#and got to this scene on my rewatch just now

[neoflect]

sharing some of my disorganized jojo musical thoughts now that ive had a week to sit on it and ive rewatched it several times over. i intended to wait to publish something like this until a subtitled version was available, but im not seeing any indication that thats happening any time soon so for now youll have to deal with my loose interpretations from my extremely rudimentary and rusty japanese… so take what i have to say about the finer points of characterization with a grain of salt. gratuitous spoilers below obviously, both for the original source material and the changes made in the stage production

my feelings are OVERWHELMINGLY positive. of course there are things i can criticize or that i would have personally done differently but oh man… i have literally not thought about anything besides this fucking show for a week. im 100% confident in saying this is a better adaptation of the source material than the tv anime. sorry to the davidpro staff, i respect their hard work and their love for jojo and their dedication to what is by any metric a pretty difficult property to adapt off of the page, but i dont know if i can ever forgive them for leaving half of the first episode’s storyboard on the cutting room floor in order to fit a standard half-hour tv slot, especially considering that what they cut is some of the really crucial character-building stuff. happily those scenes are not only reproduced in the stage version, some of them are expanded upon!

with the quick disclaimer that i’ve only managed to get my hands on the final 4/14 performance with shotaro arisawa and yoshihisa higashiyama, from what i’ve seen the casting is perfect. i’m sure there’s a rip of the 4/13 performance somewhere (i’ve seen clips) but i haven’t been able to find one… every single performer knocks it out of the fucking park, the cast chemistry is incredible and even the minor characters are loaded with charisma. and mamoru miyano… my god… mamoru miyano i owe you an apology. i was not familiar with your game. of course hes been killing it for decades at this point but i had soured on him a little bit recently because i felt like he was overcast in everything and i just didnt connect with his dnt reinhard at all, so when the casting was initially announced back in august i was underwhelmed, and of course my standards for the dio role in particular were astronomically high… i’ll go more into detail later in the post because i have so so many things to say about dio’s characterization here but mamoru miyano’s performance is like, life-changing. i had impossible expectations and he exceeded them.

sorry if im gushing. i am a hater by nature. its unusual for me to be so thoroughly pleased with something. im not even a musical theater guy. these are strange new feelings for me.

just to balance things out i’ll talk about a couple of the things that didn’t really work for me: first of all, the music is just ok. my initial draft of this post called the music “bad” but three additional viewings later i have warmed up to some of the songs. i don’t know if this is a shortcoming by dove attia as the composer or if it’s just me, as i said i’m not a musical guy and a lot of the genre conventions of musical theatre are not really the things i look for in music that i enjoy, but like… even at their worst they are serviceable. nothing here is sonically unpleasant to me. high points are “resolve of the ripple” (zeppeli’s hamon training song, a jazzy swing number - it’s simply catchy and fun to listen to) and the closer “phantom blood” (a sweeping ballad that reprises the earlier “light and darkness”/”golden spirit” leitmotifs into an epic duet between jonathan and dio as they join hands and walk off into the darkness together… made me cry! i wont lie! on every single one of my numerous viewings this one got me misty eyed!)

wait i forgot this is supposed to be the part where i’m being critical. ok my most loathed song in the musical is “dio’s world”. sorry dio nation. it doesn’t really work for me. i think this might be a case of my standards/expectations being too impossibly high because it’s not even really the worst song in the whole thing. and of course miyano eats it up so it’s not really his fault. i just find it kind of underwhelming… i find the melody a little grating, it’s kind of just a generic rock number, it’s just missing a particular je ne sais quoi…. the essence of dio isn’t there… lyrically though i am obsessed with the premise of dio recruiting his minions by selling himself as a kind of social revolutionary who is upending and inverting the brutal hierarchy of post-industrial victorian society with zombie blood magic. you win some you lose some.

the second sticking point for me is the costumes. they’re perfectly serviceable… adequate… but i mean when it comes to jojo “serviceable” and “adequate” costume design obviously falls well below what’s expected, right? a lot of the outfits have kind of a boxy, almost flat-looking kind of unflattering fit on the actors, which if i wanted to be generous i could attribute to the challenge of bridging the gap between these frail slender musical theater twinks and the two-meter-tall 250lb roided-out beefcakes theyre meant to be embodying. (bearing this discrepancy in mind a lot of the insane martial arts stuff in the second act doesn’t really land with the oomph that it should, but i also understand logistically why this kind of casting is not practical, and all things considered i think shotaro arisawa does a really incredible job of embodying jonathan joestar even though he kind of looks like i could snap him in half over my knee like a twig. he’s very cute. so i’m not mad about it.) of course, again, logistically, i understand that in a stage musical production, where actors only have minutes to complete costume changes, some sacrifices have to be made to the creative vision in the name of practicality. nevertheless this is jojos bizarre adventure!! i want to see some fucking baubles!!!!!!

which is all to say that… after carefully considering it for some weeks… i still have extremely mixed feelings about dio’s grink ass feather bathrobe look. it’s not that i dont think its something he could wear (the concept of dio lounging around in his gothic vampire palace doing re-animator style body horror experiments on the local wildlife in this “officer i have no idea what happened to my husband”-ass nightgown is nothing short of hysterical to me) but then he wears it into combat and i felt a little disappointed… it has the same unflattering fit issue as the other outfits in the show, and it is just such an un-araki-like design… where are the gaudy color combinations? the bizarre geometric patterns? the tease of an exposed boob/thigh/midriff? erina gets a stage-original dress design that i have fewer issues with because the excessive pleats and ruffles have more of an araki-esque sensibility, but every time i look at dio’s robe it feels like there’s something missing.  i’m going to choose to be nice about it because it’s not at all a deal breaker and, again, mamoru miyano devours the look. it’s fine. it’s always fun to have a new dio outfit. if anything, the fact that the blu-rays are being marketed as “2024 cast version” gives me hope for the possibility of a future production with a new vision for the costume design. (although the fact that this was such a difficult production - with stunts and pyrotechnics and moving setpieces - that its entire first week was cancelled indicates to me that the prospects for a future production from a different company are impossibly slim. i guess there’s always hope?)

