#you win. you lose. you die. / v. main.

[daybreakrising]

The absence of that familiar loud personality is like a fresh wound laid upon existing scars. He does not remember the blow that struck him down, but he imagines this feels similar enough. His brother is before him, but he is merely a shell of who he was. Karmic debt has stripped him of everything that was Bosacius. His brother lost him, once, and now... now he has lost his brother.

No. Not lost. Merely adrift. There was a moment, a brief flicker of something when he had announced himself. Not recognition - not yet - but enough of something to tell Menogias that his brother is still in there somewhere, memories and all. He just needs to find a way to reawaken them. Though he cannot be sure if it is even possible, if the effects of karmic debt can be reversed at all, he is still going to try.

And where better to start than taking tea in his cave? His mind is clearly somewhere else, in some other time - perhaps he is still back in the War, fighting an endless battle. The name he uttered is unfamiliar to him, and he makes a note to seek information at another time to find out who this 'Boyang' was. For now, though, he has an invitation to keep.

He follows Bosacius into the cave, fingertips skimming the rocky walls as he listens to the memory they contain. His brother has not been here long, it seems, at least not within this particular cave. "Tea, you say? Now, that sounds wonderful..." I will help you remember yourself, brother Bosacius, even if it takes a thousand years.

"My... brother..." The echoed words are uncertain as the nameless one speaks, words dragged from his throat as he hesitates in his spot. It feels right, like a spark of familiarity in the dark, but there is a gaping hollow where the memories should be, a darkness that wipes him of all he was and so all he can do is shake his head, the motion dragging.

"I am sorry... I came to fight..." His words trail off, a distant gaze taking him as behind the shattered mask his brow furrows, lips visibly pursing into a thin line. The comforting smile that faces him is one he wishes he could reach, but the state of him is far beyond his capcity to hide it. Not like when he used to fight with pride, his lapsing memory hidden behind booming laughter and warm smiles. Accompanied as he was by the blaze of flames, the splash of the waters, the rumble of the earth and the howl of the winds, it was easy to let the thunder boom and lightning strike upon every battlefield he walked upon without showing his faults.

"There is tea in the cave. We must rest before the next bout..." He turns back towards his abode, the place of comfort, where he stews leaves that bear a tea that tastes of old memories and the walls are scrawled with fleeting reminders that the lucid hours allow. "Come, Boyang, you need your rest." He turns on his heel then, not paying attention to his changed conversation, the way he has just addressed this person as another, forgetting the start of their conversation already.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is story non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being; 1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so. 2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad. Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See the Masterlist for Summary. Contains usual tags.

Chapter title is from Growing Up by Fall Out Boy.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

You were not, and never had been, in the business of fighting your wars bloody. You fought them smart, and you fought them dirty. You wouldn’t call yourself callous; if anything, you could use a little more misanthropy in your life, but your moral compass was… subjective. You would steal bread to feed your family, you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught, and, as you had spent the last six months learning, you would quickly cover your hands in all the blood and grime in the world so that nobody else would have to.

Which was, unfortunately, not a figure of speech.

You let yourself lie in the mud, the cool texture soothing your always-warm skin, and fought the urge to sleep. You could hear someone shouting your name, strung together with an impressive array of obscenities and barely audible over whatever phase of the argument your companions were on, but god, you just could not bring yourself to give a fuck. Sure, the blood on your face was already dry, and the hay mixed into the mud itched and needled at your skin, but you’d live. You’d survived much worse, and at this point it was scientifically impossible for you to get sick, so everyone could just come back for you in a week or two. Maybe three. However long it took for the nightmare sheep to die and Vought’s stock prices to be lower in the mud than where you lay. Maybe a bit longer. Maybe until Homelander wasn’t a you problem anymore. Maybe they’d feed his corpse to the nightmare sheep when they came to get you.

You felt yourself smile a little at that thought. Dead Homelander, weak and pathetic; golden hair grimy; awful blue eyes milky and hollow. Dead Homelander, hands unable to hurt you, mouth unable to twist into that horrific smile. Dead Homelander, pretty face mauled and stupid outfit smelling like shit from being dragged in it to the barn. Dead Homelander, being torn to tiny pieces and eaten by sheep. Dead Homelander, the worst thing that ever happened to you, finishing his reign of terror shat out next to a creek somewhere.

Your smile covered your whole face at this point. It probably looked weird and creepy—the dire, life-or-death situation you were smack dab in the middle of not doing it any favors—but god, it was too perfect a daydream. You could live here forever, in the mud, with your fucked-up little fantasy on loop.

Tragically, you barely had twenty seconds in this ideal world when something hit you in the face.

“What the fuck?!" You sat up, ignoring the hand offering aid from Frenchie, glaring around the barn for your assailant.

“Bout time you join the land of the living, Love. We’ve got a fucking problem, and you don’t get to nap until it’s fixed.” Across the barn, Billy Butcher shot you a cocky grin that didn’t meet his eyes. To be fair, you weren’t sure it ever did.

“You didn’t have to hit me in the face, you ass.”

“That was me,” Frenchie cut in. “And you should thank me; Monsieur Butcher was going to shoot you.”

“You were going to shoot me?!”

“Would’ve felt the same either way, wouldn’t it?” Butcher shrugged.

“No! I’m not bulletproof, you dick!”

“You’d live.”

“So would MM if you shot him! I don’t see you gearing up for that!”

“Well, MM wasn’t sleeping in the middle of a crisis!”

You rolled your eyes, meeting Butcher’s glare from across the room. "Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to try and kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, Sweetheart, it’d look more like this.” Butcher’s arms started to move behind him, where you knew he kept his gun, and you braced yourself, hands fisted at your side.

“Hey!” MM stepped forward, arms raised. “You, if you shoot anyone, I will throw you out to the sheep, I swear to God. And you,” he turned his gaze from Butcher, “turn it down; it’s the middle of winter in Maine, and I feel like I’m standing in the goddamn sun.”

You blinked, realizing that the room had rapidly become impossibly hot, and everyone had moved far as possible from where you stood. The new, alien feeling that sat under your skin was alight and sharp, almost buzzing through you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back. MM lowered his arms, a look of what might have been concern flashing across his face, but turned away as the conversation returned to the murder-sheep issue.

You took a few steps back; nobody stopping you or asking for your contribution, fully allowing you to shrink into the wall. You felt your hand move up to your throat, trying to slow the tense, short breaths passing in and out of your body.

“Try thinking of something that calmed you down before.”

You jumped, not having noticed Victoria Neuman move to your side, and gave her a small frown as you responded. “What?”

“Something familiar. Anything that takes the edge off. Trust me,” she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It won’t get easier on its own. And that,“ she gestured to your hand. “Won’t help it long-term.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to drag your hand from your throat. Something happy. Something happy from before. What had been happy before?

Briefly, city lights flashed in your head, a song on a stereo accompanied by your own hum ringing silently in your ears. It vanished just as fast, but something in your chest loosened, and the feeling waned. Glancing over at Neuman, you saw a small nod of approval before she left your side, allowing you a second to steel yourself before following.

You found yourself standing next to Annie, who gave you a quick and, as far as you could tell, genuine smile before returning her attention to the tense conversation between Butcher and Stan Edgar. The former's voice had grown to a shout, somewhat ranting about a goose-chase for the bioweapon supposedly on this farm, the latter just watching with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Are you done, Mr. Butcher?” Edgar’s voice betrayed no anger or fear; the only signs of emotion on his face his tightened lips and raised brows. “Because if you are, I would finally be able to share my plan to get us out of this hellhole you dug us.”

Butcher scoffed, but before he could call Edgar either a cunt or a twat—both seemed equally plausible at the moment—the stone-faced man continued.

“While I will be the first to admit that an error was made in regards to a possible weapon against Homelander, I could not call today a complete waste. After all, you introduced me to this… charming young woman. The Anomaly,” he turned to you, and a shiver ran up your spine as he used your supe name. “Is going to help us.”

“Uh,” you paled under the pressing eyes of your team. “No. I don’t, uh, I… no.”

“Yes. You will,” Edgar said. “The V variant you carry is Homelander’s attempt to duplicate the original, the one used on Soldier Boy. Most likely a good attempt. And though the original V was unstable and less than suitable in any practical means, it was potent. I do not think I would be wrong in guessing you are just as strong as Soldier Boy, and likely immortal as well.”

“No.” Annie cut it in. “If you’re going to suggest we use her as fucking bait, the answer is no.”

“I was not going to suggest that, Ms. January, why would I waste such a good product on sheep bait? I am proposing that she simply eliminate our issue. I hear sheep catch fire quite easily.”

Everyone was looking at you now. Waiting for you to step forward and say something, anything. But you were frozen, mouth slightly agape, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You saying yes, and failing to do anything but start a forest fire, the barn burning around you as everyone remained trapped inside. You saying no, and the sheep breaking in and eating everyone alive. You saying yes, but losing control and hitting someone, watching them burn to ash as they screamed. You saying no, and everyone just rotting away in the barn; you yourself unable to do the same. The silence hung in the room, taunt with the way breathing had become labored in your chest, and you thanked a god you didn’t believe in as Annie stepped forward.

“She can’t control it,” she told Edgar. “We’ve been working on it for months, and she’s gotten better, but she can’t. It’s more complicated than it usually is, and it’s new.”

“Well, then I guess we should start to pray she gets lucky. I simply will not die in a barn in Maine, and unless anyone else has a plan, I must insist we start moving. Before the structural integrity fails us, and we all become dinner.”

The room was quiet for another moment, Annie looking as if she wanted to argue, but MM spoke first, his voice laced with reluctance.

“He’s right. We don’t have time to come up with something better.” He sighed, turning to you. “You’re the best bet we’ve got.”

“Still a shit bet,” Butcher muttered.

You agreed.

But Edgar was right.

“Everyone will need to stay inside,” you said softly. “Even if it works, this could get… messy.”

Murmurs of agreement were made, and you turned to Kimiko. “You’re the strongest,” you told her. “You can open and close the door the fastest. Crack it open, I’ll run through, and slam it as fast as you fucking can.”

She nodded, moving to the barn's entrance. As she passed you, she paused, giving your arm a small squeeze and you a small smile before she continued. You smiled back, trying to ignore the flash of her anxiety running through you at the touch. Everyone else began to move to the opposite side, hiding pointlessly behind hay and barrels. Neuman paused, though, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Something calm,” was all she said before turning to follow Edgar.

Something calm.

City lights. Music. Cheap burgers and cheaper beer. Carefree smiles. Music.

You stood before the doors, giving Kimiko a small thumbs up. She raised her hand, fingers falling from five to four, from four to three.

Two.

One.

You sprinted forward, waited for the sound of a slam behind you, and let go.

The world lit up.

It felt like a hurricane was spilling out of you, like a part of you was being ripped out and launched away. You could see the fire, but not quite feel it. If anything a chill had set itself through your veins, your skin becoming flushed not from heat, but exhaustion. Already darkness was creeping into your eyes, the effort to control the flames splitting the sky taking a toll. It was like a volcano trying to control its eruption, if any of its magma was under the control of the mountain.

But you had to. You could pass out after; you could sleep for a hundred years, but right now you had to control it.

The blood and muck on your skin had been long seared off, the clothes on your back turning into foul-smelling smoke. Your job was long finished now, nothing but bone and sinew remaining of the sheep, but a new problem emerged.

You couldn’t stop. You were burning and burning and burning, and the feeling in your skin wasn’t dulling, but growing. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline, yanking you up and up, away from relief.

Something calm, Neuman’s voice echoed in your head, and you closed your eyes, trying to hear that long-gone music and see those phantom lights.

It wasn’t working. And you were only getting closer to an edge, a drop into something you’d been so careful to avoid. It was eating you, pushing you further and further. You'd jump into the freezing water of the river but it would just evaporate. You’d bury yourself in the mud but it would just boil, feeding into itself.

Sing, a small part of you begged the rest. Just sing. No use hiding yourself if you’re dead.

You gave in, and began to hum. An empty tune, your voice on key but strained. Slowly, you felt yourself come to, your body returning to your control. You followed the song to the end, and as it ended, just before you collapsed on the ground, relief rushed through you. The fire had lingered, a saving grace from your song. You hadn’t felt any effects, with no hallucinations plaguing your vision before it went dark.

————

The first thing you realized when you woke up was that someone had moved you from the dirt to rest against a tree. The second was that you were no longer naked. Someone had apparently managed to find you clothes, and though they were itchy and a few sizes too big, you were still grateful. The third was that you smelled like shit. You had thought you were covered in blood before, but that now seemed as if it had been bubbles and floral perfume. One might have thought thoroughly barbecued sheep would’ve smelled at least tolerable. They would’ve been wrong. Because you were covered in what of it hadn’t dissipated into smoke, and you smelled like a dumpster full of rubber and fish.

The only person who would come near you was Frenchie, who had forsaken his sense of smell years ago, and had evidently dressed you and pulled you to where you currently sat. Everyone else stood closer to the fence, waiting for their ride back to New York to pull up on the dirt road. You sat alone, eyes still drooping, startled out of your own head as Edgar’s voice cut through the air.

“I must say, I am glad to see my faith in you was not misplaced.”

"Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking up at where he stood, only a few feet away. “I wouldn’t ask for an encore.”

“I am afraid I may have to. In our prior introduction, it seems you deeply undersold your capabilities.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t have time for self-evaluation when I was being kept in a fucking dungeon.”

Edgar sighed. “I must apologize for that. Though I was not made aware of Homelander’s little escapade, I recognize that you might feel as though I hold some blame.”

“Not an apology,” you muttered. “And I find that hard to believe.”

“Unfortunate, but I cannot force you to accept the truth.” He looked you up and down once before continuing. “And regardless, it is not what I am here to say.”

“I was wrong only once today, and it was when I said you were just as strong as Soldier Boy. You are not. You are much, much stronger. Not physically, of course, but overall. Overall, your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. I know you wish him dead, I would imagine you prefer it to be painful, and very few deaths inflict the suffering felt when one is burned alive. I suggest you learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. You were looking for a weapon, and I am telling you that you are it. Do not waste yourself.”

And he walked away, leaving your mouth open and your eyes wide. You stood to follow him, painfully pulling yourself to your feet, but made only a few steps before you felt a rock hit your back, and you whipped around to find Frenchie behind you, holding a hose.

“Starlight suggests you take a shower before our drive back,” he said, gesturing to the hose.

You blinked, looking back at Edgar, only to watch him be loaded into an armed van. Your brow wrinkled, a part of you wanting to chase the car down and demand Edgar elaborate, but you just turned back to Frenchie with a sigh.

“Sure, just count down before you–“

You cut yourself off as the freezing water hit you in the face.

