#reversed for him. he was dragged to hell and clawed his way back and nobody saw nobody mourned. he was one of Tommy's best friends.
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A String of Hearts (2) - Loose Tooth - Mary Hamilton x Fem!Reader - Batwoman
Part 1
Summary: a string of hearts, or ceropegia woodii, is a trailing plant characterised by its heart shaped leaves, but what happens when the string of hearts between you and Mary, grows poison ivy?
///
"Killer Croc. AKA Waylon Jones. Former professional wrestler who suffered from an unidentified infection that caused his skin to grow scales, hence, the appearance of a crocodile. Now, as the infection progressed, other physical abnormalities followed. Elongated jaw, claws, tail." Luke explained as he showed details of Killer Croc on the Batcave screens.
"I remember him. Batman killed him, right?"
"Whoah, no, no. No, Bruce tried to save him. Yeah, he took pity on him, he always thought that his violent tendencies were a result of the infection. They had Wayne Tech labs working on a cure for his condition. A way to reverse it, they never found it though..." Luke explained whilst you fiddled with your fingers.
"Batman only ever killed Joker. Jack Napier version anyway..." You remarked as Luke gave you a shocked look.
"How did you-"
"What happened to Waylon?" Ryan steered the subject back to the new Killer Croc.
"The GCPD happened. They had their own ideas of how to deal with KC, so they dropped a truck load of thermite into the sewer junction, lit the primer cord, and ran. So that tooth? Pretty much all that was left of him." Luke explained, your gaze on Mary as she suggested the tooth carried the same infection and had infected a new host.
"I have a question. Why's there a tree in here? I mean, I get the whole, bat motif, but this is a, 44 story building. Surely there's a more comfortable workspace available?" Alice asked as you chuckled.
"Bold of you all to assume this is the only Batcave."
"Did Barbara tell you that?" Luke raised an eyebrow as you shrugged, giving him a sheepish grin.
"I need to talk to the three of you. In private." Ryan stated, the four of you leaving the Batcave to head upstairs.
///
"I should probably put it out there right now, that I really do not do, reptiles." Mary explained as you bit your lip.
"I don't do fire. Firefly scared me as a kid..." You admitted, ignoring everyone's confused gaze as to why you were bringing Firefly up, whilst they kept talking about Killer Croc 2.0.
"Um... we don't really use the c word anymore..." Mary explained as Ryan frowned, looking confusedly at Luke.
"Crazy!" Mary blurted out, but the sound of a helicopter approaching had everyone looking at the windows.
"What the hell?"
"Seems we have a guest. Security cleared a landing request for the CEO of Jeturian Industries. Jada Jet." Luke turned his tablet around to reveal the stock photo of Jada Jet. Who is apparently insisting on a meeting with the Wayne CEO, and will not leave until she gets one." Luke explained, as everyone else discussed who the acting CEO is.
Ryan.
You didn't expect to be dragged away by Mary to help with all the dry cleaning she'd just picked up either, but that meant you didn't hear Sophie tell Ryan that Jada is her birth mother.
///
"I'm going to go dig around some old Oracle notes. See you later, babe!" You smiled, kissing Mary on the forehead before heading out.
Mary smiled to herself before heading down to the batcave with Luke to look at his Batwing suit.
///
"God, I miss you Babs. I miss my best friend." You whispered as you went over Barbara's files, your eyes landing on the Batgirl cowl in with them.
"This could be useful..." picking up the cowl carefully and rotating it to glance over it in more detail.
///
"Luke, I... I'm dating someone... in case your rising heartrate meant-"
"Your hands were cold..." Luke fumbled, pulling his shirt back on as Mary nodded, agreeing it must be a problem with the suit, and not Luke.
///
Your phone buzzing distracted you from your trip up to Wayne Manor, nobody had really been around it since Tommy Elliot AKA Hush was pretending to be Bruce Wayne.
Entering the details Barbara had left, you turned the grandfather clock hands to the correct time, revealing what you'd known existed since you first met Batgirl.
The day she, Robin, and Batman took down Firefly, saving you and a load of other children in the process.
"Mare? What's wrong? Has Luke got it covered, because I still need to ask Ryan if she'll do some martial arts training with me..." You trailed off as Mary went quiet, getting sass from Luke as she tried to ask him if the suit was working fine or not.
Your eyes lingered on an old prototype of a Batgirl suit, an idea in your head, but you knew the others would hate it.
///
Your gloved fists hit the punch bag, earphones in listening to Vesper Fairchild's radio show talking about Batwoman taking down Killer Croc, and returning a missing girl with her mother.
Mary paused as she watched you punching the bag, frowning as you messed up your punch.
"Pretty sure your stance is wrong." Mary admitted as she approached, removing one of your headphones as her other hand ran over your hip.
"Show me?" You panted, turning around to smile as Mary chuckled, her fingers releasing your earphone wire so it would rest on top of your gloved hand.
"I'm pretty sure Sophie could show you better, to punch anyway... I'll just enjoy the view, and make sure you don't hurt yourself, I don't want to see you hurt, Y/n." Mary admitted as you sighed, leaning in to rest your forehead against hers.
"I know..."
///
#mary hamilton x reader#mary hamilton imagine#batwoman x reader#batwoman imagine#batwoman#cw batwoman#cw#mary hamilton#sophie moore#ryan wilder#luke fox#alice#poison mary#eventually anyway
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"Doppelganger" *Part 9*
I don't know if this counts as two chapters today, but there will probably be another one up late tonight which most of you won't see until tomorrow, so I think this is cool to drop now.
Reminder: We are nowhere near the end people, don't worry.
Part 8
Part 10
Tag List
@madamsnape921
@lolliepopsicle
@chasingeverybreakingwave
@milkshqke
@wanniiieeee
@word-scribbless
@gibbs274
@sassyada
@aprildecker-blog
@bookishfanfic
@stars-in-the-skies-world
@stars-trash-18
@omgsuperstarg
@objection-argumentative
-------------------
::Let’s rewind that back::
As soon as you felt that orange liquid run down your throat, your mind blacked out. You woke up in a dark, dark room. You blinked a few times, trying to get your bearings. And then in the distance you saw a light. You ran towards it, it was a small window. You ran to stare out of it, and you saw...Nevada? You could hear your voice echoing around you.
“Vada,” You heard your voice eerily happy. What the…? Then it dawned on you, what Rafael had said about being under Olivia’s spell. It was like he was stuck in his body, screaming to get out. This must be what was happening. Oh God, this was hell.
You saw “yourself” fighting the love of your life. There had to be a way to stop this, there had to be. You ran every direction in the pitch black, trying to find a wall to hit. You ran to the window, banging on it. You felt the room, your “head” shaking, hurting. The window began to crack, you yelled:
“RAFA!!!!!!” You heard yourself speaking. Your eyes filled with hope, but then the weirdest thing happened-- you could hear Nevada’s voice booming through your head.
“NO. YOU HATE HIM. KILL HIM.”
What the hell. What the hell?! No! This could not be happening. You saw your body push him away, walking back to Nevada, then making out with him.
This was a nightmare.
