I Do Slav Squat

Current fandom: metal, wrestling, Godzilla/kaiju, mythology (Slavic and Chinese mainly) | Fulton is my spirit animal. | Taken by a tall and tough Slavic bear.

[personality-studies]

MBTI’s Highest Activity Regions on Electroencephalogram (EEG)

 Rationals

Artisans

Guardians

Idealists

BONUS EEG!

ENFJ are pretty easy to embarrassed. On the other hand INTP’s region are pretty hard to activate. Generally speaking, that region is quite dark. But when they do get embarrassed, oh boy, it floods over to the other neighbouring regions! It even effected the region that are responsible for dexterity (that explained why they become klutzy af when they get embarrassed).

(Based on Dario Nardi’s book, “Neuroscience of Personality: Brain Savvy Insights for All Types of People “ and his Google Talk Conference. If you have 85 minutes to spare, I highly recommended you watch the video! Really good stuff  :D)

[chalupacabras]

MBTI FIGHT SCALE

INFJ: 50/100 while physically frail and shrimpy, will use psychological warfare gleefully and liberally, then feel bad about it. Engage if necessary.

ENFJ: 60/100 Stronger than the INFJ, but not enough to win a fight on that alone. However, expert manipulator with an army of henchmen much more willing to tear you a new one. Engage if necessary.

INTJ: 20/100 All those hours hitting the books instead of hitting the gym have landed you a pair of very small noodle arms, you frickin nerd. Being smart won’t save you from a knuckle sandwich

ENTJ: 80/100 Average build, manipulative savant like the ENFJ, but these henchmen are unpaid college interns that have lost all faculties due to sleeplessness and caffeine, and will chew on your bones if promised a full-time position. Do not engage.

ISTP: 85/100 No henchmen, but you know ISTP lifts. ISTP is built like a brick house in a vintage tee. Goodbye, front teeth.

ESTP: 75/100 Fit, but lacks the impulse control and discipline to learn skilled fighting. Lands a few good punches, tires themselves out, looks hot with a bloody nose. However, an ESTP with a flamethrower: 50000000/100

INTP: 30/100 Knows all the moves, never practiced them. Flails for a while, gets bored, takes a nap, doesn’t remember what they were fighting about. You can engage, but why would you want to

ENTP: 90/100 Why such a high rating, you ask, for the sickly loudmouthed nerd ENTP? Unpredictable nature guarantees ENTP will grab whatever is nearest to them to wield in a fight. You ever been hit over the head with a desk lamp? Fuckin hurts bro

ISTJ: 75/100 or 25/100, no in between. Either ISTJ is a karate expert with superb discipline and practice, or the art they’ve chosen to invest their time and energy into was marching band, in which case, all you need is a good firm chokehold and a locker to shove them into.

ESTJ: 10/100 Beat their ass, but then get ready to dial things up to 666/100 when you get a call from daddy’s lawyer who peels the skin from your bones

ENFP: ??/100 With ENFP, it doesn’t matter. They’re gentle souls who will fight you and then invite you for piña coladas while you wonder why you were ever mad.

INFP: 1/100 Fight an INFP anytime. Just do it. Just do it. You will feel bad afterwards when they write a sad song about it, but remember: they probably deserved it.

ESFP: 70/100 All that time practicing high-kicks paid off. They will high-kick your face in and then drag you by the wig into the town square to get thoroughly picked clean.

ISFP: 55/100 Generally gentle and small, but insult their favorite indie band and they will piledrive you through a wall.

ESFJ: 95/100 Like the ENFJ, but their charm has made them basically a cult leader. Their followers, however, are like 100,000 1D stans on PCP fighting bareknuckled over a ziploc baggie of Zayn’s beard hair.

ISFJ: 100/100 They say the only things to fear are a sea in a storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man. What they don’t say is that that quote was written about an ISFJ who is tired of cleaning up after everyone’s shit. Fight an ISFJ, wake up in hell where the devil will hand you a blanket and nod with wide eyes, “ISFJ, right? I guess sometimes enough is just enough.”

[majorbitchwillgraham]

How each type look during an argument

This is GOLD

[cookietookie]

Geralt & Yennefer & The Fandom

I knew it was going to happen the moment the Witcher went ‘mainstream’. It partially happened already when The Witcher 3 Wild Hunt came out and the fandom suddenly became huge and popular, outside of Poland and other Central and Eastern European countries. But back to the point.

Since the Netflix show came out, I’ve seen several (ok, actually quite a lot) people (mostly new fans) complaining about Yennefer, Yennefer’s arc, and - the worst - how she is ‘getting in the way’ of a potential romance of Geralt & Jaskier because she dares to be Geralt’s love interest.

Look, I am all for “ship and let ship” policy, there’s nothing wrong with being a fan of a relationship that is not canon. I understand that there is a severe lack of representation of canon m/m relationships and that people would love too see more of it in the mainstream media. 

