#not to call virgil an enemy

[a-blue-mask]

Just a small realisation on my side, who else is like this?

[weaselandfriends]

Ender's Game (novel)

Is Ender Wiggin (pictured above as the little brother from Malcolm in the Middle) guilty of xenocide?

Actually, let's first answer a different, but related, question:

What game does the title "Ender's Game" refer to?

It's not as simple a question as it seems. There are three games that have a prominent role in the plot, all very different from one another.

The obvious answer is the Battle School zero-gravity game, where teams of competitors play glorified laser tag in a big empty cube. In terms of page count, most of the book is dedicated to this game. It's also the game depicted on the cover of the edition above.

Yet this game vanishes during the story's climax, when Ender is given a new game to play, a game he is told is a simulator of spaceship warfare. This "game" turns out to not be a game at all, though; after annihilating the alien homeworld in the final stage, Ender learns that he was actually commanding real ships against real enemies the whole time, and that he just singlehandedly ended the Human-Bugger war forever via total xenocide of the aliens. This is both the final game and the most consequential to the plot, despite the short amount of time it appears.

There's also a third game, a single-player video game Ender plays throughout the story. The game is procedurally generated by an AI to respond to the player's emotional state, and is used as a psychiatric diagnostic for the players. Of the three games, this is the one that probes deepest into Ender's psyche, that most defines him as a person; it's also the final image of the story, as the aliens build a facsimile of its world in reality after psychically reading Ender's mind while he xenocides them.

Because all three games are important, the easiest answer might be that the question doesn't matter, that the story is called Ender's Game not to propose this question at all but simply because the technically more accurate "Ender's Games" would improperly suggest a story about a serial prankster.

Fine. But why does the title use the possessive "Ender's" at all?

He does not own any of these games. He did not create them. He does not facilitate them. All of these games, even the simulator game, predate his use of them as a player, were not designed with him in mind, were intended to train and assess potential commanders for, ostensibly, the hundred years since the last Human-Bugger war.

It's in this question that we get to the crux of what defines Gamer literature.

These games are Ender's games because he dominates them into being about him. He enters a rigidly-defined, rules-based system, and excels so completely that the games warp around his presence. In the Battle School game, the administrators stack the odds against Ender, thereby rendering every other player's presence in the game irrelevant except in their function as challenges for Ender to overcome. The administrators acknowledge this in an argument among themselves:

"The game will be compromised. The comparative standings will become meaningless." [...] "You're getting too close to the game, Anderson. You're forgetting that it is merely a training exercise." "It's also status, identity, purpose, name; all that makes these children who they are comes out of this game. When it becomes known that the game can be manipulated, weighted, cheated, it will undo this whole school. I'm not exaggerating." "I know." "So I hope Ender Wiggin truly is the one, because you'll have degraded the effectiveness of our training method for a long time to come."

In this argument, Anderson views the game the way games have been viewed since antiquity: exercises in acquiring honor and status. This honor is based on the innate fairness inherent to games as rule-based systems, which is why in ancient depictions of sport the chief character is often not a competitor but the host, who acts as referee. In Virgil's Aeneid, for instance, the hero Aeneas hosts a series of funeral games (the games themselves intended as an honor for his dead father). Despite being the principal character of the epic, Aeneas does not compete in these games. Instead, he doles out prizes to each competitor based on the worthiness they display; his fairness marks him symbolically as a wise ruler. The Arthurian tournament is another example, where Arthur as host is the principal character, and the knights (Lancelot, Tristan, etc.) who compete do so primarily to receive honors from him or his queen.

In Ender's Game, it is the antagonistic figure Bonzo Madrid who embodies this classical concept of honor; the word defines him, is repeated constantly ("his Spanish honor"), drives his blistering hatred of Ender, who receives both unfair boons and unfair banes from the game's administrators, who skirts the rules of what is allowed to secure victory. Bonzo is depicted as a stupid, bull-like figure; his honor is ultimately worthless, trivially manipulated by Ender in their final fight.

Meanwhile, it's Ender's disregard for honor, his focus solely on his namesake -- ending, finishing the game, the ends before the means -- that makes him so valuable within the scope of the story. He is "the one," as Anderson puts it, the solipsistically important Gamer, the Only I Play the Game-r, because the game now matters in and of itself, rather than as a social activity. In the Aeneid and in Arthur, the competitors are soldiers, for whom there is a world outside the game. Their games are not a substitute for war but a reprieve from it, and as such they are an activity meant to hold together the unifying fabric of society. The values Anderson espouses (status, identity, purpose, name) are fundamentally more important in this social framework than winning (ending) is.

Ender's game, as the Goosebumps-style blurb on my 20-year-old book fair edition's cover proclaims, is not just a game anymore. Its competitors are also soldiers, but the game is meant to prepare them for war; the spaceship video game is actual war. And as this is a war for the survival of the human race, as Ender is told, there is no need for honor. The othered enemy must be annihilated, without remorse or mercy.

This ethos of the game as fundamentally important for its own sake pervades Gamer literature beyond Ender's Game. In Sword Art Online (which I wrote an essay on here), dying in the game is dying in real life, and as such, only Kirito's ability to beat the game matters. Like Ender, Kirito is immediately disdained by his fellow players as a "cheater" (oh sorry, I mean a "beater") because he possesses inherent advantages due to being a beta player. In an actual game, a game that is only a game, Kirito's cheat powers would render the game pointless. What purpose does Kirito winning serve if he does it with Dual Wielding, an overpowered skill that only he is allowed to have? But when a game has real stakes, when only ability to win matters, it is possible to disregard fairness and see the cheater as heroic.

This notion of the "cheat power," a unique and overpowered ability only the protagonist has, is pervasive in post-SAO Gamer literature. To those for whom games are simply games, such powers can only be infuriating and obnoxious betrayals of the purpose of games; to those for whom games mean more than just games, for whom games have a primacy of importance, these powers are all that matter.

That's the core conceit of Gamer literature: the idea that the Game is life, that winning is, in fact, everything.

What sets Ender's Game apart from Sword Art Online is that it creates the inverted world where the Game matters above all, but then draws back the curtain to reveal the inversion. The Buggers are, in fact, no longer hostile. They are not planning to invade Earth again, as Ender has been told his entire life. The war, for them, is entirely defensive, and Ender is the aggressor. And due to Ender's singleminded focus on Ending, on winning, on disregarding honor and fairness, he ultimately commits the xenocide, erases an entire sentient species from existence. He wins a game he should never have been playing.

The obvious counterargument, the one I imagine everyone who has read this book thought up the moment I posed the question at the beginning of this essay, is that Ender did not know he was committing xenocide. The fact that the combat simulator game was not a game was withheld from him until afterward. Plus, he was a child.

Salient arguments all. Ones the book itself makes, via Ender's commander, Graff, to absolve him of sin at the end. They're probably even correct, in a legal sense (I'm not a legal scholar, don't quote me), and in a moral sense. In real life, it would be difficult to blame a 10-year-old in those circumstances for what he did. But in the thematic framework of Ender's Game the book, these arguments are completely inadequate.

Ender has been playing a fourth game the entire story. And this is the only game he doesn't win.

A game is defined by its system of control and limitation over the behavior of the players. A game has rules. His whole life, Ender has been playing within the rules of the system of control his military commanders place upon him.

Their control extends even before he was born; as a third child in a draconian two-child-only world, his existence is at the behest of the government. Graff confirms this to Ender's parents when he recruits him to Battle School: "Of course we already have your consent, granted in writing at the time conception was confirmed, or he could not have been born. He has been ours since then, if he qualified." Graff frames this control utterly, in terms of possession: "he has been ours." He does not exaggerate. Since Ender was young, he has had a "monitor" implanted in his body so the army could observe him at all times, assess whether he "qualifies"; even the brief moment the monitor is removed is a test. "The final step in your testing was to see what would happen when the monitor came off," Graff explains after Ender passes the test by murdering a 6-year-old. Conditions are set up for Ender, similar to the unfair challenges established in the Battle School game; he is isolated from his peers, denied practice sessions, held in solitary confinement on a remote planetoid. It's all in service of assessing Ender as "the one."

Ender wins this game in the sense that he does, ultimately, become "the one" -- the one Graff and the other military men want, the xenocider of the Buggers. He fails this game in the sense that he does not break it.

The other three games Ender plays, he breaks. Usually by cheating. In the single-player psychiatry game, when presented with a deliberately impossible challenge where a giant gives him two glasses to pick between, Ender cheats and kills the giant. "Cheater, cheater!" the dying giant shouts. In the Battle School game, Ender is ultimately confronted by insurmountable odds: 2 armies against his 1. He cannot outgun his opponent, so he cheats by using most of his troops as a distraction so five soldiers can sneak through the enemy's gate, ending the game. At the school, going through the gate is traditionally seen as a mere formality, something done ceremonially once the enemy team is wiped out (there's that honor again, that ceremony), but it technically causes a win. Even Anderson, the game's administrator, sees this as a breach of the rules when Ender confronts him afterward.

Ender was smiling. "I beat you again, sir," he said. "Nonsense, Ender," Anderson said softly. "Your battle was with Griffin and Tiger." "How stupid do you think I am?" Ender said. Loudly, Anderson said, "After that little maneuver, the rules are being revised to require that all of the enemy's soldiers must be frozen or disabled before the gate can be reversed."

(I include the first part of that quote to indicate that Ender all along knows who he is really playing this game against -- the administrators, the military men who control every facet of his life.)

Ender beats the war simulator game in a similar fashion. Outnumbered this time 1000-to-1, he uses his soldiers as sacrifices to sneak a single bomb onto the alien's homeworld, destroying it and committing his xenocide. Ender himself sees this maneuver as breaking the rules, and in fact falsely believes that if he breaks the rules he will be disqualified, set free from the fourth game: "If I break this rule, they'll never let me be a commander. It would be too dangerous. I'll never have to play a game again. And that is victory." The flaw in his logic comes not from whether he's breaking the rules of the game, but which game he is breaking the rules of. It's not the fourth game, Ender's game, but the war simulator game, simply a sub-game within the confines of the fourth game, a sub-game the fourth game's administrators want him to break, a sub-game that gives Ender the illusion of control by breaking. When Ender tells his administrators about his plan, the response he receives almost taunts him to do it:

"Does the Little Doctor work against a planet?" Mazer's face went rigid. "Ender, the buggers never deliberately attacked a civilian population in either invasion. You decide whether it would be wise to adopt a strategy that would invite reprisals."

(And if it wasn't clear how much the administrators wanted him to do this all along, the moment he does it, they flood the room with cheers.)

Ender wins his games by cheating -- by fighting the rules of the game itself -- and yet he never cheats at the fourth game, the game of his life.

In this fourth game, he always plays by the rules.

