, in the forest. She pushed past the crowd, then the men that had broken off from the group. Quickly she encased the wolf’s body with her own.

“Oi, get offa the beast. We’ll put it out of its misery.” Someone yells at the woman, Geralt didn’t know who, still covered by her body.

“Who are you to decide that when you are the reason for his ‘misery’.” The woman snaps.

“He’s useless, won’t last a day in the woods!” Another man sneers.

“Get yer bloody arse off it, girl.” Says the man who’s decided he’s had enough of this. His arm reaches for the woman’s shoulder, and quickly, Geralt lunges forward, jaws snatching the man’s wrist. Said man yelps abruptly, snatching his hand back from the sharp teeth. He’d only be left with bruising, but Geralt’s main intention was to get the crowd to leave him and the woman alone. And it worked.

The man backed up cautiously, holding his wrist, “you get that beast out of this village, you hear?”

The woman nods, watching everyone slowly leave, eyes turning back to them warily now and then.

“I’m sorry they’re so cruel…” the woman says, gently petting his head. Geralt hates the way his tail had a mind of its own, wagging as she scratched under his chin, “come now, before someone blows steam through their ears.”

She stands, helping Geralt to his feet. He turns away from her, beginning to walk away, “You’re really not going to stay? They’ll kill you. The guards have a special distaste for wolves.”

Geralt’s head turns, listening to her.

“At least let me help.”

His ears lay flat as he walks to follow her. Fine.

On the ends of the village sat an old cottage, weathered with love and care. A large draft horse stood next to it, tied to its post, lazily munching on the sweet grass around it. There were chickens, and Geralt stared them down hungrily.

“Don’t get any ideas, mister. Cole or the hens, you hear?” The woman scolded, “there’s plenty of food for you inside.”

Geralt’s head shifted upwards, cursing how short he was now. He knows that, in his human body, he’d be the one looking down at her. Of course, if he were in his body he also wouldn’t be staring down live chickens.

He followed the woman past the horse and to the large oak door, noticing that the cottage was made from cobblestone and supported by more oak. Old and dead ivy wrapped itself around portions of the cottage, and he knew it would be a lovely little house in the springtime, paired next to the large, equally shriveled dogwood tree. It was definitely a place commonfolk would love to call home.

The woman opened the door, and Geralt was immediately greeted by the smell of fresh-baked bread and hearty stew.

“Please get off the table, Bogdan.” She commands. A Hob, no taller than past Geralt’s wolffish shoulder jumped on the ground playfully and wrapped his arms around the woman’s leg. In turn, she patted his head.

“Bogdan wondered when Miss might come back home, did Miss have a good trip, did Miss get good things from the market?”

The woman laughs, “yes, Bogdan.”

The Hob lets go of her leg and does a playful happy dance.

House goblin, what else could I expect? She shares a certain respect for all creatures it seems. Geralt thinks to himself.

“Mister still ain’t back yet, Miss, he’s ‘possed to be home now!”

A husband?

“You’re just saying that so we can serve supper.”

Cheekily, the Hob nods, watching as the woman crouches face to face with him, “why don’t you round up Dima, wash up, and by then if he’s still not back, we’ll eat, hm?”

Bogdan nods excitedly and races off. Geralt looks up to a now standing “Miss”.

She enters the kitchenette, grabbing a cloth and dipping it into the basin, turned, and sat on a chair, making it face outward, and therefore Geralt.

“Come.” She pats her lap, and Geralt huffs and follows up, sitting in front of her and tucking his tail next to his legs. Once again, she pets him. And he knows she’s trying to comfort him and knows that she’s trying to help a bit, so he— voluntarily— thumps his tail lightly against the wooden flooring, laying his head in her lap.

“There’s not a possibility that you’ve always been this way.” She says, taking the wet towel and tending to his wounds some. His head perks, yes, exactly, now help me because I can’t fucking talk, and I want my damned body back!

She continues, “such pretty eyes,” a pause, “very distinct, hm?” A smile was given his way before she lightly grasps his paw. A fiery explosion of pain ran through him, and his first instinct was to yelp.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know.” She coos, running her fingers through his fur near the top of his head. He does it for her, lifting his leg and putting it against her thigh. She smiles, hand leaving his head, gently beginning to wipe away the blood on his padded foot. “I can’t place where I’ve seen them before…” She says, “and I am so sorry.”

Anyone else would think she was having a full fit of hysteria, but she was wise and knew what she was speaking of.

Why are you so apologetic?

“I wish I could help you.”

And she genuinely seems sad, Geralt notes, why? It wasn’t her fault.

Geralt gently nuzzled his face into the side of her arm, causing her to smile softly.

The door opens with a loud creak, and the woman looks up, smiling gently, “Hi Papa.”

This must be the “Mister” Bogdan was talking about.

Geralt should’ve known she wasn’t married, no ring on her finger, but he also knew that anywhere outside of the castle, people in small Temerian villages were likely below the poverty line. It didn’t completely let him know if she was married or not.

“What’s that you got, brought home a new friend?” The old man asks.

The woman nods, “He’s a man, I think.”

The elder gentleman furrows his brows, looking at Geralt with a questioning look, “You’ve gone mad, (Y/N). That’s a wolf. Tame, but a wolf all the same.”

(Y/N). Finally, a name to the person that’s been saving his ass for the last month, whether she knows it or not.

“Papa, look at his eyes. He’s no wolf, and he understands me. Wolves never would.”