But in this particular case and in this particular story…some Things Need To Be Said. 

Geralt & Yennefer relationship is not boring and forced. As far as the romance goes, there is literally nothing ‘conventional’ or ‘typical’ about them, apart from the fact that he is a man and she is the female.

WARNING: There might be some book spoilers under the cut.

Keep reading

[pastelbluberri-deactivated20201]

350+ names that make you/your baby really awesome and cool

[kokoinupi]

LINK?

[pastelbluberri-deactivated20201]

Here ya go!!

[kokoinupi]

THANK YOU

[inthefallofasparrow]

I’m kind of obsessed with this list and the lunatic who wrote it. Here’s the entire list with some of my favourite ‘EVIL’ names highlighted:

Abaddon, Abigor, Absinthe, Adramelech, Adrastea, Adrian, Aguares, Ague, Akantha, Akeldama, Akop, Alessandro, Alfred, Alocer, Alumit, Amanda, Ambrogio, Ambrosia, Amduscas, Amethyst, Andras, Angul, Annabel Lee, Annie, Apepi, Apophis, Arachne, Ardat Lili, Arnoldo, Ash, Asmodeus, Astarte, Atieno, Autumn, Avarice, Aym, Ayperos, Azazel, Azidahaka, Azrael,

Baal, Baalberith, Bakarne, Balan, Baldassare, Baldovino, Balor, Banshee, Bates, Batibat, Bearded, Beast, Beelzebub, Bela, Belial, Belinda, Bella, Belladonna, Belphegor, Bertoldo, Blade, Blair, Bonaventura, Bones, Bonifacio, Bram, Brandeis, Branwen, Briar, Bronwen, Buer, Buffy, Bumalin,  Callidora, Callie, Carman, Carrie, Casper, Caym, Cerberus, Chalice, Chaos, Charon, Chax, Chemosit, Chernobog, Chimera, Chrysanthemum, Chu Kwai, Chucky, Ciarda, Circe, Cirino, Clarice, Clemente, Clove, Cody, Congo Zandor, Cresil, Crimson, Crow, Crowe, Cruella,

Daemon, Dagon, Damien, Daray, Dario, Deber, Delora, Desdemona, Despoina, Diti, Dolores, Domenico, Draco, Draconia, Dracula, Draven, Eblis, Ebony, Edgar, Edmondo, Edoardo, Egidio, Eilif, Elathan, Eligio, Eliodoro, Elsinore, Elvira, Emilio, Empusa, Er Mo, Erebus, Ermanno, Esmerée, Ettore, Eulalie, Eurynomus, Eva, Faramundo, Fino, Foxglove, Freddy, Freya, Funereal, Furfur,

Gabriel, Gaspare, Gehenna, Geryon, Golgotha, Gomez, Gorgon, Grand Bois, Gregario, Grendel, Griffin, Grimoire, Griselda, Gualtiero, Guaricana, Hades, Hadria, Hagatha, Hannah, Hannibal, Hantu Kopek, Hatu-Atu-Topun, Hecate, Hellebore, Hemlock, Herensugue, Hitchcock, Ibwa, Iezabel, Igor, Ikwaokinyapippilele, Ingrum, Inmai, Irvene, Isolde, Israfel, Itzcoliuhqui, Ivy, Jack, Jahi, Jason, Jezebel, Jezebeth, Jilaiya, Karau, Karayan, Kasdeya, Kendra, Keron-Kenken, Kharis, Kobal, Kok-Lir, Kora, Lamia, Leanan Sidhe, Leandro, Lebara, Leila, Leonard, Leviathan, Lilith, Lilitu, Lily, Lima, Lolita, Lovecraft, Lucifer, Luna,

Maia, Maleficent, Malik, Mammon, Manuval, Mara, Marco, Massimo, Mastema, Medusa, Melancholia, Melanie, Melchom, Mephistopheles, Merihim, Merula, Michael, Midnight, Moko-Titi, Moloch, Moon, Morte, Morticia, Mullin, Murmur, Mush, Naburus, Narcissa, Narkissa, Natassa, Nephilim, Nergal, Nerine, Nerio, Nightshade, Nimue, Nin, Nocturne, Noire, Norman, November, Nunzio, Nybras Nysrogh, Nyx, October, Oleander, Olisha, Ophelia, Orazio, Orchid, Orfeo, Orias, Oroan, Orthon, Orusula, Palden Lhamo, Paymon, Pazuzu, Pellegrino, Perdita, Philotanus, Pitkis, Po-Tangotango, Poe, Polona, Ponzio, Proserpine, Pugsley, Pyro, Qanel, Rasputin, Raul, Raum, Ravana, Raven, Regan, Rimmon, Rodolfo, Romero, Ronwe, Rosemary, Ruby, Rue,