in terms of the writing and the changes that were made from the original narrative, honestly i don’t really have an issue with anything that was cut. sorry if there are any diehard stans of Poco’s Unnamed Sister out there who are steamed that their favorite minor late phantom blood character got the axe, i kind of understand how you feel because i’ve been malding over david pro cutting the Danny Lore for eleven years, but i think it was the right choice and the story flows so much better. the real juicy meat at the core of phantom blood as a narrative and the thing that brings it head and shoulders above so much of the rest of jjba is the character-driven drama - that deliciously pulpy victorian gothic family tragedy - and the relationship between jonathan and dio. the musical beefs up the character drama and slims down the action-driven second half by trimming out the extraneous battles. the only real downside i see to this is that the absence of tompetty and his prophecy makes zeppeli’s arc and death feel INSANELY abrupt, but tbf that’s not a deal breaker for me. sorry zeppeli. you were born to die.

okay. okay. i think 1500 words into the post is enough fucking around so let’s talk about the real reason why you and i both know we’re here

musical dio is SO fucking sad. he’s positively wretched, you guys. he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone and forced to eat cement when he was six. he cries even more than he does in the source material and even when he’s not crying he frequently delivers his lines as though he is moments away from bursting into tears. back when the musical first opened i was snooping on the reactions on jpn twitter and one commenter said they could see miyano’s tears and snot from the nosebleeds even without opera glasses, a remark i initially assumed was hyperbole but that i now think probably was not. araki’s dio is certainly tortured and a deeply pathetic crybaby beneath all the cruelty and posturing, but changes in the musical and miyano’s embodiment of the character bring this pathos to the fore. he is literally haunted: dario’s ghost lingers, a manifestation of all of dio’s traumas and insecurities that emerges from the recesses of his memory to taunt him with the reminder that he will always be his father’s son, all the way up until the very minute that jonathan breaks down the door to his vampire lair. i am OBSESSED with this - not only for the obvious reason that i delight in dio’s suffering personally but also because kong kuwata is a delight and he fucking kills it every time. also lends itself to a category 10 leitmotif moment at the top of the second act when dio emerges from the charred ruins of the joestar estate singing dario’s theme and calling out to jonathan - if i had to pinpoint this is probably the moment when this musical stuck for me as the Real Deal. they Get It.

the first solo number in the show is dio’s disney princess I Want song (amazingly, simply titled “dio”) where he weeps for his late mother and his wretched lot in life, and then - in a creative decision that made me clap my hands and hoot and holler at my screen in real life - there is a reprise of this number (delivered, naturally, through tears) when dio is almost arrested for murder and decides to become a vampire instead. so there’s this amazing hopeful uplifting inspirational orchestral music accompanying the onstage action of dio ruthlessly slaying jonathan’s dad and then getting pumped full of lead by a bunch of cops. it is brilliant. 10/10 no notes. it’s moments like this that i think really sell the “softening” of dio in the stage version for me, even though i am historically Not A Fan of fanworks that take a similar angle - like, yes, he is sad, but specifically he is narcissistically obsessed with the spectacle of his own suffering, he is boiling over with bitterness and rage for everyone around him who (by his own estimation) could never hope to have suffered as much as he has. this sensitivity and self-pity he wallows in are not expressions of a guilty conscience or a desire to change - they’re entirely the opposite - every cruel and monstrous deed dio commits is always justified to himself because he is simply the saddest little boy who has ever existed. he has been done wrong by the world and so there is no limit to the depravity he may reasonably respond with. i’ve seen several commenters describe this as a drastically different interpretation of the character from araki’s dio (and someone told me on twitter that mamoru miyano himself has also said this, but i cba to go digging for an actual source so take it with a grain of salt?), but i… dont think thats the case! dio’s obsession with his own weakness and his self-perception as the eternal underdog (as compared to jonathan) are certainly more exaggerated in miyano’s performance, but i don’t think this is an angle to the character that’s been manufactured out of whole cloth. the genre conventions of the stage musical force the melodrama up to eleven and dio’s incredibly repressed angst is the most rich vein to mine for that. hair-trigger sadist dio is still here, it’s the same guy, he’s still killing people mercilessly, you’re just getting to see him sing a big ballad about his feelings instead of confining those to an internal monologue.

if anything, the exaggeration of dio’s pathetic/cowardly/crybaby traits combined with his megalomaniacal aspirations and bottomless well of cruelty is just right. it’s perfect. fucking around, finding out, and then trying to weasel his way out of the consequences with crocodile tears just so you don’t see him drawing his knife to cut you clean open… yeah. thats the stuff. thats my one true blorbo. sad to say i will love him for ten thousand years.

i think that might be all i have to say… or at least all i feel like saying here… most likely ill come back and edit this post later. i certainly have some additional thoughts and some more esoteric/controversial takes but they’re not suited for a public blog. real ones will understand. im keeping my eyes peeled for somebody to translate this thing but to be frank i am kind of enjoying this little corner of fandom as it is right now: just the asians and the true hardcore phantom blood phreaks. i have not had this much fun in jojo fandom in almost a fucking decade. as soon as somebody publishes an english version my timelines going to get flooded with all the most deeply annoying “kono dio da” “speedwagon waifu” reddit guys and 15 year olds and my suffering will proceed. unfortunately this is my lot in life and i am doomed to be here forever because dio put a worm in my brain

[hookhausenschips]

Nightshade

Word Count: 9.5k (yup she’s a long one)

Summary: In Eastern Europe, Y/N, Blade's daughter, embarks on a harrowing mission to rescue their mentor, Whistler, from vampires. Joined by Oscar, a vampire warrior, they navigate a dangerous alliance to thwart a vampiric threat. Amidst battles and betrayals, Y/N and Oscar form an unlikely bond that tests their loyalty and strength, proving that even in darkness, unity and resolve can prevail.

Warnings: Violence, Gore, Vampirism, Explicit Language, Death, Betrayal, Some Sexual Tones, Use of Weapons?

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Masterlist

A/N:let me know what you guys think! I literally rewatched all three movies while in this Tornado Watch and say fuck it😂

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**Y/N’s POV**

The cold air of Eastern Europe gnawed at my skin as my father, Blade, prepared for our mission under the pale light of the moon. Our objective was clear: locate and rescue Whistler, who had been taken captive by vampires, tortured, and believed to have been turned into one of them. The sense of urgency was palpable, as Whistler was not just a mentor to Blade but had been a surrogate father to me as well, teaching me everything from the mechanics of vampire weaponry to the subtle art of survival.