-------
The Next Day
Rafael decided to do something he really didn’t want to-- ask for Olivia’s help.
He nervously walked into the precinct, as soon as he locked eyes with Olivia the biggest smile appeared on her face.
Crap.
“Rafa!!!” She ran over to him and started to give him a kiss, but he stopped her.
“I--Uh, Liv, can I-- can we---?” He gestured to her office.
“Ooooh, private time. Absolutely,” She took his hand and led him inside.
“Now, where were we?” She wrapped her arms around his neck but once again he pulled away from her.
“No, Liv-- Look,” He sighed. “...The...me, that came to you yesterday. That wasn’t...me,”
“....What are you talking about?”
“I…” Rafael hesitated. He knew if he told Olivia about Nevada, she could tell the whole squad, maybe the entire police force. They’d always think he was Nevada pretending to be him, he’d lose his job, maybe his career if they never caught Nevada. But they had to catch him, otherwise he’d never see you again. So really, he had nothing to lose.
“It was Nevada Ramirez,” He finally admitted.
“...I’m sorry, what?” Olivia half laughed. “The drugpin of The Heights?”
“Yeah he-- we, have the same face,” He felt stupid saying it out loud.
“....So what are you, twins or something?”
“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “I...I had no idea. You know he’s always been a ghost, nobody’s seen his face before,”
“So how have you?” She raised an eyebrow.
“....He has Y/N,” He gave her a puppy dog face.
“Ah,” She nodded. “I see," She shook it with a sad laugh. So, yesterday when you were talking about ditching her for me--”
“That wasn’t me,” He gave her an apologetic face.
“Right,” She nodded sadly.
“You don’t believe me,”
“No actually, I do,” She continued to nod. “It did seem pretty odd that you would just come waltzing in here and denouncing your ‘true love’ for me,”
“Liv I’m sorry he did that-- I really am,” He laid his hand over hers.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” She shook her head with a sad laugh. “I guess I kind of deserve it,”
“Well--” Rafael made a face.
“So why did you come here then?” She gave him a look.
“Because I believe you when you say that you really love me,”
“You do?”
“Yes, but you need to believe me when I say that if you truly love me, then you’ll let me be happy with whoever I choose, even if it’s not you,”
“....So you want me to help you get her back,” She raised her eyebrow.
“...AND take down the most notorious criminal in New York,” Rafael added. “Think about what that will do to your reputation,”
“Right, because I care so much about accolades,” She rolled her eyes. “But...I guess I don’t really have a choice. I mean if I don’t help you, it’s not like I’ll get you anyway. And if I let her die, then I’ll never even recover our friendship,” She looked at him sadly. “And I do cherish that,”
“Me too, Liv,” Rafael took her other hand. “I swear to you, I really do,”
“Alright then--,” She smiled while squeezing his hands in return. “Where do we start?”
“....I’m gonna need your signature on some things,” He said in a "I'm really sorry to ask this but--" tone.
------
Meanwhile
Nevada paced his penthouse apartment while your body sat there like a robot. Inside the black hole of your mind prison, you were screaming at yourself to run, make a break for it, something.
“God DAMMIT!!! You screamed. You jumped up and down, pounding on your ‘eye window’. You felt yourself shaking your head, it was pounding. You were coming out of it.
“I…” You started to speak, but realized he still thought you were still under his power. You quietly stood up and tried sneaking towards the door while he kept pacing and looking at his phone, waiting on Rafael’s call. You had almost made it to the door of the penthouse when out of the corner of his eye, Nevada caught you trying to escape.
“Hey! No no no, you sit back down!” He commanded you.
“Fuck you,” You spat as you threw open the door and started to run out and down the hallway, but were met with two of Nevada’s men with guns.
“Ayyyy, hermosa,” Nevada shook his head with a laugh. “Do you think I’m estupido, not having constant supervision? I’m a very wanted man-- in many ways,”
One of the men grabbed you and forced your arms behind your back.
“Now why the sudden change, mujer?” He stroked your face. “Don’t you like being mi reina?”
“I’ll never be your anything, you piece of shit!” You yelled.
“Ooooh!!!! Kitty’s got claws,” Nevada laughed, but soon turned serious. “....You must need another dose, don’t you? Dios mio that’s annoying,”
“Keep her here, I’ll be back,” Nevada ordered his men who dragged you back to his penthouse. He sighed and walked down the hallway to the elevator.
“Always gotta do everything myself…” He shook his head. While he was walking, his phone pinged in his hand. A text from Rafael:
“I have your papers,”
“Ah, bien,” He smiled to himself as he got on the elevator. “At least something’s going right today,”
--------------------
Nevada entered the old woman’s shop, with an unamused glare on his face.
“Ah what now, penjedo?” She crossed her arms.
“Tu anciana estúpida!” He grabbed her by the throat. “Why didn’t you tell me your voodoo only works in a time limit?”
“Well what did you expect, tonto?” She gasped as she wriggled in his hands. “Uno y hecho? That wouldn’t be very good business practice,”
“Ah I see,” Nevada chuckled as he released the old woman. “I can appreciate a good buscavidas such as myself,” His smile turned to an evil scowl. “But not with me. Now you’re going to make me enough of your poción that I can keep mi puta under my thumb for a very, very long time. Or I might not be so nice the next time I decide to visit your little pawn shop,”
“That’s going to take a while, cabron,” She scoffed.
“I’ll wait,” Nevada crossed his arms with a smirk, pulling up an old rocking chair.
----------------
It had been about an hour since Rafael had texted Nevada and he still hadn’t gotten a response. It was beginning to drive him nuts, thinking about why he wasn’t answering. What was he doing? What was he doing with YOU? It was torture. On top of that, he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night just replaying the events of last night over and over in his head. He knew you were in there, he saw you. And those brief moments that you were in his arms, he was terrified he’d never have that again.
“...You look like hell, Rafa,” Olivia’s voice knocked him from his thoughts.
“Thank you?” He laughed sarcastically.
“You should go home, take a nap,”
“But what if--?”
“I’ll forward your texts and calls to my phone, so if he responds I’ll call you and wake you up, okay?”
“....Okay,” He said reluctantly. He didn’t know how much he trusted Olivia with access to his phone, but it wasn’t like she could contact you and mess with you. He left her office and headed back to his place to take a nap.
--------------
Before he knew it, there was a knock at his door waking him from his sleep. He walked out of his bedroom and towards his front door.
“Liv you could have just called--” He started to speak, but the image in front of him rendered him speechless.
You were standing right in front of him.
“...Y/N?”
“Hi baby,” You smiled as you pulled him into a kiss. He picked you up and carried you inside, not breaking the kiss as he sat you on the couch.
“How did you--?” Happy tears started rolling down his cheeks as stroked the side of your face, before he had a horrible realization.
“....This isn’t real, isn’t it?”
“Not yet,” You smiled sweetly, stroking his face as well.
“Right,” He nodded with a sarcastic smile, remembering when this situation was reversed. Wait, when it was reversed.
“But this is you,” He held your face in his hands.
“Well duh,” You shook your head with a laugh. “You think you’re the only one who can dream walk?”