Sabrina, Sage, Sakarabru, Salem, Samael, Samara, Samhain, Sansone, Satanael, Selene, Semele, Semiazas, Serena, Set, Shabriri, Shade, Shadow, Silvano, Sonneillon, Spike, Storm, Succorbenoth, Succubi, Succubus, Sullen, Tabitha, Tacito, Tando Ashanti, Tezcatl poca, Thamuz, Thana, Thorn, Thorne, Thyia, Thyone, Tim, Titania, Tlacatecolototl, Tristan, Troian, Twilight, Ukobach, Umfredo, Uphir, Ursula, Valafar, Verin, Vetis, Vlad, Vladimir, Vritra, Wednesday, Wele Gumali, Willow, Winter, Wolfe, Xa-Mul, Xaphan, Xic, Yalocan Tumulu, Yamaraja, Yuki-Onna, Zaebos, Zagam, Zillah, Zozo

[oddnamesinhistory]

Gonna name my kids Succorbenoth and Kok-Lir just to spite this person

[zooophagous]

LOL my name is on this list

[lentaska]

Good thing that Baba Yaga is not on the list ‘cause that’s gonna be my future child’s name

[ciredin]

Eredin, Caranthir, Imlerith

[gayregis]

do you think the netflix series will stick to the books messages of anti war, family and friemdships? i hope not because those messages are what makes me like the books so much, also i hope the netflix fandom don't memefy the stories like they did with renfri, her story is supposed to be tragic and show how revenge corrupts people but the fandom just treats it like "uwu bisexual feral sword woman wants to kill big baddie wizard hehe"

correction: it's supposed to be “i hope so,” not “i hope not,” lol i can't spell

sadly, i don’t think that the netflix adaptation will stick to the themes of the books at all and here’s why.

first reason why: ciri

in the first season, they took out ciri and geralt meeting in brokilon. that is just the most unforgivable action they could have taken. that scene is literally what defines the entire series being about ciri, the child of destiny, geralt’s daughter who is the whole point of everything. they gave her more screentime, but less significance. she also is played by 18 yo freya allen who is acting as a 14 yo ciri, which blurs how she is supposed to symbolize childhood. instead, they went for a spunky sort of young teenage girl, which ciri becomes later (in the care of yennefer and during around the time of thanedd), but it is significant that she was a CHILD when cintra fell to nilfgaard, because it traumatized her for life and is the point of no return for her. because geralt thought that by fathering her, he would introduce her to death, but instead, the opposite occured - by deferring her, she was introduced to death. ciri loses her innocence, she loses the abilty to be a child. now she will continue to fixate on revenge for the entire saga, until she loses everything, absolutely everything. the witcher is a tragic story but it only manages to have this story because it is dominated by this theme of a lost childhood, surrounded by themes of family, vulnerability, revenge, destruction, violence... 

in the netflix series, we receive approximately none of this. ciri’s trauma is more treated as a “wake up call” because she’s such a “privileged princess” who doesn’t know about or care that her beloved grandmamma committed mass genocide (what???). this is treated like something ciri needs to overcome, thus it is actually a good thing that she is seeing people being murdered left and right in the name of imperialist conquest! 

second reason why: geralt

geralt in the books is a kind person. he is a pacifist. his profession is to kill, he ocassionally punches people so hard they die (he did this to save his best friend from being sliced open), and other acts of badassery, but inside, he does not want to kill and is opposed to it. this is the man that refused to slay a giant bug-like monster because he didn’t feel it was necessary (the witcher equivalent of trapping a house spider in a glass and slipping a piece of paper under it, then releasing it outside, instead of squashing it with your sandal). this is the man that felt himself unworthy to be yennefer’s lover, because he was afraid he couldn’t feel love in the same capacity she could. this is the man who pushed his best friend away on a dangerous quest because he was terrified that he’d be harmed and he’d suffer, and it would be his fault. and as mentioned, this is the man that deferred his daughter, his daughter who he genuinely loved and wanted to protect no matter what, his daughter who he legitimately raised a conflict with the queen of brokilon over, because he was terrified that he would bring violence and death into her life. this geralt is an introspective, pragmatic man. he cares deeply about the welfare of others, and the only way he can even do his job is to justify it though morality and codes of conduct which he makes up himself because he is so obsessed with not harming the innocent. he spares and befriends many “monsters” (post-conjunction creatures) and only slays the ones that genuinely pose a threat to the innocent and are usually are not creatures capable of rational thought. in the first book in the voice of reason 5, geralt literally states that he won’t kill innocent creatures.

and he continues this philosophy throughout:

he doesn’t kill dragons:

he advocates for dudu’s innocence:

he only was wary of regis because he was mistaken and thought he was going to harm dandelion in this moment:

in the netflix adaptation of the witcher, what is the first thing that we see him do? kill a monster brutally and without remorse. he doesn’t talk about his motivations behind it or why he felt justified to kill it, or why the monster was a danger in the first place. he just kills it and this violence defines him. later in the show, we see him antagonize and mock torque (when in the books he asked dandelion NOT to do just that) and he also punches dandelion right in the stomach. even when geralt was the most mad at dandelion in the books, he never did physical harm to him. ever.