The warehouse where Whistler was being held loomed large and foreboding as we approached. Blade was silent, his jaw set, his eyes revealing a rare flicker of concern that he usually kept hidden beneath layers of stoicism. I mirrored his intensity, my hands steady despite the roiling emotions within.

Together, we infiltrated the warehouse, dispatching vampire sentries with swift, practiced movements. The air was thick with the smell of decay, a stark reminder of the grim scene we were about to face. When we finally found Whistler, he was chained, his body a canvas of bruises and wounds, barely clinging to life. The relief on Blade's face when we found Whistler alive was short-lived, quickly replaced by a hardened resolve as we carefully transported him back to our compound.

Once back at the safety of our headquarters, the tension did not abate. Scud, Blade’s somewhat cocky and irreverent weapon specialist, watched as we settled Whistler into a makeshift medical area. His approach to the grim situation was jarringly different, carrying a certain irreverence that often grated on me.

As Blade and a medical specialist tended to Whistler, trying to reverse any potential vampiric transformation and heal his physical wounds, Scud leaned over to me, a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, if he turns, I’ve got just the thing to put ol’ Whistler down. Quick and painless—well, maybe not painless.”

My response was immediate and icy, my eyes narrowing as I stepped closer to Scud, my presence imposing despite my youth. “Listen, Scud,” I began, my voice low and menacing, “that’s not just some turned vampire you’re talking about. That’s Whistler. He’s family.”

Scud’s smirk faltered under my gaze, the weight of my words cutting through the casual bravado he so often wielded like a shield. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

“Words mean things, Scud,” I interrupted sharply. “How you talk about him, it matters. He’s not some target practice. He’s one of us. And we’re going to save him, not joke about ending him.”

Scud nodded, chastened, his usual cockiness deflating under the seriousness of my tone. “Right, Y/N. I got it. I’m sorry.”

I held his gaze for a moment longer, ensuring my point had truly sunk in, then turned back to my father and Whistler. I watched silently as they administered a serum to counteract the vampire enzymes, my heart a mixture of hope and fear.

As Whistler’s condition slowly stabilized, I remained vigilant, my resolve fortified by the ordeal. I had not only reaffirmed my dedication to our cause but also my role as a protector of my unconventional family. Scud’s subsequent demeanor showed a newfound respect not only for Whistler but for me as well, his jokes and quips now tempered with a visible measure of thoughtfulness regarding our dire circumstances.

In those tense, weary hours, I grew not just in the eyes of my allies but also in my own, stepping firmly into my role alongside Blade, ready to face whatever darkness the night would bring next.

As the urban twilight descended upon Prague, cloaking the ancient city in shadows and whispered secrets, a pair of hunters prepared for a rendezvous that would challenge the very essence of our lives. Y/N, daughter of Blade, the notorious Daywalker, was an enigma wrapped in leather and steel. Raised amidst a symphony of combat and survival, I mirrored my father’s deadly skills and unwavering mission to hunt the vampires that plagued mankind.

Tonight was pivotal. Blade had reluctantly agreed to join forces with the Bloodpack, an elite squad of vampire warriors. Our common enemy, the Reapers, posed a threat serious enough to unite the fiercest of foes. As the meeting place—a derelict warehouse that time forgot—loomed ahead, my grip tightened around my weapons, my senses sharpening.

Within the shadowy confines of the warehouse, the Bloodpack awaited. Among them stood Oscar, standing slightly behind, who caught my attention. His demeanor was calm, almost detached from the revelry, his eyes, a piercing shade of brown with hints of green, surveyed the room, pausing momentarily on me with an unreadable expression. In that fleeting exchange, a spark of curiosity ignited.

Blade’s entrance with me and Whistler was met with palpable tension, the air thick with animosity and mutual distrust. “This truce is temporary,” Blade stated unequivocally, his voice a low growl as he scanned the vampires before him. I stood slightly behind, my expression unreadable, my stance defensive yet poised.

As the group’s uneasy introductions circled, Reinhardt, the brash leader of the Bloodpack, made a pointed comment about humans and their frailties. It was Oscar who defused the brewing storm. “Strength often lies where least expected,” he remarked diplomatically, his gaze lingering slightly on me, acknowledging my presence not as a liability but as a formidable ally.

Standing just a few feet from the unfolding confrontation between my father, Blade, and Reinhardt, I felt the tension escalate with every taunt and gesture. The air in the dimly lit room felt heavier, charged with a potent mix of anticipation and hostility.

Hey, me and the guys were wondering…” My father turns, “What?” “Can you blush?” Reinhardt’s whispered question to my father was meant to demean, to unsettle. I knew the intent behind it—the implied weakness, the racial undertone. My hands clenched instinctively, anger flaring within me at the disrespect shown. It was a provocative, dangerous play, aiming to provoke Blade into losing control. But my father wasn't just any opponent; he was Blade, seasoned and ever-strategic.

My reaction was instantaneous. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, and a hot rush of anger flooded my veins. The remark was not just a challenge to my father’s composure but a personal insult to my heritage and our shared struggle against the darkness. I took a step forward, eyes blazing, ready to defend my father’s honor with more than just words.

However, before I could act—whether to speak sharply in defense or to let my fists fly—Blade placed a calming hand on my shoulder.

As Blade’s response unfolded, I could feel the shift in the room. He didn’t just address Reinhardt; he threw down a gauntlet. The challenge was clear, and the sarcasm in his tone, "Oh, I get it. I see now. You've been training for two years to take me out. And now, here I am. Ooh, it's so exciting, isn't it? Okay. Here's your chance." was dripping with contempt. He was calling out Reinhardt’s bravado, exposing it as hollow. My heart raced—part pride, part worry—as I watched him handle the escalating situation with calculated aggression.

My father takes out a silver stake, “Come on, what are you waiting for?” He points it at himself, “Here I am. Right here in front of you. Adolf here gets the first shot. Come on.” Reinhardt looks at Nyssa. “Come on, what are you looking at her for? You need permission? Maybe you need a little bit of incentive. Okay, I can help with that.” He swirls the stake then hits Reinhardt with it, visibly agitating him. “What's the matter, you miss that? It's okay, I can do it again.” He does the same thing again.

When Blade reached to hand Reinhardt the stake, my grip tightened around my weapon. The risk was palpable; it was a test, a deadly dance on a knife's edge. Could Reinhardt overcome the urge to strike, or would he give in to the crowd's fervor and his own bruised ego?