Thankfully, Frenchie had thought to bring a towel—a gross, possibly moldy towel—but a towel nonetheless, and he handed it to you the moment the hose-down was finished. As his arm stretched out, you noticed a deep gash poking out from his sleeve.

“I can fix that,” you gestured to him. “I mean, I’ll have to touch you, but I won’t tell anyone what I feel, and you won’t have to let MM give you stitches.”

Frenchies frowned, looking at his arm as if only he now noticing his injury. “Are you sure? You must be tired, and–“

“I’ll be fine. Won’t hurt me for more than a few seconds.”

He hesitated, but gave you a nod, rolling up his sleeve before offering his injury to you. You took a deep breath and placed your hand over the wound. It hit you fast, it always did, the onslaught of emotions. You were suddenly twice as tired, a powerful and painful guilt sitting on your shoulders and a self-loathing that was familiar, but not yours, carved itself into your chest. After a second to adjust, you started to work. Your own arm, mirror to Frenchies, began to sting as the skin turned raw and red. You bit your tongue, ignoring it and focusing on keeping yourself going until the cut was gone, the skin was healthy, and there were no signs of any issues in the first place.

“Huh,” Frenchie stated at his unmarked arm, glancing at your own, which was already fully healed itself. “Merci.”

“No problem,” you offered him a grin. “Just don’t tell Butcher you accepted my evil supe healing.”

“You do not,” he frowned slightly. “You do not feel everything, yes? Just, simple, children’s emotions?”

It was your turn to frown. “Children’s emotions?”

“Oui. Joy, fear, sadness. No more.”

Oh. You hesitated to answer, debating if it was worth the lie. It would make him feel better, you reasoned with yourself.

But he wouldn’t trust you, a little voice whispered. And he’ll hate you.

You settled on the truth. You didn’t think you could stand another person hating you.

“No, I feel… everything,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying before. I won’t tell anyone.” You paused, watching his face carefully as you continued. “I won’t tell Kimiko.”

A look of shock passed over his face, but Frenchie nodded. “Good. Good. Tres bien,” he gave you a grateful look. “Merci.”

“Anytime,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, and the two of you returned to your group just as your ride pulled up. As you loaded into the car and began the long, tense drive, Edgar’s words replayed on loop in your head.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. Learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. Do not waste yourself.

Do not waste yourself.

You thought back to the last time you saw Homelander. Though it had been from a distance, and he had not even known you were there, your body had frozen. Fear, white-hot and all consuming, had coursed through you. You had almost passed out from it. If you had been face-to-face with him, it might have killed you all on its own.

Do not waste yourself.

You couldn’t fight Homelander. You just couldn’t. You could be capable of overpowering him tenfold, and you still wouldn’t be able to fight him. You knew, in your heart, that his eyes would meet yours and you would be sent right back into that tiny white room, feel his hands holding you down, feel that hollow, empty hopelessness leak from you into the air.

But he needs to die, a small voice whispered in your head. And you’re the Anomaly. You could kill him. You’re the only one who could stop him forever, make sure he never hurts anyone, ever again.

No. No, you couldn’t be the only one. Yes, the biochem weapon had been a bust, and no one else could possibly rival Homelander and come out of it alive. But there had to be other options.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s.

Do not waste yourself.

An idea started to form in your head. A terrible idea. A reckless and dangerous idea. But an idea all the same. And as it became fully formed, you managed to convince yourself more and more that it might somehow work.

Now all you had to do was convince everyone else.

——-

“No. No fucking way.”

The air in the meeting room was tense, mouths hanging open in shock. MM was glaring at you with a disdain you had previously only seen directed at Butcher, Butcher watched at you with a reverence you hope to never see on his face again, Grace Mallory looked all at once disgusted, intrigued, and impressed, and President-Elect Singer frowned as he listened, but gave you a nod to continue regardless.

“I know it’s crazy, but the problem last time was that you couldn’t control him, right? And I could. You can have us isolated, making sure we're out of the public eye and away from any possible collateral until you need us. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him in line, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

“I, for one, think this is an amazing idea. Best one I ever heard,” Butcher grinned at you. “Worst case scenario, it goes sideways, he kills her, we knock him out, and everyone still wins.”

“What part of ‘he wouldn’t be able to hurt me’ don’t you understand?” You snapped back.

“What if he blasts you with his fucking reactor?” MM pushed. “Makes you just another human? What’s your plan then?”

“That wouldn’t work on me,” you responded dryly.

Butcher snorted, but Mallory raised an eyebrow.

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“One of the tests that was run on me was putting me in a room and blasting it with nuclear energy. They dropped Hiroshima on me, and it did jack shit. Soldier Boy throwing a temper tantrum won’t be any different.”

“And how do you think you could control him?” Singer asked.

“I can burn up to 5500 degrees Celsius. That’s hotter than a bomb. Won’t kill him, will knock him the fuck out. And it’ll hurt.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Butcher mused. “It’s fuckin' perfect.”

You glowered at him. “Stop helping me.”

MM looked at Mallory. “The fact that America’s number one unstable asshole,” he gestured to Butcher. “Is on board should be enough to tell you how stupid this is.”

“Number two unstable asshole,” you said under your breath.

“Thanks, Love,” Butcher winked at you.

“Yeah well, don’t be so pleased. You’re only just losing to Homelander.”

Butcher shrugged, and you returned your attention to Singer. “Sir, please trust me. I, more than almost anyone, know how dangerous this could be. But Homelander is more dangerous. We needed a weapon,” you echoed Edgar’s words. “This is it.”

Singer nodded slowly, and MM scoffed.

“You can’t be seriously considering this. He’s a fucking unstable asshole murderer and a goddamn liability. What if we wake him up, she can’t control him, and he gets free?”

“We said whatever it takes,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t be pitching this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I can control him, I promise.”

“You’d bet your life on it?” Mallory asked.

“My life?” You snorted. “In a heartbeat.”

Mallory sighed. “Then fine,” she shot a look to Singer. “I’ll sign off if you do.”

“Sir,” MM said, sounding almost desperate. “I am begging you, do not do this.”

Singer just shook his head slightly. “Desperate times, they make you do desperate things. If I saw another way, I’d take it, but for now we’ll have to make do. I approve the request.”

“Thank you, sir.” You gave Singer a grateful nod, ignoring the searing feeling of MM’s anger.

“Don’t thank me, girl. If this goes south, it’s your head. Grace, set up a safe house for them ASAP, if I’m signing off on this I want it moving fast.”

Mallory nodded. “It’ll take a few days. We’ll have to transport him there before we wake him up.”

“Do whatever you have to,” Singer said as he stood to leave. “If this is our only shot, we can’t afford to miss.”

[kagscore]

𝜗𝜚 playing games with the boys

feat. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin note. this is self indulgent because i wanna play league with nagi i fear ૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა i hope you enjoy ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing rocket league with 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 looks like . . .

the two of you sitting in his bedroom, you curled up in his lap as you hold the controller. he holds your hands with his, moving the controller and pressing the buttons for you so you can get a grasp of the movements you need to know. slowly but surely, he lets you take full control and quietly cheers for you as you score goals and block them in his favorite game—car soccer. he's almost brimming with excitement at the idea of teaching you all sorts of tricks—flip resets, [insert other terminology]—anything so that eventually the two of you can play duos together and dominate the game. shows you how to decorate your car, the types of cars you can get and laughing when you ask if you could just drive a vw beetle instead. gets himself a second remote to play on his xbox when he thinks you’re finally starting to get the game and trying to cheer you up when you lose your first game duo’d together.

“you sure you wanna keep playing? i know it isn’t the easiest thing in the world…” “i think it’s so cute you wanna get good at this game baby, of course we can play when you come over again.”

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing league of legends with 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 looks like . . .

nagi absolutely tossing you in headfirst into aram, knowing that you won’t get kills or assists and will die a lot but absolutely sweating his balls off so that he can still carry you to a win. you ask a lot of questions about who you’re playing, who you’re playing against, your abilities and ultimates and just generally what to do and him answering every single question you ask with patience and a soft explanation. sometimes you do questionable things in game, but he just laughs and says it’s okay. congratulates when you finally figure out who you want to main, celebrates when you get your first kill, and even buys you that skin you want as a gift for taking the time to play a game with him and spend time with him. always rerolls his character in aram, trying to find someone you like and getting a bit teary eyed when you recognize his favorite character to play once.

“it’s your favorite character, babe, swap me for them.” “i know you’re new, but please stop dying to tower. i’ll even take us out for dinner, i’m begging.”

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing valorant with 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 looks like . . .

rin trying his hardest every game you play together to be the top frag to impress you subtly, and him avenging you every time you die because how could he let his person die without killing the person that killed you? drops you his gun skins and even switches them when you guys wait in queue to skins you prefer—if he doesn’t have the skin you like, he always gives it to you when he finds and kills the person with it in a game. goes into deathmatches to one v. one you to try and help you learn the mechanics of the game and the shooting. if anyone is rude to you in a game, he’s immediately cursing and hexing their family and generational lineage in his head/in chat. he doesn’t like talking in game, but will if it means defending you against everyone else being mean because you’re bottom fragging. buys you your first skin after you get your first kill and periodically logging into your account to buy you more and surprise you sometimes.

“you should try a duelist if you want to get more kills, my love.” “now we just need to get you an ace, and we can do something special.”

[problematicraccoon]

doing the dr incorrect quote thing because it gives me serotonin and i desperately need that atm

(for my main skz dr <3)

Jeongin (on twt): like this for a tbh

Jeongin: (tags me) tbh u kinda ugly

me: I DIDNT EVEN REPLY

Chris: why're you crying?

me, sniffling: just cutting some onions

Chris: those are potatoes

Seungmin: you can never lose an argument if you say "shut up nerd" at the end

me: no you cant

Seungmin: shut up nerd

Jisung: crushes are the worst.

me: i know right? every time im around them i get all stupid

Jisung: but you're stupid all the time

me: yeah. dont think too hard about that

Minho: nice ass. sorry about the mental illness

me: thank you king

me, about Felix and Changbin: he's not just sOmE gUy, he's my GIRLFRIEND

me: can i be frank with you guys

Hyunjin: sure but i dont see how changing your name is gonna help

Felix: can i still be Felix?

Hyunjin: shh, Frank is speaking

me: please. please leave me alone

Jisung: (in the corner of my room at 3am eating a kitkat bar the wrong way)

me: what do you WANT. PLEASE JUST STOP

me: i have Evil Autism. my special interest is being a hater and i stim by starting fights and engaging in shitty discourse with random strangers on the internet

Minho: no you're not you're just a dick

me, when the guys are on tour, leaving me unsupervised in the house: im in your cupboards nibbling on shit. im scurrying im scurrying. im back to nibbling.

also me when the guys leave me unsupervised,

Chris, texting me: are you behaving?

me: NOPE. chewing on electrical cords as we speak

Chris: ffs alyssa

me: >:)

Seungmin: request for you to not be a bitch

me: request denied

Felix: all odd numbers have an e in them

me: Lee Felix it is 3am

Felix: t-h-r-E-E, f-i-v-E, o-n-E

me: GO TO SLEEP

the guys @ each other: love wins! i am sleeping with your girlfriend

Jeongin: if i blended monster energy, red bull, five hour energy, hot cheetos in an energy smoothie, would it kill me?

me, shrugging: only if you die

Jeongin, getting out the blender: you're so smart lyssa

Chris, sprinting into the room: JEONGIN NO

[agentrouka-blog]

You know how in the third book Catelyn thinks about how much grief might've been avoided if it had been Theon instead of Rickard Karstark's sons to die at Jaime Lannister's hands? Well, let's say this does happen. What if Jaime had kill Theon instead of the Karstark boys? What changes? Does this prevent the fall of Winterfell? And more importantly how does Balon react to losing his last remaining son to the Lannisters? Would he still want to attack the North? Or would he decide to get revenge and attack the Westerlands?

Balon didn't consider Theon a factor in his plans to attack the North. (And I doubt he would have bothered to attack the westerlands in revenge. He had bigger plans, and little love to spare for his last son.)

He was already scheming in that direction well before Theon showed up as Robb's envoy.

A great number of longships, fifty or sixty at the least, stood out to sea or lay beached on the pebbled shore to the north. Some of the sails bore devices from the other islands; the blood moon of Wynch, Lord Goodbrother’s banded black warhorn, Harlaw’s silver scythe. (...) Had Lord Balon anticipated him and called the Greyjoy banners? (.....)

"Do you think I gather my ships to watch them rock at anchor? I mean to carve out a kingdom with fire and sword . . . but not from the west, and not at the bidding of King Robb the Boy. Casterly Rock is too strong, and Lord Tywin too cunning by half. Aye, we might take Lannisport, but we should never keep it. No. I hunger for a different plum . . . not so juicy sweet, to be sure, yet it hangs there ripe and undefended.” (ACOK, Theon I)

But Balon also never intended to take Winterfell as quickly as Theon did. He meant to have Theon cause small disturbances at the Stony Shore near Torrhen's Square, and for Asha to take Deepwood Motte, to provoke a distracting response and then cut off the only land route in and out.

“Victarion,” Lord Balon said to his brother, “the main thrust shall fall to you. When my sons have struck their blows, Winterfell must respond. You should meet small opposition as you sail up Saltspear and the Fever River. At the headwaters, you will be less than twenty miles from Moat Cailin. The Neck is the key to the kingdom. Already we command the western seas. Once we hold Moat Cailin, the pup will not be able to win back to the north . . . and if he is fool enough to try, his enemies will seal the south end of the causeway behind him, and Robb the boy will find himself caught like a rat in a bottle.” Theon could keep silent no longer. “A bold plan, Father, but the lords in their castles—” Lord Balon rode over him. “The lords are gone south with the pup. Those who remained behind are the cravens, old men, and green boys. They will yield or fall, one by one. Winterfell may defy us for a year, but what of it? The rest shall be ours, forest and field and hall, and we shall make the folk our thralls and salt wives.” (ACOK, Theon II)

Theon made a bit of a botch of that when he inspired the remaining northmen to rally against him in one place he didn't have the men to defend:

"If only you'd had the good sense to raze the castle and carry the two little princelings back to Pyke as hostages, you might have won the war in a stroke." (...) "Your prize will be the doom of you. Krakens rise from the sea, Theon, or did you forget that during your years among the wolves? Our strength is in our longships. My wooden pisspot sits close enough to the sea for supplies and fresh men to reach me whenever they are needful. But Winterfell is hundreds of leagues inland, ringed by woods, hills, and hostile holdfasts and castles. And every man in a thousand leagues is your enemy now, make no mistake. You made certain of that when you mounted those heads on your gatehouse." (ACOK, Theon V)

Theon manages to hand the victory over his small ironborn force (and the remaining Stark-loyalist northmen!) to Ramsay Bolton, who burns the castle, which is a big blow to Robb. But the other ironborn remain at Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte and Torrhen's Square, theoretically keeping to the plan to take over the north.