Papa looks down at Geralt again, who looks up, locking eyes with him. The man raised his brows, “Hm. I suppose so… not a normal man, I take.”

Barely a human, but I’ll take that before monster I guess.

(Y/N) shakes her head, gently putting his paw on the floor and standing, “Bogdan and Dima should be here soon. Wash up, I need to finish up on this one before suppertime.”

//

Geralt’s head laid on a blanket placed on the floor for him near the hearth, empty bowl by his side as his eyes track the beings in the cottage. Dima, he learned upon meeting, was a Godling. Nothing unlike Johnny except his eyes, still as striking— just different in color.

Sleepily, he laid his head on his legs, one now being wrapped in a bandage, and he closed his eyes, sighing.

As morning came, Geralt awoke peacefully for the first time in a while. He yawned and stretched before getting up and nosing his way through the front door. Upon exiting, he was greeted with (Y/N), curled up in her blanket and cloak on a chair, reading peacefully. Dima sat in her lap, reading along with her it seemed. Maybe he was just looking at the pictures. (Y/N) paused, “Morning.” She says, sleep still laced in her voice.

He had to admit, she was beautiful. No need for exotic fabrics or color-altering makeup, as she sat in the chair with the little Godling, hair undone and cascading down her back, winter biting at her nose and cheeks, she was utterly, truly, and naturally beautiful.

Geralt—literally— shook the sleepiness from his body, sitting down next to the chair where the two sat. Dima stared at him, examining him.

“Wha’ happened to you?” He asked, looking expectantly for an answer. Geralt looked at him, giving a small, questioning tilt of the head in response.

“Dima, be nice.” (Y/N) scolded.

“I can hear ‘im!” He says, “animals, people, monsters- I speak to all of them and them, me!”

(Y/N) looks at Dima, wide-eyed, “Does that mea-“

You can hear me. Geralt says. The Godling nods proudly at Geralt with an “mhm!”

(Y/N) quickly closes the book, “That means we can help him, Dima! Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Dima shrugs, jumping off her lap, “Thought he was a nice wolf.”

Witcher.

“Ooooh, those can be mean. You’re not a mean one, huh?”

“What did he say?”

Dima looks between the two, “He’s a Witcher, Miss.”

(Y/N) nods slowly, and looks down to the side.

Great, Geralt thinks, now she knows.

(Y/N) walks towards Geralt, who doesn’t meet her eyes as she approaches, casting his eyes down. She bends down, running her fingers through the fur on his jaw and making him face her.

“We will get your body back. I swear it.” She says, a smile gracing her lips.

Taglist: @alwayshave-faith​

#geralt x y/n #geralt z rivii #geralt imagine #geralt fanfic #geralt x you #geralt x reader #the witcher #witcher netflix #witcher 3 #witcher

[axispheydra]

Prompt 24 - Groveling

Hastswys had begun singing right before she and Orara took the aetheryte to Mist. Half of the words were mumbled, and the other half weren’t things Orara thought anyone should’ve been singing aloud, but the other passersby of La Noscea appreciated her crooning.

“C’mon Orara, sing with me!” she said, patting the Lalafell on the back.

“I don’t even know the words,” said Orara, trying to walk in a straight line. They’d both had a little too much to drink, and while she normally wouldn’t be doing this type of thing not sober, maybe that had contributed to their decision. After all, it wasn’t every day you went out to ask your Free Company leader if he framed one of the other members.

“You ain’t no fun, lass! It ain’t ‘bout the words, it’s ‘bout the... yanno, th’ sounds! How it sounds in yer head! That’s what’s important.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard plenty of that in the Flames,” she said, scanning the houses that lined the ward. Their own Company house had its lights on, which meant someone was inside, and that someone was like Ganzeidin. He hadn’t left much since the show down with Ibe’ir the other night. A loud, rhythmic sound could be heard from inside- likely Ganzeidin repairing the damage that had been done.

At the door, Orara muttered under her breath as she fumbled with her keys. The door handle was damn high up, and someone kept moving the crate she used as a stepping stone, so with a sigh, she handed her set to Hastswys. “Can you get that?”

“Sure, sure, I got it,” said Hastswys, taking the keys and unlocking the door after only three tries. “Ganzeidin!” she called, pushing the door open. “Where are ye? We wanna chat with ye!”

“Office,” he called, recognizing his sister’s voice. She was the only one who could talk to him like that, Orara had noticed.

He looked up from the hole he was boarding over when the pair finally entered the room. That part of the wall would always be foreign, a blemish on the Free Company’s estate from when Ibe’ir had blown a hole in it. He was making decent progress on it; perhaps that was part of the reason why he seldom left.

“Wondered what you meant by ‘we,’“ he said, eyeing Orara.

Hastswys nodded. “Yeah, yeah, me an’ Orara were just thinkin’-”

“And drinkin’, by the looks of things,” he said, turning his attention back to the hammer and nails in his hands.

“Guilty as charged,” she laughed. “But no, no, we just had a coupla questions.”

“About what happened the other night,” said Orara.

Ganzeidin stopped hammering. “Go on.”

Orara felt the world become a little more focused as she spoke. Though she was still fighting to keep standing straight, the space around her leader became clearer. “What did you and Ibe’ir talk about when you asked us to leave?”

“Can’t you guess? He was tryin’ to defend himself, but I wasn’t havin’ any of it. When he realized that, he blew this damn hole in the wall.” He grumbled and went back to pounding nails. “Gonna take me a moon to get fixed up right...”