In the inverted world of Gamer lit, where games define everything, including life and death, it's a common, even natural progression for the Gamer to finally confront the game's administrator. Sword Art Online ends when Kirito defeats Akihiko Kayaba, the developer. In doing so, Kirito exceeds the confines of the game, not simply by ignoring its rules and coming back to life after he's killed, but by demonstrating mastery against the game's God. Afterward, Sword Art Online truly becomes Kirito's Game, with nobody else able to lay claim to the possessive. Kirito demonstrates this control at the end of the anime by recreating Sword Art Online's world using its source code, completing the transition into a player-administrator.

(Though I wonder, how much of a class reading could one give to this new brand of Gamer lit? If classical games were told from the perspective of the one who controlled them, then is there not something innately anti-establishment in Kirito overcoming the controller? This is the gist of many other death game stories, like The Hunger Games, though none of them may be the most sophisticated takes on the subject, more empty fantasy than anything else.)

Ender never fights or defeats his administrators. He never even tries, other than rare periods of depressive inactivity. He doesn't try even though the option is proposed to him by Dink Meeker, an older student whom Ender respects:

"I'm not going to let the bastards run me, Ender. They've got you pegged, too, and they don't plan to treat you kindly. Look what they've done to you so far." "They haven't done anything except promote me." "And she make you life so easy, neh?" Ender laughed and shook his head. "So maybe you're right." "They think they got you on ice. Don't let them." "But that's what I came for," Ender said. "For them to make me into a tool."

Instead, Ender finds comfort in the control exerted on his life. When sent to Earth on leave, he seeks out a lake that reminds him of living in Battle School.

"I spend a lot of time on the water. When I'm swimming, it's like being weightless. I miss being weightless. Also, when I'm here on the lake, the land slopes up in every direction." "Like living in a bowl." "I've lived in a bowl for four years."

Because of this, Ender never cheats against Graff. He could; Graff states several times that Ender is smarter than him, and the fact that they have Ender fighting the war instead of Graff is proof he believes it. But Ender never considers it. He never considers gaming the system of his life.

If Gamer literature emphasizes the inversion of the world order, where games supersede reality in importance (and, as in Sword Art Online, only through this inverted order is one able to claim real power by being a Gamer), then Ender's Game acknowledges both sides of the inversion. For Ender, the games he plays are not simply games anymore. The psychology game, the Battle School game, the war simulator game; all of these he must win at all costs, even if it requires disrespecting the foundational purpose of these games. But his real life? Ender wants that to be a game, craves it to be a game, can't live unless the walls slope up around him like a bowl, can't stand it unless there is a system of control around him. He does what Graff tells him, even though he recognizes immediately that Graff is not his friend, that Graff is the one isolating him from others, rigging things against him. He does what Graff tells him all the way up to and including xenocide, because Ender cannot tell game from real life. That's the core deception at the end: Ender is playing a game that's actually real and he doesn't know it -- or refuses to acknowledge it, since nobody has ever tricked the genius Ender before this point.

Actually, that's not true. They tricked him twice before. Ender twice attacks his peers physically, with brutal violence. The administrators conceal from him that he murdered both his foes; he simply thinks he hurt them. The only way to trick Ender is to do so in a way that insulates him from the consequences of his actions. The only way he will allow himself to be tricked.

So, is Ender guilty of xenocide?

Under it all, Ender believes he is.

The dying Buggers, after reading Ender's mind, recreate the psychology game in the real world. The story ends when Ender finds this recreation, yet another blurring of the lines between game and reality.

The psychology game is different from the other games Ender plays, because nobody expects him to win it. Its purpose is not to be won, simply to assess his mental health. Yet Ender approaches it like the other games, cheats at it and systematically kills all his enemies until he reaches a place called The End of the World. (Another End for Ender.) His drive to win, to dominate, does not come solely from the pressures of the system around him, but from deep within himself, which is what Ender fears the most. But it is here, at The End of the World, where Ender finds atonement, both in the game and in the game-made-real. In the game, he kisses his opponent instead of killing them, and reaches a resolution he is happy with. He stops playing the game after doing this, though the game seems to continue (when an administrator asks him why he stopped playing it, he says "I beat it"; the administrator tells him the game cannot be beaten). It is through this act of love that Ender can escape the game-like system of control that puppeteers him no matter how smart and clever he is or thinks he is.

In the game-made-real, Ender finds his atonement in the same place, The End of the World. The Buggers left for him here, in this place that they (reading his mind) understood as the location of his mercy and compassion, an egg that can repopulate their species. Through this egg, Ender is given the chance to undo his xenocide. But that chance is also contingent on what The End of the World means to Ender, an end to the game, not simply the games he plays but the fourth game, the game of his life. Ender's Game.

[theokusgallery]

A bunch of fanart for @greenninjagal-blog's fics I either made during the weekend or never posted for some reason. Names of the fics for each image is in alt text -- in order, we have: 600 Pieces of Eight, Dead Men Break No Codes, Deja Vu (2 images), Details in Gold, and With an Enemy Like You (Who Needs a Lover?)

First image there is called "re-reading 600 Pieces of Eight". Because I'm normal about that fic and its Janus. Second picture is just there because I wanted to show off Virgil's face + I hate how Janus' body looks

And a very small Janus from A Cactus and Nothing More because I j. I just. love this fic so much. It's so cute and rmgjhlfkd.

[halfhissandwich]

So what have we learned today?

- drunk Patton is a sight to behold

- Roman keeps a diary that Remus has access to for some reason

- Roman just can’t stop getting items thrown into his eyes, that’s twice now, and Logan tried to lecture Janus about it when he did it first, what the hell—

- Roman and Janus are enemies with benefits

- Patton doesn’t know how depression works

- if Logan makes a pun, he will run away in terror

- orange stress ball

- Roman and Patton appreciate good cows

- Patton gets called Patton a lot

- Logan and Virgil love each other <3

[yannisdesk]

Caitlyn Kiramman - Name Symbolism

Looking at characters' names in anything is something I enjoy, and Arcane is no exception. Thought I would start with Caitlyn, because she has both the easiest and most complicated name depending on how you look at things.

I have no idea how League of Legends names their characters. I've only played a handful of times in the past, but I do know a fair bit of the lore. I'm looking at how they are in Arcane, and just gaging it from there because there wasn't much crossover until the recent season.

Caitlyn's first name comes the name Katherine which is derived from the Greek name Aikaterine; in modern Greek it's usually Romanized as Aikaterini or Ekterini. The roots and meaning of this name is actually a giant puzzle and it has several potential meanings, all of which can apply to Caitlyn.

1 - "Each of two."

Caitlyn is consistently a part of a duo throughout the series. Sibling duo with Jayce. Mentor and mentee with Grayson. Mystery solving duo + girlfriend of Vi. Mirrored with her enemy in Jinx, who's also her greatest foil. Master-apprentice with Ambessa. Combat duo with Mel.

2 - A reference to the Greek goddess Hecate.

Hecate was the goddess of magic, witchcraft, crossroads, ghosts, necromancy. She was also associated with night and the moon, as well as the Underworld. On the surface, Caitlyn has nothing to draw from here, she's one of the characters least-associated with Hextech and the arcane, but thinking for a moment, there's some things to connect.

For one, crossroads. Hecate was a triple-goddess, and was frequently depicted as having three different aspects of her body that were all attached to each other, meaning she could look down all different paths of a crossroad at once.

Caitlyn literally goes through three different stages throughout the show, from naive and compassionate, ruthless and violent, and then repentant and sober (in terms of bloodlust).

The next is ghosts. Not only is Caitlyn metaphorically haunted by the ghost of her mother, and of the phantom-like Jinx, butalso the legacy of House Kiramman looms over her. On the flip side, we see the memory of Caitlyn haunt Vi during her pit-fighter era to the point of appearing in hallucinations.

Lastly, the Underworld. What's the nickname for Zaun? The Undercity. Hecate was considered one of the Greek deities that was able to move between the Underworld (the land of the dead) and the land of the living with ease. Most people from Piltover never set foot in the Undercity, but Caitlyn does so several times, even going to deepest and most hopeless areas where no topsider had previously been.

Interestingly, she's guided through by Vi, who takes her through the milder areas like Jericho's and the main areas of the Lanes, the salacious ones like the brothel, and the pit of the tents where the completely forgotten live and - hold on, wait a minute... incoming tangent: call this a reach, but were the writers going for a Dante's Inferno type of reference, where Caitlyn is a stand-in for Dante and Vi is Virgil? Because now that has entered my head and I'm convinced it's true, I mean, I could see Vi writing the Aeneid. Caitlyn and Vi's excursions through the Undercity in S1 Act 2 now seem like such an obvious nod to Inferno that I find it kind of funny I didn't notice it on my first couple of watches.

This also means that come the end of season 2 act 2 Vi goes from being Caitlyn's Virgil, to being her Beatrice, which is kind of whimsically romantic.

Minor note, but Hecate's also associated with and sometimes depicted as a black dog. Caitlyn's girlfriend is Vi, daughter of a man nicknamed the Hound of the Underground, and her pit-fighter logo is two black hellhounds (Hecate's type of dogs). This was for several reasons, including dogs being considered protectors, a character trait both her and Vi have.

3 - "Torture"

...let's not forget...

...and the entirety of the "Paint the Town Blue" segment. Which, while is obviously about Jinx, also applies to Caitlyn. Her hair is dark blue, her eyes are sapphire. The Kiramman's in general are associated with the color blue. Zaun and Piltover are both being "painted blue" by two different people.

4 - "My consecration of your name"

Kind of reach-y but, I think Vi nicknaming her "Cupcake" and having specific times where she calls her "Caitlyn" or "Cait" (usually serious) and others where she calls her "Cupcake" (typically playful) applies here. She also calls Vi her full name at a very specific time, showing how close they've grown. This could also be to how she views her last name, Kiramman, as it and the legacy are treated as something sacred and of utmost importance.

5 - "Pure"

Season 1 Caitlyn was rather pure in that good-intentions way. She really never did anything with malicious intent until season 2, where we see her at her worst, and even then some of that previous "pure" Caitlyn is shown to be just bubbling underneath the surface, like in that scene where she asks Ambessa why violence is always justified in the name of peace.

Kiramman

Honestly, only Amanda Overton can answer for this. She gave Caitlyn a surname, but Kiramman as far as I was able to read, doesn't actually exist. "Kira" could mean several things including "young" or "humiliator of enemy" in Old Persian, or "lord" in Ancient Greek, or "black" in Old Irish, but I'm not sure if any of those were potential inspirations for the Kiramman name or not.

UPDATE: Because in the surname Kiramman, -man is the suffix that would make "Kiram-" the prefix. @sablesupergirl informed me that "Kiram" is an Arabic Muslim name that means "noble" and "generous." It's not to be confused with "Karim," which yes means "generous" and "noble" but also "honorable" and one of the 99 titles for G-d is Islam, "al-Karim" meaning "the generous one."