Of course, all that comes to an end anyway when Balon dies and the kingsmoot is called.

So, given Balon's end, yes, I think Catelyn is right and Theon's death would have prevented the fall of Winterfell and the "subsequent "deaths" of Bran and Rickon at ironborn hands, while the attack on the north itself would still have gone ahead and later stalled due to Balon's death.

Of course, we can't know what other plans Ramsay may have come up with to cause chaos in the North and weaken the Starks. He was happy enough to immediately make brutal moves on the Hornwood lands and was already undercover as Reek at Winterfell when Theon showed up.

So. Potentially a lot of things could still have gone in a similar direction without Theon's involvement.

[seikotakai]

Thoughts on Tekken 8 demo (so far)

>I'm enjoying it so far. I already got that warrior rank by destroying everyone with my boy Jin Kazama. Also I am so glad Bandai Namco finally added vs CPU as an option (which they should've done years ago smh, but better now than never I guess). I always spent most of my time playing Soul Calibur 6 just playing as my favorite characters or customizations in the vs CPU mode. The vs CPU really does add replay value to the game (playing as your favorite characters, wanting to see your favorite characters's special intros with the other characters in the roster which is epic). Glad they're bringing back Tekken Ball as well. Oh maybe some more single player content would be great too (like idk bring back survival mode, time attack, or team battle).

>Still hoping Tekken 6 gets retconned (ex. jin got brainwashed by azazel like how nina got brainwashed by shrek in tekken 3) and Kazuya does not fucking die.（πーπ）

>I'm actually so happy Kazuya defeated Jin in the first chapter. Sure eventually of course at the end of the game Jin Kazama will get stronger and beat him in a rematch. But like...after watching every single mortal kombat villain (except Shao Kahn, Shang Tsung, and the bug bitch who killed Mileena) being pathetic jokes who get their asses kicked every 5 seconds. It's refreshing to me seeing Kazuya finally be a threat instead of being like Team Rocket or FANG from Street Fighter V's story mode. *shudders* (oh and also people on youtube comments won't complain about "jIn AlWaYs WiNs" because he lost to kaz here and he also lost to both hwoarang and miguel).

>can't put kazuya in the cute little flower booba shirt because no customization in demo. ( ╥ω╥ ) on the bright side, the main menu literally lets you stare at kazuya's sexy tits and sexy dilf body in general in multiple directions. beautiful.

>the arcade quest was neat too, at least the avatar characters are kind of cute (they are not ugly and shit as the stupid fucking Sportsmates from Nintendo Switch Sports who tried to replace the miis). I had fun kicking everyone's asses and I cheered when Kazuya won that tournament and kicked someone's ass.

>Jin's special intros with some characters like Xiaoyu are cute. Too bad you cannot fight Hwoarang in the demo so you cannot get his and Asuka has no special intro with him for some stupid reason.

>there's also some hope that maybe some of the side characters will be relevant in this game and get to shine (keyword maybe...knowing every game since tekken 6, they will probably drop the ball). it was neat seeing everyone joining the tournament in the intro chapter including lili, paul, and steve. i mean in tekken bloodline king gets to do some cool shit and paul was not a joke that time.

>Fighting and almost losing to Panda made me more upset Anna is not in this game come on now. I know Bandai Namco obviously lowkey hates Bruce Irvin because they replaced him twice now. First he was replaced by Bryan in Tekken 3 (don't worry Bryan ily problematic babygirl) and then Josie in Tekken 7. But man, why can't either of Kazuya's bodyguards be in this game or Tekken 7 at launch (although to be fair, Eddy is not in Tekken 8 either so). Fucking make Kuma an alternate costume of Panda, then BRING BACK ANNA! We gotta have both Nina and Anna, man! At least Kazuya still has the greedy coffee CEO lady Azucena by his side tho. She knows Kazuya will make her coffee sell more $$$ and Kazuya looks hot.

>So you can make your own ghost data now or something...okay.

>I adore the voice acting in this game so far, especially Isshin Chiba's amazing work as Jin Kazama as usual. I love listening to his voice, it's so badass and yet it's also a quality asmr voice. Masanori Shinohara also does wonders as Kazuya Mishima.

Still not too sure whether to buy this game or not (yet)...but I'm a little more optimistic now.

[doctorstrangeaskblog]

Could Doctor Strange be Agamotto's reincarnation? (I would love that, Marvel PLEASE DO THIS!!!)

Avengers #62 came out and the similarities between Stephen and Agamotto are HUGE. There are so many superficial and deep things they have in common, plus the red clothing Agamotto uses to fly that resembles a different form of the Cloak of Levitation.

If you read the Avengers #62 that came out recently, you can notice some details like:

-Agamotto doesn't know how he came to be, so were his memories erased? Or did he die as a human and ascended as a god (but that made him lose his memories?) -He's constantly called Wizard, so he WAS sorcerer, like Stephen. -The Eye of Agamotto, specially in the MCU, only works properly when Doctor Strange uses it. Others can just open it apparently, and Mordo and Wong were shocked when Stephen used the book to open the Eye, since most sorcerers had tried for years and failed, while the Eye simply opened and worked for Stephen the first time he tried. -Agamotto has some issues/existential crisis things very similar to what Stephen does- apparently he's unable to be happy, always thinking and wondering about the future (like Stephen in DS2, who even after saving the would couldn't be happy while wondering about what if this what if that and future issues) -Agamotto seems to understand medicine. In the chapter, he teachers villagers how to use herbs and natural medicines- Stephen Strange is a doctor. -Agamotto seems unable to recognize all the love and appreciation he receives from people he saves and villagers (Stephen seems to have the same issue in the MCU and in the comics) -His magic is pink, and in the comics, Doctor Strange's magic was pink for MANY issues/sagas. Of course it depends of the spell, but what I mean is his MAIN magic (in the comic book covers and such) also is pink. -There are some "puns" in this comic, lines Agamotto says like "this was strange" "it were strange times" AND THE WORD STRANGE IS ALWAYS BOLD. On purpose. In the comic. Read the chapter and you will see, I mean it.

-Agamotto looks like Stephen Strange SO much. Face, cheeks, facial hair, hair, white hair streaks. -He is SO kind. And he has SO MUCH hope. So many Stephen vibes, who in the MCU went against Dormammu despite the chances of winning being so low, and he also keeps fighting until the end. -Agamotto has the third eye (that Stephen does in the comics AND in the MCU) -Agamotto has Memory Spell skills and suggests in the comics using it to erase suffering, so he could have used it on himself- in the MCU Stephen knows memory spells and has already used it a few times. Also, memory spells was one of the first and most important Doctor Strange powers in the comics. (Since 1963). -Agamotto flies in the same position Stephen flies, which is "levitating while standing" and not "flying Superman style" or "Captain Marvel Style" (he levitates). -The poses he uses to conjure his spells are very similar to Stephen's, and other sorcerers have used different poses, it's not something every sorcerer does in the comics, it IS very similar to Doctor Strange's poses.

-Mephisto and him have been fighting for EONS, again and again, and in the comics, Mephisto is one of the most recurring enemies of Doctor Strange- and in the ages Doctor Strange fights Mephisto, there is no Agamotto to fight Mephisto. -Agamotto has been illustrated in the "future timeline" of the Marvel Comics (since this comic happens in the past) as a soul tiger/beast, and in some flashbacks of Thor's comics, very similar to what he is shown in this comic, but older. So could it be that he was a sorcerer who ascended to a god (a Vishanti), but his "human" part (soul, spirit, essence) died in the process- but since he never quit defending the Earth, he reincarnated as Stephen to continue doing the same things he did when he was alive?? Like, it would justify that there is the entity Agamotto and Doctor Strange at the same timeline, because Stephen would be the human part of Agamotto, while the tiger soul we see is the part of his soul that ascended and became a Vishanti?? -In older comics, there's an issue Agamotto tries to take over Stephen's body- however, according to a great ton of Marvel comics lore, a god would need a specific human vessel to be able to possess it fully or share his/her powers in a relevant amount without DESTROYING the body they are possessing- so why would Agamotto think he could use Stephen's body without problems? Maybe he's compatible because he's a reincarnation or some sort of avatar? -The Marvel lore is not specific to any religion per se, so we could even be talking about something like Avatar The Legend of Aang, where there are different past Avatars that can interact with Aang, even though they are the reincarnation of the same soul/spirit, so Stephen interacting with Agamotto wouldn't be a contradiction at all to take down the theory.

There are MORE similarities between them but this is getting very long, so please, tell me what you think.

[litgwritersroom]

What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Macau

Shannon/MC - 5600+ words - @banirareiko

Shannon has an unexpected time in Las Vegas after her short stint on Love Island. NSFW.

Shannon Callaghan had never, ever lost in life. She had always been a winner in every sense possible. Blessed with quick wit and a sharp eye for details, since childhood, she had learned and known by heart how to get ahead and finesse a win for herself– she had never once unable to have the people around her at her beck and call, nor unable to have everything she wanted in the palm of her hand. She knew how to strike people where it hurt and bend them to her will.

She knew how to play ‘em like the fucking Beatles without fail… until Love Island.

Gosh, it was a fucking embarrassment. Shannon Callaghan, Dublin’s Ace, a professional poker player with an undefeated win streak and the ability to read people like an open book, fucking losing to not one, but two lying meatheads with the only redeeming quality being their abs after masterfully playing her way into the main villa as a Casa Amor girl?

And on fucking national television on top of all that?

A clown show. A fucking clown show.

Shannon would rather die than let that bitch Jo have the satisfaction of seeing her sweat when she dragged her luggage out of the Mallorca villa, even when her feet felt like lead and the wheels of the suitcase seemed stuck at one place onto the ground.

Just take the high road, Shannon. Act like you’re not bothered, get the fuck out, and never, ever, let yourself be outplayed like that, ever again.

Head held high and a fake smile plastered on her face, Shannon left the villa without turning back. She would take this as a learning lesson to never, ever fuck up like this, ever again.

—

But of course, even the Ace of Dublin was human, and it was completely human to just want to run away from everything to somewhere far after suddenly having flashbacks of the public humiliation of being played by two people who didn’t even end up staying together for long. Even after three entire fucking years since the second season of Love Island.

And that was how she ended up in Nevada, United States of America, on the third anniversary of Love Island Season Two.

Seriously, Shannon? Las fucking Vegas?

Shannon had been chastising herself the entire flight from Dublin because the rowdy scene of Vegas was anything but befitting of her image of a poised and classy woman, but also in her defence, she had wanted to go somewhere wild and fun, but also would allow her to swipe a pot or two of the cha-ching because who wouldn’t love to take some more money out of snobbish rich people’s pockets anyway?

She supposed she should do something different for a change, after all.

—

Las Vegas was… something. Shannon was pleasantly surprised, actually.

She didn’t really expect herself to enjoy her trip as much as she was.

The food was amazing. Her hotel was actually very fancy and the service was top notch, all things considered, and the casinos, especially the casinos, had been exceeding her expectations so far.

In the past three days, she had managed to make just shy of a million dollars, much to the dealers’ utmost surprise and the other players’ anger.

Darlings, you don’t know what real poker is.

Smirking to herself, Shannon put on the most flashy sequin gown she owned, before running her perfectly manicured hand through her fiery curls, touching up her lipstick and adjusting the deep v-neck of her dress to show off the delicious curves of her body, then slipped on her sparkly silver heels and headed down to the casino.

Time for business.

Tonight, Shannon would win big again. These crusty old men and their airhead trophy wives were too predictable. She would not have any trouble making them a little less rich at all. Her streak in the last three nights had proven that much.

It would be a great night.

Except the next morning, Shannon woke up with the biggest hangover she had ever experienced in her life in an unfamiliar (yet super comfortable) four-poster bed with the fanciest canopy she had ever seen, in a fancy room that definitely was not the Vegas hotel room she had paid good money for.

The silver gown she wore last night was hastily thrown on some fancy-arse chair in front of an ivory vanity table. Her heels were lying lonely on the polished mahogany floor at the corner of the room, by the curtains draping over a huge window that she could only assume was floor-to-ceiling. And her knickers–

Fuck, my knickers.

To Shannon’s utmost horror, her knickers somehow ended up on top of the window bar holding the golden silk curtains up high.

Wait…

Shannon realised that she was naked. Completely naked. In a strange bed. In a strange room.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuc–

“You’re up, lovely.”

As the sing-song voice slowly registered in Shannon’s head, she turned around. Her eyes widened.

A young woman about the same age as Shannon and equally as naked as Shannon was propped herself up from the plush mattress, a mischievous smile twinkling on her delicate face as her long, wavy chocolate brown hair fell all over her pale golden skin.

Before Shannon could even react, the young woman laughed,

“You were really loud last night, wifey.”

Wifey… Huh…

Huh?

Shannon immediately brought her left hand up to her face, and instantly, dread, confusion and fear filled up her bloodstream. The awfully gaudy diamond ring on her left ring finger that she definitely did not shell out any money for was twinkling almost too happily, as if to mock her that she definitely had just broken her new three-year-long streak of no clownery by getting married to who she assumed was the young woman in bed next to her last night.

Amazing. She came to Vegas to forget the time she got clowned on national television, only to end up clowning herself all over again.

Shannon Callaghan, what the fuck did you just get yourself into?

The strange girl, or allegedly, Shannon’s new wife, chuckled playfully as Shannon literally began ripping her hair out of her head, but nonetheless, offered a sympathetic smile, then hopped off the bed, shamelessly letting the blanket fell back onto the bed to reveal soft, smooth skin, perky tits and arse and a delicate, petite frame. Then she disappeared into what Shannon could assume was a probably very fancy and huge-as-shit bathroom, and soon, Shannon heard water running as a faint waft of floral fragrance began hitting her nose and permeating the air around her.

Then the water stopped and her new “wife” returned with a gigantic, fluffy towel and tossed it onto the bed.

“Just ran you a hot bath, beautiful,” the brunette winked, “Hope it helps.”

In all honesty, Shannon’s head was just too fucked for her to even have the energy to protest. Hence, she wordlessly nodded, covered herself with the towel, then headed into the bathroom for the hot bath the girl had just offered her.

Holy–

Shannon guessed right. This bathroom was at least twice as big as the communal bathroom in the Mallorca villa. And fancy. Really fancy. White-marble-and-gold type shit fancy. Like, who in the fucking hell beside the filthy rich people would fucking run a hot bath with rose petals and fucking gold leaves so casually just like that?