“He said you called him on linkpearl and told him to come here.”

“You sayin’ you believe that shite-eatin’ bilge rat?” he said, raising his voice. “After all I did fer you an’ this Company? If I’d have known you’d be sayin’ shite like this, I woulda left your arse at the Drownin’ Wench!”

Hastswys spoke up this time. “What about the arrow, Ganze?”

Ganzeidin rose to his feet, turning to face the two women. “The one that got me in the leg? What about it?”

“Ganze, he...” Hastswys swayed for a moment, frowning. Orara hadn’t thought about it, but they were accusing her brother of something heavy. It was only natural she’d be hesitant. “He didn’t have a bow, Ganze.”

“Hastswys...” His voice softened as he crossed the room towards his sister. “It was dark, aye? You just didn’t see it. It was a... a stressful night, you ain’t rememberin’ it properly.”

Hastswys nodded, but Orara could see the doubt in her eyes. “I don’t... maybe...”

“Hastswys, you know how important this Free Company is to us. Why would I lie about somethin’ like this?”

“Yeah, you got a point there,” she said, shrugging.

Suddenly Orara felt the tension in the air. She had already taken a step back towards the door when Ganzeidin turned on her. “But you. You been in this Company less than two moons, an’ yer tryin’ to turn me own sister against me?”

“That’s not it,” she said, taking another step. “I just wanted to make sure-”

He took a step forward to match her. “How do we know you ain’t the one who stole the gil, eh? You Ul’dah types are all that like, greedy bastards who’d sell their own kin for a handful of gold!”

“I’m not like that.”

“Yer tryin’ to set me own blood against me, ain’t you? I told Hastswys we didn’t need you in the Company, but she insisted!”

“Ganze, she just wanted t’make sure everythin’ was okay,” said Hastswys, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

He shrugged off her hand, now shouting. “Look at you, sister! She got you all plastered so you could come over here an’ start accusin’ me! An’ you almost bought it!”

“It ain’t like that, Ganze! Just listen for once!”

“I’m done listenin’.” With a growl, he lowered his shoulder and charged at Orara. Eyes widening, she leapt out of the way, scrambling as she heard the crunch of him impacting the door.

“Hells are you doin’, Ganzeidin!” came Hastswys’ voice.

“Cleanin’ up this damn Free Company!” he shouted back. “We ain’t got room for anyone like that in here!”

“Yer gonna hurt her!”

“Like her boy Ibe’ir did to me?”

Orara rose to her feet, already feeling the adrenaline pumping through her limbs. She had to get out of here, fast. “It’s not like that, Ganzeidin!” she said, though she knew her words would fall on deaf ears. “I want what’s best for the company too!”

“Liar!” Ganzeidin turned on her, bringing his foot forward in a savage arc. Orara should’ve been fast enough to roll out of the way, but the alcohol had dulled her reflexes, and she caught his foot in her shoulder, sending her skidding back across the floor. The Roegadyn was quick to chase her, his large hands grabbing for her head as if to squeeze the life out of her.

Again, Orara was reminded that the world was very big, and she was very small.

“Fuck offa her!” She heard Hastswys’s voice from somewhere behind Ganzeidin, and the shadow that loomed over her face fell away. “Get outta here, Orara!” she shouted.

Orara’s limbs moved without any input from her thoughts. Even when Ganzeidin’s hand reached for her and found purchase on her gun, she simply undid the belt and fell away.

Falling onto her backside, Orara was able to watch as Hastswys wrestled her bother to the ground. “Fuck are you watchin’ for?” she shouted. “I said get outta here!”

And she did. Some part of her shouted and yelled to go back and help, but what could she do now? She had no weapons, and they were both so large, what could a Lalafell do in that situation?

She ran through the streets of Mist, the cold night air slapping her cheeks as she went past. Only when she arrived at the entrance, where a pair of Malestrom guards were standing, did she finally stop. One of them remained with her as the other dashed off to the Company House.

“You alright?” she asked. “Don’t worry, we’ll help your friend.”

Orara only nodded, feeling her limbs trembling as that last imagine replayed in her mind. She hoped Hastswys was safe, but before she was able to say anything to the Malestrom officer, a voice came over her linkpearl.

“I don’t appreciate what you’ve done, Orara,” said Ganzeidin, his voice low. “Siccin’ my own sister on me... I can't forgive that.”

Despite the fear that wracked her, Orara answered. “Where’s Hastswys?” she demanded.

“I ain’t gonna hurt her. She’s my own blood! More than I can say for you, lass. So you better-”

Orara knew listening any further was pointless. She instead took the linkpearl from her ear and dashed it on the ground, despite protests from the Maelstrom officer.

“Miss, what’re you- where are you going?” Although they shouted, they did not try to stop her.

“I can’t stay here. It’s not right.” Her limbs began to protest her own movements, but she dared not stop. “A paladin exists to protect those who need it.”

“A what?”

“A paladin!” she turned to the guard, eyes wide. “I’m a paladin, dammit! And I’ve gotta...” she swayed for a moment, shaking her head as she went. “I’ll do something about this.”