the netflix show is representating a very different man. some have argued that they will try to develop him later on, but that is too late. geralt in the books was a good person from the very beginning for a reason.

third reason why: cahir.

the anti-war and anti-imperialist themes of the books hinge upon the concept of universal humanity and understanding that violence has its own motivations and reasons. cahir i think is a very good example of how the witcher saga comments on the effects of nationalist sentiment / patriotism. 

cahir in the books is a teenager or very young adult during the massacre of cintra (since he was no older than 25 in baptism of fire). even though he was also young and doing this only because it what was expected of him and he was intending to bring honor to his family, that does not change the effect that he has on ciri as a child. he enters her nightmares as an exaggerated version of what he was, even though he was scared, too. this demonstrates how impressionable youth are misguided into the military and people are made unaware of just how much violence they ensue. 

cahir is built up as this nightmarish figure, this horrifying man that ciri wants revenge upon more than anything else, and THEN he is revealed to also be a terrified youth. underneath the helmet, there was a terrified young man. that is an incredibly powerful image and metaphor.

and what did the witcher netflix do? ... well...

cahir shows his face, he doesn’t have the symbolism of his imposing helmet anymore. he’s much older, eamon farren is 35 years old, 15 older than cahir canonically is, so he’s not someone who has had nationalist ideals imposed upon him unfairly by his parents and society, but rather a full adult who is established and making his own decisions fully in his own control. in the books, he stops pursuing ciri once she escapes, because he has a mental breakdown from the stress of his society and family’s expectations of success, and fear of harsh punishment he will receive. he goes to prison in the imperial capital for a year for failing. in the netflix series, he stops at nothing to get ciri, chasing her down constantly and enlisting the help of sorcerers, a doppler... it’s a whole evil entourage. cahir is not the vulnerable and noble-at-heart young man that he was in the books.

in the end, these are things that are too late to change now. these things can’t be developed upon to “fix” them. ciri cannot suddenly receive her character establishment as a child. geralt cannot suddenly become a caring father who has cared about protecting ciri since day one. cahir cannot suddenly become a young man influenced by his jingoistic society who was only in full plate armor because his parents told him to. these things are so essential to their characters that they are begun to be established immediately.

and yeah everything’s going to get memed on just like they did with renfri. no one discusses the elves’ situation in dol blathanna seriously, they just like laughing at how jaskier called them “pointy.” ciri isn’t discussed at all by the fandom except for being a token baby character. it’s dark times

[revoevokukil]

Excellent summary of a few of the most important things due to which I have no faith in Netflix Witcher’s ability to capture the spirit and philosophy of the books.

[lentaska]

Syzygy

Jake Crist/OC/Dave Crist A/N: disfigured oc, third POV, part of an ongoing project This is a work of fan fiction using characters from wrestling, I do not claim any ownership over them. Just tagging people who may wanna have a look... @monstersmaid @thecristsandcallihanmadness @earl-01 @morie-leigh @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne

They saw the creature.

It was carrying a spade, the arms were covered by bandage and branches, black claws took where the hands were. The most horrific part was, it had a head of deer skull with blood dripping down from the two empty eye sockets.

They lowered their bodies and held their breathes, but the smell of fear sold them out.

In the harsh sound of rusty metal, the figure twitched its head to their direction. The forest trembled as all plants started to grow rapidly. When they realized the tree branches were chasing after them like soldiers under order.

They were tied to a giant tree in a posture of sacrifice, the deer-headed creature walked towards them, they were shocked to see it had human’s feet - covered in soil but tiny. A pair of shackles locked around its ankles, with silver chain extended out from woods behind.

“The Crist...” Its garbled growl was mixed with whistle of wind, slow and sharp, “why are you in my forest... again?”

“I-It’s not your forest!” The elder Crist plucked up his courage and argued back with chills running in his blood and spine. Parents had told him countless times about the responsibility of being the elder one, he wanted to protect his little brother.

The creature laughed in a humanoid way, somehow its voice became less strident and disturbing.

“The forest disagrees.” Its tone softened.

Its body sunk into soil. The forest fell into silence.

 When the Dave and Jake are free from their wrestling profession, they spend hours and even days on road trips. They have driven on the road of Valley of Fire, visited the Grand Canyon, and camped on Ross Lake. But today is their first time to spend night in a forest. Nervousness and excitement tangled in them. They have prepared well and act cautiously, forest, after all, can be lethal.

The night falls upon them soon after they set tent up. They light campfire, a disturbing noise starts to echo, it sounds like mixture of growl of thousands of beasts and whistle of wind, both Jake and Dave recognize it.

“The monster...” Dave gnashes, “It’s here.”