The taunts from Verlaine and Chupa in the vampire language added fuel to the fire, voices rising around us like a chorus of the damned urging bloodshed. Despite this, a part of me admired Blade's control and audacity. He was masterful, turning the psychological tables on Reinhardt, making him the center of a spectacle that he had originally aimed to direct at Blade.

Blade insistently says, “Come on. What, do you need a manual?” He hands Reinhardt the stake, “Do it!”

When Reinhardt finally lunged, the tension broke like a snapped wire. My father was ready, swift with his counter. The device he placed on Reinhardt’s head was not just a physical restraint; it was a clear message. This explosive threat, this leash of sorts, was Blade asserting dominance, ensuring compliance through the imminent threat of destruction.

“Now you got an explosive device stuck to the back of your head. Silver nitrate. Rigged to go off if anybody tampers with it. I'll have the detonator with me. And you. If you so much as look at me wrong.”

As my father coolly announced the nature of the explosive device, my respect for his tactical mind deepened. This was the Blade I knew, the warrior who had raised me, who thrived not just on physical prowess but on psychological warfare. He had turned a potentially dangerous insult into a demonstration of power, securing his leadership and our safety.

In that moment, I realized more deeply than ever the layers of warfare we were engaged in—it wasn’t just physical battles against vampires or Reapers. It was also about dominance, respect, and psychological edges. As Reinhardt absorbed the reality of the explosive device attached to him, his face a mixture of fury and fear, I felt a shift in the dynamic of our forced alliance.

Standing there, watching the scene unfold, I knew that this encounter would set the tone for our uneasy collaboration. My father had just solidified his command in the most dramatic of ways, and I felt a surge of both pride and an increased awareness of the dangerous game we were all playing.

As we prepared to leave the room, I caught my father’s eye, an unspoken understanding passing between us. We were in this fight together, and his actions had just drawn a firm line that even our allies dared not cross. This was our reality, our battleground, and we were ready for whatever came next.

**Oscar's POV**

Standing off to the side, I observed the escalating verbal duel between Blade and Reinhardt. I had seen Reinhardt provoke many opponents in the past, but Blade was unlike any we had encountered. When Reinhardt whispered his derogatory question, I felt a twinge of disapproval. Such tactics were beneath them, especially in a situation that demanded cooperation and focus against a common enemy.

As Blade turned the tables on Reinhardt, not just defending himself but taking control of the situation, I was inwardly impressed. The Daywalker's cunning use of psychological warfare, his ability to maintain composure under verbal assault, and his strategic positioning in the volatile situation spoke volumes about his capabilities and experience. This was not merely about maintaining authority; it was a lesson in leadership.

When Blade equipped Reinhardt with the explosive device, making it clear that any wrong move would result in severe consequences, I understood the depth of Blade’s resolve and the seriousness with which he took the threat of internal betrayal. This action, though extreme, effectively cemented Blade’s leadership and set a clear boundary for the entire team.

My reaction was not just one of passive observation. I analyzed and learned from the interaction. This was a pivotal moment that delineated the power dynamics within our uneasy alliance. It showcased Blade’s dominance and strategic mind, elements that my respected and recognized as essential for our survival against the Reapers.

As the tension in the room eased with the resolution of the confrontation, my respect for Blade grew. I saw a leader who could not only fight but also think several steps ahead, qualities that were crucial in the war we were engaged in. My understanding of the necessity of Blade's actions, even if they were severe, shaped his approach to the alliance going forward.

For me, this incident was a clear indication that while our alliance was fragile, it was also under the guidance of someone capable of leading them through the direst of circumstances. This realization might have softened my initial reservations about working with Blade, setting the stage for a more cooperative and respectful interaction as we prepared to face the Reapers together.

**Y/N’s POV**

The night air was thick with the muted throb of distant music as my father, Blade, approached the entrance of the House of Pain, a notorious vampire nightclub hidden beneath the bustling streets of Prague. Tonight, however, our purpose was graver than a typical hunt; we were to meet with the Bloodpack, a formidable group of vampire warriors specially assembled to combat the Reaper threat. This was where alliances would be tested and formed, under the pulse of electronic beats and amidst the throngs of the undead.

As we descended into the club's depths, my senses were on high alert. The crowd was a mix of the dangerous and the decadent, vampires reveling in our nocturnal existence.

The plan was simple: blend in, gather information on the Reapers, and prepare for a coordinated strike. As Blade mingled with Reinhardt to discuss tactics, I found myself paired with Oscar. Our initial exchanges were clipped, each measuring the other's worth and intent. "Stick close," he murmured, leading me deeper into the club. "Reapers could be anywhere, and they won't hold back just because you're Blade's daughter."

I bristled at the comment but followed, my hand never straying far from my weapon. The club was a labyrinth of shadows and light, the perfect hunting ground for creatures like the Reapers, who thrived in the chaos of such environments.

Our first sign of trouble came when a sudden commotion erupted near the bar. A vampire, his features contorted in agony, crashed through the crowd, his body morphing grotesquely. It was a Reaper, its hunger unleashed. The crowd panicked, scattering as the creature attacked indiscriminately.

Myself and Oscar acted instinctively. Fighting back-to-back, We found ourselves an unexpectedly effective team. My human-vampire hybrid abilities combined with his elite vampire warrior training created a symphony of destruction. Each move was perfectly timed, strikes deadly and precise. I drew my sword, slicing through the crowd to get a clear shot at the beast, while Oscar intercepted another Reaper diving towards us from the balcony above.

We fought back-to-back, a rhythm developed between us that was surprising given our mutual suspicion. Each move was calculated, with my blade and Oscar’s strength complementing each other perfectly.

The fight was brutal. As we battled, I found myself thrown against a wall, a Reaper’s clawed hand inches from my face. It was Oscar who saved me, tackling the Reaper at the last second, his fangs bared as he ripped into the creature's neck with his knife. As the last Reaper fell, we finally had a moment to truly see each other.

Oscar was injured, a deep gash across his shoulder where the Reaper had struck.

Breathing heavily, I approached him. "You saved me," I said, my voice a mix of gratitude and surprise.

"It seems we make a good team," Oscar replied, wincing as he touched his wound.