As Shannon slid into the bubbly hot (and expensive) water, a contented sigh involuntarily escaped her mouth, her mind began wandering. By deduction, whoever this girl, who Shannon had just apparently married the night before because Shannon just had to stupidly demote herself from being the Ace to being the fucking Joker for whatever reason, was, she had got to be among the filthy rich.

One of those crazy rich Asians. Like in that one movie starring the British-Malay heartthrob Henry Golding.

Shannon honestly hoped that this whole getting married thing was just a prank. A game. Like those rich people’s games when they had nothing better to do. But even so, clearly, she had definitely got herself into a mess with one of them.

And she needed to get out.

Breathe, Shannon, breathe. You can do this. You can play your way out of here.

“Are you alright? Is the water to your liking?”

The girl, now clad in a golden silk robe, daintily sat down by the bathtub. That snapped Shannon out of her thoughts.

“I’m fine,” Shannon offered a weak smile through the headache wrecking her brain, “Thank you.”

The girl smiled in return and nodded, and Shannon had now just realised that perhaps she was not so stupid having impulsively got herself tangled up in this situation after all.

Big brown eyes, thick and long lashes, a cute button nose and peachy soft lips that Shannon just wanted to take a bite. This girl was fucking gorgeous.

Last night must’ve been fucking amazing, then.

“I’m Kariel, just in case you forgot, which I think you actually did,” the girl chuckled, “and we had a great time and even a wedding in Vegas last night.”

Oh fuck so it did happen.

“Oh, and,” Kariel grinned almost a little too happily to Shannon’s comfort, “We’re on our honeymoon in my vacation home. In Macau.”

Huh…?

Shannon blinked once, twice, and then–

“MACAU!?”

—

“Too easy.”

This was the fourth time tonight that Shannon had been able to scoop all three players at her table with little trouble and made three new enemies in the process. But what could they do? She had beaten them fair and square in front of many. They could be bitter all they wanted. It wasn’t like their deals on the NYSE or NASDAQ trading floor wouldn’t recuperate that money for them the next day anyway.

All eyes were on Shannon. She smirked to herself. How she missed being praised like a goddess in front of many just like this.

After that stint Ibrahim pulled on her three years ago, she needed this more than ever.

Out of the admiring and seething eyes on her, Shannon could feel it. A certain someone was watching her. A certain someone who she could make out of the corner of her eye to be as intriguing and perhaps intelligent as they were extremely pleasant on the eye.

An amused smile curled on her lips. She knew they were approaching her from behind.

“Good evening, lovely.”

A sing-song voice softly caressed Shannon’s ear. A perfectly manicured French tips hand daintily brushed over her shoulder. Shannon didn’t shrug it off.

Her nostril caught a waft of a citrusy floral scent that she immediately recognised as Atelier Cologne’s Pacific Lime. Very expensive shit. Recently discontinued in the United States and Canada, and only sold exclusively now in Europe.

Shannon could tell that this woman was among the actually rich society in the casino tonight.

“Kariel Leung,” the woman smiled and took a step forward, now in front of Shannon, “I’m very impressed at how you played these old geezers. Almost made me want to make a bet against their wives on you to beat ‘em all tonight.”

Of fucking course. Rich bitch™. Only a rich bitch would make bets on people betting just like that.

Shannon involuntarily let a snicker slip, but she honestly couldn’t stay annoyed for too long as soon as her eyes fell upon the woman who had just introduced herself as Kariel, now up close and personal right in front of her.

What a vision, Shannon had to admit. Kariel was stunning. Drop dead gorgeous, even. Petite frame in a casual black bandage gown with cut-outs across the chest that hugged her perky curves in all the right places, balancing gracefully on a pair of simple black stilettos. Long chocolate brown hair gently curled into perfect ringlets. Pale golden skin that basically glowed under the soft golden light illuminating the casino floor. Light, yet immaculate makeup accentuating long, dark lashes over brown almond-shaped eyes on a delicate face framed by a pair of plain dangling gold earrings. Soft lips painted in brick red and plumped with deliciously juicy gloss.

Classy. Elegant. Beautiful.

Shannon realised that this girl didn’t even need to put out all the stops with the flashy bling-bling to get the message across that she was beyond just rich. Her black bandage dress looked casual enough, but upon a closer look, it was unmistakably a vintage Herve Leger piece that was at least a few thousand quids. Her black stilettos seemed quite basic and simple, but the signature red soles of Louboutin shoes on their underside said otherwise.

Kariel was not just rich, but rich and powerful. It was the quiet luxury she was displaying that had convinced Shannon to believe that this girl was not one to trifle with.

But that didn’t scare Shannon, nor stop her from getting snarky with the rich girl anyway.

“Glad to have impressed you,” Shannon put on a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “but I’d rather not be a racehorse to entertain you and the snobbish airheads married to the dumb geezers I’ve just wiped the floor with.”

Kariel raised an eyebrow, and Shannon fistbumped herself inside.

Good job Shannon.

“Now if you would excuse me,” Shannon let that fake smile twitch on her face again, before dropping it completely and opting for a more serious look to show that she was done playing games, “There’s another table calling my name to swipe all that cash from.”

But much to Shannon’s surprise, Kariel wasn’t even fazed one bit at the not-so-subtle “fuck you” Shannon had just given her. Instead, the Asian woman returned Shannon’s fake smile with an amused smirk on her face, then gracefully turned around and beckoned Shannon to follow her.

“Oh, yes,” Kariel’s laugh was musical, “You’re right. There’s a table waiting for you over here. But I’m not so sure about you scooping ‘em all just yet.”

Then the girl turned back briefly to face Shannon,

“Come, Dublin’s Ace. Let’s see how you fare yourself against me. One on one. My game.”

“How the f–

“Love Island is my guilty pleasure, Shannon Callaghan,” Kariel laughed again, “But anyway, let’s play some Chinese poker. A pro like you wouldn’t have a problem with such a simple game, I’d imagine.”

Shannon could only blink in confusion, but still, the proud Dublin’s Ace in her didn’t want to give that away. She had a reputation and an image to maintain, after all.

Besides, the game was simple enough. Beginner-friendly, even. Stacking thirteen cards in three hands of five, five, and three, from the bottom up, in ascending order of hand. Shannon would only need to win two out three hands to earn her cash for the round.

There would be no way in hell she would lose. Especially not to a rich bitch™.

Beating this rich girl and shutting that sing-song laugh up for good would probably be really fun, actually.

“Alright, you’ve got my attention. Let’s play.”

—

Tonight, Shannon had learned three things.

One, Kariel was actually a fucking Macanese heiress. Her father actually owned this casino, plus its international branches in both Monte Carlo and Macau, which explained how the dealers were basically at her beck and call and more than ready to accommodate a game of Chinese poker just for two players because Vegas casinos didn’t host this kind of poker very often, actually.

Two, Kariel was actually good at the game. None of that luck bollocks. The heiress was, in fact, so bloody skilled and actually was very intelligent and strategic with her gameplay.

Usually, people would bolster their bottom hand because that would be the highest hand in the set, but Shannon noticed after a couple rounds that Kariel actually would try to set her top hand as high as possible while still making sure there would be no mis-set on her end. That annoyed Shannon to no end, actually.

Because that was how Shannon would have arranged her hand, too.

For the first time ever since Shannon started her Vegas trip, she had met someone who she could consider a worthy opponent. If Shannon Callaghan was Dublin’s Ace, then Kariel Leung would be the Ace of Macau.

As much as Shannon hated to admit, Kariel did give her a run for her money, fair and square.

It would make sense, though. This girl had literally grown up in casinos all her life.

As Shannon turned over the last card dealt to her, her eyes almost widened at the hand she had, but her instincts immediately kicked in, and at the last second, she managed to hide her surprise behind the usual poker face that had marched her victory so many times before.

Kariel’s face was also expressionless. She gave nothing away. When it was time for the hand reveal, she gave the dealer a nod.

“Natural.”

Shannon kept her mouth tight as Kariel’s hand gracefully dropped on the table. Pair of tens, pair of nines, pair of eights, pair of sevens, pair of six’s, pair of fives and a random number card that didn’t really matter anymore–

“Six and a half pairs,” the dealer called.

That would be a whopping six points for Kariel. She would win six times the amount she had bet for that round, if Shannon didn’t have anything better to beat that hand.

Shannon tried her very best to maintain her perfect poker face. She had to keep up the show, until the very end.

It’d be worth it.

“Natural.”

Kariel raised an eyebrow, but in amusement rather than annoyance that Shannon also was declaring a natural hand. Nonetheless, the girl kept herself cool and composed.

Shannon didn’t blame her, actually. Six and a half pairs wouldn’t be the lowest of the natural hands.

But it would be lower than an–

“All Broadway.”

It took Shannon all of her self-restraint and then some to keep a victorious smirk from stretching across her face as her hand dropped.

Four aces, two kings, three queens, four jacks. A whopping thirty-two points.

That would be three hundred and twenty thousand dollars that Shannon had won. Lady Luck was on her side tonight.

“Congratulations,” Kariel smiled, and much to Shannon’s surprise, there wasn’t even an ounce of sarcasm or malice dripping in the girl’s melodious voice, “You’ve beaten me, fair and square.”

But Shannon knew it was just sheer, dumb luck–

“Don’t worry, really,” Kariel stood up, motioning for the dealer that she would like to close the table, “It’s just pocket change for me. Pretty refreshing to see a showdown of pure luck, actually.”

It was indeed a showdown of pure luck. A natural hand was never to be played. It was given. Nobody would know when they were getting one. Nobody would know if they were the only one with a natural hand at the table, or if their natural hand would be the highest in the game.

And so, the third thing Shannon had learned tonight was that anything could happen even in a game of skills. In the case of a natural hand showdown, nobody could play their way to the top. Lady Luck would be the one deciding who would rise and who would fall.

And that got Shannon thinking, maybe, just maybe, the whole debacle with Ibrahim and Jo was a case of luck, rather than who the better player was, after all.

But for tonight, she’d rather not think about Ibrahim. Luck or not, he had still done her so dirty with his reluctance to be honest and upfront with her. He did not deserve to occupy her mind right now. She was having a good time in Vegas, and she intended to keep it that way.

“Hey,” The Macanese heiress sauntered towards Shannon and stretched out a hand towards her with a bright smile, “I like you, Shannon. I want to get acquainted with you.”

Shannon blinked once, twice, but nonetheless took Kariel’s hand, and silently gasped at the electric feeling of the heiress’s slender fingers sensually slipping in between her larger ones.

“Let’s head to the VIP lounge. Just you and me. I’m itching to crack open my D’Amalfi Supreme. That shit’s been collecting dust in the cabinet, and I don’t want to just let twenty-seven million dollars worth of good shit go to waste like that. You seem cool. I wanna share this with you.”

Kariel grinned playfully and squeezed Shannon’s hand.

But in all honesty, even a pro poker player like Shannon was having trouble processing the information that the heiress had just casually dropped.

Twenty-seven bloody million dollars for a bottle of Limoncello.

Just how fucking loaded was this girl’s family?

—

“Fuck Ibrahim. Fuck Jo. Fuck the both of them, really.”

Shannon had no idea how many fucking shots she had taken or how many different kinds of liqueur including that very expensive Limoncello in a diamond-embellished bottle she had thrown back in the past hour ever since she let Kariel lead her into the exclusive VIP lounge at the back of the casino. Her head was spinning. Her hair was tousled. Her lipstick smeared and her mascara was running. She was a total mess, emotional and drunk. A stark contrast from her usual cool, calm and collected demeanour.

Kariel offered her a sympathetic side hug, squeezing her tight against the heiress’s petite frame. Shannon was grateful that at the very least, there was someone listening and understanding her. As much as she had been doing her best to keep her cool and move on from the clownery she found herself in on Love Island, it had been bothering her a great deal in the past three years.

It didn’t help that Shannon had been bottling all this bitterness up inside of her all this time, too.

Especially when she couldn’t help but wonder if she was lowkey being body-shamed by Ibrahim, because it was really hard not to see her, a big girl, being cast aside for a girl with a banging bod like Jo, as anything else.

Shannon had been telling herself that confidence was the most powerful weapon she could wield, and pretending to keep that confidence intact was a close second. Nobody would know how insecure this entire Ibrahim fiasco had made her become and how fucked up her mind had been ever since she was dumped from the villa. Nobody would know.

Nobody, except, for some reason, Kariel Leung.

“Honestly, to hell with them and their obsession for fitness. They didn’t even last that long after the show,” Kariel scoffed, “Good riddance, really. He dropped a beauty with an actual brain for some airhead liar.”

Shannon froze. Being called a beauty was the last thing she would expect to hear from anyone. Especially from the epitome of beauty herself.

Shannon would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to the Macanese heiress who had both riled her up and been a friend to her, even a little bit. Which was an unfamiliar feeling because she had only ever been with men before.

In all honesty, she wouldn’t be opposed to getting herself tangled up with a woman.

Shannon felt her heart thump hard and fast against her ribcage as Kariel scooted closer and closer, and soon, the heiress’s face was only mere inches away from hers.

“Fuck, Shannon, you’re beautiful. Never forget that.”

A slew of emotions Shannon had never experienced before washed over her as Kariel leaned in to press her soft lips against Shannon’s plump ones, then threaded her slender fingers into Shannon’s tousled fiery curls and parted Shannon’s mouth gently with her tongue.

Shannon gasped. Kariel took the opportunity to slide her tongue in to caress the inside of her mouth.

All these feelings were just so new to Shannon. So unfamiliar. So nerve-racking. Yet at the same time so intoxicating and leaving her wanting more.

So Shannon wound her arms around the Macanese heiress’s waists, pulled the girl flushed against her voluptuous breasts, and moved her mouth to kiss her back.

Fuck–

Shannon could feel Kariel smirk against her lips. Much to her disappointment, though, the heiress pulled away after a moment.

But what Kariel said next set Shannon ablaze with desire.

“How far do you want to take this tonight, gorgeous?”

The Macanese’s lips ghosted against Shannon’s lips. Her warm breath sent a jolt straight down Shannon’s spine, and almost instantly, Shannon felt a warm wet patch begin to form on her knickers.

She wanted this. She needed this.

She needed Kariel.

“How far are you willing to go, Kariel?”

The heiress grinned against Shannon’s mouth after swiping her wicked tongue across Shannon’s lips, “However far you’re willing to go, sexy.”

That was more than enough for Shannon to let go of the last of her restraint and shamelessly grabbed onto Kariel’s hands and guided them to slip into the deep V neck of her dress to fondle her tits.