#FFxivWrite2019 #ff14 #orara ora #writing

[funkymeihem-fiction]

My Lovely Assistant- Chapter 7 (Junkenstein Meihem)

The Adlersbrunn natives could do little but stare in shock, at first. The strange jiangshi didn’t really cut an imposing figure, with her short height and stocky build; but the exotic eastern design of her robes, the odd hopping way in which she moved, and the long glinting whites of her pointy teeth all proved to be more than enough to give the crowd pause. She sternly faced them down, disapproval still written on her features. Her gaze mostly remained on the Engineer, still laying moaning in the mud where she had obliterated him with one hit, lifting one black claw to waggle it back and forth. “I’m sorry about that, but you were being very rude!” Dr. Junkenstein, his nose still oozing blood, draped his lanky mud-coated body around her, clutching at her covetously and nuzzling his cheek down into her hair. “See?! Just kicked your arse straight out! This is my girl! This is my girl and she’s amazing! Look at her! Just look at her! That’s right, I get to make it with the most lovely lady with the softest-” “Oooh-kay! Okay! Okay, thank you, doctor.” She waved both hands frantically to shush him as he swayed to one side. “But I’m just here to…check on things.” She gently straightened him up once again, the center of her pupils flashing red as she turned upon Lord Balderich next. “And you must be the Lord of Adlersbrunn?” The gigantic man was nearly twice her height, frowning as he looked upon her. Still, to his credit, he straightened the stiff cloth around his throat and stepped forward, shielding the crowd behind him. “And you must be Junkenstein’s newest abomination he was speaking of earlier…” “My name is Mei-Ling Zhou. And you are not being very nice, to me or the doctor!” “Do not seek to lecture me, creature. I will not tolerate foul or unnatural things within my kingdom. As I told your creator, and now you…Leave. Take that despicable man with you. Or you give me no choice, I will have you both destroyed. This is the only chance I will give you.” The Lord of the castle pointed one thick finger towards the gates far across the main courtyard. “I am not a creature and he is not a despicable man!” She glowered back at him, the dots on her cheeks expanding as her cheeks puffed angrily. “I know he is an odd man- maybe even a little mad, yes. But he’s a brilliant man. He’s shown me the things he’s made for you. They are amazing! How could you not be proud of that? He can make anything work. How can you see these wondrous things made for you and your kingdom, and think so little of him? I think you’re very lucky to have such a mind working for you, and it’s sad that you’re wasting it with your nonsense. He’s brilliant! And he’s bold, and loyal, and resourceful, and he perseveres through any-” “BbbBllLloooaarrrghhh!” Behind her, the doctor abruptly bent double, hands on his knees as his stomach hurled up the sickening remains of too much beer and too few snacks. Mei closed her eyes briefly, cringing a bit. “And…I am going to take him home now.”