The club was in disarray, the remaining vampires and a few brave humans fled, leaving only the sounds of distant sirens and the heavy breathing of the fighters. I found some cloth and pressed it against Oscar's wound, my touch gentle. "Let's get you patched up," I insisted.

This act of kindness did not go unnoticed by Oscar. He looked at me, his expression softening. "We're not so different, you and I," Oscar said, wiping his blade.

I was ever wary and kept my weapon ready. "Except I hunt your kind," I replied, my voice steady.

"A common enemy makes strange allies," Oscar remarked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

As we made our way back to Blade and the others, there was a newfound respect between us. We had saved each other's lives, a bond forged in battle that could not be easily broken. Blade eyed us as we approached, a nod of approval directed at me. He had seen many things in his life, but the sight of his daughter, fierce and proud, allying with a vampire was something new.

As we stood side by side, looking out over the city we had defended together, we realized that our journey was just beginning. In a world shadowed by night and blood, our bond, formed in the heart of conflict, might just be the key to a new understanding, bridging the gap between day and night.

In the shadows of the House of Pain, amidst the echoes of chaos and the rhythm of pulsing music, a daywalker and a vampire had discovered an unlikely alliance. Together, we would face whatever darkness lay ahead, not as enemies, but as comrades. And in a world divided by light and shadow, our newfound trust was a beacon, guiding us through the night.

**Oscar’s POV**

I paused in cleaning my weapon, feeling the weight of the evening's fight still clinging to my muscles. Raindrops pattered softly outside our temporary refuge, mixing with the harsh scent of blood and mud that coated them. Despite the fatigue, my mind remained sharply alert, aware of the ever-present tension between myself and the Bloodpack.

Reinhardt approached, his massive frame blocking the dim light, casting his features into a harsh, menacing silhouette. "Getting cozy with the hunter's daughter isn’t part of the deal, Oscar. She's Blade's kin—same as him, just younger. Don't forget she'll turn on you the first chance she gets," he hissed, his voice barely more than a growl, reflecting the deep-rooted mistrust that had been bred into each of them from the start.

I straightened up, cleaning the last of the blood from my weapon with a deliberate slowness. I met Reinhardt’s intense gaze with a calm that belied his wariness. “She's saved my life, and I've saved hers. In battle, trust is what keeps you alive." My voice was steady, asserting a truth he'd come to believe despite the complexities of our entwined existences. "I haven’t forgotten what she is, but she hasn’t treated me based solely on what I am either.”

Reinhardt snorted, the disdain clear on his face. "Just remember where your loyalties should lie," he spat before turning away, his heavy boots squelching in the muck as he left Oscar to his thoughts.

Alone again, I continued my meticulous cleaning, reflecting on the precarious balance I maintained. Trust was a rare commodity in our world, and while Reinhardt’s warnings were not without merit, I believed in the bonds formed in the heat of battle. her actions had shown me a different perspective, one that suggested coexistence might be possible, however fraught it might be with dangers and misunderstandings. As I stowed his weapon, ready for whatever came next, I felt a firm resolve within me to prove that our alliance could be different, and could be more than just a temporary truce in a world bent on our mutual destruction.

As I meticulously finished stowing my weapon, I felt the tension in the air shift slightly. Nyssa approached her presence almost a calm in the storm that perpetually surrounded the Bloodpack. Her approach was less confrontational than Reinhardt's, her voice carrying a quiet authority that often served as a grounding force within our volatile group.

"Don't mind Reinhardt," she began, her eyes meeting mine with an understanding that seemed to reach beyond the immediate mistrust and suspicion that so often characterized our interactions. "He doesn't understand that sometimes enemies can align under common goals. Use this alliance to our advantage. And who knows, maybe this could be a turning point for a greater understanding between our kinds."

Hearing Nyssa's words, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. It was refreshing and rare to find someone among his own who could appreciate the nuances of our situation. Nyssa's perspective was a stark contrast to the usual cut-and-dry mentality that dictated so much of our lives, and her support was a vital affirmation of his own beliefs.

As Nyssa walked away, her words lingered in my mind, adding a layer of responsibility to his actions. I felt fortified by her understanding and support. It strengthened my resolve to maintain a balance of camaraderie and vigilance with Y/N, pushing me to consider not just the tactical benefits of our alliance, but the broader implications it could have for a future where both our kinds could coexist more peacefully. This interaction marked a subtle yet significant shift in his approach, grounding his next moves in a mix of cautious optimism and strategic foresight.

**Y/N’s POV**

Later, as we planned our next move against the Reapers, Oscar and I stood slightly apart from the group, talking quietly. Our conversation was no longer just about strategies and tactics but about understanding each other's worlds, finding common ground in our shared fight for survival.

As I methodically cleaned my weapons, the familiar rasp of Whistler's voice broke the rhythmic scraping of metal. I looked up to see his figure looming in the dim light of the workshop, his face etched with lines of concern, each scar a stark reminder of the battles he'd fought. The weight of his years in the fight against the undead seemed to pull him down a little more each day.

"Y/N," he began, his voice as gruff as the stubble shadowing his jaw, "I know you've got your father's strength and a good head on your shoulders. But vampires... they're not like us. This alliance, it’s dangerous, and getting close to one of them—even if he's saved your life—might cloud your judgment."

I paused, my hand stopping mid-stroke on the blade I was polishing. Whistler's words weren't new; they echoed the myriad warnings I'd grown up with. But hearing them now, in the context of our uneasy alliance, made me weigh his advice even more heavily. I respected him, not just as my father's friend and ally, but as a mentor. Yet, there was something different about Oscar that I felt needed consideration.

"I know it’s risky, Whistler. But Oscar—he’s different. He’s proven himself in battle, not just to me, but to Blade as well." My voice was firm, trying to convey the conviction I felt about Oscar's actions and his apparent dedication to our cause.

Whistler sighed deeply, the lines on his face softening with a paternal concern that I knew came from a place of deep affection and fear for my well-being. "Just remember what's at stake. And remember who you are and where you come from. Don’t let your guard down completely."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the tension of unspoken fears and unyielded trust. As he walked away, leaving me to my thoughts and my weapons, I felt the solitude of the workshop wrap around me like a cold embrace. Whistler’s advice wasn’t just a caution; it was a reminder of the lineage I carried and the expectations that came with it. I knew I couldn’t afford to let my guard down, yet I also wondered if there was room for trust in a world so riddled with shadows and deceit. It was a delicate balance, one I was still learning to navigate.