“I want to go all the way.”

Kariel pulled back, her eyes lit up happily as if she was a kid in a candy shop, her hands continued to gently squeeze around the softness of Shannon’s mounds, occasionally brushing her thumbs over the hardening nipples. Shannon gasped at the sensation, but before her gasp could even fully form, Kariel had already captured her mouth into another searing kiss, while at the same time slithered her hand onto Shannon’s back and toyed with the zipper of her gown.

In a minute, Shannon’s gown pooled around her ankles, and soon, so did Kariel’s. Before long, both women were stripped down to their underwear, and Shannon was glad that she had decided to go braless for the night.

But Kariel— Fuck, Kariel was the very definition of sex on legs in sheer black lace lingerie while keeping her black Louboutin stilettos on.

The heiress gave Shannon a seductive smirk, then pushed Shannon down the plush sofa and without hesitation, latched her mouth onto one of Shannon’s hard nipples while trailing one hand down the valley of Shannon’s huge tits, past her soft belly, then dipping into Shannon’s knicker to playfully flicker her thin fingers along the slick, soaking slit of Shannon’s dripping cunt.

“You’re happy to see me in a teddy,” Kariel released Shannon’s nipple with a pop, then bent down and suck hard on the other nipple and trailed her tongue down, down, down—

A loud moan escaped Shannon’s mouth as the heiress brushed Shannon’s knickers to the side and swiped her tongue along Shannon’s cunt, but not before giving her clit a sounding suck and a cheeky, gentle bite.

“And you taste as delicious as you look. Gosh, I’ve been wanting to have some hot as shit sex with you ever since I saw you breaking down the old geezers on the floor, baby girl.”

Shannon could honestly get used to this. Being eaten out by another woman was something that was amazing beyond imagination, she realised.

She couldn’t care any less how increasingly loud her moans had become by now.

Everything then went by in a blur.

Shannon tried to burn the feelings into every cell of her skin.

Kariel tasted fucking divine when Shannon returned the favour by sucking and lapping at the heiress’s equally as wet cunt.

And the scissoring, bloody hell, the scissoring was just out of this world. The sloppy wet sound of clit rubbing against clit was one Shannon found incredibly lustful, and that kept her going for more. Every buck of her hips, ever flicker of her tongue against Kariel’s, every squeeze of her hands on Kariel’s small but perky tits, every soft pinch of Kariel’s dainty fingers on her nipples— Shannon slowly slipped further and further into the quicksand of immense pleasure and euphoria.

Shannon lost count of how many times she had come that night having sex with Kariel. But one thing she knew for sure, was that she had thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience, and realised that perhaps this would be something that she’d really be into, after all.

Kariel gave Shannon a loud, sloppy kiss on the mouth as both women hastily pulled their dresses back on, but neither of them wanted the night to end there.

Picking up a bottle of tequila, Kariel took a long swig, then handed it to Shannon, who then took a long swig as well. Both women were still so bloody drunk, even after all that iron-pumping sex they just had with one another.

“Hey, I got an idea,” Kariel slinged an arm around Shannon’s shoulder, “Let’s do one of those Elvis weddings together. I heard those are fuuuuuuunnnnnn— Oh! After that, let’s take my private jet back to Macau. Let’s team up tomorrow and take my dad’s friends’ money at the casino over there!”

Shannon honestly was too high in the clouds to even stop for a second and realise that this was all so messy and would get her into a mess that would be so hard to get out of—

“What the hell? I’m in!”

—

“Fuck, Shannon, fuck—

“Kariel… Kari— oh, yes, please. Harder.”

Apparently, Shannon never realised how into being pegged by a woman with a double-ended dildo she would be, until Kariel fucked the both of them with a double-ended dildo in the gigantic bedroom of the heiress’s mansion the moment they both landed in Macau after being married by an Elvis Presley impersonator in Vegas just hours before.

Kariel even got each of them a ring that was at least twenty thousand dollars, too.

Shannon ended up cumming for the however-many-times-it-was-oh-gods-she-definitely-lost-count’th time when Kariel pulled her into a sixty-nine and fingered and ate her swollen cunt out as Shannon herself buried her face deep into Kariel’s equally as swollen cunt.

—

“So…”

“Yep,” Kariel laughed, “Wild night, wasn’t it? We slept in for almost an entire day actually.”

Shannon just wanted the water in the bathtub to swallow her whole. This was so fucking embarrassing. Not only did she get so drunk her brain was gone, but she also had had wild sex multiple times with the same woman who was now taking care of her through her hangover, and mindlessly got herself into a fucking marriage with said woman.

Not to mention it was a wedding officiated by some rando in an Elvis Presley costume.

“I’m so sorry,” Shannon sighed, “Fuck I didn’t think I’d get this fucked up—

“It’s alright, lovely,” Kariel grabbed her hand and gently squeezed in reassurance, “I quite enjoyed it. It was a very good experience, actually.”

Shannon would be damned if she said she didn’t thoroughly enjoy it too.

“But Kariel, we barely even know each other and we’re now married for fuck’s sake—

The realisation that Kariel’s rich and powerful father would soon be on Shannon’s arse for this was not helping, too, at all.

“Oh, that,” Kariel shook her head with a smile, “It was never legally binding. We never signed a license, so technically, we’re not married in the eye of the law. I was just playing earlier. The ring was just for show.”

Oh.

Shannon supposed that was one problem solved.

But then she realised that she was in bloody Macau, in bloody Asia. An entire day of flying away from either Las Vegas or her home in Dublin.

And all her luggage was still in Nevada.

And she probably had missed her flight back to Dublin, too.

“Oh shi—

“Don’t worry,” Kariel smiled sadly, “I get it. I’ll have my private jet fly you back to Dublin and the hotel staff pack up and ship your luggage to your home.”

Shannon breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”

Yet why, just why did she feel a little bit sad just now at the thought of probably never seeing Kariel again once she landed back in Dublin?

But to her pleasant surprise, Kariel suddenly went silent, as if finding the right words to say, before taking a deep breath and asked, her eyes twinkling hopefully.

“Shannon, I know we’ve just met and somehow we did some mad crazy shit the night before. But I mean it when I said I really liked you, and that you’re really beautiful and I’m attracted to you. So if you’d like, and only if you’d like, I could arrange for you to stay a few more days so you and I can fuck with the old sexist men on the casino floor, and just sorta get to know one another and enjoy an impromptu vacation. I’ll show you around and we can go anywhere you want. Who knows what the future holds, but at the very least, I want to make a friend out of you. No games. If things do end up going further, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. What do you say?”

The pre-Vegas Shannon would’ve run for the hills. But that Shannon was gone. The post-Vegas Shannon right now had learned that sometimes letting loose and leaving things up to fate would be the best thing to do, especially after having had to bottle everything up inside for so long and put on a charade that she had to be cool, calm and composed all the time.

Besides, she was curious to see how this would unfold. She liked Kariel. If not as a lover, then as a really cool friend who would conspire with her to knock old, opinionated men off their high horse. Her favourite sport to play.

And if Lady Luck decided to grace her once more, then maybe she could have that legendary sex she had just had the night before again, too.

“Yes, Kariel. I’d like that.”

[sexhaver]

Rogue is/was a hugely influential 1980 computer game that has inspired several other developers to make their own "rogue-likes" over the years. these games were/are defined by several key traits:

top-down ASCII graphics (or tilesets if you're feeling really fancy)

grid-based movement

turn-based combat (other entities can only move/act when you do)

randomly generated levels such that no two playthroughs will be the same

extreme difficulty (instant kills are not only fair game but common)

permadeath (when you die you lose that character forever and have to start a new run)

the two most prominent modern examples of true roguelikes are NetHack (1987) and Dungeon Crawl Stone Soup (2006), both of which are still played to this day.

then in september 2011, Edmund McMillen released The Binding of Isaac. at the time everyone called it a roguelike, but in retrospect it was definitely the beginning of the "roguelike"/roguelite" distinction. it departed from the formula listed above on several key points:

actual graphics

regular granular movement

real-time combat (this is the big one)

it kept the randomly generated levels, permadeath, and extreme difficulty, but added a new twist: "meta progression". earning achievements and hitting progress milestones in one run would unlock new items, areas, and enemies for all future runs. this was significantly different from roguelikes, where everything is unlocked from the start and you might as well be starting from a fresh install with each new run.

the main benefit and the main drawback of this change was that it made beating the game less about skill and more about unlocks. for the average player, this setup gives them a natural sense of progress and will result in the average run getting more and more powerful even before accounting for the player getting mechanically better at the game.

it also allowed devs to incentivize players to do otherwise boring or pointless tasks or win with a specific character with the promise of a powerful unlock, increasing replay value a LOT. for example, TBOI has a character called The Lost which has 0 health and can never get any. you start with flying and an item that blocks the first damage you take in every room, which helps a little, but with very few exceptions you're never more than 2 hits away from losing your entire run. this sounds awful, right? why would anyone ever play that character? because if you beat every boss with him on hard mode, you unlock one of the strongest items in the game. stuff like that.

over the next decade, the genre of "roguelite" became kind of gameplay-agnostic; as long as the levels were randomly generated and there was permadeath, the core gameplay could be whatever the dev felt like. this led to more isometric roguelites like TBOI (Enter the Gungeon, Cult of the Lamb, Hades), but also FPS roguelites (Immortal Redneck, Gunfire Reborn, Ziggurat), 2D platformer roguelites (Rogue Legacy, Spelunky, Risk of Rain, Dead Cells), and of course the dreaded deckbuilding roguelite (Slay the Spire, Cobalt Core, Astrea: Six-Sided Oracles)

in december 2021, Luca Galante released Vampire Survivors, inspired by the mobile game Magic Survival. you control a character in a (usually) endless field from a top down view as endless waves of enemies spawn offscreen, automatically attacking them with weapons as they come off cooldown. every so often you level up and get to pick between three weapons, either entirely new ones or upgrades to ones you've already picked up. to this day, after years of updates, there are still no vampires in the game.

this was kind of a roguelite if you squinted: it had permadeath and randomized loot pulled from a pool, after all. however, it made two huge changes to the formula:

instead of winning by progressing through a dungeon to defeat a boss at the end, you won by surviving waves of increasingly powerful enemies for some predetermined amount of time

meta progression went from helpful to mandatory. because there was very little actual skill involved in the gameplay itself (i have lost multiple runs by literally falling asleep at my computer), progression came from unlocking powerful new weapons and buying busted permanent passive bonuses

Luca Galante used to work on slot machine graphics and used that experience to make the gameplay loop as addicting as possible, and he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. in the last two years, his formula has spread through Steam like wildfire. just looking over at my list of games, i see 20 Minutes Till Dawn, Boneraiser Minions, Brotato, Death Must Die, Halls of Torment, Neophyte (this one lets you attack manually at least), Soulstone Survivors, and Swarm Grinder. and those are just the ones i personally own! the appeal from a dev perspective is obvious (way less work to make), which is probably why it feels like there are millions of these games despite the subgenre not even being 3 years old.

works cited:

etymologically speaking, most games on Steam under the "roguelite" tag released since 2022 should really be billed as "Vampire-Survivors-likes"

[filipinoizukuu]

hello mr simp do you have any thoughts on the leeks 👀

FIRST OF ALL. THEY CAME SO FUCKING EARLY??? BRO I WAS ASLEEP

SECOND OF ALL

holy SHIT YALL

Okay, it's no secret that I'm an All Might stan. I LOVE All Might. Very very much. Not just as a simp, but genuinely, I enjoy his character SO MUCH.

--And unlike what some people may think, I'm not totally blind to his flaws. I know he sucks as a mentor and that he's done way more harm to Deku than good. He's.... not perfect. in every sense of the word. The whole point of AM's character is that he is a DEEPLY FLAWED individual— but at the end of the day, still good.

This new chapter gave me SOOO many new feelings. I'm not gonna lie to y'all and say I was a Stain apologist beforehand because I wasn't. I disliked Stain to a certain degree, but I also knew he was morally grey enough that I was able to still quite appreciate him as a character. This chapter was about EVERYTHING to me because I honestly did NOT expect Hori to go in this direction and for things to happen the way they did. It was too good to be true! Too fanfic-y! The disbelief I felt when I read what happened was on par with when Bakugou and Deku had that apology and kinda-hug in the rain!

But this disbelief is not because it was a bad thing.

I think the writing in Chapter 326 is phenomenal. The moment that All Might was really beginning to lose hope in not just himself as a hero, but himself as a PERSON... we finally hear the opinion of someone who would abso-fucking-LUTELY make or break the last of his spirit.

Stain is, as much as his views are pretty agreeable and his label is that of a vigilante, still a pretty shitty guy. He's tried to kill literal kids who got in his way, even if said kids made pretty dumb decisions. AM hearing what he has to say is absolutely mind-boggling to him because he knows all of that. He knows Stain is a shitty person and that his worldview is perhaps terribly skewed. He knows Stain has spent a hot minute frying his brains down in Tartarus and isn't good at making judgment calls. Knows that for all intents and purposes, Stain's opinions are not to be trusted.

But the thing is... Toshinori also knows that Stain, regardless of the soundness of his mind, is telling the truth.

Regardless of how fucked-in-the-head Stain is, we as readers are able to acknowledge that he isn't blinded by hero worship. Sure, he's bitter, cynical, and quite the absolutist--but Stain is still clear-headed enough to be able to see AM's flaws for what they are and accept them, ultimately proving to Toshinori that the power of All Might was never his own but rather the legacy that he inspired.

The society MHA takes place in is flawed. We all know this. Heroes, as a concept, had been corrupted into being purely about good and evil. Purely winning fights for money or fame or the abstract concept of victory (coughs Endeavor and the no.1 spot coughs), making heroism as we know it about flashiness and power instead of mercy and the desire to help others.

All Might symbolizes the ideal version of the Hero Society. He represents doing the best you can. Being a hero until you reach your limits, and then going even past that. He symbolizes pure intention and the desire to be a hero not for material gains but because of the pure want to make society a better and safer place. Stain refers to Kamino Ward and the statue as a "holy land" because he believes that through and through, AM's only had the purest of intentions and morals. To him, Toshinori was like a deity that had no fault in making society what it was in the present because that accountability fell on the generations of heroes that failed to fulfill his legacy.

The point being, Stain understood that All Might was fundamentally not about 'being there' for everyone 24/7, but rather the message his presence had sent.