The Kirammans are clearly a noble house in the literal sense, that they are upper-class and one of the ruling families over Piltover, making them a sort of nobility. They're also slightly more generous than other houses, as Cassandra's the one who designed and implemented the air ventilation system for Zaun to get rid of the Grey, so, it's a very fitting name for the Kiramman family indeed.

I know what some of you are thinking: Caitlyn clearly has East Asian features, and people tend to not associate East Asian-looking people with Islam, but that's actually more common than you think. Plenty of people from Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Chinese Uyghurs, etc... are Muslim and have very similar features to Caitlyn. It could also be due to Arcane being a work of fantasy and fiction, and therefore Amanda just could've thought the meaning of "Kiram" fit Caitlyn's family and decided to create their surname around it.

That's all I've got for Caitlyn. Either Vi or Jinx will be next.

[sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes]

Virgil: ...is this what cam girls feel like?

Remus: I feel like cam girls do a liiiitle more then we did

Virgil: well at least they get paid, we had to flirt with that weirdo for free!

Remus: No, we lost a bet, that's not free, it's just hoeing for a bono

Virgil: why would you even put up flirting with Wrath in the first place?

Remus: oh, so you thought he could steal that hotdog roller?

Virgil: NO- IT'S JUST- ugh, that whole video we recorded yesterday- "oh Wrath your villain introduction was so cool-" ew!

Remus: that wasn't even the worst part, the everyone had to watch us do that!

Virgil: plus he probably won't leave me alone for like a month now, he's gonna go home to his video games and make create-a-characters of us.

Remus: yeah he'll kill us in Grand Theft Auto

Virgil: you can make characters in Grand Theft Auto?

Remus: do I look like a bitch who would know?

Virgil: whatever, God I need a Xanax- wait where'd I put i- BITCH THAT WAS MY LAST XAN, HOW'D YOU TAKE THAT?!

Remus: quick hands. Man tiddy and Xanax, what a combo!

Virgil: goes together like peanut butter and Percocet...

Remus: "this is true"

Virgil: oh yeah, he kept doing that! "This is true"

Remus: like he's too good to say "yeah" he has to be a scientist about it

Virgil: heh- and- and what about "ummm okaaay?"

Remus: I HATE it when they do that! Like they have to sound like the gay comic relief cat in every Disney movie

Virgil: "this is true"

Remus: "this is true!"

Virgil: "yes in fact!"

Remus: "quite in interesting outfit!"

Virgil: "stop screaming we're having sex!"

Janus: what are you doing?

V + R: UH-

Janus: sounds like you had a run-in with Wrath

Virgil: what the fuck do you wa- oh he has McDonald's- Janus where'd you get McDonald's?!

Janus: ...McDonald's?

Virgil: bitch gimme a fry!

Janus: IS THAT HOW YOU ASK?!

Virgil: BITCH PLEASE GIVE ME A FRY!

Remus: and yeah we saw Wrath

Janus: me too, I could tell. He was drawing pictures of you guys when I saw him!

Virgil, mouth full: no way

Remus: what were we doing in the pictures?

Janus: like... Being cute, making kissy faces with hearts around it...

Virgil: Remus, we're gonna get murdered! We're gonna get murdered by a guy who can't even tie his fucking shoes!

Remus: well at least he can't torture us, can't tie a rope either

Janus: yeah, but I ripped them up and threw them in the trash, told that hoe to watch it.

Remus: you're the best, Janus

Janus: I know. Okay, I'm gonna go flirt with Patton, see you guys later

Remus: ...he's like the honest bitch ever

Virgil: eugh, I guess... ...

Virgil: ... ...What's gayer, dating a guy or wanting your sworn enemy to have sex with your dead body?

Remus: hmmm... Dating a guy? The second's kinda like using a fleshlight I guess

Virgil: okay... Still could be gayer...

Remus: what were we talking about... Oh yeah, so what are we doing for this next Sanders Asides?

Virgil: it's the movie casting thing right?

Remus: yeah- yeah, so I was thinking-

*BANG*

Virgil: WH-

Remus: I think the AC exploded again

Virgil: god that scared me- okay, sorry, continue

Remus: the challenge should be a cast of bald guys who DON'T look like they say the n-word

Virgil: how is that a challenge?

Remus: name one.

Virgil: Vin Diese- no, wait... Bruce Willi- wow, this is challenging!

*BANG* *BANG*

Virgil: damn, that's alot of AC units...

*buzz*

Virgil: oh wait, that's my phone... Huh, I just got a voice message from Logan.

Logan: hello Virgil, I'm just calling to inform you that the mindscape's on emergency lockdown. Please follow procedures at this time.

Remus: what the fuck was that about?

*BANG* *BANG* *SCREAMING*

Remus: is that...

Virgil, standing up, voice doubling: Wrath's snapped, we gotta get out of here!

Remus: huh...

Virgil: what are you doing?! Let's go!

Remus: we flirted with him yesterday, we're the last people he'd kill, just chill out.

Virgil: THAT'S EASY FOR YOU TO SAY, YOU TOOK MY LAST XANAX! *runs off*

Remus:

*BANG*

Remus:

*BANG*

Virgil: *slowly sits back down*

Remus: I thought you were running for it?

Virgil: security locked the doors...

*BANG*

Virgil: oh my God-

Remus: damn that was a big one!

Wrath in the distance: "TOOK TOO LONG TO APPEAR" YOU SAY?! WERE THE BACKGROUND HINTS AND GLOWING EYES NOT ENOUGH?! WHO ELSE WANTS SOME, HUH?! HUH?!

Virgil: ...is this how the series ends?

[firewolf111]

Hello, I have a request!

Roman and Remus convince the other sides to play a combination of Monopoly and Uno for the weekly game night. Chaos ensues.

Thank you for considering :)

I love this! That sounds like pure chaos, but the fun kind. I had so many ideas for rules, and it was hard to fit it all into a coherent story, but I did my best. Hope you enjoy!

Remus: Reverse! That means we move the opposite way around the board. And I get another chance for Boardwalk.

Roman: Ah! Dang it.

Virgil: What? *shaking his head* Okay, nevermind. Uh- *puts down a green seven* I guess I move seven. Unowned. Guess I'll buy it.

Logan: While you do that, I'll draw since I'm out of greens.

Roman: Oh wait! Does that put you at 15 cards?

Logan: *counting his cards* It appears so. Why?

Remus: *cheering* Go to jail!

Logan: What?

Roman: Yep! 15 cards means you go to jail.

Logan: Wait. If 15 cards puts me in jail, how do I get out?

Roman: Same way as usual. Play an identical card to someone. And since you all seem to forget, I'll remind you, doubles can be played anytime.

Logan: Okay, but as soon as I get out. What stops me from just immediately going back?

Remus: Don't be bad at the game.

Roman: We actually made a rule for that. The shame card!

Remus: Oh! You get the shame card! Ha!

Logan: The shame card?

Roman: Yes. Once you get out, you get the shame card. With the shame card, everything costs double. And I mean everything. While you have it, you can't get sent to jail for having too many cards. You can only get rid of it if either you get down to 10 cards or if someone else goes to jail for 15 cards.

Logan: This feels like a guaranteed loss then, if everything costs double.

Remus: Or, as I said earlier. Don't be bad at the game.

Logan: *sighing* Whatever.

Roman: Okay, my turn. I move 3 and I skip Janus's turn.

Janus: You just played two cards.

Roman: Yes. Draw twos, skips, and reverses can be played with a number card. We've established this multiple times. Remus literally just did so with his reverse. They can be played alone or with a number card. Keep up.

Virgil: Yeah. Keep up, Janus.

Janus: *scowling* Do not pretend like you understand this abhorrent Frankensteined game.

Logan: Playing two cards isn't a part of either game, though.

Janus: Neither is the shame card.

Patton: I think it makes perfect sense.

Roman: See!

Logan: Okay. *turns to Patton* Then explain the rules to me.

Patton: Well... you can play two cards if one of them is a draw two, skip, or reverse. 15 cards puts you in jail, and there is a ... shame card? And it's Monopoly and also....Uno.... but not? Because it's both...but also it's own game? I think?

Roman: See! He gets it!

Janus: He very much does not get it. None of us get it.

Remus: I don't know Jannie. He explained it exactly how we wrote it in the rule book. See! *summons rulebook and tosses it at Janus*

Janus: *scoffing before looking at it* ...

Janus: You're kidding. All the pages are blank. Except the first one that literally just says, "Monopoly but Uno, but make it neither by using both"

Remus: Yep! So see, Patton understands the game perfectly.

Logan: That's... that’s not a rulebook.

Roman: Sure it is! It says rulebook right on the cover.

Virgil: *reading over Janus's shoulder* It also says this game is called "How to make enemies in an instant."

Roman: The title is a work in progress.

Remus: I was going to name it some version of Hell, but Roman said that's a bad name for a family-friendly game.

Janus: This game is neither family nor friendly.

Patton: Awe, come on. They worked so hard on this, and we are only thirty minutes into the game.

Virgil: Monopoly games last hours.

Remus: Only if you're bad at the game.

Logan: Could you stop saying that?

Janus: I would rather eat the deck of cards than play this for a minute longer, let alone hours.

Remus: *grinning* That can be arranged!

Patton: Remus, no!

Logan, Roman, and Virgil: *watching as Remus tackles Janus and Patron tries to frantically separate them*

Logan: Huh, normally we would have another thirty minutes before something like this would happen.

Virgil: Yeah, but this might be a new record for Uno. I think the longest we lasted before was 20 minutes before you threw a book at my head.

Logan: 24 cards. You deserved that book.

Roman: Do we make bets on who wins?

Virgil: Obviously.

Logan: I'll move the table so the board doesn't get messed up.

Virgil: I thought you didn't want to play any longer.

Logan: *moving the table away from the other two still wrestling* I never said that. It is an... interesting game. But I do appreciate the strategy in it.

Roman: Really?!

Logan: Yes.

Virgil: It is a fun game. Chaotic. But fun. And I think Snake Boy likes it too.

Roman: Really? It seemed like he hated it.

Virgil: *scoffing* If Janus hated it, he'd have shoved Remus off and left. Or ar least had come up with better insults for the game. He clearly loves it. He just doesn't want to ruin his image.

Roman: What image?

Virgil: Yeah, he hasn't figured out he has long since lost his "Villain Persona".

Logan: He hasn't figured that out yet?

*crash*

Patton: Oh, why the TV?

Remus: *Smirking while standing over Janus and a now broken TV* Guess we're stuck playing board games for entertainment now.

Janus: Guess so. What a shame. I was looking forward to not playing that thing you call a "game."

*The three return to the table as Logan puts it back*

Virgil: Says the guy who very clearly broke the TV on purpose.

Janus: Remus shoved me into it.

Remus: Actually, I shoved you to the left of it. Not sure why you stumbled right and fell into it.