“You will take him out of my gates and far away from my land. If you make one more step toward my holdings with that man, creature, I will be forced to act. Last. Warning…” Lord Balderich’s voice lowered to a dangerous, almost thunderous tone. There was a loud clicking sound from somewhere behind her. The Engineer had recovered and was now bearing a large, clumsy, but very dangerous-looking gun of some kind that she had never seen before. Mei’s eyes darted, flashing in the dim evening light as there was the faint rattle of metal from behind Lord Balderich, the villagers suddenly bristling with weaponry. Why they had so many weapons at a party, she was not entirely sure, but she took a step back to rejoin the doctor’s side. The village folk seemed a little too prepared and eager for her liking, and even her leaping couldn’t outpace a bullet. And Dr. Junkenstein was barely in a state to walk, much less maneuver away from the forming mob. She spread both arms and moved back as if to shield him, baring her teeth as the nubs of her fangs lengthened into near sabers. Lord Balderich looked neither impressed nor amused. “You’re out of time, creature. You and your creator-” “I told you, he is not my creator and I’m not his creature!” Mei snarled, before suddenly pointing past the crowd that was forming around them. “They are.” A massive shape, even larger than Lord Balderich himself, rose up from nowhere in the quickly darkening shadows behind the crowd. The Monster reared up to higs full, massive height, grotesque features shaking and thick saliva spattering from his mouth across the screaming crowds as he bellows a guttural roar. One massive arm, as wide as a tree trunk, went sweeping forward, knocking down bodies like bowling pins before him. At the same time, the Scarecrow’s lanky form hurtled itself from one of the parapets of the castle’s rooftops, bounding across gutters and sending shingles flying before it landed with an inaudible rustle next to Mei and the doctor. Pressing both thumbs to where its ears would have been, it wiggled its spindly fingers in a mocking way at one of the village ladies nearby, who screamed in a very dramatic way and shoved her husband in front of her as a shield. The Engineer’s gun went off with a boom and Mei lunged in front of the doctor, shoving him out of the way as it hit her instead. The bullet vanished into her as she staggered. Her crane-embroidered robes were ripped apart on the front, burning from the massive chunk of molten burning red metal that was lodged in her soft chest, the threads charring and twisting and her flesh separating as the fiery bullet lodged itself deep into her ribcage instead of his. Her body, smaller than the others, shuddered from the impact and she was sent stumbling back and falling into Junkenstein’s arms, red and black liquid oozing from the gruesome wound. Junkenstein was still trying to make sense of the things that were happening around him. It was all happening so fast. Too fast, really. His senses were still reeling and everything felt like it was underwater. He hadn’t appreciated Balderich’s orders to exile him and he’d probably said some words about it, then his lovely jiangshi had stepped in to defend him, and now the other monsters were here too, the villagers were attacking them and Mei had gotten shot with something or other and…well, at least part of him was sober enough to be ashamed that one of his immediate thoughts was the regret over Mei’s nice robes and even nicer tits getting ruined in such an uncouth way. But those thoughts were very small indeed, especially after seeing the extent of how she’d been hurt, the wound a blurry mess of red and bone. “Mei! Mei, no! I got ya! I’ll fix ya, I’ll get ya better-” He clutched at her, slurring words of concern. But to his surprise, she completely shrugged him off a moment later. She stood straight, a deep hole almost directly where her heart was, reaching into her own ribs, and her black talons grabbed the chunk of still-hot metal and cast it aside irritably. He squinted at her unevenly, then smiled. “Oh riiiiight, the undead thing! So cute, I forget sometimes that you’re-” Then he was spinning end over end again, as Mei picked him up in both arms and shoved him into the grasp of the Scarecrow, holding him like a blushing bride. His wayward creation seemed just as surprised as he was, and the two stared at each other in a very unnerved way as Junkenstein finally started flailing. “Get offa me!” Mei pointed one bloody claw at the pair. “Get him out of here and activate the defenses in the tower! Go!” People were screaming, scattering in all directions. Gunshots were going off and Lord Balderich’s and the Monster’s bellowing could both be heard above the din. Apparently the two had clashed in some no-doubt magnificent battle of the titans. But Dr. Junkenstein didn’t even get to see it. Mei had bounded off into the fray, and Junkenstein suddenly found himself clinging onto the Scarecrow’s back for dear life as the lanky creature launched itself onto one of the castle walls and began scaling it like a very large, gangly hay-filled spider. The doctor’s arms were clenched in a death grip around the Scarecrow’s neck, no doubt strangling it (If it breathed or could be strangled, anyway) as it climbed higher and higher. “Watch where you’re going, you brainless bag of straw! I never should have-AAUUUGH!” A bullet pinged off the wall near their heads, and Junkenstein squeezed both eyes shut and clung that much tighter, the wind starting to whip at his soiled coattails and sobering him up just enough to realize how madly dangerous this all was. Scarecrow continued its climb, arachnid-like limbs finding every crack and uneven surface as it barely made the leap from castle wall to tower wall. Junkenstein focused on the simple task of not vomiting all over both of them and causing them to slip. And then he was falling, only to land hard on his ass with a rattling crash, when Scarecrow managed to finally squirm inside one of the tower’s high windows. They’d been dumped into one of his lab’s storage closets (Needed to fix that window later, if he had the time) and flailed a bit as he drunkenly tried to extract himself from the pile of scrap wood and buckets he’d been collecting for whatever reason. Scarecrow offered out a gloved hand but Junkenstein ignored it, scrambling past him and throwing open the door, staggering into his labratory proper. Mei and his Monster were still out there, and he wasn’t really sure even their combined strength could hold off the mob and the Engineer’s contraptions for long. They had only one chance for a retreat, and only Junkenstein could give it to them. Limping over to one of the control panels, he desperately began slamming at various buttons, turning cranks, and then reached under the panel proper, to the hidden red button that would set it all off. There was a buzz of electricity and the air became alive, as all the zomnics activated at once. The few zomnic specimens still hovering around his lab suddenly stiffened and shuddered, their eyes lighting up and groaning audibly before starting to stream towards the laboratory gates, out towards the courtyard of his lab…and onto the castle grounds where the sounds of fighting could still be heard. He only hoped they could reach them in time. ***