The plan was simple yet fraught with danger. We were set to penetrate a notorious Reaper nest deep beneath the city’s crumbling Gothic quarter. As the team dispersed, I found myself teaming up with Oscar.

Making our way through the serpentine catacombs under Prague, the suffocating darkness seemed to pulse with impending threats. My training had sharpened my abilities to navigate silently, but it was Oscar’s heightened vampiric senses that truly complemented my skills, leading us deftly through the most perilous shadows teeming with danger. Suddenly, a swarm of Reapers ambushed us. Our survival hinged on flawless coordination. Positioned back to back, we blended into a fluid dance of combat—my sharp blade slicing through the air while Oscar unleashed his raw, vampiric strength.

As we dispatched the last of the Reapers, we found ourselves momentarily safe, but the respite was brief. Another group, larger than the first, surged towards us. In the heat of battle, a Reaper caught me off guard, its claws nearly fatal as they swiped towards me. In a flash, Oscar was there, his body a shield against the onslaught. With a swift, fierce motion, he dispatched the threat, his eyes never leaving mine.

Our breaths heavy, our bodies pressed close in the narrow passageway, something shifted. The adrenaline of survival faded slightly, and I became acutely aware of Oscar’s presence—his chest rising and falling against mine. He looked into my eyes, an unspoken understanding passing between us. And then, in the dim, flickering light of the catacombs, Oscar leaned in and kissed me. It was a kiss that melded gratitude with passion, sealing our shared ordeal with a promise of something more yet to be explored.

After the kiss, the intensity of the moment lingered between us, a palpable connection that neither of us could ignore. With our breaths still mingling in the cool, damp air of the catacombs, we pulled away slightly, eyes locked. The urgency of our situation returned, reminding us that we weren't out of danger yet. But that brief moment had changed something fundamental in our dynamic.

"We need to keep moving," Oscar whispered, his voice husky with emotion. His hand reached for mine, fingers intertwining as if to affirm that he wasn’t ready to let go. I nodded, and together, we continued deeper into the catacombs, our steps now lighter, buoyed by the newfound bond between us.

As we navigated through the twisting tunnels, we communicated with looks and subtle touches, our senses heightened not just to the lurking dangers around us, but also to each other. Every glance and touch sent a thrill of connection that was as new as it was undeniable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we emerged from the catacombs, blinking in the dim light of dawn that filtered through the city above. We had successfully gathered the intelligence needed to dismantle the Reaper nest, and while our mission was accomplished, it was clear that something new was beginning for us.

Once we regrouped with the team, Oscar and I maintained a professional demeanor, but the glances we exchanged spoke volumes. As we debriefed, our hands brushed under the table, and a smile would tug at the corners of our lips, the memory of our kiss in the dark catacombs lingering in both our minds.

Oscar broke the silence. “You fight like the Daywalker,” he noted, a tinge of respect in his voice. “Trained by the best,” I replied, my guard momentarily down as I assessed the vampire who had fought at my side.

“What made you join the Bloodpack?” I asked, curiosity coloring my tone.

Oscar’s answer was tinged with a darkness akin to regret. “Choices often aren’t choices at all when you’re what we are. But we do what we can to bring honor to our existence.”

The conversation marked the beginning of a fragile respect between us. As we rendezvoused with the rest of the group, we shared a look of mutual understanding. The mission progressed with increased cooperation, and the group dynamics shifted subtly as they observed the pair’s effective partnership.

Following the mission, Blade noticed the change. In the dim light of the debriefing room, he observed me and Oscar conversing with an ease that had been absent before. While part of him wanted to pull me away, to remind me of the line that divided our worlds, another part saw the benefit of this alliance, albeit grudgingly.

Later, as we prepared to part ways, Oscar pulled me aside. "Can I see you tonight?" he asked quietly, the anticipation clear in his voice. I nodded, my heart racing with excitement. "Yes, I'd like that," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

That evening, as Prague lay bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, Oscar and I met again, this time far from the shadows of our battlefield. As we walked through the quiet streets, talking and laughing, the connection we had felt in the catacombs grew deeper, promising the start of something new and thrilling. The perils of the night behind us, we were eager to explore the possibilities of what lay ahead, together.

Blade pulled me aside during another meeting, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that, despite the years, still managed to unnerve me a little. His voice was low, almost a whisper, but the underlying urgency was palpable. "Listen, I’ve seen many things turn sour fast. Oscar may be an ally now, but never forget what he is. Our mission comes first, and our emotions must be second."

I could feel the weight of his words, each one laden with the hard-earned wisdom of countless battles and betrayals. It was a caution that echoed the many lessons he'd drilled into me since childhood—never let your guard down, always have an exit plan. My response came as a soft but firm acknowledgment of his lifelong teachings. "I haven’t forgotten, Dad. I’m careful." Yet, as I spoke, a part of me wrestled with the notion of trust and partnership. Was it really possible to fully put aside emotions in the face of potential betrayal, or was that just the ideal we strived to meet? As Blade nodded and clapped a reassuring, if somewhat heavy, hand on my shoulder, I knew this was yet another moment where I had to navigate the thin line between caution and collaboration.

The stench of decay in the sewer was suffocating, blending with the adrenaline and fear that pulsed through my veins as Oscar and I set up the UV bomb. It was supposed to be a straightforward part of our strategy to eradicate the Reaper threat, a beacon of searing light in the dank darkness of our lair. Yet, as I toggled the lever to activate the bomb, it jammed—resistant and unyielding. A cold knot of dread settled in my stomach as I tried again, a sinking feeling telling me this wasn't just a mechanical failure.

Nothing happened when I pulled the lever.

A spike of adrenaline shot through me as I tried again, urgency twisting in my gut. That’s when Reinhardt’s voice crackled mockingly through the comm in my ear. “Having trouble, princess? Maybe check the manual.”

Anger flared within me, but there was no time to dwell on it. I shoved at the lever, my frustration mounting as it refused to budge—an obvious sabotage. “Oscar, keep sharp,” I barked, my voice tight as my fingers worked frantically over the device. He nodded, his stance protective, scanning the shadows for any hint of a Reaper approaching.

Reinhardt’s laughter echoed in my ear, grating against my nerves. “Tick-tock, Y/N. Wouldn’t want to miss the fireworks, would you?”