Janus: Obviously you tripped me.

Remus: Mhmm. Sure.

Logan: Okay, before we continue playing, is anyone injured?

Janus: No.

Remus: Nope. Sadly.

Logan: Don't forget rule 13 of board game night. You must be honest about all injuries gained.

Janus: We both are being completely truthful.

Logan: Good. So where were we?

Virgil: I believe Janus got skipped, so Patton's turn.

Patton: Draw two!

Remus: Nuh uh. Draw two! Stacked so four!

Virgil: No thanks. I'll stack this +2 for Logan to grab six.

Logan: Virgil.

Virgil: It's only six. You have no right to throw a book at me.

Logan: *waving the shame card around* I think I do.

Virgil: No.

Logan: Yes.

Patton: We just got back to playing. Another fight? Can you at least not break his nose this time?

Janus: *sighing* Why do we still allow these games after the pure number of injuries?

Roman: Because it's fun.

Janus: It is, isn't it?

Logan: *grumbling* Stupid game. Now I have to draw six cards. Which means I have to get rid of 11 just to get rid of this stupid shame card.

Remus: Have you tried-

Logan: Don't.

Remus: Not being bad at the game?

Logan: Why you- *jumps at Remus*

Virgil: Yeah... this game is going to take forever.

Janus: It appears so. All the more time for chaos.

Patton: And more famILY time!

*crash*

Virgil: And more broken things.

Roman: Yes! Great, isn't it?

Janus: Very. You were right. This is fun.

[thunderthirstbot]

[HOT] 🔥 Hot posts right now from the ThunderThirst Discord channel #fic-recs

ThunderThirst Note: All fics rated T and below. Please remember that the #nsfw-fic-rec channel is strictly 18+ and subject to mod approval.

1. “Clear for Landing” — Scott Tracy x Reader

Summary: Your first day working at Tracy Industries doesn’t quite go to plan. Especially when the CEO himself catches you out.

Tags: CEO Scott Tracy, Strategic Teamwork, Personal Chemistry, suits that hug in all the right places, boardrooms and business, unapologetic thirst, CEO Scott Knows What He Wants

Excerpt:

“You're shivering,” Scott said, slipping his jacket off without waiting for permission.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

He draped it over your shoulders anyway.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I need to take care of you.”

2. “Heavy Lift, Soft Hands” — Virgil x Reader

Summary: You’re helping Virgil with maintenance on Thunderbird 2 when things get…personal.

Tags: Virgil Tracy’s toolbelt, oil-stained forearms, Inappropriate Use of IR Equipment, he just doesn’t brood, he’s too soft for that, he’s just thinking, planning, building baby cribs in his head already, in his eyes you see forever, so much muscle.

Excerpt:

“It’s okay,” Virgil said, voice gentle as his hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you like you were made of air.

“I’ve got you.”

And you believed him. You’d never have any reason to doubt him.

3. “Storm Warning” — Scott x Reader

Summary: Trapped together during a thunderstorm, enemies-to-something-soft, sparks in more ways than one.

Tags: Protective Thunderbird One, Scott Tracy rescues hearts, a bad guy rescuee? how could you, stormy night, emotional vulnerability hiding under a pair of blue eyes, The Mission Comes First (Except You), Scott’s inner monologue, protective instincts run deep, Inappropriate Use of IR Equipment, all of your favourite tropes.

Excerpt:

The rain pounded against the roof of the outpost. You turned, only to find Scott already watching you—jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

He didn’t blink.

“Because if I don’t, I’ll say something I can’t take back.”

A beat. A breath.

“Say it,” you whispered.

4. “Tempo” — Virgil x Reader

Summary: Each note was another step closer, seeking harmony.

Tags: Late-night piano session, fingers brushing over keys and hearts, Voice Like Thunder, Heart Like Velvet, sharing quiet moments, Virgil’s love is a soft steady flame, please just marry me already Virgil, plot?? who needs a plot!

Excerpt:

“You never play for anyone anymore,” you murmured.

Virgil’s fingers paused on the piano. “I don’t usually feel like anyone’s listening.”

You sat beside him, close enough to feel the warmth from his arm. “I am.”

He looked at you then—eyes dark, searching—and played the next chord with your hand in his.

5. “Pressure Equalized” — Gordon x Reader

Summary: A close call - in every sense.

Tags: Flirtatious underwater tension, lingering touches, unspoken confessions in a decompression chamber, water temperature:rising, all talk but he’ll prove it, Inappropriate Use of IR Equipment (Scott Would Not Approve), unresolved tension, not nsfw, probably nsf your heart tho

Excerpt:

“That was a close call,” you said, your heart still racing.

Gordon grins; that devastating, cocky masterpiece that he likes to wear alongside that painted on wetsuit. Leaning back against the metal wall of the sub as he studies you.

“Yeah, but you had me. I’d never let you sink.”

[part-time-zombie]

you have no idea how much this scene means to me

Roman realized that virgil went out of his way to help him and acknowledged virgils actions, vocalizing his appreciation. Virgil isn't used to receiving such kind words, especially from roman, but he can see them as genuine which throws him off even more.

Virgil again tries to downplay his actions, not even knowing how or why he did what he did to help, but before he can completely ignore this moment of unexpected vulnerability, roman grabs his shoulder. While this would probably normally result in a flinch or a fight, virgil instead is grounded by the unexpected touch, quieting down and focusing back on roman when he started to overthink.

Roman says this so softly, so proudly, and virgil is completely thrown off. Virgil, the facet of anxiety, being called brave by the confident prince? He can't even comprehend the concept, let alone believe that such an admirable trait of roman was apparently found in himself, vocalized by roman of all sides.

Virgil doesn't believe it. He's anxiety, he can't be brave. Romans brave, romans the prince, how can the literal embodiment of anxiety even come close to brave? He tries to deny it, tries to run from this unexpected openness from the both of them, but roman stops him yet again. All the other times before when roman told virgil to shut up or called him names it was known to be taken as a jab, a joke at his expense. But now, here in this moment, they aren't enemies or even rivals, they're friends celebrating each other. This is not a joke, this is a compliment subtly spoken in the same witty banter he has grown used to, even become fond of.

Roman watches the scene unfold, happy at last. Virgil just looks at him, amazed by how far they both had come. Romans hand is still on virgils shoulder, but he can't find it in himself to mind. Right now all he can think of is what roman had said. Bravery. Virgil was brave to roman, brave For roman. And even if virgil himself can't see it yet, or refuses to admit to it, roman saw it. And if roman, the bravest prince virgil knows, can recognize bravery in him, then he supposes it must be true, even a little bit.

[a-sasi-selfshipper]

🧡NEW PROMO💜

🧡Hi!!! Call my Aly! (Based of my OC who I kin:)

💜Pronouns she/her

🧡My birthday is 2/9

💜Asexual who is HEAVILY repulsed by nsfw

🧡My other Accounts

I expect you to die account: @agentpheoness

Sander sides account (without selfshipping): @underratedorangeside

🕷️🕷️Main Selfship🕷️🕷️

My main Romantic F/o is Virgil Sanders!

•We’ve been together since November of 2024! He’s been such a beacon of light in my life and I love my lil darkling with all my heart💜💜💜 •I’m nonsharing with him, even with canon x canon ships if you’re a Virgil double, dni (Love the doubles though!)

•Ship/tag name: ☀️balanced eclipse🌙 or Strengthziety

Other F/os (All of which are fine sharing):

Patton Sanders (Familial)

Roman Sanders (Familial)

Logan Sanders (Platonic)

Janus Sanders (Enemies? If that’s a thing)

Remus Sanders (Enemies/Familial)

DNI:

•Pro/com/darkship I am an anti and I do not wanna see that stuff. •Radqueers (anti radqueer too. pedophilia and zoophilia are NOT okay)

•Virgil doubles

•Any NSFW blogs without tags (Of you have a tag, please tell me about it)

•Canon x canon posts with Virgil (If you have the ship names as a tag or have a certain tag for ship stuff, you’re fine:)

•Any blog that supports hate or harassment to any person or group

•Remrom shippers (The ship just makes me really uncomfortable)

Other Sites

Here’s my ✨Strawpage✨

Tag list:

@moxanji-real @vergils-beloved @jpeg-indulgence @fictodreamer @ezrawip

Hope you have an amazing day!!!

[nishnormp]

cheavy ramblings

Been thinking about the stinky BLU classic heavy from the comics lately. He's basically the villain of the final issues, and was practically built to be unlikeable from the start so his defeat could be more satisfying; buut since its been years since an update came out and I am slowly going insane, I think it would be funky to explore him more (bonus cmedic feature)

Few disclaimers: I'm not excusing his actions (I myself think hes a bitch) and I do NOT ship him with tf2 medic (also I dont think tf2 medic is unmasked cmedic bc 1)why would he sabotage himself in the issues by acting like That 2)uhh reasons later 3)this panel) also some of my takes aren't original, but I've expanded on em a bit

P1: Medic hater activities

As we all know, cheavy's greatest sin was dunking on + killing tf2 medic

Somehow he and tfc demo got sidetracked by medic's question, but the most hostile he gets towards tf2 medic here is jeering at the fact that they're going to hunt down his old team; which tf2 medic doesn't seem bothered by.

( @number1yisuchongfan actually brought this up before me) This panel pretty much sums up why cheavy is pissed: medic was implied to have a record of being weird with parts (he lost his license bc he stole a man's skeleton), he blew ALL of his budget meant for healing on exotic parts (that he put in cheavy's teammates), AND he revived the enemy (said enemy slips away a few panels later just as cheavy gets informed that three of his mercs died).

(also, the weird p3do tfc scout and soldier arent included in the 'three good men', since they died much later) Speaking of the 'good men' comment-

P2: Good leader at some point?? Not anymore tho

Hes gruff and an ass, but cheavy has a soft spot for his team; the tf2 mercs call each other strictly by their classes, but the tfc ones know each other names (also see cheavy's way of describing his dead teammates and his immediate reaction to go over there rather than curse/assume their incompetence)

He gets curious about australium, and from here on out he gets fixated on it- enough to be more unreasonable than usual. Cheavy is pretty amicable with Bea, and the way he acts with her is probably more in-character for what he was like back in his prime rather than the hot-tempered man that the later panels show.

I mean . He and his team were highly recommended and even took out ALL of the admin's elite teams, leaving the tf2 team for last. He may be a drill sergeant, but I don't think he was a genuine tyrant for most of his career; they aren't purely business-basis with each other (some of them formed close bonds, like fred and virgil), plus- any elite team would be able to capitalize on an overly prideful and control freaky leader (+a constantly demoralized team) sooner.

With three of his mercs dead and his plans failing against a team that he saw as rejects, the mental strain is showing badly. Tfc mercs don't have much personality in their games (or their own comic about them during their prime) but one of the few dynamics mentioned is between the Heavy and the Engineer+Medic. Tfc engie is the one who stepped up to ask about cheavy's plans, and he also gets the brunt of his anger. Earlier, cheavy answered bea's question and encouraged her, but now he's yelling and mocking the capabilities of one of the men he coordinates with the most.