The Monster had taken the brunt of the mob and the Engineer’s weaponry. His skin was coming off in places it usually didn’t, and one of his knees wasn’t moving properly anymore. He limped heavily, guided by the gentle claws of the jiangshi beside him. She had been faster, but hardly invulnerable, and her robes were ripped and torn, along with the flesh beneath. The blood inside her had been old, and dried quickly, but she was clearly drained and tired. The crowds had scattered as the zomnics had become too thick to ignore, and the two had taken their chance to slip away. The robotic creations hovered slowly past them towards the castle, heading in the opposite direction as they finally reached the tower. With a groan, his face clouded by blood from one eye, the Monster pushed open the door. Inside the lab, they heard the sound of sobbing, and turned the corner to find Dr. Junkenstein hugging onto a very nervous-looking Scarecrow. The drunken doctor uttered a little wail, petting over the straw that poked out of its burlap head, holding the creature against him as it squirmed politely for an escape route. Sniffling wetly, Junkenstein mashed his teary face against its cheek, still intent on holding the emotional embrace. “You’re not the failure! You never were the failure!” he sobbed noisily, “I took it out on you because I thought I was the failure! It’s not your fault!” The Scarecrow patted him gently in a ‘there there’ sort of way before making another lunge to flee. Junkenstein yanked it back before it could. “I love you, mate! No, not even my mate… You’re my son! You’re my sooooon!” Mei lifted a hand to her mouth with a little “Oh!” Her brows furrowing as if touched by the dramatics of the scene before her, folding her claws over her heart. “Awwwww!” The Monster stared for a moment before grunting and looking away, clearly disgusted. Dr. Junkenstein was momentarily distracted by their arrival, and Scarecrow took its chance, finally squiggling its way out its lunatic creator’s embrace and making a swift get-away up one of the nearby pillars. Junkenstein staggered upright, arms out as he made his way over towards Mei and the Monster, adjusting his goggles as he examined them both. “Blimey, you two could do with a bit of a touch-up. Where’s the-HCCK” He hiccuped noisily. “Th’ needle n’ thread, I’ll get right to work on ya-” Mei shook her head quickly, going to position herself under the doctor’s arm and helping hold him upright. “Oh! Oh no, doctor, I think we’ll be all right for now. At least until you’re a bit more…um, clear-headed? I think we all just need to go take a nice sit down while we make sure the tower’s secure.” She paused to give a worried look towards the battered Monster, whispering a quick “Will you be all right?” and receiving a thumbs up in return. Tugging at the doctor’s hand, she started to lead him towards the stairs. “Why don’t we just-” There was a noise and a sudden brilliant light from one of Junkenstein’s lab tables. An orb shape, covered with a stained tablecloth, was pulsing on and off, glowing yellow. “That’ll be her, then,” the doctor said unhappily, wrinkling his pointed nose. “Here, lemme talk to her! I got a lot t’say!” “Who?” “The Witch of the Wilds, that is. She gave me some sort of ball thing so we can talk to each other. Threw a thing on it because I swear it’s watchin’ me.” “Why don’t you let me say hello to her first? It would be so nice to talk to her again.” Mei kept a hand on his chest, keeping him at bay as he went for the orb. The doctor was still stumbling drunk from whatever they’d been giving him and none of them were in particularly good shape, but she still pasted a smile on her face as she pulled the sheet from the shimmering yellow orb and curiously tapped it a few times. She startled a bit as a shape coalesced inside the glass, solidifying into the Witch’s visage, who looked a little surprised. “Mei-Ling? Is that you? Ah, it’s so good to see you again! Lovely to see that the doctor’s plans worked and have you back with us. Though I do wonder…Are all the doctor’s plans currently on track? I’m rather wondering why the defense systems have been activated, why there are zomnics swarming your position, and why the castle is currently locked down and the people are arming themselves?…” Mei rubbed the back of her head a bit. “It’s really nice to be back. I’m really looking forward to your visit, too! It’s just, there have been some…complications?” “Dear, you have a bit of-” The Witch gestured to her chin and teeth, and Mei realized that both of them were stained red. She scrubbed at it with her sleeve quickly. “Sorry! Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. We had a bit of trouble earlier. The doctor was summoned to a party, and he says that the Lord of the castle was giving him drinks and asking him questions and he may have said some things-” Junkenstein’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her, whining, “Don’t tell her that, it’ll make me look bad! What she don’t know won’t hurt ‘er!” The Witch put a hand over her face. “I don’t know what they gave him, but he’s a little out of his mind now, so I’m taking messages for him!” the jiangshi smiled nervously, flecks of blood still caught between her teeth. “And don’t worry! The defenses are keeping everyone here safe. That Engineer was a lot tougher than I thought he was, and there were so many people so, we grabbed the doctor and managed to get home. Um. What…should I do?” “Well, I suppose this is just as well. My associates have been getting a little bored lately, and with this happening so suddenly, Balderich won’t be able to summon his allies so quickly. We may actually be able to make this work out. For now, you should-” Junkenstein suddenly popped into view, falling onto Mei from above and resting his head on her hat. “Hiiii!” “Yes, hello Dr. Junkenstein, it’s nice to see you-” The Witch continued smoothly, as Mei hurriedly pushed him back out of view. “For now, you should bolster the defenses whilst I get everything else in place. No use scolding anyone while they’re not in the state for it, hm? For now, stay inside and take care of things as best you can in that madhouse. You look like you’ve had a bit of a rough night, yourself. And please sober the doctor up before I get there, he tends to ramble.” Mei adjusted her glasses and glanced back at Junkenstein, who was now laying spread-eagled on the dirty floor and rambling already. “Honestly! Honestly, Mei, sweetie pie, you should try this. No lie, laying on the ground like this is the best time I’ve had on a long while. Mei, c’mere, try this! Meeeiiii!” The Witch half-lidded her eyes. “This is why I keep a no-drinking policy on my servants, I swear.” Mei gave an apologetic little shrug of her shoulders. “I’ll make sure everything gets in order. Including him. I’ll make sure there’s tea and snacks for everyone too. Oh, please ask the Reaper if the pumpkin cookies offended him, were those okay? And I’ll get some of that coffee he likes. I hope everyone has a safe trip! Zài jiàn, bye bye!” “Mei-Ling, you are entirely the best and I wish you were mine. I wish you luck, it does sound like you’ll need it. Ta-ta!” And with that, the orb’s light flickered as the image faded away. With a sigh and a little wince, Mei grumbled and rubbed at her wounded chest before turning back to Junkenstein still sprawling on the floor. With a little huff, she leaned down and scooped him up, throwing him over her shoulder. It didn’t really work out as planned, his immense lanky height simply leaving him with his foot and peg still dragging on the ground as she started to waddle off with him.

“Oi! What’s the idear?!” he groaned. “You’re covered in mud, blood, and less than pleasant things, doctor. You’re taking a bath while I check on a few things for you, yes?” “All right, point there. I’m rotten, both booze wise and smelly-wise. How about after I’m clean, we uh…You’re looking a bit rough, darl. Not in a bad way! But how about we um, you could give me a kiss? Make you feel better? Least I can give, eh? Gold star for you, love, world’s best assistant.” He smiled blearily at her as she paused. “Won’t go off in my pants this time, promise. Ugh, look at those little dots on your cheeks, on your face, I love your faaaace.” She hesitated, batting his hands away from her cheeks before continuing on. “Well, I could use…a little… Well, why don’t we talk about that after we’re both cleaned up and you don’t smell like a sewage pipe anymore?” That seemed to content him for now, draping himself limply back over her squat little shoulder as his feet dragged and bumped up every step. “Yeah! Yeah, kisses from my Mei! I’m gonna get so good and clean for you, my little bean bun. I’m gonna use the flowery-type soap and everything.” “Wh-You’re supposed to use that every time!” With an exasperated sigh, she continued to drag him off towards the baths.