All Might's monologue at the beginning of the chapter essentially boiled down to the ideas that:

A. He regrets not being there properly for Deku

B. His image was a delusion that ultimately led to the downfall of hero society.

To break this down, his problem with Deku is his inability to be a competent mentor. It shows that he has led him down dangerous and horrible paths (Deku's stubbornness to do things by himself and his 'dark' arc post-war), and is unable to bring him back into the light even if he tries. It was only when Class 1-A had intervened that they were able to get Deku to rest and let people tag along, after all, which is why Toshinori was far too embarrassed to follow him into UA's walls even after everyone had come out with umbrellas.

Stain disproves this in two ways.

First, he says that it was never about All Might's ability to actually be there for people. The whole point of what inspired Deku to be the inherently good-hearted "true hero" he is today is because of the values that AM's brand had instilled in him as a child. AM's biggest positive impacts came from behind the screen where he was used as the proof that true heroes can and do exist. Deku does want to be exactly like All Might, yes, which is why we see Toshinori leading him down the same path that he walked--but the underlying message of this is that the very first thing All Might gave him even before OfA was the courage to help fix society.

I do believe Deku is an innately compassionate person. Most people in the series are. However, what makes All Might's smile so uniquely impactful to what it did to Hero Society is the way it gave people courage to help people. Less hesitation. Less bystander syndromes. The ability to move without thinking. Because you can feel the want to help a person, but the courage to be nosey and actually do it? That's portrayed as something AM's image teaches people.

The second way he disproves AM's insecurity of dragging Deku down is that he makes it clear that this pain is somewhat of a necessity in reforming society. He says, interestingly enough, that this is but the 'middle process' in reforming society. This spills over to how he addresses Problem B, but what Stain is essentially saying here is that this sort of brutality and isolation that Izuku faces is impermanent. A phase. It implies that even if Deku is struggling and Toshinori is unable to help him, it is something that needs to happen before they re-realize the ideal heroes All Might's image is meant to create.

The second problem in regards to how All Might feels about current society (how it's collapsing because of him, etc. etc.) is more interestingly addressed. There are many things that Stain says--like how Toshinori doesn't need to actually be the one to fix society with his bare hands. The current society is not his fault because of the fact that it is not finished developing. I'm not sure if I can go so far as to say that Stain means this in the sense of the Scorched Earth method of tearing everything down to build it back up better-- but I can say that Stain still has faith in society to rebuild after this period of chaos.

This rebuilding starts with the old generation of heroes correcting what they messed up (i.e. Endeavor v Dabi) and more importantly, paving the way for a better generation of heroes that was inspired by All Might's image. Heroes that are led by people like Deku, who is defined by his proclivity to help without thinking. The violent deconstruction of society is about exposing society to the raw truth of All Might's image that not everybody can be as strong as him-- which is why we have to take care of each other.

When the lady comes in to remove the sign and start cleaning the statue, it's symbolic. It's a clear metaphor that the past few chapters are the turning point for society as a whole, and how people are starting to remember what real heroism is. From the distrust that was seeded in society ever since LoV had surfaced, we are seeing that trust being returned TEN-FOLD now that people can see not only the mask of a hero's smile, but also the person underneath.

I think it's some really neat symbolism here too about how Deku, who's metal mouth guard was literally all about representing All Might's smile, is shed.

This is hero society dropping their masks. Letting people see them for as they are. Toshinori revisiting the statue in this form makes all the more impact because he shed his mask ages ago during the Kamino Bust, so this is him coming face to face with the image he's created and seeing the differences between them, and how his image continues to live on even after he's almost completely Quirkless. The lady cleaning the All Might statue shows off the fact that things can be repaired again--that society can be clean (hehe stain pun) again.

It's interesting to me here how Stain offers the information from Tartarus.

He doesn't care anymore about his life. It's evident. He disagrees with what the LoV is doing, but believes enough in Deku to think that it's time for him to retire the mantle of 'Stain'. Unless this is another test, it's very odd for me to hear that Stain is offering a blade and his life to someone he isn't even sure is All Might.

But the impact of this action reads loud and clear.

This is Stain taking pity on All Might. This is him realizing that All Might too is a person behind the hero. That Toshinori Yagi is incapable of doing anything past the image he had already created. By offering that knife and information on Tartarus, Stain is giving control back to Toshinori. He is giving AM the chance to do something big again to help society's reconstruction. To be a part of the revolution that he so badly deserves to see. That knife is essentially an exit ticket from the sidelines, and one last chance for All Might to be able to see what his image has done for people.

I personally think that the main reason Stain is willing to die then and there by Toshinori's hand, despite not being sure that he is All Might to begin with, is because of the final impact it creates that it isn't about Toshinori Yagi's true power as a person, but the image of All Might. It is because he looks like the symbol of peace, that Stain (the literal HERO KILLER) feels comfortable laying his life in his hands and giving away valuable information.

If that isn't a great testament to the power of AM's image, I don't know WHAT is.

I guess all I have to say is I absolutely love what Stain did in this chapter. Everything felt so incredibly symbolic and emotional and as someone who absolutely ADORES All Might and what he stands for in the story, this felt like a cool balm after seeing Deku tragically reject his bento box a good few chapters ago. I have a few more opinions about symbolism, and how I think Deku's generation of heroes is going to stray from the old gen, but I think that's a discussion for another time.

Thanks for reading 'til the end!

[daisylikesmedia]

Holiday Special 6: The Waters of Mars

OKAY IT’S TIME I can’t wait for the overview to say this, this is my favourite episode of Doctor Who. I’m so excited to talk about it with y’all so let’s go!! (fair warning, this review is a lil longer than my others, but I hope it's worth it to show y'all how much I love it.)

This is one of the last episodes where I’ll be able to reference my experiences as a child watching the show, but this context do be important. My biggest fear as a kid was water. Getting any kind of water on my face was a no-no, and I hated being in pools/at beaches and the like. The reason this context is important is because the villain of this episode IS water, and damn that freaked me out. My worst nightmare was conjured up into an alien parasite slaughtering a crew of heroes. Naturally, this makes me love them slkdfjhg. I like alien threats that aren’t fully explained, as I feel the lack of that knowledge adds to the horror, and with the already existing fear of water, having no knowledge on how we defeat them bar escaping/blowing the base up makes them soooo scary. As The Doctor says, “Water is patient, Adelaide. Water just waits. It wears down the clifftops, the mountains, the whole of the world. Water always wins.”. My personal experiences definitely lend to me loving this villain, but cmon can you blame me :3.

Another thing this episode does really well is give us characters to care about. The whole premise of this episode falls apart if we don’t like these characters/think they’re worth saving, and so I’m v happy they nailed it here. For the small amount of screentime these characters get, you can see how much they’ve sacrificed to go on this mission. There are several scenes where the crewmates are talking to/watching their family back on Earth, longing to be back there. It shows how far the crew is willing to go in order to further human exploration across the stars, and no character encompasses this more than Captain Adelaide Brooke. Her motivations are so clear, and her leadership within this group is so apparent. You fully believe she is one of the most important people in human history, and she commands that respect from you. The only time she loses control is at the crucial point in the story where The Doctor decides to save them, and even then she doesn’t let him get away with that scot-free. What an amazing one-off character that manages to truly challenge The Doctor as he goes off the rails.

And now, we get to talk about the main plotline of the episode. The spooky water aliens and amazing side characters help enable this plotline, but it is what makes this episode my absolute favourite. This is a Doctor Who episode where you *don’t* know whether he should save the humans. And not based on them being bad people, or because of a sympathetic villain. Because the rules of the show thus far have told us to respect fixed points (see Fires of Pompeii), with the crew destined to die on Mars, with their deaths inspiring their families to go and explore the cosmos. The Doctor, and thus you as the viewer, spend the episode weighing up whether The Doctor should stay or should go. He leaves just as the crew’s situation becomes the most dire, as half of them are taken by the flood. As he listens to their cries of desperation over the radio, visions of his past play in his mind, reminding him he’s the last of his kind. That his people, who governed the laws of time, aren’t here anymore. And with no-one left to stop him, in The Doctor’s own words: “The laws of time are mine, and they will obey me”. This is The Doctor at his most arrogant, and his most powerful point in his life. He saves the remaining crew members, and takes them home to Earth, where instead of the typical jubilation, the remaining crew are disgusted by his existence. As Adelaide puts it, “No-one should have that much power.”, and The Doctor, as the time lord victorious, responds “Tough”. Adelaide, in response to this, walks into her house and kills herself to put history back on track, and The Doctor realises just what kind of monster he has become. It’s chilling, he becomes jittery and manic, and The Doctor runs away like a coward as his death looms over him. What a turn. This is a story that takes our hero, and turns him into a monster. It shows just what kind of power The Doctor has, and what happens when he decides he wants to play God, and I love it. You may have noticed a theme, with me liking episodes that challenge and change The Doctor’s character, and no episode does this more than The Waters of Mars. I could go on and on, but this is who the 10th doctor becomes, when there’s no one there to stop him (You can go back to The Runaway Bride to hear Donna talk about this, this character arc has been building for YEARS and it’s so satisfying to see it executed so well).

TL:DR/Overview: Great villains, a fantastic cast of characters who command respect on screen, and a massive step in The Doctor’s character arc. This episode is not afraid to be critical of our hero, and turns him into a God we should fear. The deification of The Doctor is something I’ve mentioned in several of Tennant’s episodes, but this is the one where all those moments where The Doctor has shown his power come to fruition. This moment has been building and building since Series 2 and seeing it executed on screen feels so immensely satisfying. The ending to this episode is perfect to me, and from concept to execution this episode is original, unique, and tailor-made to fit this incarnation of The Doctor. I give you all, my favourite episode of Doctor Who.

P.S: Apologies for the length on this one, this is me holding back lmaoo I can talk about this episode for hours and hourss. I hope I was able to show y’all just exactly why I love this episode <3

[phantomato]

Do you think Voldemort was actually the most powerful wizard in the Wizarding World at the height of his power? Do you think that affects his character/storyline in any way? You have so many great insights on his character and I'd love to know what you think!

Thank you! It’s very kind of you to call my comments worthwhile. 💖

Right off, I’m going to give the same disclaimer that I tell my husband every time he gets into “Who would win?” territory with the HP series: we don’t know shit about power levels in this universe. There is neither an internally-consistent logic available to use as a benchmark nor a detailed-enough list of feats from which we could construct our own rules. Some people who care more about this sort of thing will put in the effort anyway, creating headcanons to patch over the truly egregious empty spaces, but I’m not one of those people. I use magic when it’s convenient, and otherwise, I mostly stick to the mundane.

So the point of all that is to say that I have no fucking clue whether Voldemort was the most powerful wizard in the world during the height of his activity.

If we were allowed to know even, like, a tiny bit about the adult world of the HP universe, we might have a better idea. I guess nothing other than becoming a Wizard Cop was relevant to Harry’s journey, though, so we don’t know what knowledge and training looks like to someone who wishes to pursue research, say, or competitive dueling.

I’m going to constrain the problem you’ve posed in order to answer it. I might not be able to say how Voldemort compares to the unnamed wizards in Africa, but I’m willing to talk about Britain and assume that we’ve seen the main power-players in British society. And in that realm, I think Voldemort’s primary competition is Albus, and I’m willing to say that I think Voldemort is more powerful than Albus.

Unfortunately, I don’t care enough about the text to pull out OotP and go line-by-line through the duel at the end to say that V was clearly trouncing Albus. I read it as such. That’s enough. It’s also the only outright duel we see from either of them, and our only on-page evidence of their strength in a fight. We also know that Albus beat Gellert back in 1945 when Gellert held the Elder Wand, but goodness knows what that says about him—maybe he was stronger back then, maybe Gellert threw the match, maybe Gellert was never as magically potent as Albus. The end result for me is the same: in 1996, when they duel in the ministry, Albus is losing to V until the entire auror corps shows up and V decides a retreat is more strategic.

Ultimately, I don’t think it matters that much that V was probably the more powerful wizard, between the two of them, during his wars. He’s feared precisely because of how rarely he comes out to handle something personally—his followers are considered more than enough to handle most issues, leaving V to play boogeyman. Most people probably freeze up or run upon seeing him and don’t even try to shoot off a curse.

And even if he’s more powerful than Albus, that stupid rumor that Albus is the only man he fears pursues him all the same. I cannot imagine how frustrating that must be for Voldemort, being told that you’re afraid of your old schoolteacher. Annoyed by? Feel hatred for? Yes. Fear? …He’s a mortal man, man. V’s fears are pretty clearly wrapped up in deeply-rooted and untreated traumas, he’s afraid of things like death and his natal appearance, not ‘that shitbag who would take points off my assignments and not tell me why.’

Mm, quite frankly, I doubt that Voldemort thought all that much about Albus Dumbledore between his first and second Hogwarts teaching post rejections. I can’t accept that he spent decades seething with active hatred for Albus and still decided to apply for a job under Albus as headmaster. It’s completely nonsensical. I have to believe that V thought a long enough time had passed to put their old enmity to rest (V had been a child, surely Albus was able to judge a middle-aged man separately from his bratty 13-year-old self). If anything, the first war would be a period in which V might gain a grudging respect for Albus as a man clearly well-matched against him, who could marshal his own paramilitary force with equally-devoted followers willing to die in his name. That’s a moment when V might go, oh, I see what Grindelwald was on about when he considered Albus a worthy opponent.

So, really, I can tie everything about the Voldemort persona to his position as the head of a terrorist organization, not particularly to his power level. I won’t write this, but someone could tell a story in which V is just an above-average wizard willing to study some dark shit, but he is an extremely compelling and charismatic leader, and his DEs form entirely as a result of that social skill.

[princeanxious]

Okay stupid tumblr didnt tell me you said yes but HERE ARE MY QUESTIONS :DDD

When did they become vanpires

How old are they

What year were the vampires born

How long has V been locked away, what has he missed

Does V immediately latch onto the grunge/emo aesthetic because it matches the whole vampire theme

Is Roman a himbo™

What is the twins relationship like

Anxciet is the main pairing, are there any side pairings?

How does Janus react to the whole "oh yeah vampires are real" thing

Were any of the vamps around for any big historical events

Were any of the vamps big historical figures

Do they end up going to highschool/uni with the humans

What does everyone look like

Do any of them have really strong opinions about something useless (eg. pineapple on pizza, a certain colour, double denim, etc)

:)

Virgil became a Vampire sometime in the 17/1800s?? Logan is from around the 1500s, and Patton claims he lost count a long time ago.(Patton’s probably at least at least a thousand years old though? But he looks more like a young 25 y/o whose attire choices change day to day but generally always gives off that Parent vibe), Virgil was turned by Patton, Logan was born Vampire, Patton was assumably born vampire. Remus and Roman are 27, Janus is 25.