Tfc scout's line may just be him not understanding/underestimating australium (esp since apparently cheavy had to ask grey mann what it even did), but it also reads as him seeing cheavy having officially gone off his rocker; his shaky grasp over leadership might kill the team before being deprived of yellow rocks does. Both scout and engie are thrown off by his attitude, implying that cheavy isn't usually like this (I can't imagine them being coordinated if they all shrimp away like that).

His line of thinking for both of these situations are pretty questionable. For the first one, he knows that the bots extract australium from the body, but he also knows that the mercs likely have nothing in them anyways (note the emphasis on his dead mercs, this is him taking revenge but also he is NAWT going to get any australium for those extra immortality machines which is still a pressing issue for his engie). In the second one, he first tells medic that they'll try figuring out how to stitch the machine on him, which leads to medic stabbing him and cheavy retaliating. Cheavy then goes all the way with attempting to kill him, stating that he'll just gets his answers from the administrator. Its soon revealed that he wants to fight tf2 heavy, but even that is ??? Like cheavy knows that he and his team are old as hell, but he's going to try having a fair fight with a guy in his prime anyways? He didn't even know that he could just slap on the machine at the time, and the unnecessary risk for what seems to be a quest to satisfy his ego is antithetical to his supposed goal of getting the rocks and making his team immortal. At this point, his hatred of medic has completely overridden his rationality; there were many ways for him to have killed both of them, yet he didn't take em.

P3: Cmedic

I saw some posts abt how cheavy is likely coded as homophobic due to how he treats medic (a presumably gay-coded character) bc of the "stay in the kitchen"-esque dialogue, and the way cheavy undermines him in verbal + physical ways. I do not have a very solid defense for this . aside from everything I listed before.

Just to clarify, I think its cheavy's fault for alienating medic from the start: loss of medical license aside, medic's inventions DO work splendidly for healing. Would it have been more concerning since medic is . meant to heal? Maybe. But mercs are literal murderers for hire, personality quirks should be the last of their priorities. The guy is passionate about showing off his stuff, and he was even enthusiastic about getting on the battlefield and healing cheavy. I'm not saying medic was going to be 100% loyal, but he's willing to do his job for the classics as long as he wasn't disrespected so damn much.

The tfc mercs with personalities are ones that oppose their tf2 counterpart; tfc sniper is a sadist rather than a swift professional, tfc pyro is...also a sadist rather than having tf2 pyro's misguided bubbliness, and cheavy does not respect his team's (current) medic. This in conjunction with the complete and utter lack of not just presence but also mention of tfc medic leads to the popular belief that the guy just up and left because of the disrespect.

(Writing inconsistencies be damned I like to cope) so what if it wasn't the case?

These are one of the few lines in tfc that describe a cooperative nature between certain classes. Like I mentioned earlier, tfc has less media compared to tf2 so its easy to slot personalities onto them as villains (tfc sniper's gun blowing people into giblets kinda helps), but I don't think these can be ignored. Fred was the one who represented the rest of the team's opinions to cheavy, and the phrasing in the second pic is even stronger; the heavymedic duo was always a thing, even in tfc.

Sort of. Gameplay-wise, cmedic is more like a roided out scout armed with a medkit that can give enemies and disguised spies tuberculosis, grenades that can send him across the map, and a gun that can destroy sentries (situational). He doesn't need to cling to his more offensive teammates as much as tf2 medic, and while his kit can instantly heal a teammate to full no matter the percentage + give overheal- its strictly melee ranged and has no ubercharge. In a narrative sense, cmedic would most likely oppose tf2 medic as a more 'grounded' healer. He prevents damage to his team by erasing enemies himself, doesn't go too overboard with his biochemical arsenal (his brew is potent but hes stuck with the melee-ranged kit and no crazy mechanic like uber), and can typically run off by himself (provided he isn't jumped by two soldiers or smth). Its a matter of game design, but can translate to the comics in an interesting way.

Medic is the only one who speaks of cmedic, and while the mention itself has no violent reaction- no one else speaks of him. I can't imagine him being easily forgotten since the heavymedic duo is just too iconic, so what if smth exceptionally horrible just happened to him? If cmedic was close to cheavy than everyone else, his loss/disappearance could explain cheavy's immediate dislike for tf2 med; not only replacing his own med, but with the complete opposite in terms of personality as well.

(I could expand on cmedic more, but this post is already long enough as is so I'll probably just make a separate one gah)

[ancientcharm]

When the Greeks sacked Troy, Aeneas retreated to Mount Ida, carrying his father Anchises on his shoulders and carrying his son Ascanius. His wife Creusa died in flight. He reigned for a time in Ida, then undertook a long voyage across the Mediterranean.

This Trojan hero went through several adventures in which different deities participated including his mother, Venus (Afrodita) . After his father's death in Sicily, a storm blew him astray and washed him onto the shores of Carthage.

Aeneas tells Dido the misfortunes of the Trojan city. Oil on canvas by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin (1815) Louvre, Paris.

With the intervention of the goddess Venus, queen Dido of Carthage fell in love with Aeneas and wanted them to marry, uniting their lineages. But Jupiter opposed it and sent Mercury to warn him that he must continue his journey and fulfill his destiny.

Dido, outraged at being abandoned , cast a curse declaring that her people and the people descended from Aeneas would be enemies. After this, she stabbing herself with a sword on a pyre.

Death of Dido. Oil on canvas by Guercino (1631)

Back in Sicily, Aeneas celebrated great funeral games in memory of his father, who appeared to him to tell him that he must go to Cumae and descend into the underworld. In Cumae, Aeneas succeeded in having the Sibyl open the gates of Hades for him.

There he met the shadow of Dido, but he also saw his father, who in the Elysian Fields revealed to him the glorious destiny of the people he was to found in Italy.

Aeneas and the Cumaean Sibyl. Oil on canvas by François Perrier (1646)

He reached the mouth of the Tiber and finally entered a city called Pallantium on the Palatine Hill. There, after going through several epic situations, he married Lavinia, only daughter of Latinus, king of the Latins, and founded the city of Lavinium, named after his wife.

Aeneas disappeared in the middle of a storm and was taken to Olympus and crowned by his mother Venus. His eldest son Lullius, from whom the Julii descend, founded Alba Longa the hometown of Romulus and Remus.

According to Livy, Lullius is the son of Aeneas and Lavinia, and seems to distinguish him from Ascanius son of Aeneas and Creusa. Silvius, son of Lullius, succeeded him on the throne of Alba Longa. Dionysius of Halicarnassus is the one who says that Silvius was the son of Aeneas and Lavinia, and therefore half-brother of Lulilus (Ascanius)

Years later, Numitor, maternal grandfather of Romulus and Remus and direct descendant of Silvius would be king of Alba Longa

Roman bas-relief, 2nd century: Aeneas lands in Latium leading his son Lullius (Ascanius); the sow identifies the place to found his city : Alba Longa

Over time, coming into contact with civilizations in the Eastern Mediterranean, the Romans realized that while everyone else had legends of heroes, epic wars, and several divinities interacting with humans at each event, they only had Mars in their founding story; twins thrown into a river, suckled by a wolf in a cave, adopted by a humble shepherd. And one of the twins ends up dying in a fight with the other.

Romulus and Remus, suckled by the wolf, found by Faustulus on banks of Tiber. Fresco by Giuseppe Cesari (1568-1640)

Augustus commissioned the great Roman poet Virgil to create a epic worthy of Rome, but without annulling its legendary founding history.

Through the Aeneid, Rome acquired a prestigious past; a mystical explanation of the three Punic Wars and the destruction of Carthage. Julia gens obtained a divine origin, giving even more legitimacy to the ruling dynasty. Furthermore, this epic exalts the Roman virtues that Augustus so wanted to restore and impose by law.

According to Roman historians, Augustus' sister Octavia faint from emotion upon hearing Virgil reading the Aeneid.

Virgil Reading the Aeneid to Augustus and Octavia. Neoclassical painting by Jean-Joseph Taillasson, 1787

In the story of the Trojan War as told by Homer, Aeneas appears as a secondary character, after heroes such as the Greek Achilles or the Trojan Hector. Meanwhile Virgil made him a protagonist in an epic that linked the fall of Troy and the founding of Rome.

The Siege of Troy. Oil on canvas by French School ( 17th century)

[libraryofloveletters]

Behind The Lens

Kostas Tsimikas x Fem!Reader

Warnings: the boys teasing kostas constantly, reader being slightly oblivious to it, sexual innuendos, it gets a little steamy towards the end, kos is lowkey bad at flirting, lots of swooning.

Word Count: 3.2k

Author's Note: I don't really have an explanation of the Kostas kick I've been on lately but here we go. thank you to @curiousthyme for the idea, this ones for you!! <3

---

Despite it being close to 8 in the evening, the humidity was killing all of you. 

Liverpool had journeyed to Singapore for the second half of their pre- season training and for a few friendly matches. 

You had joined the team as one of the photographers. You had worked with the team before, but never in the field. Most of the time, you hung around when they did photo shoots for their new home kits or LFC retail. 

They were comfortable around you, so there wasn't any awkwardness when you decided to join them on the pitch for their first training session.

Klopp was going over the drills for the session, you took a few photos as he spoke. The only two paying attention to you were Andy and Darwin, the two of them making silly faces at the camera. You looked away, holding back your giggling by pressing your lips together.  

“Alright,” the man in the glasses clapped, “you know what you’ve gotta do.” He announces, sending them on their way. 

You were taking photos of the session, watching the boys kick the ball around and do their drills. You were off to the side until they eventually split into groups to run drills. The boys separated themselves into groups of 5 and the one closest to you consisted of Virgil, Mo, Joe, Kostas and Cody. The 5 men kicked the ball back and forth, Kostas stuck in the middle to block it before it got to the next person. 

In this particular moment, you were looking away trying to adjust something on your camera whilst kneeling on the grass. You were all but a few feet away from the boys and the pass that Mo made from himself across to Cody, made it pass both Kostas in the middle and Cody on the other side. 

“Heads!” The younger Dutch player brings his hand up to his mouth to shout to you. 

The camera’s lifted at the last second, the ball bouncing off the thigh the camera was once on. Mo makes a face, “sorry y/n!” He shouts to you and you smile, waving him off. 

Before you know it, there’s a man in a grey shirt running to you to get the ball. “Are you okay?”

Kostas was knelt to your level, his soft brown eyes reflected under the flood lights; they reflected a kindness you’ve yet to see in other people. 

You smiled, nodding. “I’m okay.” 

“You’re sure? Mo has a foot of steel.” He chuckles at his own joke, earning him a smile.