“...I don’t think that’s actually a thing,” He gave you a look.
“It is for us,” You pointed out.
“Because of our love?” He said semi sarcastically.
“Because our love can do anything, Rafa.” You placed your forehead against his. “Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
“I suppose I should have,” He chuckled.
“In fact, right now I’m not even under any of Nevada’s powers, the dumbass didn’t think he’d need to keep me under,”
“Wait so, so he’s not having sex with you right now?” His eyes perked up.
“Rafael!” You hit him playfully. “Gross,”
“Yeah you say that now…” He made an uncomfortable face.
“Look, we don’t have time to unpack all of...that,” You made a face, not really wanting to talk about what you’d eventually have to discuss.
“Just-- Just know, that whatever happens when you see me in person, whatever I say or do to you, it’s not me,” You assured him.
“I know that carino--” He smiled at you while stroking your hair.
“Yeah I know you know that but I need you to know that,” You took both of his hands and squeezed them tightly.
“...Okay?” He gave you an amused smile.
“Just-- I need to hear you say that you know that, okay?” You pulled his hands toward you.
“I just said--” He started but you needed this.
“RAFAEL,” You crossed your arms. “I am doing my damndest to astral project my brain into yours, the least you can do is humor me,”
“Okay Okay,” He softly chuckled, pressing his lips to yours. “I know it’s not you,”
“Okay,” You smiled, pulling him into a deeper, more passionate kiss. A kiss that rivaled your epic “yellow swirly memory floating” kiss.
“Te amo, mi amor,” Rafael whispered, knowing how much his spanish speaking meant to you. “Te amo mucho,”
“I love you too, Rafael,” You kissed him one more time before the both of you were pulled away back into consciousness.
----
Rafael was woken up by the sound of his phone going off, it was Olivia. She had forwarded you the text from Nevada:
“Excellente. Meet me outside your courthouse, wearing your black and pink suit. I’ll be waiting in a town car,”
Great…
------
“Hey amante, nap time’s over,” Nevada shook you awake from your nap in his bed.
“What now, Vada?” You grumbled sleepily.
“Good news baby, we’re going to see your abogado,” He smiled sweetly, before pulling out a champagne bottle full of bright orange liquid.
“But first...a toast,” He added with an evil grin.
Oh no...
#rafael barba#rafael barba x you#rafael barba x reader#rafael barba fanficton#law and order svu fanfiction#nevada ramirez fanfiction#nevada ramirez x you#nevada ramirez x reader#nevada ramirez#trouble in the heights#doppelganger
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The Fallen’s Redemption (Welcome to the Underground!)
Hey everyone! E here with the newest chapter! sorry it took a while to get out, been a wild month but it looks like everything's calming down so hopefully everything comes out more consistently. I hope you are all well and enjoying the story. Feel free to share, comment and all that jazz. I'm trying to promote myself more. Feels weird. haha that's it for me. Stay safe, wear your mask, wash your hands, vaccinate if you can and take care of your love ones. Have a great week! E out!
If you like an easier way to read the story or even find out what the heck’s going on you can read the whole thing right here!
--> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/74835963
It was truly impressive how one moment could shift without warning. How the highest and lowest point in a singular instant in time could reverse and just keep going.
Archie wished for once in his life it went in his favor.
The mercenary knew Oliver and Abigail had succeeded when the room settled: crooked walls straightened, the hallways were no longer elongated stretches of void and he could hear Abigail’s voice from the other room.
The demon knew it too as it bruised skin failed to heal quickly, the smoke curled off its body longer and longer as Archie sunk holy arrow after holy arrow into its form. Its muscles seemed to deflect as Fen rained blow after brutal blow upon it. It was actually pretty disturbing if Archie was going to be honest but he knew better to give pity to a demon.
Archie loosen the arrow notched in his bow but kept a wary eye on their foe. It was time to leave. This demon was trapped in this prison for a reason and Archie was suspecting at the very least it was indestructible. Attempting to destroy it would be pointless and a weakened unkillable demon was still a threat.
Archie paused, unsure how to properly convey his message to the berserk Fen. He inched closer, practically stomping to make sure Fen didn’t whirl around in surprise and attack.
He tapped the paladin’s shoulder gently but Fen paid no him no mind. He cleared his throat but Fen just kept swinging away. Archie snarled, gripping Fen’s shoulder tightly and forcing him to turn.
“What!” Fen glared “Can’t you see I’m busy destroying this demon?”
‘You are serious?’ Archie let his annoyance slip onto his face. He was about pull the paladin away when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
The demon, even beaten and in pain, was deceptively quick. It’s elongated arm shot out, aiming for a weak point in the armor.
Archie did not like Fen. Archie thought Fen was unnecessarily combative and stand offish. Fen was a pain to work with and had never once played on a team.
But Archie couldn’t deny who he was.
That’s why he joined the King’s Guard when he lived on the surface.
He acted without thinking, pulling Fen away with as much strength as he could. The claws cut into Fen’s arm but drew little blood. Most of the blood the demon managed to spill came from Archie.
-----
It was impossible to tell who acted quicker: Abigail, Oliver or even Fen.
The trio as acted one for the first time in the short while they knew each other: Oliver said nothing, opting to gesture with a middle finger towards the demon. It let out a pained shriek, reeling backwards as golden musical notes surrounded its head and a dissonance screech thundering in its ears. Fen swung backward, cracking the demon in the jaw and sent it sprawling towards the floor. Abigail raced forward, diving for Archibald's falling form.
For a lanky guy, he was heavier than Abigail was expecting. She barely managed to stop him from hitting the floor with a splat but found herself pinned under him as a result.
“Oh boy Archie” Abigail groaned, struggling to lift the mercenary “You got some weight on you.”
Archie gave a weak smile, his gaze unfocused and distant.
Abigail turned to call for Oliver but the bard was already there, carefully eyeing the wound.
“It’s not too bad” Oliver murmured to himself. He rolled his sleeves up, staining one red with the blood dripping from his hand “But we got to act fast. He’s going to bleed out we don’t get him fixed up.”
“Can you?” Abagail asked, trying her best to keep her voice calm.
Oliver didn’t answer. Instead he held a hand over the open wound, closing his eyes while muttering something under his breath.
The golden musical notes appeared once more and hovered over Archibald. A calming melody began to play as Oliver’s magic took hold. Oliver winced as his own wound knitted itself back together: pinkish skin reforming and sealed where he stabbed himself with the dagger. Archibald’s started to but something went wrong: A malicious energy poured from the wound, hungry and vicious. Oliver’s magic wavered and shimmered out of exist but the wound remained.
Oliver’s face paled, his lips curling into a snarl.
“Oh hell no!”
Oliver rose his hand once again, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his magic reformed but once again the strange energy appeared and seemed to actively block the bard’s attempts to heal.
Oliver’s eyes grew manic “I am not letting someone else die! Curse or no curse.”
“Curse?” Abigail whispered as a chill ran down her spine “He’s been cursed.”
“A fucking demonic curse.” Oliver explained, frantically digging through his pack “Obviously my magic isn’t enough to break it.”
Abigail nodded numbly “We need holy magic.”