#meihem #junkmei #meirat #junkrat #junkenstein #mei #mei-ling zhou #jiangshi #junkenstein au #overwatch #roadhog #monster #scarecrow #fanfiction #funkymeihem

[the-scholarly-sort-blog]

So this is an early work; “The Final Scotsman” don’t judge it too harshly.

Chapter 1: The Beginning

“Aye I'm the last of my kin, before these Roman came an' they turned brothah and sister against one anouver but can ne kill me these wussy romans actually believe they can fall Fergus, naw they ain't strong enuff!" The Scotsman yelled into the valley be it out of sadness or anger, his eyes welled with tears reminiscing about the cruelty he has seen, his wife killed by his fellow Scotsman and then those Scotsman eradicated by Roman death squads.

“So come and find me, Ye wee little girls!!" he'd yell out, roaring at the sky as his grip tightened on his blade. “I'll take Ye all on." *His anger unmatched, he brushed a hand over his firey beard and moustache before he slid down the cliff face running into a Roman patrol led by a lesser known captain Gaius Merdian the captain drew his blade “Ah a Scotsman? I thought you all got wiped out? Aw what am I saying some bloodshed will help brighten my mood let's have it then!" the Captain would mused, smirking dirtily as he drew his blade. “Last time I penetrated a scot was back up near the Loch but it was not with a sword ohh how she cried!" These words fuelled the Scotsman rage, he rushed forwards towards the captain but a soldier stood in the way blocking the attack with his shield. “Move outtah mah way! Or I'll move Ye meself!" he would growl towering over the Roman Troop, who promptly fell over the Scots man rushed towards the captain blade contacting flesh, drawing blood and exposing flesh and bone. The captain cried out stabbing his gladius into the Scotsman's leg not deep enough to hurt as before he could react the Scotsman lifted him off the floor and threw him to the ground.

The soldiers now raised their blades taking a few steps back away from the Scottish Demon, glancing to one another each of them had been taking mental notes on the Scotsman pointing out weaknesses to one another, the captain stood slashing the distracted Scotsman across the back, prompting a snarl to escape the Scotsman's teeth he kicked the captain across the floor after slicing his arm off, now preparing his weapon to take on the Roman platoon kicking one backwards before stabbing another grabbing the third by his neck and throwing him down the Scotsman growled “Come on then let's 'ave Ye!" he called out before slicing off another soldiers head, they began to flee back to the fort to inform the general there, The Scotsman would laugh going back on the lonely trail he slowly trudged through the fresh snow. “oh I canne be arsed with this!" He shouted, kicking a roman helmet away. “Ah me fooking toe!" he call out quickly holding his foot and roaring out. “Bastard fecking helmet, bastard fucking weather and bastard soldiers!" He began to make sounds roars, screams and more roars but the roars quickly became tears and cries as he hunched over under a tree the full impact of the situation hitting him as he pulled out his wife's amulet running a hand over the runes scripted unto it, he whimpered lightly. “am only doing this fer ye...." he said lightly before setting up camp, the roasting fire, the deer skin tent and wolf skin bedding, all so warm he began cooking some Roman food, tears cold in his eyes.

Chapter 2: The Red Dawn

The Scotsman awoke to the smell of fire, did he leave the campfire lit...no, no he didn't he looked over the the hill he found a old Scottish village beginning burnt down, the amber flames roaring and raging he felt a lump build in his throats he turned away quickly and begun packed his equipment, the silence was overwhelming...madness inducing he often found himself engaged in conversation with himself.

The cobbled path was odd, he walked calmly across it the snow crinkling under his feet with each step he took his frosted breath froze his beard, he sniffed in the air the stench of smoke and blood was pungent and slaughter was in fashion he passed mass-graves of the Scottish, he found villages burnt he arrived at the port where he used to live it was now under Roman control, he wanted the heads of three generals who led the siege here and all across Scotland, he hated them the most...he found the place unguarded all apart from a young boy donning armour almost twice his size, he sat on a chair and upon seeing the Scotsman's approach rang the bell, the alarm, the reinforcement button. “A good morning would've sufficed!" the Scotsman shouted with a chuckle, drawing his blade preparing for the back up.

That clank of metal was unmistakable it was a war elephant a Roman sat atop it's back. “Come from your hiding place little scot and I'll crush you....slowly Fight however and I'll pop your head off."

“I ain't scared of Ye wee man! Come doown offa that beast so I can kick yer arse!" He called out before: “Scoundrel" The Scotsman was knocked out clean by Victus himself, Victus' bronze boot sprayed with blood.