You assured him you were fine as he grabbed your hand to help you up. “I grew up with 4 brothers. A lil’ roughhousing doesn’t bother me, Kos.” 

The nickname caused his heart to flutter; despite hearing it a million times over, it was different coming from you. 

“Kos!” The tall man shouts, “are you coming back?!”

Virgil’s hands were on his hips, you could see the annoyance on his face - he wasn’t one for being in the heat; the Singaporean humidity was his worst enemy at the moment - as was Kostas for having him waiting. 

“Go on,” you reached out to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

Kostas tucks the ball under his arm, “sure you’re okay?” 

You smile, nodding once more. “I’m fine, Kos. I promise.” 

Joe seemed to notice the exchange between the defender and the photographer, looking over at his friend next to him. Virgil caught onto what Joe meant from the moment he looked at him, raising his eyebrows in response. The Dutchman earned a chuckle from his friend. 

Kostas watched you walk off in the direction of Andy and Trent’s group before snapping out of his y/n trance as the teammate called it. 

--

They had returned from their mini break, taking a few minutes to rehydrate and stretch out their sore muscles; a sight you enjoyed. Whether it was in a professional manner or an unprofessional one, that was a secret. 

The boys were all goofing around amongst themselves, getting the last of their energy out for the evening. You were sitting next to Jurgen on the bench, the man pointed out something that Joel was doing and you two shared a laugh; a common occurrence when you two were in each other’s presence.

“Alright,” you huffed as you stood, slipping your feet back into your slides. “Back to work.” 

The older gentleman shook his head as he looked down at your choice in footwear. “Aren’t you worried you’d fall? The grass is still damp.” 

“Not really, and if I do, there’s a ton of handsome footballers to catch me.” You raised your eyebrows, giving him a wicked smile. 

“Y/n!” He laughed, wagging his finger at you. “You're trouble.” 

“You like trouble, boss man.” You clicked a photo of him laughing before walking back onto the pitch. 

Making the rounds, the boys pretend you aren’t there as they go about their evening. You already mentioned you get the best photos that way; candid. 

There were a handful of solo shots being taken and you finally made it towards the group at back of the pitch. 

The Greek defender straightens up, his hands on his hips as he watches Cody pass the ball to Andy, who passed it to him. 

Andy knew the boys well enough to know at this point and in this heat, they’re just going through the motions. Hence his shock when he watched his teammate start showing off his tricks, starting his set of kick ups for no apparent reason. 

The Scotsman noticed your presence, the click of your camera catching his attention. He laughed, head leaning back as his hand came up to his chest. Virgil looks over in concern, confused as to why Andy started laughing by himself but when he realizes who was lurking around, he too laughs. 

“Kostas, man!” Ibou groans, “are you gonna pass the ball or not ?” 

“He won’t,” Andy butts in before Kostas can even react. “Don’t you see who’s over there?” He nods towards the woman just two feet away. “He’s showing off for y/n.” 

You can’t help the laugh you let out, rolling your eyes. “Shut up Andy,” you snorted. “I don’t know how Rachel puts up with you.” 

“It’s my wits and charm that keep her in love.” He flashed you a smile, making you chuckle as you shook your head. 

At this point, Ibou had managed to finally get the ball away from Kostas but lost it as he tried to get past Virgil - they called him big Virg for a reason.

It rolls over to you, you stop it by placing your foot on top of it. You pass it back in the same way they’d expect one of their teammates to kick it back to them. 

Kostas’s jaw hung open, shocked at how well you did that. 

“In slides,” Joel nods to himself in approval. “Well done, y/n.” 

You smiled, doing a little pose as you lifted your shoulder. “Got skills for days.” 

“With a Z?” Virgil looks over at you, a smile on his face. 

“Skills and days with a Z, big man.” The two of you shared a laugh. 

After what felt like a million hours in the heat, the boys were wrapping up and the kit men were packing up. You take a few minutes to pack up your camera stuff, a few of the boys were doing interviews and currently, it was Kostas’ turn. 

A few of the players watched him, making him nervous for no reason. “We wanna go, Kos. Hurry up.” Ibou teased, shouting from the little balcony. Trent butts in to say, “come on Kostas, I wanna go bro.” 

Virgil was watching them when you walked over. You peeked over the man’s shoulder who moves when he notices you, putting his arm around you before whispering in your ear. 

Kostas looks over when he hears your laugh and you could swear that you saw a flint of jealousy in his eyes. Surely that’s not it, everyone was just tired and the boys were annoying him.

That must be it. 

Ibou laughs when you whisper what Virgil had said to you.

He starts teasing his teammate once again; “Kostas, are you afraid? On the plane, no one can sleep because you talk too much. Now when you can talk, you don’t wanna talk.” 

You watch from the little balcony as Virgil and Ibou head down one by one, staring down the man doing his interview. Cody joins in on the fun and Kostas is so over them, internally groaning at his irritating teammates. 

They wanted to leave so badly and yet they were the ones that were causing him to take longer than necessary.  

You felt a bit bad about all the teasing, calling to the three troublemakers. ”Come on boys, leave Kostas alone.” 

“Yeah,” the Greek nods, “listen to y/n.” 

Cody snickers, “I bet you’d love to listen to y/n, huh?” 

Kostas is red in the face as Cody falls into Ibou laughing, the two of them in a fit of giggles. Kostas hoped he could blame the redness on the heat and you were getting closer by the second, the man was begging for a breeze to cool himself down.

Thankfully, you had missed the comment with the cheesy sexual innuendo because you were coming down the stairs a few feet away.

Once you made it over, you grabbed both Cody and Ibou by the wrists like school boys, pulling them up from their seats. All you had to do was look in Virgil’s direction for him to follow suit. 

“Let’s leave Kostas to finish his interview in peace, yeah?” 

The man in front the camera smiles, his heart fluttering at the sight of you - as was something else when he noticed the grey leggings you had on but those were thoughts best saved for when he was alone. 

---

The cold shower welcomed you back to the land of the living after the evening in the heat. You were getting ready to go over the photos from the session, your memory card plugged into your laptop to upload as you got ready after your shower. 

A knock on the door interrupts you as you brushed your hair. Setting the brush down, you made your way over to the door to see who it was. 

On the other side of the door stood Kostas, a green tube in his hand as he smiled at you. 

“Hey,” you smiled, confused as to why he was at your door. 

“Hey, I uh.. sorry I didn’t mean to bother you.” 

“You’re never a bother, is everything okay?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He nods, holding out the green tube to you. “You forgot this on the bench, or I guess it fell from your pocket?” 

It’s your chapstick, mint flavoured. Your initials are scribbled on the cap in black sharpie because you and Andy use the same one; this way there’s no confusion. 

“Oh thank you,” you reached over and took it from him. “You didn’t have to do that, I have like four more in my makeup bag. I lose these all the time,” you laughed, tucked it into the pocket of your shorts. 

Kostas shrugs, a smile on his face. The laptop chimed from its spot on the bed, signalling that it’s done uploading the pictures. 

“Wanna see the pictures from the training session? I have to go through them anyway and I got a few good ones of you.” 

The man peeked over your shoulder, “I couldn’t intrude.” 

“You’re not, I’m inviting you in.” 

You stepped to the side, letting him come in. Kostas follows you to the bed, watching as you climb onto it and pull the laptop onto your lap. You’ve got on a pair of black shorts and a red tshirt with a little lfc logo on the top. 

As much as he enjoyed the view, he’d like the outfit much better if it was on the floor. 

“Are you coming?” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, patting the empty spot next to you. “I don’t bite.”

Kostas slips off his shoes, climbing onto the bed. “What if I want you to ?” His eyes meet yours. 

You assumed he was joking but you answered him regardless. “I will.. but only if you ask nicely.”

His cheeks have a red hue and he clears his throat when he settles down next to you. The man sat so stiff, a statue seemed like jello in comparison. His eyes fixed on the screen as you clicked through the pictures. 

Kostas watched your manicured nails click along the keyboard, tapping the screen as you pointed out things to him. All he could focus on was how good they’d feel if they were being dragged down his back - the red of your nails matching the colour of the marks left behind. 

“Those are really good,” he finally says. “You’re so talented, y/n.” 

It’s your turn to blush, waving off the compliment with a smile. “It’s nothing, really.” 

You sent the photos off to the socials admin, letting them share out what needed to be when your laptop chimed once more, letting you know it was low on battery. The laptop was on the bed when you leaned off the side of the bed to grab the charger. Instinctively, Kostas reaches out to hold your hips, making sure you don’t fall off the bed. 

His touch burnt into your skin, you could feel everything but you ignored the feeling bubbling in your gut. You plugged your laptop in and set it on the nightstand to charge. 

There’s a comfortable silence in the room so you look over at Kostas. “Are you hungry?” 

“Uh.. I could eat.” 

Kostas didn’t get the heads up before you reached over his lap and over to the other night stand to grab the room service menu.

The man’s brows furrowed as you sat back up. “I could have grabbed it for you.” 

“Oh that’s okay,” you shrugged, flipping through the pages. “What are you feeling? I’m thinking a burger, maybe pasta?” 

“Those are two very different things, y/n.” 

“I’m aware of that, duh. I figured I could get both and we could split it unless you want something else?” 

Kostas shook his head, “that’s fine.” 

You called and ordered the food, settling into the pillows behind you as you looked for a movie to put on in the meantime. Kostas’s eyes were fixed on you, you could feel them burning into your skin with each passing glance. 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry,” Kostas blurts, causing your brows to furrow. “You know, if the guys overstepped today.” 

“How did they overstep?” 

“With what Cody said.” 

Now you were really confused. “What did Cody do? He’s a sweetheart, I can’t imagine him saying anything bad.” You chuckled.  

Kostas internally groans, you clearly didn’t hear what Cody had said but now he’s got to explain. “He uh- he said how I’d like to listen to you.” 

You make a face; “what does that even mean?” 

“Well,” Kostas started, clearly a bit uncomfortable explaining the context of said statement. “I guess he meant.. in bed.” 

“Oh.” You pulled your lips together, holding back a snicker. You often forget that despite all being grown ass men and professional footballers, they had the minds of 15 year old boys. 

There’s a moment of quietness before you speak; “and would you?” 

Kostas stops picking at his nail to look at you, “would I?” He trails off. 

“Would you listen to me.. in bed?” 

Your eyes finally met his; there’s a sense of urgency that flashed in his brown eyes, his cheeks flushed red despite the AC running and it’s like you can hear the gears turning in his head. He’s trying to think of the right way to say this without scaring you off.

“Yes.” 

There’s a slight smile playing on your lips, you can’t help but reach out and hold his chin, forcing him to focus solely on you. 

“Good.” 

Kostas isn’t exactly sure what flipped in him but he leans over and into you, chest pressed to yours as his lips meet yours. 