“Which we don’t have.” Oliver responded grimly “You have any thread?”
“Thread?”
“I’m going to try to stitch him up. I’m hoping the curse is only focused on magical cures.”
“R-right.” Abigail’s hand moved on their own, reaching for her pack while she desperately tried to remember where she kept the thread. It wasn’t the easiest thing with one hand but the other was wrapped tightly around Archie’s body. Definitely not the smartest choice but she refused to let go of him.
Abigail’s hand shook as the nerves started to eat at her.
“Talk to me farm girl.” Oliver sounded far off “You need to stay focus.
She took a calming breath “Right. Right. Calm. Are you sure threads would work?”
“No” Oliver admitted “But I’m hoping they last long enough for us to get him to the capital. He needs a real cleric or paladin” he glared openly Fen’s back as the paladin continued his cruel attack on the demon “and we’re going to need every second. Dragging him out the house, up the slope and down the tunnel is going to be a challenge but we have to try.”
The air grew thick with tension, the only sounds were Abigail’s panicked search and thuds of Fen’s assault
“Die demon die!” Fen growled with a righteous fever “I will send you back from whence your came!”
Crunch, squish, crunch, squish, crunch. The repetitive noise of Fen’s wasted efforts.
Oliver tried to keep calm. Oliver tried to focus on the task hand. Oliver wanted nothing more than silence.
Oliver always had a poor control over his mouth.
“WOULD YOU SHUT UP!?”
Abigail stood, shocked at the rage and fury that filled Oliver’s shout.
Fen caught it too. He paused, turning away from his prey and eyed Oliver’s distastefully.
“You dare…?” Fen began, angrily stomping closer to the pair.
“You fucking right I dare!” Oliver shot to his feet, hands clenched to fists “You are joke and worse, not even a funny one. Just a pathetic washed out paladin who doesn’t even realize why his God abandoned him!”
Fen held Oliver’s lute in a deathly grip “I am warning you bard if you push me further….”
“You’ll what?” Oliver roared. He closed the distance and even Fen couldn’t help but take a step back “You’ll attack me? A fellow human? Not very holy of you.”
“I….”
“What’s the point of killing monsters...” Oliver screamed, gesturing to the bleeding Archibald and fearful Abigail “...if there’s no one left to save when you’re done! What’s the point of punishing the wicked if good people have to die for it?”
Fen felt sick as realization washed over him. Young Archibald had gotten severely injured but he been so caught up in his fury he hadn’t realized what occurred.
“I….” Fen began weakly but Oliver wasn’t finished.
“Don’t.” Oliver spoke with an aura of finality “You made your choice. You chose your anger over your duty. If you regret the outcome, you should’ve thought about the choice more carefully. Abigail, thread.”
Abigail nodded and began searching for the elusive thread. Oliver turned away from the stunned paladin and pulled out a fine needle.
“Come on solider boy.” He spoke with a firm tone “You’re not dying on me. If you want to get paid, you’ll keep your breathing steady.”
Fen couldn’t hear what the others were saying. The guilt started to build in the pit of his stomach as his arms grew weak.
How could he fall so far? How could he forget his oath to the Solius, the god who saved his life and gave it meaning? How could he allow his anger, his bitterness poison his intention?
This god hadn’t abandoned him, he had abandoned his god.
He still remembered the quiet pride he shone with when he was anointed a paladin. A nobody from a town that no longer existed finally someone. A higher purpose.
The path to redemption is made by self sacrifice.
He thought it meant punishing the wicked creatures and enemies of Solius, giving his life to endless battle.
He closed his eyes in shame, unable to deny the truth of his failure any longer.
Fen’s eyes flinched as a light seemed to shine from nowhere. He opened his eyes expecting to find the irritating bard using his magic to annoy him further.
Instead he found a beautiful soft light emitting from his hands: an open palm and the weaponized lute glowed with an unearthly beauty.
He glanced towards the other but if they had seen the light, they made no indication of it. He could see the desperation in their actions: Abigail unspooling as much thread she could muster while Oliver threaded the needle in preparation for some makeshift surgery.
Fen looked at his hands once again and realized what Solius hadn’t left him. Not really. He always had been with the paladin but he was too blinded by resentment to notice. Now Solius was silently offering him the choice free of judgment.
What path will you choose: of peace or of war?
Fen was a warrior through and through. He was no healer, having never trained in such arts. He knew the path he chose when he swore himself to the god of redemption. A righteous blade on the mortal plane.
“Hey Archie” Abigail croaked, her voice hoarse with fear “It’ll be okay. Oliver’s just gonna shove a needle into your body.”
Archibald rolled his eyes sarcastically as if saying ‘oh fun’
Oliver pulled the thread to ensure it wouldn’t come loose “Sorry I don’t have medicine or anything to numb the pain or even proper experience but hey, what better way to learn new skills huh?”
Archibald shook his head in disbelief.
“I’ll do my best.” Oliver promised with a surprising amount of sincerity “Hopefully it will be enough.”
“Bard.”
Oliver let out a frustrated groan “Seriously?! Now? Can’t you see that I’m about to perform…”
“Allow me.”
Oliver turned to Fen, surprised to see his lute placed carefully on the floor and the paladin’s hands open in peaceful surrender.
“Can you do it?”
“I believe so.”
Oliver moved, allowing Fen room to work. Fen took a deep breath and gently placed his hands onto the open wound. Archibald flinched but stayed as still as he could manage.
The malicious curse crept forth.
“Solius, lend me your power to save this life. It is not yet time.”
Abigail let out a gasp as a gentle light began to cover Fen’s hands. The curse stretched and thinned under the glow of holy magic, shrinking and shrinking before vanishing completely. Archibald relaxed as his wound began to close, skin stitching itself back together until no trace of the injury remained.
Fen let out a tired sigh “The path to redemption is made through self sacrifice.”
“Don’t start.” Oliver warned “Help me lift him up.”
Oliver spared a quick glance for the demon but it wisely chosen to retreat deeper into the house rather purse a one sided fight. Better live with a pain that would heal slowly than face the group’s wrath.
“I got him” Abigail spoke up quickly “I can do it.”
“Well you heard the lady.”
-----
“There’s no sign of your beasts bard.”
“Not entirely true.” Oliver replied. He took note of the gnashed, clawed marks left upon the exterior of the house when they left.
Aside from the various scratch marks left all over the floor and outside of the walls, there was no sign of the mysterious creatures that chased them down the tunnel.
“That’s a lucky break” Oliver breathed in relief.
Archibald flipped off Oliver.
“Relatively.” Oliver corrected “How you feeling solider boy?”
Archibald shot him a glance that screamed ‘you seriously asking me that?’
“Force of habit. Sorry. Not sorry.”
The group stood at the mouth of the tunnel. With Fen’s help, they managed to get Archibald to the top with little trouble.
Abigail slowly approached the paladin “What will you do now?”
Fen paused, taking a moment to answer.
“I am not sure.” he admitted truthfully “As much as I despise your bard, he has given me much to think about.”
“I have that effect on people.” Oliver beamed with pride.