Fury flared within me, white-hot and blinding. "Reinhardt, you son of a—" I began but cut myself off. Time was slipping away, and anger wouldn’t help us now. I glanced at Oscar, his eyes wide with realization and alarm. He nodded once, sharply, understanding the gravity of the situation without needing words. We were on our own.

With a growl of effort, I jostled the lever hard. Then finally slamming with all my strength it gave through. My eyes widened hearing the ticking of the timer.

"Let's move!" I shouted, grabbing Oscar by the arm. We raced through the waterlogged corridors, the sound of our splashes sharp in the oppressive silence. The timer on the bomb was ticking down rapidly, too fast. We had moments, maybe less, before the UV light would burst forth, deadly to anyone in its vicinity.

Ahead, I could see Blade, Nyssa, and Asad near an enclave in the tunnel. We were too far, too separated from us by debris and distance to make it to them in time. My mind raced—there was only one option left.

"Into the water, now!" I yelled to Oscar, not slowing my pace. As we neared a deeper section of the flooded tunnel, I didn’t hesitate; I pulled us both into the murky water, pushing Oscar down beneath the surface. The cold enveloped us instantly, a stark contrast to the heat of my raging heartbeat.

Clutching Oscar tightly, I positioned myself above him, ready to shield him with my own body. As we submerged ourselves fully, the faintest glow began to illuminate the water around us, signaling the bomb's activation. The light grew rapidly, a blinding burst that enveloped everything.

The force of the UV explosion rocked through the water, sending painful vibrations through my body. I held Oscar closer, my arms locked around him in a protective embrace, determined to shield him from the worst of it.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the light receded, leaving behind an eerie quiet. We surfaced, gasping for breath in the sudden darkness that seemed even more oppressive than before. I shook my head to clear it, water droplets flinging from my hair.

"Are you okay?" I asked Oscar, my voice rough with concern and lingering anger.

"Yeah, thanks to you," he replied, his voice steadier than I felt.

We regrouped with my father and the others who survived, all of us shaken but alive. The betrayal stung deeply, but it also hardened a resolve within me. Reinhardt’s treachery wouldn’t go unanswered. I stayed close to Oscar, the weight of what we’d just survived bonding us even more firmly.

Nyssa was bleeding and horribly burned despite Asad's sacrifice. Blade crouches next to her when suddenly I hear sparks of electricity before a pain shoots through my neck and everything goes black.

Waking up I noticed that I wasn’t in the sewer anymore. Looking around I see Damaskinos, the weird lawyer, Scud, and Reinhardt in front of me. My father was next to me. While Whistler, and Oscar to the right of us tied up. “Oh, the princess is awake,” Reinhardt spoke. I glared at him, “Fuck you, you burnt gobble-necked bastard.”

Amid the chaos, my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst through my chest. “I thought he'd never leave,” Reinhardt said. Tied down and helpless, I watched in horror as Reinhardt, with a smug grin plastered across his vile face, as he shot my father in his leg and struck Whistler. “The wolf has lain with the sheep long enough.”

My throat burned from screaming, the cords straining as l yelled for them to stop.

Blade, always one step ahead, seemed to have a plan. He took out a detonator, and for a moment, hope flickered. “Reinhardt, you can kiss your ass goodbye.”

Then nothing. Laughing Scud says, “I'm sorry, man. B, you're wasting your time, man. The bomb's a dud. It was never supposed to explode. It was just supposed to make you feel in control.” “Thought you had me on a short leash, didn't you, jefe?” Reinhardt speaks as he removes the bomb and tosses it to Scud, “Much better.”

“See this?” Scud exposes a vampire glyph on the inside of his lower lip, “I'm one of Damaskinos's familiars. They needed my help to bring you here to control Nomak. The old fuck, he was always just bait. I mean, look at him. He's your only real weakness, man. You may be fast, you may be strong, and all that other bullshit. But in the end, B, you're just too human!” He then punches Whistler in the face

The revelation that he was a familiar, a spy, sent a cold shiver down my spine. His betrayal wasn't just a strategic loss; it was personal. The mocking tone he used, the way he claimed to have always loved me—it was nauseating.

The pain intensified when Scud struck Whistler again. I tried to lunge at him, anger boiling over, but Reinhardt grabbed me, his grip iron-tight. My father, despite his own pain, shouted insults at our captors, his spirit unbroken. My threats to Reinhardt and Scud were fueled by a burning desire for vengeance. “I’m going to enjoy killing you both.” Scud’s face showed faux sympathy, “Oh sweetheart don’t act that way, I’ve always loved you.” Reinhardt laughs as Oscar struggles with his restraints when Scud gropes me.

Whistler seethed, “Why, you little shit.”

Scud punches Whistler again, “You think they scoped out my security system? I let them in, asshole! I practically handed them the keys!” He then turns to my father, “You heard cue ball, right. Pretty soon, they're gonna all be daywalkers, man. And when that happens, I'd rather be a pet than cattle. You got me, B? What do you think about that, man?”

Blade smiles, “Two things: One, I've been onto you since they turned you. And, two, it's not a dud.” He activates the detonator. Scud looked down at his hand, “Oh, great.” The detonator explodes, killing Scud and showering the area around it with his remains. I shrink away from the sight. Whistler smiles, “I was just startin' to like him.”

My father and I are dragged into a large, cold, clinical autopsy room, laid out like specimens on metal tables. The vampire guards lay us each on a steel autopsy table. We struggle against them, but Blade’s just too weak from loss of blood. Eventually, my wrists and ankles were clamped down, and the cold steel against my skin was a harsh reminder of our vulnerability.

Back in the Eugenics Chamber

Reinhardt is examining Blade's sword, “I wonder how many vampires he's killed with this thing.” Whistler replies, “Not nearly enough, son.” Reinhardt pulls out his pistol “Keep talking, honky-tonk. It just makes my sending you into the next world all the sweeter.” Oscar rolls his eyes, “As if you’ve got the balls you coward.” Whistler not an ounce afraid, “Been there, done that. Do your worst, chickenshit. We'll settle up after.”

Autopsy Room

Damaskinos enters, followed by Carter Stevens. The guards remain posted at the main entrance of the room. Damaskinos approaches, looking down at Blade and his daughter.