Chapter 3: The Sands of Rome

“Welcome to Rome!" The Scotsman was kicked into a cell next to a large Roman man, Brutus was tattooed across his chest and other Roman profanities were also tattooed on “Salvete Forum!" The Scotsman would look up, he narrowed his eyes at Brutus. “I divvint speak Latin!" Brutus would tilt his head “Greetings ally!" He chuckled, smiling at the Scotsman. The Scotsman was not pleased about this situation “Now let me tell Ye som-" he was cut off by the crowd's roaring and the arena hosts yells “This day in the pit we have a special guest ...The...Last...Scotsman!" his yell was cheered “are you ready for blood shed?! Are you ready for ruthless slaughter?!" He screamed out, again drowned out by affection and love of the crowd “Will he avenge his wife?! Will he be a wraith of death?!" The guards came in forcing the Scotsman out of his cell throwing him onto the sand, he coughed up sand shouting profanities to the guards as he looked up he found a lion snarling at him, A sword was dropped for him he raised his blade to defend himself.

The beast snarled his mane was blacker than night, eyes as orange as flame, teeth are as sharp as swords and his entire body was wrought and destroyed with scarring and burns. “Behold one of Hades' demons!! His name is Bassius!" The lion roared leaping at The Scotsman, a dagger being planted into it's muscular side...it roared flopping down before running out of sight of The Scotsman, he backed up against the wall the heat of the sun beating down on him beads of sweat dripped down his face, into his eyes blinding him. “Come out wee beastie I've got a treat for Ye." He raised arm wiping sweat from his face catching glimpse of Victus stood on the wall near the pit watching over it, hand on gladius the lion looped around diving atop The Scotsman biting into his muscular arm, The Scotsman poked out one of it's flaming eyes with his thumb it hissed creeping back. “C'mon then!" he pounded his chest glancing up at Victus occasionally.

The General watched excitedly, grinning under his mask...The Scotsman was blinded by the sun shining off of his armour the lion strikes biting into the Scotsman's arm again, The Scotsman unleashes a flurry of punches and one stab the crimson oozing from his arm was flowing out like a waterfall crashing against the yellow sand tending the sand a deep shade of red, Bassius The Lion lay on the floor whimpering and....almost crying The Scotsman saw the innocence in the beast he cast aside his weapon crouching down next to the animal, running a hand through it matted mane, sticky with the fresh blood, Bassius looked up at him, at first in fear but then sadness the lion, would flop it's head down into the sand whimpering louder. “Yer a big softie ain't Ye?" The Scotsman bit his lip, saying the hunters prayer of apologies and thanks before driving his Dagger through it's neck

“I have killed the creature you call Bassius have Ye a better creature to fight?!" he roared, raising his arms up and snarling loudly as Victus would chuckled and clap his hands. The Announcer chuckled “The Last Scotsman has killed Bassius now he will have to fight the warrior legend Clavicus The Skin-Flayer!" Clavicus got his title from violently skinning his opponents after combat, he wears a cloak made from the skin of his adversaries.

He walked out to face the Scotsman, it became apparent that this wasn't for sport they simply wanted The Scotsman to be killed brutally in front of a crowd as Clavicus came with a gang each wearing the faces of shined mean over their helmets, “Ohhhhh Scotsman you're the last of your breed right? That means you're exotic, rare and expensive you'll make a fine addition you know how I do it I take your skin, with this knife I then cure with cow shit, then I soak it in tiger brains and then when I step into your skin I make you look gooood!" Clavicus gave sick little giggle at then end of his monologue as he approached the Scotsman “Keep the fuck awee from me Ye freak!" he roared swinging his blade forwarded cutting his chest, Clavicus looked up sprinting towards the Scotsman stabbing at him, then slicing “I think you'd make a fine cloak eh?" Clavicus again giggled, before getting in a lucky his his blade slipping between The Scotsman's ribs he raised Clavicus off the floor slamming Clavicus down with the force of ten suns, actually wind Clavicus allowing The Scotsman to kill off the gang members before planting the blade through Clavicus' heart but then he heard it Victus leap into the pit.

Chapter 4: Victus' Wrath

Victus' armour was shining so bright in the afternoon sun that he looked like a god, his deep laugh was loud and intimidating as he drew his gladius “you've caused quite a mess my friend for years, since we first landed here! But now I will have to put you down!" Victus said laughing again, “Oh aye and how are Ye going to do that?!" The Scotsman yelled with such rage and anger, he hoisted up his weapon but stumbled in from the injury on his rib cage holding it to prevent further bleeding.

Victus took this too his advantage punching the stab wound and slashing The Scotsman's chest, The Scotsman would retort with a kick and swing of the sword sparking against Victus' armoured chest, The General would give a cocky chuckle before punching the Scotsman square in the nose, The Scotsman would lash out with his sword cutting off Victus' plume, causing Victus to lash out a in a rage slashing at the Scotsman's abs and crotch the Scotsman picks up Victus slamming him to the ground and standing on his chest, The Scotsman pressed his sword again Victus' throat.

Victus chuckled under the large man's boot, prompting the Scotsman to press his foot down harder Victus tossed sand into the Scotsman's eyes as Victus took a small slash too the neck, Victus stood up drawing his gladius rushing at the Scotsman and slicing the tendons in the legs, causing The Scotsman to fall too his knees Victus pressed his blade to The Scotsman's neck “Will you beg dog? Or will continue to fight?" Victus chuckled, lightly slapping The Scotsman's cheek “Do me in then Ye big coward...come on then let me join me family then!" Victus would would nod bringing his blade down to The Scotsman's chest before shoving the blade in deep into The Scotsman's chest cavity. “And as always Victus wins as he always does!" He headed back to the Scotsman's position pulling his gladius from The Scotsman's chest spraying blood across the sand. “Give this man a good burial...he was a adversary most worthy." Victus would said sheathing his blade, and removing his helmet.