Jake takes out a pack of bullets, says, “that’s why we prepared for this trip. We need to terminate this nightmare.”

Loading his hunting gun, Dave nods in agreement.

They have lived in nightmare for years. Every time they were close to forest or woodland, the creature’s unique sound echoes by their ears, they’re tired of such torment, so they decided to hunt the the initiator of agony down.

The creature’s spade has no comparison to gunpowder. But when the bullet goes through its shoulder, things go beyond the Crist brothers’ expectation - what the creature makes is dismal whine, rather than beastly roar.

“I don’t feel right.” Jake mumbles, brushing through trees to follow track of blood left behind.

Dave snaps at his words, “the whole thing with that creature is not right.”

At the end of their hunting journey, a figure huddles up in mess, trembling and hissing. The creature crawls back on the ground, mugwort and white bryony grow to surround it, the Crist brothers know this is its self-defense mechanism.

They break the twigs and move forward, every time they are close, more plants burst out of soil. Behind leaves are the creature’s eyes, for the first time, they see green, rather than the empty and blood-dripping eye sockets. It has bewitching green eyes.

- And humanoid.

Eventually, nothing can block their way to the ultimate aim of this trip, Dave and Jake break down the last obstacle, the culprit who brought nightmares is right in front of them, glowing in moonlight with the eerie head of deer skull slightly down, tiny white birch leaves are growing out of the wound on its shoulder. Its figure has never been so clear yet hallucinatory, Dave and Jake are no longer certain about where they are - in reality or a world of dreams. They just stand quietly, as if they are waiting for a prophecy from a superior presence beyond their comprehension. They wished to seek revenge for the trauma, to blame it for all the misfortune and adversity has become their normality even though the majority was not its doing. On the other hand, they never thought they would face it like victors.

“What do we do?” Dave whispers to Jake, hoping he has a clue, unfortunately, the reply is only a hesitated head-shaking.

“I don’t know what is real now. If we tell Sami and Fulton about everything happened, they’re gonna book us a vacation to Cuba for releasing pressure.”

“Sounds nice. Is this the plan now?”

Jake sighs. They take few steps towards the creature, which stands still, the distance is so short that they can hear its gasping. Something in their minds urges them to touch it, to verify its existence, so they stretch out arms.

They hear wind whistling through thickets and branches, rainstorm falls upon lush vegetation, water merges into streams and drips down at the edge of leaves. Crows and swallows skim over lake in front of them, lightning cuts through the sky and illuminates the forest, yet nothing that they just experienced is real. The Crist brothers look into the creature’s green eyes, dizziness drags them down into abyss.

******

A slim figure sits on a log above the lake, bare feet slightly waggling, the heavy shackles on its ankles clang in rhythm. It seems to be holding a peculiar object in arms, when Jake and Dave walks closer, they recognize it as a deer skull - THE deer skull, to be accurate - but this time, no fear rise in them.

“What is this place... Damnit, my head hurts...” Moaning, Dave Crist sits down on one side of the figure, while Jake takes the other side.

Black veil hides the appearance under, but they can tell it’s female. “A dream,” she explains, “mine, yours, doesn’t matter, we share it now.”

“I have been wondering what that thing is since we first met.” Jake points at the shackles on her ankles, the other end of the silver chain hides in bushes.

“A contract between me and forests.”

“What are you looking at?”

She points at a direction afar, “birches were planted over there, where your ancestor lumbered and burned down acres of woodlands.”

Although not sure what she is talking about, Jake craves to continue the conversation, “did they sprout?”

She nods. “They will soon. After twenty years, when you have enough of the exhausting life, take your offspring, walk with then among trees.”

“Hopefully I still can wrestle at 50...” Dave sighs, trying to form that scene in his mind.

A tiny chuckle slips out between her lips, it’s so soft that both Dave and Jake think they have paracusia.

“Walking in woods with children... I can’t imagine that.” Says Jake, “will you scare our offspring like what you did to us?”

“No. The scars of the forest healed.”

Pouts and sulks, Dave starts another round of grumble, “for all the years, we suffered and you didn’t even say sorry...”

“But meanwhile I have become your excuse for obstacle, failure and everything unfortunate.”

The discernment of hers makes the Crist brothers speechless, they sit in silence, until muffled roar reverberates in background. They turn around, the forest is vanishing like a piece of paper burning to ashes. They are about to wake up soon.

“I wanna see your face.” Jake puts the unexpected request on the table, “just in case we forget what happened.”

“You don’t want to.” She sounds downhearted, “I look... scary.”

But Jake insists, so does Dave - the elder Crist even sneers “nothing is scarier than that deer skull”. She takes off the veil, there is one malformed scar snakes its way from hairline and crosses the right side of her face, with burn mark right under her left eye.

“Hey you lied,” Dave pretends to be deceived, “you’re not scary.”