Abigail jabbed her elbow into his side.
“Rude.”
Fen gave a light chuckle “Thank you bard. I still hate you though.”
Oliver gave a noncommittal shrugged “I hate you too but you don’t have to like someone to learn something from them.”
“I am not giving you that one.”
“Yeah that tracks.”
Fen turned to Archibald “Will you be alright? I can accompany you to Haven’s Nest if you wish.”
Archibald waved him off and gestured to Abigail with a flexing motion.
“Thanks!” Abigail smiled brightly.
Fen grinned “I understand and I apologize for my lack of….everything. I will work on that.”
Archibald nodded in understanding.
“Goodbye” Fen turned towards the path to West End “Abigail, Archibald take care. Bard I hope I never see you again.”
“Same here paladork!”
-----
Abigail understood why Oliver chose the unexplored tunnel when they had been chased by the strange creatures: With Abigail carrying Archibald, it had taken the group an hour to reach the city gate. At full sprint it would’ve taken at least 20 minutes to reach but there was no way the group could’ve ran that length without the risk of tripping.
The city gate wasn’t too much different than the walls that surrounded Abigail’s hometown: Instead towering walls designed to be too tall to climb, it was a thick metal door built in the path of the tunnel mouth. There were a pair of guards stationed on their side of the wall, lazy and distracted.
“What happened to him?” one of the guards gestured to Archibald.
“A bad time. Gate closed?”
The other guard shook his head “Nah. We heard a commotion down the tunnel so we decided to shut it in case.”
Oliver nodded “Good call. Let us in?”
“Oi, I ask the questions. What’s your business in the capital?”
Abigail began to open her mouth but Oliver cut her off “Bard competition. They’re my roadies.”
“What’s a roadie?” One guard asked dumbly.
“My help. I’m a pretty big deal.”
The guards sneered “Sure big deal. Sing us something.”
Oliver looked at his fingernails “You can hear me sing at the competition. I don’t do free shows.”
“Fucking bards” the guard murmured under his breath as he knocked on the door with a booming thud.
Abigail could the creaking and groaning of clogs and springs and chains moving in unison. The door began to lift inch by inch. Abigail couldn’t help but lean forward, hoping to soak in her first experience at an underground city. However, instead of whatever she had been expecting, she found herself staring at a large circular cavern.
There were a few people about deep in conversion as well a handful of guards scattered around. Merchants calling in different tongues hoping to make a sale for their wares. On the far end was an identical metal door that no doubt led to the actual city. To either side the cavern walls that were covered with nonsensical graffiti: Phrases in various languages, different images in varying art styles.
“Processing?” Abigail asked with a tone of certainty.
“Yep. It’ll be a few minutes.” Oliver answered while he looked about.
Abigail shifted Archibald so he could be more comfortable “Did you want to sit?”
Archibald shook his head.
“Alright but if you get tired let me know.”
A thumbs up in response.
“Oliver….” Abigail whirled around only to find the bard scribbling some strange symbol among the mess of whatever what was on the wall “OLIVER!”
Oliver paid no mind to her, opting to finish whatever he was doing and making his way back to the other two.
Abigail rose an eyebrow “What was that about?”
“I like doodling. I get bored easily.”
“I was talking to Archie for like a second.”
“Bored.” Oliver repeated unhelpfully “Besides they magically clean the walls every night. Come on let’s get in line.”
True to Oliver’s word, it hadn’t taken long to get through the processing: The same questions asked by the guards in front, a quick magical scan from the cleric to ensure nothing demonic was entering, a search to see if anyone was carrying anything illegal. A few minutes had passed and the trio was waved through.
Archibald regained enough strength to walk on his own albeit slowly. The group was among a handful other people eagerly waiting for the gate to open when a guard had given them some strange item. It looked like two thin marshmallows.
“What is this about?” Abigail asked only to find Oliver and Archibald place the strange item into their ears. Having no choice, Abigail followed suit.
The gate slowly opened, pulling to the side instead upwards.
Abigail leaned forward, catching her first glimpse of Haven’s Nest.
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Guardian Angel
Summary: It'll only be minutes until Dean's time on earth's gonna run out. Until the hellhound will walk around the corner and drag him with it into the pit of pain and despair. Until the demons and monsters will claim his soul.
But just as he is about to face his end all of a sudden something unexpected happens and Dean starts to wonder if he's seriously worth to be saved after all.
Word Count: 1676
Tags: Canon Divergence, Angst, First Meeting, 3x16 divergent
[Written for the @writersofdestiel‘s “The Day They First Met” Prompt Week]
It's merely minutes now.
They had hope, just a little bit, but now Lilith is out of reach and Dean hears the hellhound coming closer and closer. The air in his chest tightens, making breathing impossibly hard as he stares at the doorway.
He knows the creature will show up there any second now.
To take him to hell.
Mercilessly.
Dean never regretted saving Sam's life. He just can't, no matter what. But as he's facing his end now he's unable to feel a lot of things, emotions overpowering him with such strength his knees start to buckle.
He doesn't want to die. There are so many things he actually intended to do. Awesome, amazing, wonderful things he always thought he had enough time to experience at some point.
Fuck, he's never even been in love before. Not really, at least.
And now he will never know what that feels like.
Dean glances to the side, for the last time looking at the person most important to him. Sam is breathing hard as he stares at his brother with despair, tears welling up in his eyes. It's clear that he tries to control himself, not to sob and break down here and now. But it seems he has finally accepted that there is no way out of this.
Dean would die tonight. In a few minutes.
And they could do jackshit now to stop it.
Dean opens his mouth, determined to leave Sam with some last reassuring words, but in the end no sound leaves his throat. He's incapable of forming any coherent sentence at this point, he's sure of that. Besides, there is absolutely nothing in the vast vocabulary that would ease Sam's mind in any way right now.
Dean knows because he would totally feel the same if their roles were reversed.
So Dean settles on just looking at his tall little brother and shooting him one last smirk.
It's all he can do at this point.
Since just a moment later the hellhound walks around the corner.
It's an ugly thing. Broad and big and hairy and its eyes and fangs are enormous. Not to mention the claws. Sharp enough to rip even the strongest man apart in a matter of milliseconds.
The worst, however, is the smell. Ash and fire and decay.
Dean imagines that is what hell smells like.
He will find out for himself soon enough.
Dean takes a deep breath and braces himself. This won't be pretty and a big part of himself wishes Sam wouldn't be here to witness this. But another, small, selfish side of him finds itself relieved to have his brother by his side.
One last time.
Dean looks at the creature, looks it straight in the eyes, and yells Come on now! in his mind.
The hellhound prepares itself to attack. Bloodthirstiness shining in its gaze.
Thirst for Dean's blood.
And then, all of a sudden –
A shadow shows up right behind the creature. Dean blinks in surprise and just has enough time to notice a flapping coat before the hellhound starts to whine out of the blue.
It whines and screams and squirms and Dean takes a moment to notice the silver blade that's been rammed right into its neck. By the shadow in the dark.
Sam next to him gasps in surprise and bewilderment (and Dean is right with him on that front) and they both watch in shock as the hellhound collapses right there on the spot.