There’s an instant connection between the two of you as if you’d been a couple for years; Kostas’s hands find your hips, pulling you over and on top of him. You straddled the player under you, hands cupping his jaw in an attempt to pull him closer.

The two of you were as close as you could possibly get, his warm hands slipped under the red shirt you had on. 

Your own hands pulled on his shirt, the two of you separating for a second to pull it off completely - a second that felt like an eternity to him. 

Just as he does to pull your shirt up, there’s a knock on the door. The man groans, dropping his face into your chest. 

You grab a handful of his hair, pulling his head back. Kostas groans, a happy one but looks up at you. “It’s the room service.” 

“Tell them to take it back,” he pulls you against him for another kiss. 

You giggled, getting off of his lap. Kostas rolls over on the bed and grabs your wrist, pulling you back to the edge of the bed. “Kos,” you whine, trying to get your hand loose. 

“Whattttt?” He reaches over to give you one more kiss. 

“The food is gonna get cold, let me just grab it.” 

“Then you’ll come right back?” 

“Yes.” 

“Promise?” He held his pinky out to you. 

You laughed, interlocking your pinky with him. “Promise.” 

He lets you grab the food from outside, the hotel staff left the tray outside considering that you didn’t answer the door. You leant down to grab it off the trolley and you could feel Kostas’s eyes on your ass. 

“I can feel you staring.” 

He smiles, waiting for you to put the tray down. “Staring never hurt anyone.” 

“I mean, if you’re a stalker it probably would.” 

Kostas rolls his eyes playfully, pulling you back onto the bed with him. His lips find yours again, the two of you tangled together on top of the sheets. 

You’re on your sides, looking at each other. Your finger traced over his jaw, Kostas turns his head to press a kiss to it.  

“It wasn’t so hard for you to admit you liked me, hm?” 

“You say that as if you knew,” he laughed. 

“Of course I knew.” 

“You did?” He looked a bit shocked. You never give him any signals that you had a clue.

“I told you I got skills for days, with a Z.” 

Kostas laughs, pulling you into him. “Oh shut up.” 

---

taglist: @themandaloriansdiaries @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels

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[szaryherbatnik]

Bdw spoilers, virgil and brad rambles.

Ah. The thing is. Back there in gronnd, when virgil and brad where bleeding out in the snow, someone had to speak up first. They didnt call upon pazuzu at the same time theres no way. And it had to be virgil.

From what happened with brad more recently, his description of that event seems like a total lie. Because virgil wasnt praying to the raven queen. Brad wasnt just dying next to him doing nothing. But i dont claim anything brad said that night as a lie.

Because he and virgil were friends, they must have been so close. And virgil took that step, he said pazuzus name thrice and perhaps this act of desperation, bravery, the confidence to call for help, did sound like a prayer to brad. Virgil called upon a demon but even when brad witnessed it, when he saw the transformation, he didnt see a demon. He saw god in the shape of his best friend. Of course hed follow. And how soul crushing it must have been for him to quickly find out his best friend must be an enemy.

[halfhissandwich]

This is what your favorite sanders sides ship says about you. (This isn’t serious, lol)

Karrot Kings: Your priority is keeping things wholesome, uncontroversial and most likely canon.

Thomas x any side: You will NOT explain how it works, you just make the fanart and have fun with it.

Nico x any side: You like Karrot Kings, but a bit less healthy.

DRLAMP: You will scramble to explain that Roman and Remus are platonic. It’s okay, buddy, we know.

Logicality: You’ve been in the fandom for a long time.

Logince: Your ideal relationship dynamic is not enemies to lovers. It’s enemies AND lovers.

Analogical: Your ideal relationship dynamic is two people with common sense being put up with everyone else’s nonsense.

Loceit: The same joke as analogical, plus alcohol.

Intrulogical: You’re a firm believer in the power of triggering your boyfriend’s anger issues for funsies.

Royality; Your ideal relationship dynamic is best friends to lovers engaged in wacky hijinks.

Moxiety: You want good things for Virgil.

Moceit; Your ideal relationship dynamic is two dads realizing that instead of fighting for custody, they could just get married.

Intruality: Your ideal relationship dynamic is “hi daddy x oh my god how did you get in my house”

Prinxiety: You enjoy the dynamic of two boyfriends talking crap about their enemies.

Roceit: You like the idea of prinxiety, but you like angst even more.

Remrom: You think that since they’re all the same person anyway, it’s not as weird if they call each other brother. It’s still weird. Go take a shower and reflect.

Anxceit: Your ideal relationship dynamic is stalking your ex.

Dukexiety: Your ideal relationship dynamic is stalking.

Dukeceit: Your ideal relationship dynamic is best friends to lovers engaged in wacky hijinks, but like in an Disney villain way.

Loyality (L x P x Ro): You wanted to ship all the light sides, or you shipped Royality and wanted them to annoy Logan.

Analogince (L x V x Ro): You’re a firm believer in the power of two boyfriends with common sense babysitting their boyfriend who lacks common sense.

Royaliceit (Ro x P x J): You don’t understand why all the ship wars exist when Janus has two hands. Technically six.

Intruloceit (Re x L x J): You want Logan to join the dark sides.

Intruloceitxiety (Re x V x J x L): You want Logan to join the dark sides, but you want him to hesitate.

Intrumoceit (Re x J x P); You like the idea of Intruloceit, but you like Patton even more.

Intruanxceit (Re x V x J): You either wanted to ship the dark sides or you’re just… really sad.

Royalixiety (P x V x Ro): Your interest in shipping Loyality is outweighed by you wanting good things for Virgil.

Logicaliceit (J x P x L): You REALLY want good things for Patton.

(Might add to this later by request lol)

[hebuiltfive]

Once Bitten Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

AO3 link here!

Scott, one of the most excelled vampire hunters for the last century, has one last battle with the vampire who’s claimed him as her arch-enemy.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

I hadn't been sure if I'd be able to get anything out in time (October has been a wild month) but here we are! The morning of the 31st with a story I'm quite proud of for once!

There is a potential for this to be expanded upon, and I do really want to write more for this AU... I just have many fics on the go at the moment and no real time to get them written, so we'll see!

-------------------------

Scott hated a cliché. “Time heals all wounds”just wasn’t true, “thinking outside the box”was just dumb, and Gordon’s favourite phrase of “there’s plenty of fish in the sea” was so infuriating it often had Scott biting back sarcastic remarks in reply. Clichés were old and tiring. They were unoriginal and uninspiring. If he ever became president, an outcome that was unlikely despite his brothers constantly not-so-jokingly insisting that he “should run sometime”, he’d sincerely consider banning the usage of them. 

Therefore, walking into that disused mine and being greeted by sleeping bats had him understandably almost turning tail.

It was beyond ironic that he, a famed and skilled vampiric hunter, happened across such a scene. He didn’t dare count, cautious of losing time or becoming too distracted, but Scott estimated hundreds of pipistrelles, all handing upside down from the rafters. If he hadn't known better, he’d have called it a coincidence, but the tip-off they’d received earlier that morning suggested this was anything but.

Suppressing a shiver, he carefully passed the sleeping bats, ducking low to avoid disturbing them and being weary of where he was stepping. The floor was littered with old bolts and broken shards of glass. Every step he took delivered a crunch or a snap, and Scott winced each time, praying to an unknown deity that he wouldn’t awake the winged creatures. Night had already fallen and Scott was aware they’d be waking up themselves fairly shortly.

He had long since passed through the adit and had entered the mine proper. Tunnels had led him further and further, deeper and deeper, and the darkness was beginning to press in on him. When he had arrived, the sun had already long since set below the horizon. Cloud cover had meant there was no moonlight to help guide him, so Scott had made his way over to the entrance of the mine with the help of his torch. 

There was something about the mine that had him on edge, and it wasn’t purely because he was alone in the middle of nowhere.  His crossbow that hung over his shoulder was tugged closer, fingers biting into the leather strap that connected the weapon to the holster it was attached to. It was his most trusted trade tool and he never left for a mission without it. Scott trusted it so much, in fact, that he rarely brought another weapon out into the field with him, besides his basic hunting knife. Perhaps it was a foolish move during solo missions, but most of the time, on those specific occasions, Scott saw enough sense to carry extra weaponry.

It wasn’t needed tonight as this wasn’t a solo mission.  Virgil was on his way to provide necessary back-up, only Scott, as usual, had simply raced ahead. It was the arrogance of being certain he could handle whatever was about to be thrown into his face that had fuelled that decision, no matter how much Virgil had pleaded with him to just wait for once. If the tip-off was correct, Scott wouldn’t need back-up from his baby brother. It would be a simple retrieval mission. In and out, home in time for dinner…

Oh, he despised clichés! That was almost as good as nothing could possibly go wrong, and Scott knew how dangerous it was to say that line.

The further he went into the mine, however, the more Scott’s confidence waned. There was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind that had him questioning how wise it had been to bolt ahead. He tried to ignore the sceptic thoughts. There was currently no reason to have any worries about the mission, besides the bats perhaps, but even then, it wasn’t so uncommon to find the winged creatures in old mine buildings.

Before he’d left, John had run a full and detailed analysis of the message — once bitten, twice shy and all that. (Then again, in John’s case, thrice shy might have been more appropriate, though the less said about that, the better.) Nevertheless his brother was always thorough with his investigations, so when he returned to him with the licit figure of ninety per cent, assuring him that this tip-off was trustworthy and not a trap, Scott had no reason to doubt him.

He hadn’t doubted him at all… not until he’d entered the godforsaken place.

Scott ducked into a dug out side room. Inches of dust layered almost every surface, and chains and broken bits of wood strewn across the floor. A desk stood on one side of the room. Scott crossed over, examining the mountains of paperwork that had been abandoned when the mine had closed down decades ago. The sheets were tainted, soiled from time and grime. He began to leaf through them slowly, careful not to disturb too much of the dust. His torch shone beams of light onto the various pieces of parchment, highlighting scrawny handwriting and typed up messages. He didn’t read them, merely scanning the words and numbers for anything that might provide a clue as to why they’d been given the tip-off for here exactly.

As far as the data International Rescue had, the area was not known to be a vampire hot-spot. Being in the middle of nowhere, and thus without a steady flow of hot blood, it was not an ideal place for a nest. Experience, however, had Scott batting away the assumptions. It was never wise to lay any claim when it came to the Night Walkers. 

It wouldn’t have been too much to assume that this could be an elaborate trap of some kind. The thought had first crossed Scott’s mind the moment he’d set eyes on the hundreds of pipistrelles hanging from the ceiling. Nevertheless, he kept up his search. The clue had to be around somewhere, he just needed to find it.

The unbound sheets offered him no help and he dropped them to the floor one by one, dust particles rising as he did so. The specks irritated his throat and Scott found himself wishing he’d brought along a small bottle of water with him. He cleared his throat a few times as quietly as possible, still not convinced he wasn’t alone in the mine, but after inhaling a rather petulant granule, he succumbed to a violent coughing fit. His eyes watered and his breathing became erratic, but he soon managed to regain his composure. Scott wiped the tear trails from his cheeks with the back of his hand and continued on his search.