Jake agrees with him, “not at all. You’re a regular girl.”

The last part of this dream collapses in her tearful smile.

******

Dave and Jake sit up and gasp heavily, they are back to the reality. A slim female huddles on the ground in front of them, head resting on the deer skull in her arms, chest slightly rising and falling with even breaths. Despite the scar and burn mark which disfigure her beauty, her soft profile is appealing. When she opens her green eyes, she is surprised to see hands offered by the two Crists.

“Come with us.” Says Jake. “We’re not gonna leave you here.”

“Better to keep an eye on you.” Dave chuckles, “so you won’t scare us again.”

She only hesitates for a moment before taking their hands. The shackles and silver chain break into pieces, she looks back, the tremendous infinity of the forest is illuminated by the first sunshine of dawn, and among grass and dew are few buds.

The birches sprouted.

[earl-01]

Just a man and his monster

@ghostofviper @laziestgirlintheworld @monstersmaid @kakashibabe02 @thecristsandcallihanmadness

[earl-01]

Tessa ain’t scared of Fulton

@monstersmaid @kakashibabe02 @ghostofviper @thecristsandcallihanmadness

[frentique]

[lentaska]

The moment that food dropped out from Sami's mouth in the first gif 😂

[lentaska]

Apaixonar - OMC/Tessa Blanchard

A/N: OC, third POV, part of a fanfic project This is a work of fan fiction using characters from wrestling, I do not claim any ownership over them. Tag: I don’t even know who wanna read this...

She hates to be called “little girl” by him, she hates when he mouths her “I’m proud of you” when she wins, and she hates to see him chatting with other female wrestlers while waiting for her like a loyal golden retriever.

“Can you stop calling me ‘little girl’? I’m an adult and a wrestler. That nickname is stupid.”

He is surprised at her wording but soon returns to his regular manner. He smiles and pats her head, “but you’re my little girl, Tessa.”

Tessa Blanchard hates it when he is so tender and elegant, yet she enjoys his touch. Although they’re dating, Tessa still occasionally feels uncomfortable to “show off” this relationship. She gets a glimpse of the oVe guys grimacing at her, so she acts cold and shakes off his hand, “don’t do that, you’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m sorry.” The cheerful light in his eyes dims, but his smile does not fade. “I won’t again. Promise.”

She bits her lips in agony and walks towards the exit, as always, he follows closely like a shadow. They stops at a corner of parking lot, Tessa turns around, asks, “Emyr, why are you always nice? ”

The question confuses him.

“How can you still smile after being yelled? What’s wrong with you?”

His head lowers like a ragged doll, Tessa can’t help feeling guilty but she forces herself to swallow back the apology. She gets into the car and starts the engine.

After all the time being together, Tessa still considers Emyr as a puzzle. She has never seen such impeccable person, although he told her that he was raised in such manner, something about him makes Tessa feels inferior. They are contrasting - she is extroverted and obstinate, while he is quiet and docile. Despite of his height, Emyr seems to be feeble comparing to the wrestlers Tessa works with, but somehow even Sami Callihan has decided to not mess up with the man - Tessa swears it’s not because she said she’ll kick between Sami’s legs if he bullies Emyr.

Tessa doesn’t understand how Emyr’s gentleness and genuine smile provoked her to an intolerable level today, to be honest, the man did nothing wrong. In general, Emyr treats her well, he always knows what she wants and enjoys spoiling her, even though she has emphasized that she is nothing like a princess from medieval time who needs to be taken care of all the time. On the other hand, she does have problem with him being too nice.

Frowning, Tessa opens the door.

You shouldn’t frown much. Emyr once said. Frown makes you look unapproachable, but we - I and your friends - all know how beautiful your nature is.

Shut up Emyr. She murmurs, as if the man is standing right beside her. Shut up.

Too many petty things about him playing in her mind: his gentle and persuasive utterance, his low-pitched voice, his brown eyes with lights dancing inside, his profile when sitting by window, the warmth of him that radiates from the tip of his fingers... And that damn nickname.

Little girl.

 Gasping, Tessa wakes up. She struggles to sit up, but she feels dizzy. She looks around, behind the worried friends are medicine cabinet and pale walls of hospital, a place she has become a regular visitor to because of all the wounds she receives from wrestling matches. It doesn’t take long to absorb information and figure out what happened: she was attacked from behind while walking home from grocery. The odd thing is, the attacker was found nowhere and there’s a pool of blood left on site - definitely not from Tessa, she would have died after such loss of blood.

One of her friends says she has been in coma for only couple hours, so she leaves the hospital in hurry. Leading by her blurred memory, she finds the alley she walked along, the police tapes verify her guess: something went wrong.

She notices several drops of blood lead a trail into bushes, so she follows. The trail ends at the entrance of an abandoned sewer, and this is where her investigation should end, the curiosity is no longer necessary as the impulsion of seeking for answer is cooled down by the dreadful image presented in her eyesight.