Motionless.
Dead.
Dean blinks.
What?
The?
Fuck?
For a long moment the room remains eerily quiet, nobody really sure what to do now. Dean at least has no freaking idea what is happening now.
He simply gaoes at the shadow who steps out of the darkness and reveals himself to be a man in a bulky trench coat. A man who looks absolutely normal. Close to harmless, actually. Tousled hair, a light scruff, ridiculously blue eyes.
He seems utterly wrong in this place.
And at the same time there is something about him. Something that takes Dean's breath away in a completely different way than the hellhound before him.
The man steps forward, appearing absolutely calm as he pulls his strange silver knife out of the dead creature. He seems like this is a totally ordinary day. As though he always runs around and kills some hellhounds before dinner time.
There are a thousand questions running through Dean's mind at this very moment. And in the end he grasps for one.
“Who are you?”
It's at least a legitimate question, right?
The man looks up, his gaze connecting with Dean's. And the hunter feels a shiver running down his spine as he has never experienced before. He's even on the verge of whimpering and thankfully just has enough self-control to suppress that urge right on time.
“My name is Castiel,” the man introduces himself.
His voice is impossibly deep and Dean has no clue what to do with this.
How are you supposed to handle such a situation?
Something like this certainly has never been part of Dad's training.
Dean stares at the man, keeps on staring and staring, and at one point realizes that this guy just can't be human. Maybe it's a residue from his year running out or perhaps it's just hunter instinct.
But he simply knows.
“What are you?” Dean clarifies his question in the end.
The man – Castiel – stays unperturbed as he responds, “I'm an angel of the Lord.”
Dean can't help a loud and very unattractive snort.
Yeah, right.
“Sure thing, buddy,” he mocks. “Now for real – what are you?”
Castiel's face doesn't display any emotions as suddenly the few lights in the room begin to flicker and a shadow of two huge wings shows up right behind him.
It's only for the blink of an eye, but it's more than enough to shake Dean to his very core.
DAMN.
Sam next to him doesn't seem far better off. His eyes as big as saucers, his skin going absolutely pale. Dean, at least, finds himself worried that he might pass out in the next moment and decides to focus on that for now because anything else is too much.
Way too much.
“You were meant to go to hell tonight, Dean Winchester,” the creature – the angel?? – tells him in a serious tone. “And it was foretold that this event would lead to the apocalypse.”
Dean's jaw goes slack.
Wait, what?
“Huh?” he says, dumbfounded.
“This has been in the making for centuries. Millennia. Since the dawn of time itself.” Castiel's gaze gets even more intense and Dean suddenly feels stripped naked faced with such scrutiny. “Hell and heaven, preparing for the final battle.”
Dean wonders if he's dreaming.
If this is just the strangest, most wacko dream he's had for quite a while.
Because this can't be true!
Right?
“But I and a small fraction of angels – we see things a bit differently than the rest.” Castiel's lips twitches. As though he's fighting an actual smile. “We believe it doesn't have to be this way. Humanity is our Father's greatest creation. We don't want to see them die in an ocean of fire.”
Dean shivers and feels the strength of his legs leaving him. It's just with monumental effort that he's able to remain upright for the time being.
“I … uh …” What do you reply to something like this?
Dean doesn't have the foggiest.
Castiel, meanwhile, walks up to him, suddenly so close they're almost chest to chest.
“Humanity deserves to be saved,” he states in that gravelly voice. “But above all, you deserve to be saved, Dean Winchester.”
He studies Dean like he's the most important thing in the world. Like he would fight all of heaven and hell in a heartbeat just to see the hunter safe and sound.
Dean swallows, licks his lips and feels his cheeks heat up as Castiel's gaze follows the movement of his tongue with a bone-chilling intensity.
Dean can't remember the last time someone looked at him like that.
He isn't actually sure if someone ever looked at him like that.
“You … you're kidding, right?” Dean scoffs and tries to come across as unimpressed as possible while he chides himself over and over to finally get his moves on and take a few steps back. Put some distance between them. Personal space and all that crap.
He remains unsuccessful.
Because his body refuses to be apart from Castiel, it seems.
“I assure you, I am not 'kidding' you,” Castiel says, phrasing that one word like it's a weird alien language he never heard before. “I am here to save your soul from damnation. You're a good and kind man and you don't deserve what has been put upon your shoulders.”
Dean blinks.
He wants to laugh. Right into the guy's face.
But Castiel sounds absolutely sincere, as if he means every single word, and Dean feels the mocking laughter get stuck in his throat.
Damn.
“You might not believe me,” Castiel continues. “But soon enough you will have no other choice. Neither hell nor heaven are going to be thrilled about this act of rebellion and we have to brace ourselves for the inevitable repercussions.” He tilts his head (which is not adorable!). “But don't worry, we are prepared. We won't allow anyone to harm you.” His eyes glint supernaturally. “I won't allow anyone to harm you.”
Jesus.
Dean throws another glance at Sam. Who still looks like the verge of crying.
And Dean hates to admit it, but he can actually relate.
He thought he would be in hell by now. Probably already ripped apart and then put back together to do it all over again for the hundredth time.
To stand here, alive, at Sam's side, with a freaking angel so obviously eager to protect him – this is just wild!
And so he decides there and then: yep, this must be a dream!
Because gorgeous, intense men eager to save his soul? Yeah, this can't be real!
Right?
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subConsciousness...
A warmup writing piece, NOT SAFE FOR ANY KIND OF WORKPLACE, destructive, nasty and dark.
Based on Rat’s piece, so squint and it’s Paris, squint and it’s Cyrus.
.......
The dreams come again, like they always do, in blood and fire and broken glass, the stench of dead bodies and burning plastic and when did your dreams display your atrocities rather than the ones that were done to you?
Broken bodies beneath your feet, and you can't stop laughing, helmet off, no filter, no mask, and finally everything burns.
You most of all.
The kiss is too sudden, rushed, intrusive, and it's another dream, pinned against the wall by Ortega, the kiss soft, for another man, in the past, another man with dreams and hopes and someone that looked at him like he was the sun in the sky. Ortega.
You smash that memory, bites the lip, headbutts Ortega's stupid sexy face because you can't do this, you can't be this, not even in your dreams, bite the hand that reaches for you, no help, just hurt and it feels so good to destroy everything.
Yourself most of all.
Nobody gets to touch you again.
You touch people now. With fists and teeth and violence, scarring the world like you've been scarred and you probably should be horrified if the capacity for horror hadn't been burned out of you with your empathy and dreams.
Dreams...
You pull yourself together and Ortega's broken body fades into Anathema's and you feel your lips twist into a grimace before it turns to goo and disappears and you're going up the stairs, again, repeating the cycle, implants on your back itching, there's a window you need to get to, a cycle that needs repeating, a doll that needs to be broken again.
And again.
You want to be anywhere but here, but the dreams pull you back, breaks you all over again, breaks you in ways you don't want to remember, breaks you and you want to be anywhere but here as the door is approaching, and you want to be anywhere but here and...
Maldito...
You're not. You're not here. The door is a different one, but you open it all the same and the apartment is nice, but the whisper in your ear is not.