Virgil was locked away for about 150 years, give or take? He missed the entire shift in society and the human experience, from how relationships are viewed/treated to longer lifespans, to cleaner hygiene, convenience, and technology, hell, even the more open existance of the lgbtqa+ community! A /lot/ has happened in the past 100 years, and now Virgil has alot of catchup to do.(and don’t worry, Patton & Logan help Virgil catch up pretty quickly, they share flashcards and Virgil gets h o o k e d on social media when he gets a phone)

He absolutely does. Its a weird adjustment, what with the now wildly varied different textiles and styles and change. Especially the lack of layers, he misses those. (And finds immense comfort in the jacket that Janus gifts him, as its big and oversized and feels oh so very soft and warm.) But no yeah, he gets his hair cut(it still grew for those years locked away, albiet still rather slowly from malnutrition) and rocks the fringe, even gets his hair dyed purple to match his eyes, all the grunge/punk/emo aesthetic! Some of his favorite new things are makeup, piercings, and so much black fabric to chose from!

You’ll be surprised to note, that Roman is sadly not a himboTM in this au, as Virgil has already taken over that roll 💜💜💜

Remus and Roman’s relationship? Honestly ride or die chaos, the kinds of siblings that play pranks on one another and insult eachother but god forbid some poor outsider steps in to try and say the same thing they said abt their sibling, that outsider will have regreted it. The kind if ‘The Only one allowed to call my brother a Bitch-Ass Idiot is ME’ kind of siblings? Look they grew up in a area filled with people who dont like things out of the norm and befriended the local bullied kid who is half-covered in snake scales and speaks with a lisp due to his split togue. Remus himself suffers from intrusive anxiety and Roman suffers from chronic(?) depression. They’re all a bit ride or die, through and through.

Anxceit is the main pairing, and while it’s not entirely set in stone, Logince and Intruality are probably the other two.

Technically its not a secret in their world?? Like magic is a thing in their workd, its just usually left out of humanities bloodline. Humans like Janus are pretty rare bc of that. Vampires are still p rare to meet but not unheard of.

Yes, the vampires were alive for many major historical events. No we are not going to talk abt any of them. Same goes w/ historical figures.

Yes! Infact, Roman and Logan share college/uni theatre classes together! Logans currently an astronomy major, Roman a theatre arts major(i think thats what its called?) Logan is a formidible lyrical rival and Roman finds himself constantly losing to his rival in the form of slam poetry, though every day Roman always gets a little closer to winning(Logan adores the challenge, and the passion Roman has to beat Logan at his own game is riviting to experience. Logan would def consider Roman a perfect companion, but would have never acted on it if virgil hadnt been rescued by said companions twin brother, thus gettig both trios heavily involved w/ each other.) Patton’s been alive so long that he doesn’t care too much for academia, and instead focuses on tactile learning, like pottery and woodworking. Remus himself is an arts major, known for making really hyper horror or grotesque creature sculptures/doll customization, so he kind of just laches onto this man who seems to be larger than life and is far from bothered by Remus’s ‘not safe for common convos’ way of talking and its nice not to have someone run away. (Honestly, the feeling is mutual between the two)

As for what everone looks like, I kinda just want to leave that up to interpretation? If I end up drawing any of them they’ll probably be reflective of the way that I usually draw the sides, just human or vampire-ified, and maybe have a trait or two tweaked specifically for the au? The only real thing standing out to me is that i might give Remus or Roman Albinism? Idk yet.

Uhhhh i’m sure they have alot? Logan hates modern mirrors, bc they are usually not made w/ a silver backing. Let me tell you the first time Logna passed his full blown reflection out of something he’d never been able to use before, its clear, consise, ans ge hates it bc he can now very easily stare into his own eyes clearly and question existance.

Patton, despite being the oldest ever, is still v afraid of soiders despite knowing they cant hurt him too horribly.

Virgil is under the strong opinion that memes are hilarious and hoodies are amazing.

[woodlandelfuniverse]

Sealed in the Stars

A/N: Hi everyone! This story I wrote ages ago which I newly discovered! I am working on ‘The elf and the man’ but I give you this to read until I’m done! I hope you like it!

Word count: 1447

The moon stood high in the night sky above the Greenwood. The elven path was lightened with beautiful silver flowers that created a similar light as the stars above. You looked ahead and saw many elves by the main gate with lanterns in their hands. A smile appeared on your face, because this special night only appeared once a year. It was Mereth Nuin Giliath, the feast of starlight. Every year you, your siblings and your father Lord Elrond traveled to the woodland realm to celebrate this special occasion. You had always loved the woodlands, it was a beautiful realm with many impressions and people. But the thing you longed for the most was to see the prince. Legolas Greenleaf was your dearest friend, but due to the distance of your two realms, you rarely saw each other. But the truth was that you loved him, and not only as a friend. The slight thought of him made you walk a tad faster. You reached the gate and you were welcomed by members of the king’s counsel. The realm was decorated with the most beautiful white flowers, and everyone was dressed in shades of white, silver and blue.

Before you entered the ballroom, you removed your cloak to reveal your beautiful dress. It was made with a light blue material which flowed down your body. The dress was embroidered with elegant silver details and the front went down in a v neck. Your arms were bare, and a delicate lace strap held up your dress. You also wore a sparkling necklace that represented the northern star. Your sister had an identical one around her neck, the only difference being the evening star. Your (h/c) hair was in beautiful, long waves along with a braided silver crown. You bowed in gratitude to the servant that took care of your cloak. You looked over to your sister Arwen who smiled at you. Your brothers stepped forward to escort you inside. Elladan went to Arwen and Elrohir offered you his arm, which you gladly accepted.

“Are you alright y/n?” your brother asked. You smiled at him and answered. “I have never been better.” Then the doors to the ballroom opened and it was a massive crowd of people watching with anticipation at the Lord of Rivendell and his family. You took a deep breath and smiled at the large crowd of people. You and Arwen were the main guests due to the special powers that you both possessed. You had been gifted with the light of the stars, a light that could heal others.

Ada walked first and went towards King Thranduil. Lord Elrond bowed to the King and greeted him with a hand on his chest. Elrohir walked forward and presented you to the king. “King Thranduil, I am glad to see you again.” He smiled and embraced you in a hug. He had always seen you as the daughter he never had and had grown very fond of you.

“And I you Lirimaer (lovely one). Your beauty shines as bright as your star,” Thranduil said.

You smiled at him and thanked him. You looked around in disappointment when you did not see Legolas. Thranduil noticed this.

“He is in the gardens, he has talked about you for days, go now... he awaits you,” he said with a smile. You looked up at Thranduil and gave his hand an ensuring squeeze.

“Thank you mellon”.

You reached the gardens and looked around for your friend, when suddenly you heard someone draw their sword. You looked over your shoulder and saw a tall pale orc with a devious face. This creature had the look of death in his eyes, which made you fear for your own life. Then you let out a pained scream when another orc pushed you to the ground from behind. “You’re alone she elf and you will die alone!” one of them said.

“Not if I kill you first,” you said fiercely. He grunted at that and before he could hit you again you stood up swiftly and took out your dagger. Suddenly you were surrounded by an orc pack. You hated to be a ‘maiden in distress’ but you knew that this was a fight you could not win alone.

“Adar, Elrohir, Elladan!” you yelled. The orc filth came closer and the first one that charged against you died within seconds by an arrow. You gazed to the direction of the arrow and saw Legolas stand there. “Legolas,” you whispered. Your family arrived and drew their own weapons. Then a small battle erupted, and you were in the middle of it. You killed orc after orc, until you stood in front of a larger orc that spoke black speech to you. “You are a fool she elf and you will lose,” it said. You moved swiftly and swung your dagger across his stomach which made him fall to his knees.

“Think again filth,” you said with a smirk. He furrowed his brows when you took a step back. Then Elladan came and chopped his head off. You sighted when all of a sudden you felt a terrible pain in your stomach. Once again you heard black speech.

“You will lose, your light will vanish little Star, and when it does, we will take these lands!” Behind you stood the orc that punched you earlier with his sword straight through your stomach. You gasped for air and you heard several voices screaming your name. Everything went blurry and you felt how the orc dragged the sword out with a quick motion. You fell to the ground and you could see how arrows were being shot. A blurred blond form ran towards you but before they reached you everything went black.

---

You woke up by a voice speaking with a calm, stern tone. The situation was bleary, but you could see your father standing beside you and speaking an elvish healing spell. “Tanka tel' taurnin, poika tuulo' 'kshapsae, tanka harwar”. “Ada” was the only word you were able to say. He stopped immediately with his spell and focused on your eyes.

“My child! Bless the Valar! I thought we were going to lose you, it was so much blood and such a serious wound,” he said with concern. You gazed at the bandaged area around your stomach, you could feel the sting from the wound when you moved. You were still a bit hazed and instead of answering his worries you said something else. “They ruined my dress,” you said and chuckled in pain. Your father smiled down at you, here you were with a hole in your stomach, and you worried about your dress. Elladan stepped forward and gave your hand a squeeze.

“If you promise to never get hurt like this again I’ll buy you every dress in middle earth!” he said and you both laughed at his statement. Elrohir stepped forward as well, answering his brother. “You know well enough that nothing could make her promise such a thing. This star is fierce...and stubborn,” he said with a proud smile.

“Where is she, is she awake Elrond? Elladan told m-”. Legolas had rushed into the healing room but stopped mid-sentence when he saw you sitting up.

“Legolas, you’re here,” you said with a smile. He walked towards your bed and sat down. “We will give you two some privacy,” your father said. You only nodded to your father who pushed your siblings out of the room and closed the door. He took your hands in his and kissed them.

“Never scare me like that ever again meleth,” he said. You were shocked by his words and he had called you meleth (love), did he mean it?

“Me-meleth? Why now?” you asked. He chuckled, then looked you straight in the eyes. “Because when I saw you being stabbed by that orc, I saw how cold and lonely a life without you would be, and I promised myself, if you would survive, I would never leave your side,” he answered. You were completely stunned, everything you wanted was coming true. In that moment you only wanted to tell him one thing.

“Legolas, gi melin (i love you),” you said boldly. Now it was his turn to be stunned. He had only dreamed of hearing those words from you and here they were.

“Gi melin my star,” he answered. You smiled at him with tears in your eyes. He leaned in and after centuries of longing, the two of you kissed. It was filled with love and happiness. From that day forward, Legolas remained by your side. A promise that was sealed in the stars.

[mistymark]

VIGILANTE/S V

part five // 4.0k words // superpowered!au // (sort of) gang!au // series masterlist

summary; in which you consider yourself somewhat of a vigilante.

warnings; swearing, mentions of death, weapons and killing, gang shit really

notes; this is just a filler bc the whole thing ended up being way too long but !! hope u like anyway <33

One week into living in the warehouse, you’ve got your own routine. You know what times to avoid the bathrooms, you know not to eat Chenle’s cereal – a tip from Donghyuck, who informed you that Chenle once set him on fire for doing just that – you know that Jaemin is the only one who cooks breakfast, and most of the meals eaten in the warehouse are from local takeout stores with shifty delivery guys. You know that 15 pizzas are ordered for one meal – because Jaemin eats at least 5 of them.

“My metabolism is crazy,” he explains to you on your third day there. “I’ll be hungry again in, like, 2 hours.” Mark had laughed and said that was normal for anyone here.

Donghyuck had whispered to you, “Jaemin carries around jellybeans all the time for his blood sugar. If you want to piss him off, call him Jelly Baby.”

You know that every time Jaemin is given an assignment, he brings a girl back to the warehouse, something you’d discovered when you saw Jeno sleeping on the couch in the main room the next day. You know the boy named Renjun doesn’t train, and hardly leaves his room. You know that Donghyuck sometimes snores in his sleep, now that you’re sharing his room, which actually hasn’t been so bad.

Jaehyun had you move in together the day after you met him, and he’d been really nice about it, moving half of his clothes from his wardrobe so you had space, and boxing up most of his stuff to allow more space for your things. He’d even offered to take down his sketches and drawings so you had some wall space. It was a sweet gesture, but you found his posters interesting, so you told him to keep them up.

Doyoung had gone with you to empty out your apartment – not that it had much in it – and convince your landlord to break your lease. “Your landlord has a very weak mind,” he’d said in a monotonous tone, when he was carrying a box to his car, a flashy black thing that certainly did not belong in your neighbourhood at all. The dilapidated, crumbling buildings surrounding you were brown and dirty, the streets grey and filled with potholes, the people who inhabited the area looking just as worn. Doyoung, on the other hand, was clean and sharp, wearing fitted black jeans and a clean white tee. His shoes were almost as shiny as his car, which made you feel slightly self-conscious when you noticed how much he stood out here.

“He’s pretty much given up on life,” you’d agreed, which earned you a smirk from him. It was true, your landlord was a chubby, pot-bellied man who wore nothing but baggy, ill-fitting jeans and old t-shirts with various food stains on them. You’ve never seen him leave the building, and you often wonder if he knows what a shithole the place is.

“I can’t believe you actually lived here,” he looked up at the building, at the brickwork that was being held together by mould rather than concrete, at the wooden window frames that were rotten and splitting apart, at a window that was recently broken, now being blocked by a curtain taped across the panel – at the place you once called home.

Well, not necessarily. It hadn’t felt like home since your dad had died, if you were being truthful.

“You live in a warehouse with criminals,” you reminded him.

“We live in a warehouse with criminals,” he cracked a smile at you, taking the box from your hands and placing it in the boot of his car.

“At least my roommate only kills himself,” you mumbled on the drive back.

“Donghyuck wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Doyoung laughed. “He’d probably kill himself if a fly started a fight with him, just so he wouldn’t have to fight it and win.”

You watched the buildings go by – Doyoung drove slower than the elderly, you were sure – and all the industrial warehouses with cute, bright signs advertising children’s toys and courier services, wondering how many of them were a front for another operation, like Jaehyun’s. “Do you think Donghyuck can die? For real?”

Doyoung was silent for a moment, then, slowly, he said, “We have our speculations. We can’t know for sure, though. And none of us really want to.” You gave a small smile to him, though he was too focused on the road ahead to see it. When you’d first come to the warehouse, you were sure no one liked him, since no one seemed devastated by the fact that he was dead. Now, you knew he was family to them.

“You have a cassette player?” Donghyuck was supposed to be helping you unload your stuff into your now shared room, but he was mostly just being nosy, going through your boxes and not actually putting anything away.

“Uh, yeah,” you throw a glance over your shoulder, seeing Donghyuck sitting on his bed, rifling through one of your boxes. “It was my dad’s.”

He nods, gently putting it on the bed. He doesn’t ask any questions about it, or your family, which you’re grateful for, but it makes you think he doesn’t have any family of his own.

You know Donghyuck is the most open out of all of the team, but you also know not to ask any personal questions.