The young and brave wrestler huddles in a shell created from shiver. The formidable shadow in front of her has extended to her feet - it is snake and lion, fangs and claws, and everything rusty and devastating.

The first time ever in her life, she wants to flee, but she is welcomed by a pair of arms.

“You shouldn’t leave the hospital.” Says the man, he is not smiling this time. “The world is dangerous.”

 Tessa wakes up on her own bed this time. The vivid image of dismembered human parts sickened her, she thought those are only in stories and movies. She drags her exhausted body out of bedroom but freezes when she sees the man standing in the kitchen. Emyr - or a creature in the skin of Emyr - is washing hands, water gurgles down into sink sewer, droplets drip down from his shoulder-length hair. He is not wearing shoes, his white shirt is in a mess. Tessa sees dark-colored footprints on floor, tries to recall the if Emyr has ever lost his manner before, the answer is unsurprisingly negative.

At this point of time, fear is already shed away like wolf shedding its winter coat, Tessa craves to see his face - will he smile like he always does? Is he going to call me “little girl” again?

When the floor squeaks under the pressure from faltering, the sound of water stops. Emyr turns around to Tessa, eyes hid under hair, there are horrific slits from both corners of his mouth which crossed half way up on his cheek, spikes and thorns thrust out of skin and flesh like they grow from seeds planted in his heart. He grunts with congested throat, “don’t...”

Don’t what? Don’t come closer? Tessa wonders.

“Don’t look at me...”

He sounds like sobbing, but in a monstrous way.

In Tessa’s memories, Emyr does not cry, he has no reason to, and she hates to see him in such shape, so she walks up to him, brushes his hair away. He won’t scare me, because he is Emyr. Her mind is determined. No matter what he is.

Her hand finds its way to his face, his skin is cold. Emyr attempts to keep distance from her, “you will get hurt.”

But she is Tessa Blanchard and she can be stubborn, so she insists, “I don’t give a damn.”

Spikes and thorns fall off from him as Tessa throws arms around his waist, the slits on his cheek slowly close up. He hugs her and place head on her shoulder, “I’m here, little girl.”

“Welcome back.”

 Epilogue

Sami Callihan has been wondering why Tessa is fine with that nickname given by Emyr - he personally thinks it’s a cute nickname but Tessa hated it. Moreover, she doesn’t even shake off Emyr’s hand anymore when the Crist brothers and he make fun of them by heckling and grimacing. The whole thing of embarrassing the couple becomes as vapid as a bad monodrama.

“Did you hear anything about them?” Sami asks the person walking with him.

“Nothing.” The muffled voice sounds annoyed. “I am not panto-pragmatic like you.”

Turning his eyesight to the couple afar, Sami shrugs, “I’m just curious.”

“Callihan.”

“What?”

“Get a life.”

[lentaska]

I have this idea for weeks...

I like weird combination, so what about fanfic series of wrestlers with Slavic/Egyptian deities?

[travelingwildflowerr-blog]

Enjoy this meme I made instead of writing

[lentaska]

Deep Water - Part Four

A/N: Featuring Sami Callihan. WWII setting, OFC, third-person POV. Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from wrestling, I do not claim any ownership over them. Any resemblance to real-life historical events, organizations, locales and countries/union is entirely coincidental. Tagging people who gave likes to my work: @thecristsandcallihanmadness @monstersmaid @cherryfinolahobbes @i-ship-it-okay @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne @amariemoore @jonmoxley4ever@morie-leigh

Thank you for your support (please let me know if tagging is not ok for you)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 

The previous temporary lodging was no longer safe, Sami found an abandoned bomb-shelter. The place was dark and messy, he took hours to clean out small space for them to rest and found some resources left from people whoever had stayed here before. Anka tried her best to help but due to lack of sight, what she could do was very limited, although Sami repeated many times that it’s fine, she still apologized.

The whole job was tiring, Sami decided to take a quick nap so he could have some energy for night watching, but the sleepiness took him to the world of dreams.

He saw a garden of roses and walked in, among the blooming flowers, Anka was lying in blood with a hole wide open on her belly.

Sami woke up in cold sweat.

It might be the this fucking cave. He thought.

“Your breath sounds different.” Anka’s auditory sense was keen enough to pick up the tiniest change.

“No worries, just had a bad dream.”

“What’s it about?”

He lied, “about the how difficult we fought in Warsaw.”

War was always a disturbing topic, every time he mentioned it, Sami felt like he opened up Anka’s deepest wound and made her heart bleed again, even though she looked calm. Would her eyes fill with grief if she didn’t lost her sight? He couldn’t help wondering.

A hand groped around, Sami held it and led to Anka lean closer. She fumbled to touch him, Sami could no longer hold laugh as she reached to his nose and immediately retracted. He grabbed that hand, “what are you trying to do? To pat my head?”

