Hello, and welcome back to “Valkyrie: The Unknown Unit,” by JewishPotato! I’m your host, SC, and I’ma solo riff this time around, because I’d like to just get chapter five out of the way so that I can move on to a new riff.
When we last left off, Brian and Jacob had successfully gotten their asses beat by James Keller, but just as I was starting to hope, the rest of the dipshits showed up and overpowered him. From there, Brian had barely enough time to get most of his questions asked and answered before someone dropped the ball and put the whole base on high alert, thereby forcing the team to make a very noisy exfiltration. When they inevitably reached the dropship with little more than scratches and maybe a bruise, Miller took a moment to suddenly reveal that he had basic first aid training, a clear sign of JewishPotato rolling his eyes and being all, “fine, you want your damn medic so bad, here he is” in response to my
loud, angry bitching critiques. From there, Brian finished his line of questions, got real pissed when James revealed that his training was military, and proceeded to ORAORAORAORAORA the ever-loving shit out of the poor bastard, which was where the chapter ended.
Bifocals: You have me paired with WHO?!
I mean, apparently the running theme for this riff is Specs and Co. pairings that I thought were impossible, so…
Bifocals: But why me?! And why him?!
Everybody else was perfectly willing to try and kill me for suggesting it to them.
*Monocle KICKS THE DOOR OFF ITS HINGES*
Monocle: I HAVE ARRIVED!
You broke my door.
Monocle: IT WAS IN MY WAY!
That’s the entire reason doors exist.
Monocle: THEN IT MET WITH A WELL-EARNED FATE!
Bifocals: You keep bringing me in for this riff, I do not know how to feel about this.
I’m just giving you some much-needed spotlight time, that’s all.
Shades: Notice how he does the exact opposite with Sportsy?
That fuckface’s ego is big enough without me inflating it.
Hello, and welcome back to “Valkyrie: The Unknown Unit,” by JewishPotato! I’m your host, SC, joined by Bifocals and Shades, and last time, I accidentally reunited Specs with his executioner from times past (but they seemed pretty chill about that), and the entire riff was then spent with team Valkyrie walking to their fake coordinates. (And Taco actually brings up a good point, here: Not one of these four highly trained black ops. soldiers managed to pick up, from their fake coordinates, that the location of James Keller’s base was practically right next door to Dan Smith’s hideout. What?) This might not sound so exciting, but there was so much stupid packed in so densely during the trek that I had to cut the riff short before it started dragging me down to its level.
This week, we’re finally going to see some action!
I can almost feel how unexcited you all are.
Scarlet: So, I notice I’m back.
You are, indeed.
Scarlet: What, because I pissed in your corn flakes or something?
Nah. I just figure you deserve a fairer swing at this riffing thing than the last few dregs of my interest in a fic that I’ve grown to despise.
Scarlet: So you instead foist a fic about imbeciles playing at spy games on me.
Hey, you have to admit, it’s far more engaging material.
Scarlet: …Alright, fair.
*Specs wanders in*
Specs: Hello, it is I- oh, hey, it’s that guy!
Scarlet: Oh, hey, it’s this guy!
You two know each other?
Specs: Yeah, he was The Headsman who cut my head off back in Israel!
*Contacts shifts uncomfortably in his seat*
*Bifocals growls, whilst glaring daggers at Contacts*
*Book Specs munches on popcorn and offers the bowl to SC*
I still don’t see what you have against buttered popcorn, bro.
*Book Specs rolls his eyes, and with a single flick of a finger, telekinetically tosses a piece of popcorn at SC’s head; SC deftly avoids the tiny popped projectile*
I mean, I get it’s personal preference, but-
Contacts: Can we please start the riff before she kills me?!
Bifocals: Why do you think I will kill you before the riff?
Contacts: Oh, fucking Christ…
Heyo, people! SC, here. Sorry that I’m posting so late in the day, and that it’s not a riff, but I was trying to do a Christmas oneshot that just wasn’t happening for me, and I wound up deleting it because I finally realized that I was wasting my time on a fic that, realistically, didn’t deserve riffing in the first place. Yes, it was bad, but it wasn’t riffably bad.
Unfortunately, it would have been the Library’s second ever Dragon Age fic, because I’ve been kinda enamored with the series lately (as if my Facebook posts couldn’t clue you in on that), and I feel like it’s a crying shame that we have half a million Mass Effect fics, and therefore have the intricacies of that series almost completely pinned down… and over in the Dragon Age corner, we have Gabriel Hawke. Dragon Age and Mass Effect are almost equal in size, as two of Bioware’s biggest IPs, so I was hoping I could do my part to start evening out the scales a bit.
So, you know, that kinda pisses me off.
Well, Ghostie told me that I could always just toss up some holiday pictures, and since I’m riffing an Overwatch fic, and Blizzard had a holiday-themed event last year (and are in the midst of one right now), why not have some Overwatch Christmas fun?
Mostly just Christmas, though. I guess Blizzard wasn’t sure how to properly represent all the winter holidays of each hero’s respective culture or something. I don’t blame them, that’s probably a lot of holidays to encompass into one game.
Hello, and welcome back to Valkyrie: The Unknown Unit, by JewishPotato! I’m your host, SC, and last time, Valkyrie put the hurtin’ on some
cartel revolutionary goons, broke some more Geneva Convention articles whilst interrogating a guy, then Jack left his computer unlocked with the file he doesn’t want people seeing open for anybody to read, because, you know, that’s smart… oh yeah, and Sports Shades said a real dumb thing and now Shades is distributing punishment as she sees fit.
*Sounds of screaming and the repeated inserting of foot in ass*
*And then there were flamethrowers*
Do I think he’ll learn his lesson? No, but at least it’s entertaining in the moment.