"Ever been to Paris?"
You turn and strike in one smooth motion, fist impacting smug face, tall, man, your height, dangerous and bleeding.
"Fuckin' hell, there was no cause for that." He holds his nose, then wipes it clean, waving his hand like a magic trick and the blood is gone, and the smile is back.
"Get out," you growl, taking in the relaxed stance, shirt open, lazy smirk, lazier eyes with danger in the depths and there's too much Ortega there, but not enough. No kindness, too many piercings, the big cat curiosity of Lady Argent and this is not good. This is not a good dream.
"Anywhere but here," comes the reply, complete with a shrug, and the man steps closer, too smooth, dangerous, and you move to match him.
Mirror image, stance to match, eyes that's seen too much but it's not a mirror. It's worse.
"Can't run from yourself," the man says, parrying your blow, retaliating with an echo of a Sidestep you've forgotten, someone who could smile and try to be like everybody else.
"Watch me," you growl back, getting hit, getting hurt, and hurting in return.
Fighting is good. Bruising is good. Knuckles to flesh, claws over his back, tearing open and you see a a hit of pain, a hint of fear and fury and then it's gone again, the scene resetting, your punches repeating and this time there is a different outcome.
As dreams go this is not a surprise...
"You can't be him," he whispers in your ear, too close twisting your arm up behind your back, threatening to break it and you should give up, but he doesn't know you so you dare him to break your arm, takes the snap, takes the break and launches him backwards with a kick.
There's a freezeframe moment where everything shifts and then there's you that's flying backwards, landing in a solid leather chair, and he that shakes his arm, restoring the break.
"Subconsciousness is a bitch, ennit?" He licks his lips and the stud glistens and you're stuck, like tar, like restraints, like the hopeless feeling on the windowsill. "You can't win."
But he doesn't know you, and you're set to tear yourself from the chair but the restraints are not what's holding you there. Your clothes are, glued to the surface and you could slip out, could bare yourself and kick his ass but there's a white hot glare of panic exchanged between you and he sinks down on his knees before you, looking up. The smile is soft, understanding, and you want to smash it, break it like waves break the shore.
"Hi Cyrus. I'm Paris." Hands moving up your inner thighs and you bite back another curse.
"Fuck off."
"You can't win because you don't want to." Close enough that you can smell him, wet dreams and bad decisions. "You want to die. I want... everything." The smirk grows wider, and you can't stop watching, the way he's watching you, the way you sometimes... no. That's dreams, but this is a dream, and... "Is it?" he replies to your unspoken thought, undoing your pants, undoing your control. "Real's relative when you're a telepath."
"You're not real." You suck in a breath as he takes you in his mouth, your traitor body already hard because try as you might you can't erase that part of you. Just suppress it, and eventually it comes bubbling to the surface, it's never good, but this time...
"I know what I'm doing," he assures, deep-throating you like it was nothing, melting you back into the chair, falling as the room shifts and you land on a bed, him on top.
It takes a moment to reverse the positions, but he's slippery, and just as good as you, you can read his mind and he can read yours but you don't want to see what's in there. A different kind of violence. A different kind of death. But a death all the same, and you bite him, willing soft flesh to part and he curses again, clothes optional, his are gone and so are yours and the bed is soft and surrounded by mirrors.
You keep your eyes shut.
It's a different kind of fight, a different kind of pain. You might not want to win, but you want to hurt him first, and you do. Destroy everything, yourself most of all, and you open your eyes wide and watch the ceiling covered in cracked mirrors. Your scarred face. His scarred back. Your hands in his hair as he's devouring you, giving your body exactly what it needs while you despise every moment of your weakness.
"Just think of it like advanced masturbation." It's a thought, because his mouth is full, and that stud is running up the base of your cock, and you block your eyes with your hands because once upon a time you dreamt this would be Ortega but that was a different dream.
A different man. Who still believed in bodies and happiness.
"Destroy me," you hiss through your hands, because everything burns, and you're kindling, and he keeps touching you.
And you don't want to see yourself but the mirrors are everywhere.
"Can do that," comes the amused reply, and gravity twists and you're thrown roughly on your stomach, pillows making a mound for you to prostrate yourself upon.
You're always helpless in your dreams, at their mercy, and this is no different as he spreads your cheeks and there's a tongue there, inquisitive, hungry...
Where did you pick up those things? Sleepwalking through people's minds, dragging up the thoughts they've hidden from themselves, is this one of yours? Or someone else's? Did you see him on the street, catch a wayward horny thought about how it would be to kiss him, fuck him, and bold of of you to assume your dreams are under your control.
Everything burns. You most of all.
His cock follows his tongue, pushing inside in one, confident motion, trapping your hands behind your back, effortlessly holding them because this is a dream, and dreams always betrays you. And your body betrays you most of all.
There's a line of metal studs, rings, intrusive bumps running along the underside of his cock, marking the passage as he pushes inside, making you bury your face in the pillow, at a loss for words. At a loss for control.
A different kind of fall. A different kind of end. You spend your waking hours fighting it off but...
It's the fall you want. The final loss of control. Just giving up.
But it's so hard. You're not made for failure, you're not made to give up, to accept the inevitable, to die. You'll fight tooth and nail, tear them down, hurt them, kill them, end them, but he knows this, he knows your tricks because they are his, and he's on top, and he's in control and you hate it, but...
It's a dream. You're never in control in your dreams.
Your body is. Your body with its wants and needs, and you squirm into the mattress as he undoes you, one thrust at a time, and it's infuriating, and it's humiliating, and you're rock hard all the same because he knows what he's doing. Of course he does.
He's you after all, in a funhouse mirror, broken glass leaving marks on both of you.
He's you, and maybe that makes it better, or maybe that makes it worse, and he shoves your head into the mattress and fucks you within an inch of your life.
That morning you don't wake up with a scream, you wake up sticky.
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WWF In Your House: Buried Alive 1996 PPV Review
Another October PPV to soothe my goth soul! As mediocre as the WWF is at this time, I’m excited to watch this PPV. I watched the Mankind vs. Undertaker Buried Alive match a long time ago when I was first getting into wrestling and it really fascinated me with its over-the-top concept and legendary performers. But how will it hold up now that I’ve become more educated and seen a hell of a lot more matches? I’m excited to find out!
Date: 10.20.96 / Arena: Market Square Arena - Indianapolis, IN / Attendance: 9649 / Tagline: Deadman’s Paradise
Stone Cold Steve Austin pins Hunter Hurst Helmsley in (15:30)
Due to an injury to Savio Vega, we get this little preview of the Attitude Era to open the show.
Always strange seeing Trips doing his bow shit. This gimmick is SO not him.