The girl nodded. She brushed his hair in the way of stroking fur of a cat, the relaxed ambience made her humming involuntarily.

“Is it Polish song?” Sami asked.

“Tak, folk song, my mother used to sing it when I was child.”

“Sing for me, please.”

It was like listening to a bard in medieval time. Foreign words flowed like rivulet, the exotic syllables and slow melody were euphonic, her voice had comparatively lower pitch but fit the music perfectly.

Sami asked, “what is the song about?”

“Battle. Wiatr niosący pogwarki wojackie - ‘Wind that carries warrior’s stories’ (Note 1). It’s lullaby sang by mother of first king of Poland to him when he’s baby.”

“Can’t believe that Polish people sing damned battle as lullaby...”

“Maybe because we Slavs fight too much, mainly with each other.” Anka forced out a tiny smile, “like USSR, they’re Slavic but I heard they killed lots of Slavs. Brother fights brother, how sad it is.”

The temperature inside shelter dropped as the night fall upon the land. Sami set up fire and gave Anka everything that could keep them warm, but she refused. “You will get cold.” she said, hands touched his.

The softness lured out his craving for closeness. “I’ll be fine,” he said, leading her into his arms, “as long as you stay.”

Without hesitation, Anka pressed herself against him, knowing it would bring both him and herself delight. Just as expected, she heard his chuckle and then received kiss on lips. To fall in love in war was a naive choice, but living without this feeling would be more dreadful than living within it. All she wanted was to have more time with him, even though it’s not exaggerated to say they could die in any moment.

“I have to force myself to not to think about tomorrow.” Sami let Anka rest herself in his arms, the chestnut-haired female switched to a more relaxed position, he considered it as sign of trust.

“My father always said, tomorrow is just different date, we eventually will be used to life.”

“That’s comforting...”

“I was born in Kresy area, when we moved to Lublin, I was scarred, but soon I understood: having changes doesn’t mean to forget about past. When tomorrow comes, we will live in it.”

“Anka, if this war ends, will you come with me?”

The question stunned her, Sami sensed her body rigid with inquietude. Knowing it’s abrupt of him to ask such thing, he clarified, “I won’t force you. I’m just curious.”

“I can’t leave my country behind.”

Anxiety grew in him, his tone hardened, “for the same reason, I can’t leave you behind. There’s nothing you can do, but you still choose to stay?”

“If your homeland is in same situation, would you betray her too?”

Sami raised his voice, gnashed, “this is not fucking betrayal, I’m just asking you to consider yourself a little bit more!”

Anka bit her lips, mumbled, “you said you will not force me...”

“Maybe you don’t understand how much I’m afraid that I could lose you.” Sami sounded tired but more gentle than moments ago. He knew his words and emotion unsettled her, he wanted to ease the tension, “I lied about the dream. I saw you in blood and I couldn’t handle the despair it brought to me.”

Anka’s fingers touched his eyebrow as if she was trying to smooth his ruffled feathers, “no I understand. I want to live, but I’m scarred. Listen to me, Sami, I want to ask for favor.”

The word “favor” somehow gave Sami bad feeling.

“If I cannot survive, bury me here in my homeland. Ask for mansion of Sztorwicz - it’s my last name - lots of civilians of Lublin know direction.”

Sami growled fretfully, “don’t say stupid things, I told you I’ll keep you alive!”

Her hands held his tightly, “please, Sami.”

Let out a long sigh, Sami gave the promise, “I will.”

“Thank you.”

“You are stubborn, you know that, right?”

“Because Slavs are.”

His hug tightened. Anka heard sniff and wasn’t sure if it’s the noise from the cave - Sami wouldn’t cry, would he? He was tough, he fought hard in Warszawa with no support, he strangled an USSR soldier with bare hands, it’s silly to assume he would cry. Anka did not ask, she just held his face and kissed him.

She had a secret hid from him: If there was chance for only one of us to live, I will give it to you, because I owe you my life and I love you.

 They spent few extra days in the shelter. The surrounding was quiet and the place was covert, but clearly not as covert as they expected when an intruder showed up, luckily Sami captured the intruder before gunshot had to take place.

It was a wounded USSR officer, Sami recognized his rank by the uniform, and his arrogant attitude when facing Sami told the same. The officer snorted disdainfully, “what is Capitalist swine doing here?”

Sami rewarded him with one punch on face, “watch your attitude, I’m gonna cut your fucking tongue out if you say that again.”

The noise outside drew Anka’s worry, she walked out of the shelter, “Sami, who is that?”

Before Sami could answer, the officer spoke first, “you’re Polish, and you are with person whose government just sold your country like a lamp”

Note 1: The song is called “Kołysanka Piastowska”, a Polish folk song as Anka said.

[great-tweets]

[teasugarsalt]

The blue eyes mark this crow as young, not a full adult.

You’ve been pranked by a teen hooligan.

[the--somberlain]