The dirtiest item on the desk was a large ledger. Scott opened it in a more methodic manner than he had dropped the parchment, fearful of breathing in another round of irritant dust. Yellowed paper greeted him, blank ink scrawling out lists of names. There must have been hundreds. Scott scanned them, the tip of his finger brushing against the sheets, collecting black dust. Some names had been crossed out with a simple line, while others had been violently scribbled. On occasion, the pen had clearly gone through the paper. 

“You won’t find the answers you’re looking for in there.”

Scott slammed the registry book shut and whirled around to face the newcomer. The shadowed figure stood in the doorway to the alcoved room, just out of sight, but he recognised the voice; cold, calculating and bitter. The words had been spoken in his head. She never did miss an opportunity to show off her telepathy skills.

“I can’t say I’m surprised that 47 sent you.” He replied, calm and casual. He’d be damned if he let the trepidation get the better of him, and he certainly wasn’t going to let her notice it.

“47 doesn’t know either of us are here. If I’m being honest, I’m hurt you won’t give me credit where it’s due.”

As the realisation clicked, Scott’s lips curved into a lazy smile. He shone the flashlight straight into her face, and Marion Van Arkel hissed and recoiled, momentarily blinded.

But Scott did not move to attack.

“He won’t be happy to know you’ve been planning your own missions.”

“He doesn’t need to know.”

“Still,” Scott continued, gesturing to the rotten rafters and girders, “you picked a nice place for an ambush. A mine? Nice touch, Van Arkel.”

Marion, her sight having returned to near perfect vision, advanced towards him. Her heeled boots clicked across the debris-littered floor and her lips twisted into a smug smirk. Whether they were red from paint or from blood, Scott couldn’t tell.

“I thought it would a fitting location to finally end this game of cat and mouse, no? Full circle, or whatever it is they say.”

God, how he hated clichés.

“Still hurt about your family going out of business?” To his credit, Scott attempted to sound as sincere as possible as he delivered the derision.

Marion, however, sensed his mockery and glowered. She stopped in her tracks, her arms folding across her chest in an overly exaggerated manner. “No thanks to you, I might add.”

He let out a low whistle, clearly amused by her discontent. “An heiress to a dead company. I'd offer you my condolences but I’m afraid I have no pity left to give.”

“You had plenty to give the humans—”

“They were innocent people!”

“They had no idea what was happening to them!” Marion retorted sharply. “Being enthralled means they know nothing.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” He frowned, scowling in disgust at her attempts to defend her family’s actions. “It’s a fate worse than death in some cases. They don’t call it Eternal Nightmares for nothing, you know!”

She caught sight of his altered demeanour, heard how his tone changed from taunting to revulsion, and Marion Van Arkel did what she did best; she pounced on it.  “Does that make you angry? To think about all those humans you’d failed to save from these Eternal Nightmares, as you put it?” She approached him slowly, her eyes glazed over with humour, laughing at his loathing. Some things never changed.

“You lured me here.” Scott changed topic, unwilling to allow her to jump onto his discomfort and use it to her advantage. “You lured me without the go ahead from your boss. Why?”

“I told you.” Marion lowered her voice to a whisper. “To end our game!”

“All you’ve done since you’ve got here is talk.”

“Do you not like talking?”

“Well, I fail to see how it will ‘end our game’.”

“All in good time, hunter. Patience is a virtue.”

Scott bit his tongue. If he heard one more damned cliché—!

His smile returned, easy and warm, without a trace of irritation. Marion’s words had left him feeling uneasy but all he had to do was wait, as she so instructed. Perhaps talking was good. It gave Virgil time to reach them… Not that he needed the back-up! Marion Van Arkel was a slippery vampire, one who Scott had been at odds with on a number of occasions over the last few years, but she was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Still, he’d have been lying if he said he wouldn’t have felt more at ease knowing there was someone else fighting in his corner.

“I’ve never been good at patience, Van Arkel.”

“So I’ve surmised. It’ll be your downfall, you know? You’ll rush ahead, just as you did tonight, so desperate to get the job over and done with, only one day you won’t get out of it. One day, you’ll lose.”

His cocky grin returned, full and flourishing. “And you believe today is that day?”

“I can hope.” Her finger, cold and slender, ran down the length of his jaw line,

Something twinkled in her eyes, something that made Scott feel uncomfortable, like he was left out of a joke and the punchline was soon to come and hit him unawares. 

“I can handle one vampire, Marion, especially if its you.”

He couldn’t let her think his guard was down for a second. Scott tilted his head, observing her curiously. If she hadn’t been a Night Walker, he might have thought her rather pretty. Indeed, he had tried to charm her the first night they’d met, before she’d attempted to eat him. The memory only made his smirk grow wider.

“Remind me again, Van Arkel, how many of our fights have you won?”

Scott paused for her to answer. Of course, she didn’t. He hadn’t expected her too. He watched as her twinkling eyes narrowed into a glare and refrained from chuckling, answering his own question for her. “Zero, wasn’t it?”

“That changes tonight!”

Marion threw the first punch. It was feral and angry, and it carried her forwards as Scott ducked out of the line of impact. She was quick to recover however, and before Scott had the chance to gain an upper-hand, Marion was lunged towards him again. Scott deflected every blow, attempting to land a few himself, but Marion was just as talented a fighter as he was. 47 trained his minions well, and Marion was no exception. She wasn’t as fast as some vampires, but she was still learning.

Legs kicked and bodies leapt, punches struck their marks and blood was left in their wake. Breathless but neither willing to back down, Scott and Marion continued their fight for minutes before she slipped up again, only this time Scott had been prepared.

As Marion stumbled, losing some of her balance after a particularly nasty hit, Scott circled around her. He caught her one of her arms and pulled it backwards, up her spine and into an arm lock. Then, with all his weight, he pushed them both forwards. Within seconds, Scott had her pressed against the rock-face, her second arm pinned at an awkward angle between her body and the wall.

“I don’t think it does.” Scott couldn’t help but smile arrogantly.

Though she was a vampire, and thus possessing vampiric strength, Marion was still classed as, what the hunters called, a Baby Vamp. Less than fifty years old and still learning and developing the traits that often gave vampires the advantages in a fight, Marion couldn’t struggle out of his hold, no matter how much she tried to.

“The night is not over yet, Tracy!”

“You don’t have to be like this. I know you know this is wrong. Marion, please.”

Despite his winning position, and at the risk of sounding like he wasn’t confident in his abilities, Scott had never been above begging. No matter who he was fighting, no matter what harm they had already done, he always gave them the option of redemption. He had seen vampires redeem themselves, albeit very few, and knew it was possible. Being so young, Marion was a prime contender for International rescue’s rehabilitation scheme. All she had to do was say yes.

She never did, however. Tonight was no different.

“You know nothing, Scott Tracy. Let me go!”

Marion struggled against his hold again, desperate to be free of him, but Scott held firm.

“No chance. All I have to do is keep you here until my brother arrives, and then—”

He was unable to finish his sentence. The sound of distant rocks falling echoed through to the alcove. The rumbling became closer and closer.

Marion, still struggling to free herself, began to laugh.

Capitalising on his momentary distractedness, she easily kicked his feet out from under him. To save himself from falling, Scott had no choice but to loosen his hold, but by doing so, Marion was able to finally slip out from his grasp. She delivered a swift kick to his exposed stomach, causing him to stumble to his knees and winding him in the process. As he tried to catch his breath, she sauntered over.

“You make my final win too easy.” Marion lowered herself to his level and pressed her rouged lips to his own. “I’d say let’s try again, go another round, but I’m afraid we’re out of time.”

Scott instinctively licked his lips. He stood to his full height once again, Marion backtracking a few steps. Her grin was wide and wild, not unlike it had been when she’d first entered. It was the smile of a smug winner, although Scott hadn’t bowed out of the fight just yet.

“Who said I let you win?” He slid his crossbow into position. Loaded with a single wooden dart he aimed it directly at Marion’s chest, above her defunct heart. 

To his surprise, she did not attempt to evade his shot.

But she didn’t need to.

In an instant, Scott’s vision blurred, his legs weakening. The crossbow was lowered before he even had the chance to fire it. He blinked, long and hard in hope that it would cure his bleary sight, but when his eyes opened again, Marion had become two fuzzy outlines. 

His fingers reached up to his lips.

His heart sank with dread.

“What did you do?”

“Alright, maybe you didn’t let me win, but don’t think I didn’t notice how easy you let me get the best of you this time. It’s a shame, you know? I had been hoping you’d best me just one more time, that our game of cat and mouse didn’t have to end tonight.”

The crossbow fell from Scott’s grip and dangled at his side. He crashed to his knees as they finally gave out and Marion, assessing it was safe for her to approach him again, did so. She unhooked the crossbow from his baldric and examined it curiously.

“This is such a funny contraption, so outdated. I would have thought you’re genius scientist would have created something more modern for you.” She threw it to the side, wood splintering as it hit the ground. “Still, it’s not like you’ll need it again.”

“What… did you… do?” Scott tried to ask her again but his words seemed to fade before he had the chance to fully realise them.

He started to sag to the side but Marion caught him before he fell. Helping to lower him to the floor, she brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “It’s just a mild tranquilliser, don’t be so dramatic! You’ll be back to your normal self again in around half an hour… not that you’ll live that long.”

Scott could feel his heart quicken. Her cold, slender fingers stretched out across his chest; of course she could sense his fear.

“What… does that… mean? What… have you…?”

“Shush, now. You know, I am sorry it had to end like this…”

“Marion!” Another voice yelled from the tunnels beyond. Scott barely heard them call out, his senses slowly fading. It was another female by the sounds of it, though one he hadn’t heard before… Or maybe he had? Thinking was becoming a problem.

“Hurry up before you get trapped in there!”

“I’m coming!” Marion yelled in reply.

Scott winced.

“Like I said, it is a shame it has to end this way, Scott Tracy.” Marion brushed her fingers gently across his forehead, causing him to shiver. “We could have had so much fun, you and me, but alas, it was not meant to be.”

She stood, blowing him one last kiss, before she sprinted for the exit.

Scott laid in the silence. His eyes slipped shut and he could feel himself slowly fading away to the darkness. Half an hour Marion had said… but why had she dragged him all this way just to send him to sleep? What did she mean he wouldn’t live that long?

By the time the realisation would have hit, as the mine collapsed in on itself, Scott was mercifully unconscious. He didn’t feel the rubble crash down on him, he didn’t notice the pain from the various injuries the accident had dealt him, and he didn’t hear Virgil calling out for him as he painfully dug through the rubble in search of his brother.

There was nothing, and that, he would suppose, was a blessing.

… Damned clichés!