Annoying bullshit going on with JR’s headset due to the whole JR heel turn shit where he “shot” on McMahon, who is now apparently fucking with his mic
We keep cutting away from the match to go back to the mic drama. OMG NOBODY CARES
Slapfight near the corner, Triple H slides out of the ring
Austin is hitting some vicious snapmares
Austin works on Trips’ arm
Dominating right now, it’s not even close
Trips jabs Austin in the eyes and gets out
Oh god, I hate Vince’s commentary. I hate it so fucking bad. He’s not good at all. JUST GO BE HEEL VINCE ALREADY
Mic shit CONTINUES
Back drop from Trips
Stone Cold into a sleeper from Helmsley, then the reverse, then the reverse, then STONE COLD COUNTERS THE SLEEPER WITH A MINI-STUNNER AND TRIPS SELLS LIKE DEATH OMG
Austin hits a lateral dive axe handle from the corner
HOLY SHIT King calls out Vince’s tendency to just go “one, two and HE GOD HEEEM...oh no” as being annoying
And here’s Mr. Perfect! Here to cuck HHH and punish him for the Curtain Call!
Stone Cold and Perfect get into it on the outside as Trips recovers in the ring
HHH assails Austin once he gets back in the ring
Trips sets up the Pedigree but leaves the ring to go try to get his lady back
Austin teases a suplex on Trips on the concrete but Austin winds up taking it
SOOOOO stiff looking, awesome stuff
Austin cantilevers trips into the ring post and it actually looks pretty realistic
The middle fingers, the Stone Cold Stunner, and the three count for an Austin victory!
My Rating [3*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [3.25*]
WWF Tag Team Title Match Owen Hart & The British Bulldog [c] pin Billy Gunn & Bart Gunn “The Smoking Gunns” in (09:17)
Awwww poor Billy Gunn, thinking he’ll get Sunny back if they get the titles back
So...if they do this fucking “broken mic” angle for the whole PPV, I’m gonna be pissed.
Owen Hart does a dope flip over Billy’s arm
British Bulldog forgets he’s the legal man lmao
Cut to Sunny watching in the back, commentary ogles her of course
A lot of back and forth in the first half of this match, no hot tags or anything
Billy keeps showing off for Sunny
The Smoking Gunns do their signature move, Billy doing the flying punch off of Bart’s back
Some unbelievable interference from Bulldog preventing the sidewinder, and then Owen finishes off the match
My Rating [1.75*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [2*]
WWF Intercontinental Championship “The Wildman” Marc Mero [c] pins Goldust in (11:38)
Mr. Perfect replaces JR on commentary, thank god. No more mic bullshit
Another injury change (not sure if shoot or work), as Mero was originally scheduled to fight Goldust
Marc Mero’s mullet is majestic
A lot of very impressive takedowns from Mero, including multiple angle arm drags
Mero is so athletic and impressive! He does a tumbling takedown over Goldust’s back. If only he had a better character, man...he’s a really entertaining wrestler.
MMA-looking takedown into strikes from Mero
A back body drop on Goldust with MASSIVE height, wow
High flying flip over the ropes on Goldust on the outside, and then a leg drop over the ropes onto Dust
Long rest hold on Mero
Crossbody press in the middle of the ring!
Uh oh they gave Goldust a mic 😂
Goldust threatens to go out into the middle of the crowd and “stick my tongue down every single one of your throats”
“Goldust is only here because of the WWF’s don’t ask, don’t tell policy” smh King
Trips comes out to harass Perfect
Samoan Drop into the Wild Thing puts Goldust away and it’s absolutely beautiful as usual
My Rating [3.25*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [2.75*]
Psycho Sid pins Vader w/ Jim Cornette in (8:00)
HBK is on commentary and watching from ringside, the winner will face him at Survivor Series
Just two big fuckin boys going at it while a very attractive boy looks on from the side (i’m referring to Cornette of course)
Sid just kinda lying outside the ring selling some hits from Vader
A bunch of corner to corner whips between the two
Sid attempts a crossbody off the top rope but Vader catches him and slams him down
A splash from Vader and Sid barely kicks out
Second rope splash into a two count, but Vader plays with his food and goes for the Vader bomb but Sid brings up his knees and clotheslines the mastodon
A string of nutshots to everyone but Vader leaves him in control, setting up a powerbomb
Sycho Sid chokeslams Vader for the win after escaping the powerbomb. Frankly a pretty nothing match.
My Rating [1.25*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [.75*]
Buried Alive Match The Undertaker def. Mankind in (18:25)
I’ve said this so many times before, but The Undertaker’s entrance always gives me chills. Especially in this context--with the stipulations to this match, it’s so otherworldly and incredible.
Undertaker goes straight into it, attacking Mankind with no mercy and just delivering strikes straight to the face
A bunch more striking back and forth in the ring and then Mankind and Taker make their way out to the grave
Mankind knocks Taker off the dirt and crawls back to the ring
Taker slams Mankind’s head into the steel steps jesus
The camera cuts to an audience member and King puts down her appearance, but like...she was hot? Obviously it’s a dick move either way but she wasn’t even ugly
Taker chokes Mankind with an audio cord, chases him into the crowd, and hurls him into the barricade--THEN FOLLOWS UP WITH A FLYING LARIAT OVER THE SAFETY RAIL
Paul Bearer disrupts the rope walk and Taker takes a top rope shot to the nuts
Holy shit what an uppercut from Mankind
Mankind starts bashing Undertaker with...a pen, I think
FUCK Mankind is taking hard shots from that pen now right to the dome
Paul Bearer distracting undertaker on the outside as Mankind brings out the chair
HARD CHAIR SHOT TO UNDERTAKER RIGHT ON THE HEAD
They’re heading to the grave! Hell yes
MANKIND ROLLS UNDERTAKER INTO THE GRAVE
Taker brings Mankind down in there with him and they brawl in the hole!
Taker hurls mankind off the grave plot and marches him back to the ring
Mankind DDTs Taker right onto the chair, oof
CLASSIC SIT UP FROM TAKER, AND A RIDICULOUSLY HARD CHAIR SHOT
CHAIR PLACED ON MANKIND’S FACE AND A LEG DROP
FUCK THE UNDERTAKER REVERSE PILEDRIVES MANKIND INTO THE STEEL STEPS
he then throws the fucking steps into the ring and clobbers Foley with them
TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER
Taker carries Mankind to the grave on his shoulders
BUT MANKIND LOCKS IN THE MANDIBLE CLAW JUST IN TIME AND THEY STRUGGLE IN FRONT OF THE GRAVE
MANKIND GOES TO SLAM TAKER WITH THE URN AND GETS CAUGHT AND CHOKESLAMMED INTO THE GRAVE! TAKER STARTS BURYING HIM
UNDERTAKER WINS AND CONTINUES SHOVELING FUCKING DIRT INTO THE GRAVE ABSOLUTELY NO MERCY
Some henchman of Paul Bearer’s smashes Taker in the back of the head with a shovel and gets Mankind out
They completely fucking submerge The Undertaker in dirt
And in an incredibly iconic moment, we see Undertaker call down lightning from the heavens and have one arm emerge from the grave. Metal as fuck, dude.
What a match. This type of shit is why I love wrestling.
My Rating [4.5*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [3.75*]
Overall PPV Grade: B
With no outright bad matches and an absolutely spooky barnburner of a main event, IYH: Buried Alive is a pretty entertaining watch. I wish WWE still did spooky shit like this during the October PPV, it’s so much fun.
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