You know a lot of things after living in the warehouse for a week. You know that Jaehyun drinks tea in the mornings and coffee at night, that Doyoung cannot access Chenle’s mind. You know that Donghyuck is definitely not a morning person, and that he exclusively wears black, as if he’s always ready for a funeral. Maybe that’s exactly the reason; some kind of sick joke surrounding his immortality.

Most importantly, you now know how to survive Johnny’s training sessions. You’ve trained with most of the team, mostly the Shields – Jeno, Jaemin, Mark and Chenle – as their powers manifest physically, and are easier to control, but Johnny has also been helping you use his ability. “You’re smaller and weaker than the rest of the team, and most Shields in general,” he’d said, eyes roaming your body. It was the first time anyone’s ever looked at you like that without making you feel objectified. “If I’m around, my ability may be the difference in whether you win or lose a fight. Try again, and focus on me.” As if you already weren’t.

He’d hunkered down and gestured for you to begin. With the other members around, you could take Johnny down in less than a minute now. Alone, it took you upwards of 10 minutes.

The day you officially move into the warehouse, you’re exempt from training with the Shields, but Donghyuck takes the opportunity to teach you gunmanship.

“I’ve used a gun before, you know,” you say, but after 10 shots you still haven’t managed to hit the target. The firing range isn’t small, located in the basement of the warehouse, which you didn’t even know existed, but you should have been able to at least hit the target once.

He laughs, picks up the gun and nails the target’s centre 5 times in a row, “So have I. Do you want to be able to actually hit your target, though?” The hole in the centre of the target looks about twice the width of the bullet, made from the bullets hitting basically in the same spot each time.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, adjusting the position of your shoulders, then places one on your lower back, adjusting your posture. You’re stiff, and you know it. He clears his throat and steps back, “Go.”

You brace yourself and shoot, the bullet going straight through the target’s stomach.

“Not too bad,” he nods in approval, holding his hand out for the gun and easily changing the clip in three quick motions. He offers the gun back to you, “Again.”

“You sound like Johnny,” you say when you take it from him. You deepen your voice as low as possible to mimic your trainer and the short, efficient way he speaks, “Again. Stop. Go. Try again. Up.”

Donghyuck lets out a loud laugh that immediately brings a smile to your face. “That was amazing.” He sits down and leans back, a hand pressed against his stomach as he laughs, mimicking your imitation. You join him on the floor, resting your back against the wall and leaning over to grab the bag of potato chips he’d brought down with you. “Have you ever shot someone?”

He reaches over and steals a few chips, as if it was the most normal question in the world. But, there’s a slight shake in his voice when he speaks, “Shot? Yes. Killed? No.”

“Who?” He shoots you a sideways glance and you lower your head, “Sorry.” No personal questions.

The heavy stench of awkward silence settles over you. He breaks it, “Johnny.”

You don’t know what to say except, “Shit.”

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly. “It was an accident. Obviously.”

You’re about to ask what happened when you’re interrupted by someone coming down the stairs. Neither of you had bothered to shut the door to the firing range, giving anyone going up or down the stairs a full view of what you were doing. Jaehyun stops when he sees you both, sitting on the floor of the firing range, sharing a bag of potato chips. He doesn’t look at you, focusing on Donghyuck. He clears his throat, “Are you training, Hyuck?”

Donghyuck’s eyes are wide and innocent when he answers, “Teaching Y/n how to shoot.”

Jaehyun’s eyes move from the two of you to the target and back again, but he doesn’t say anything about the lack of holes in it. “Johnny’s ordering Chinese – if you want anything, let him know. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

He continues and you turn to Donghyuck, “Where’s he going?”

“Garage,” Donghyuck says, through a handful of chips. “Do you want the rest of these?” He offers the bag to you. You shake your head.

“What else is down here?”

“Weapons vault, garage, the range,” he answers distractedly, too focused on getting the last of the flavouring from the bag. “The gym…” his voice trails off.

When he’s satisfied that the bag is indeed empty, he stands up, offering his hand out to you to pull you up, “Jaemin takes ten minutes to pick what he wants to eat, so if you have a preference, we should probably tell Johnny now.”

You take his hand and let him pull you up, reaching for the gun that lays on the ground, “Where-?”

“I’ll take it,” he takes it, quickly turning the safety on and reaches around to his back, tucking the weapon into the back of his black jeans.

Your second day of training was with Chenle, in the gym, which looked more like the inside of an asylum than anything. Everything was clean and a pale, almost-white shade of grey, and the entire ceiling was a cloudy glass panel that illuminated the room, giving the room a bright and energetic yet sterile feel. The equipment was state-of-the-art, a dark contrast to the overall lightness to the room, and floor to ceiling mirrors took up two of the walls. There was a stack of clean towels in the corner, and a few televisions across the room, visible from each machine. A smaller version of the Super fight ring was situated at one end of the long room. Yet, the thing that shocked you the most was the bright blue flooring, an odd design choice.

Chenle was the least helpful out of the Shields in the team, watching you train with his ability, critiquing your control and your movements with a stern eye. “Wrong. Try again. Make it hotter this time, or you’ll do no damage.” As if to gloat, he held a hand up, and a dangerous blue flame engulfed it. Your own flame, a measly bright orange, wavered.

The entire time you’d trained with him, he’d done nothing but glare and criticise you. You were sure he hated you, or maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t the only one who had his ability anymore.

Yet, as he was leaving to eat, he’d nodded in approval at you, “Good. We’ll train together again soon, I’m sure.” It was the most he’d said to you. Actually, if you added up everything he has said to you, it would still be less words than were in that sentence.

Basically, he hadn’t spoken to you much all week.

Jaemin, however, was the opposite, and the person you’d trained with the day after Chenle. If anything, he was too kind and too understanding - he barely helped you.

“It’s okay if you can’t run as fast as me, yet,” he’d assured you with a smile, his hands on your shoulders. His smile was wide and encouraging, his eyes kind, and you instinctively knew he was a heartbreaker. No one with a smile like that has ever been heartbroken, you’d thought. His flirtatious manner was also a dead giveaway.

Your suspicions were only confirmed when he’d been sent on an assignment at the Den, and entered the kitchen the day after looking a little too happy. A girl had snuck out a few minutes later, looking only slightly embarrassed as she tried to pull her shoes on and find the exit at the same time. Jaemin had just stood in the kitchen and smiled at her as he ate his toast, not even bothering to show her out.

“You’ll have to eat a lot tonight,” he informed you at the end of your training. “And make sure you don’t have any training tomorrow morning, because you’ll be out for a while since this is your first time testing your stamina with my ability.”

He was right; you were exhausted after only two hours with him. When you’d told him just that, his smile widened and he winked at you. You laughed and shook your head at him, throwing your towel at him, “I’m going to shower.” He opened his mouth but you shot him a stern look, “Do not ask to join me.”

His easy-going smile remained on his face as he shrugged nonchalantly, “Worth a shot.” He bent down to pick up his drink bottle and began tidying up the gym as you left.

The person that surprised you the most was Jeno. His ability was easy enough to control, since you could control when you wanted the super strength, but he was happy to train you in preparation for your own training with Johnny.

“I guess it’s easy if you can control when you want to use someone’s ability, since your emotions don’t get in the way,” he’d said, as he wound his fist up with tape and gauze. “But if we’re not around, you need to be able to defend yourself with just your, uh, body.”

You nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Keep a clear head and be logical. Johnny is the only one that can see what you’re about to do, so unless you’re fighting him, think about what you’re doing.” The intense look is back in his eyes when he looks up from his wrapped hands, checking to see if you’re listening, as you haven’t said anything. You can easily see why the others would hate fighting him – he’s smart and he’s dangerous. “If you don’t think, you’ll… you’ll get hurt.” Something in his voice has changed, but it’s gone when he speaks again, “You’re no use if you’re dead.” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he juts his chin up at you, “Hold out your hand.”

You do as he says and he steps forward and begins wrapping your hand delicately. It’s far neater than you’d expected.

“Were you a boxer?”

He lets out a humourless laugh, “No. I’ve just been in a fair few fights.” You try not to react, but he can see what you’re thinking when he looks up. “Relax, most of them walked away just fine.”

“Most?” He doesn’t respond, and you take the hint that he does not want to talk about it.

He’s actually quite a good trainer, you discover, and teaches you the strongest ways to take someone down. He’s less talkative than Jaemin, but his instructions are clear and easy to follow, and at the end of your session, you’re able to do basic sparring with him.

“It’s 6,” he says, looking up at the wall of the gym. Without even a goodbye, he grabs his drink bottle and gym bag, lightly jogging up the steps to head to his room.

That night, you ate dinner with Mark and Jaemin. Well, you ate while they played video games. Jaemin shared a room with Jeno, but you hadn’t seen him since your training session. Empty pizza boxes were stacked by the door, and you counted at least 5. Your own box was sitting beside you on Jeno’s bed, while Jaemin and Mark sat side by side on Jaemin’s bed, their eyes glued to the TV screen that hung on one wall. Their room was a lot more… normal than you’d expected. Donghyuck’s was a giveaway that he was a Super – or a psychopath, either worked – with the blood and the diagrams and the journals and the weapons stacked in boxes around the room.

Jeno and Jaemin’s room was fitted out with their beds, desks, wardrobes, bean bag chairs, an old gaming console and a flatscreen TV. A few movie posters and celebrities were on the wall, and old photos. Only Jaemin had photos, and even so, there were only a few taped to the wall above his bed’s headboard. You couldn’t make out any details from where you were sitting.

Mark’s reflexes were no match for Jaemin’s, and he lost almost every round, making you wonder why he still agreed to play.

“Hey, should I save some of this for Jeno?” You asked, staring at the pizza still remaining in the box. There were only three left, and part of you wondered if it would even be enough. The other part of you thought it would at least be polite to offer.

“Nah, he won’t be back til tomorrow,” Jaemin doesn’t even turn around in his seat, his eyes frantically following his character as it moves across the screen.

“Huh. Okay,” you pick up another slice just as the game ends and Jaemin turns to throw another wide grin at you.

“That means my room’s free for the night, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He laughs at the look of exasperation on your face.

When his attention is away from you again, you say, “Jaehyun sure keeps you guys busy.” There’s only a little bit of bitterness in your voice; you’d been with the team for four days and the only time you’d left was to sort out your apartment. Apparently, you weren’t ready for any assignments yet.

“Huh? Jaehyun has him on an assignment?” Mark’s confusion gets your attention, as he turns to look at Jaemin with a furrowed brow. This was clearly unusual – or, at least, news to him.

Jaemin barely glances at you as he responds, “Nah, he’s visiting his girlfriend.”

“Jeno has a girlfriend?” You ask, only slightly shocked. It wasn’t like you’d thought about their love lives, but you’d just assumed everyone was single. It went with the job description.

“Yeah,” Jaemin nods. “She lives on the other side of the city somewhere. At one of the colleges. He normally goes after trainings on Fridays, since it’s the only night she’s not studying.”

Even without seeing your face, he can sense your surprise.

“Don’t ask him about it, though. He’s very reserved when it comes to her. Doesn’t want any of us to know much about her. I don’t even know her n-”

Mark laughs when he finally manages to kill Jaemin, and Jaemin pouts and rolls his eyes, insisting he was too focused on you to play. “You’re such a baby,” Mark laughs louder, and Jaemin swats at him. His hand moves so fast you barely even see it hit Mark’s arm. “Ow! Dude!”

“One more game, come on,” Jaemin insists, turning back to the screen. Then he raises his voice, “Anyway, Y/n, he won’t even tell us her name, let alone anything else about her. So don’t bring it up.”

“Or he’ll literally chokeslam you,” Mark adds, which, for some reason, makes them both laugh loudly.

You nod, despite the fact they can’t see you, and go back to eating your pizza, “I’ve got next game!”

Mark sighs in relief, “Gladly.” Jaemin’s competitiveness was beginning to wear him out.

The following day, Mark taught you the basics of shape shifting. He was the latest addition to the team – other than you – and his control was even worse than yours. “Shape shifting is really difficult,” he giggled, nervously. “If you’re not 100% imagining what you want to be, you’ll turn into something way different. But don’t panic, it will restrict your ability to change back.”

Over the course of the day, you’d shifted into birds, mice, elephants, leopards, any creature you could think of. Though, you had humiliated yourself when he went to get snacks during your break, greeting and talking to the large dog that came trotting down the stairs, as if it were Mark.

“What are you doing?” He’d laughed when he walked back into the gym, snacks in hand.

You’d been at a loss for words, your cheeks immediately becoming inflamed. “I- I thought that was you,” you pointed at the dog, which was panting as it sat down on the stack of towels in the corner of the room.

“That’s Bruce, Renjun’s dog,” Mark explained, tossing you a can of iced coffee. “Don’t tell Jaemin you drank his coffee.”

You paused, the opened can raised to your lips. You lowered it, slightly, “Why does Jaemin need coffee if he already operates at like 10 times the speed we do?”

“For after he crashes,” Mark shrugs. “Sometimes speed isn’t everything.” He laughs at his own joke, “If he doesn’t sleep enough, he’ll still be exhausted. Sometimes he can’t afford to sleep more than 12 hours, so he relies on coffee.” He cocks his head to the side as he examines his can.

Later, when you’re sitting on the floor after successfully shapeshifting into cockroaches, you ask, “Have you ever tried turning into other people? Can you do that?”

“Yes, but – I really have to know what the person looks like. Like, I can imagine a dog and turn into a dog because any small details that I remember incorrectly will go unnoticed by a human,” he gulps down his cola. “Humans are more complex – one small detail could make me look totally different to the person I’m trying to copy.”

“Change into me, then,” you sit up straighter. “If you can see me, surely you won’t have to rely on your memory, right?”

He shrugs and locks his eyes onto you. You’d seen him transfer from human to horse, from sheep to frog, but somehow seeing him change from himself to you was more disturbing. His skin ripples and his bones make disturbing popping noises as they change, and you wonder if it hurts, even though you had shape shifted multiple times and knew it didn’t hurt at all.

Within a few seconds, right before your eyes… is you. “Hello,” he says in your voice.

“Okay, fuck that, change back,” you tell him, looking away. “That’s so creepy. Brilliant, but creepy.”

When he laughs, it sounds like him again, and you let your eyes drift back to where was sitting. He smiles, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. His eyes, not your own.

You could have so much fun with this ability, reminding yourself to try it on Donghyuck later.

You tell Mark this as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth, and you both stretch out on the gym floor, laughing at all the pranks you could easily pull on the other members of the team.

[illusionage]

@octaane liked for a voice line starter!

    “ i don't take myself anywhere, really, i... man, i need to get out more. “