Blade stares back at him, still defiant, but fighting a losing battle. I sneered at Damaskinos. Y/N is dying and she knows it. Her breathing is shallow. It's an effort just to keep her eyes open.

Damaskinos says, “With every century, humans become more repulsive to me. Once, you were souls to be taken, corrupted. But you have disgraced yourselves to being nothing more than blood and meat.”

I flinch as two surgeons snap on surgical gloves. Stevens is enjoying seeing my father and me helpless. Stevens grins, “We're going to harvest you both.” He begins injecting fluid into us. “Bone marrow, organs, everything. Your tissue's too valuable to let go to waste.”

Blade weakly mutters, “Nomak is still out there.” Damaskinos shrugs: “True, but thanks to you, we know his weakness. We can keep him contained. It's just a matter of time before we hunt him down.” I mutter, “Too bad you're out of it.”

Damaskinos is amused by our seeming lack of concern, “And why is that?” He asks. “Revenge. That's what Nomak wanted all along. To pay back the people who created him.” My father answered.

Stevens shakes his head, “You may be right. Fortunately for us, he has no idea where this facility is located.”

I smile, laughing tiredly. My father speaks, his tone even “He does now. He's been watching us since the tunnels. Following us. We led him right to you.”

My father lifts his hand, unfurling his previously closed fist. There is a deep gash in his palms. “Just like a trail of breadcrumbs.” My father muttered. Damaskinos stares at Blade's hand, then looks to the floor. A line of blood droplets lead back to the doors through which he entered.

“FATHER!” Nomak roars. Damaskinos' eyes widen in terror as he stumbles backwards, activating an alarm. The tension in the room skyrocketed as the facility went into lockdown mode, the emergency lights casting eerie shadows.

Nomak's arrival was like something out of a nightmare, his fury palpable as he tore through the security door. It was chaos, and in that chaos, Whistler and Oscar took advantage of the distraction. Whistler folds his legs up under him, working his cuffed hands over his feet. A grate moves up from the floor. Whistler and Oscar emerge, rushing to Y/N and Blade's side. As he starts frantically releasing Blade while Oscar helps Y/N.

Oscar redoubles his efforts. He helps me from the autopsy table. I am sinking, starting to fade. Oscar slaps her face, shaking her. “Come on, Y/N. Talk to me!” “Blood…” I weakly say.

Staggering through corridors, injured and weak, we were barely hanging on. But my father’s resolve never wavered, and neither did mine. As we made our desperate escape to the blood cask, gunfire erupted around us. Each shot that rang out seemed to echo my pounding heart. Whistler and Oscar were hit, their pain evident, but they pushed us onward.

My father, gripping the guard rail for support, dragging me and him along. Reinhardt fires. A shotgun blast hits Blade, grazing him but otherwise missing him. As Reinhardt curses and prepares to fire again --

Blade makes it to the end of the catwalk, pitching us out into open space. Time slows to a crawl as we tumble downward, plummeting into the blood cask below.

We sink from view, disappearing beneath the churning slurry of crimson. A beat passes as Reinhardt and his men draw closer, apprehensive. The moment we plunged into the cask of blood was surreal. Submerged in the thick, crimson liquid, time seemed to slow. Then, an explosion of BLOOD gushes over Reinhardt and the others. When we emerged, it wasn't just as survivors, but as avengers, transformed and empowered. The guards fall backwards, blinded, slipping.

My father and I surface from the cask in morbidly glorious slow motion. Now, only instead of a river of mud, we are covered head-to-toe in crimson. Majestic and glistening. Like primordial gods. My father rears back his head, letting loose a triumphal ROAR. I smile darkly.

Reinhardt's men hesitate. One look at our eyes and they can see we tapped into a well-spring of fury even we never knew we had. My father and I are super-charged and ready for war.

After we killed an entire legion of Damaskinos's security guards there was one person left who should’ve been gone a long time ago just like his scumbag friends.

Reinhardt speaks, “Well…” Then he sets down his shotgun before continuing, “Like my daddy said right before he killed my mom, ‘If ya want somethin' done right, ya gotta do it yourself’. He then unsheathes my father’s sword, “He also said…”

Reinhardt attempts to kill my father with his own sword, only for Blade to grab it. My father leans in close, “Can you blush?” I knocked the sword out of Reinhardt's hands, As I caught the sword and cut him down, a sense of grim justice filled me. We had faced unimaginable horrors, but in this moment, we were not just survivors; we were warriors. Blade's question to Reinhardt, a taunt in the face of his imminent demise, was the perfect punctuation to our victory.

Together, we had turned the tables, not just surviving but asserting our defiance against those who would see us fall.

Nomak could still be heard in the building. My father looked at me and I motioned him to go. He ran towards the commotion after I handed him his sword. I ran to the catwalk upstairs to Whistler and Oscar. “I’m alright kid,” Whistler said as I looked him over. I nodded then moved to Oscar, he was healing already but the wound to his side wasn’t pretty. “You need blood,” I told him. He shook his head at my tone. “I’ll be fine, just do it, please. You’ve saved me enough.” I spoke and I moved my curls away from my neck. Helping guide his face to my neck I shivered feeling his fangs scrape against my skin. I winced feeling him bite into me.

Soon we made our way to find my father. He stands, exhausted. Then he looks to where Nyssa rests. He moves to her side, kneeling beside her. She smiles up at him, bravely, but frightened all the same. Blade inspects the wound on her neck. It's clearly fatal.

Nyssa coughed, “How does it look?” My father said with genuine sadness, “Not good.” Nyssa nods. He has only confirmed her existing fears. “It won't be long now. I can already feel it burning inside me –“ She grips my father’s arm, her eyes welling with tears. “I don't want to become what Nomak was –“ she pauses, her voice straining “I can't. I want to die while I'm still a vampire.” Blade sighs. The burden is all too familiar to him.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks “I want to see the sun rise.” My father, his face is a mask of sad resignation. He lifts Nyssa into his arms. She closes her eyes, resting her head on his chest.

As I watched him carry Nyssa in his arms toward the light of the approaching dawn, my heart ached. It was a poignant reminder of the brutal world we inhabited, where moments of beauty were all too often overshadowed by loss and sacrifice. Inside the safety of the facility, Oscar and I stood by the doorway, our own wounds and exhaustion forgotten in the face of Nyssa's impending farewell.

The shutters over the doors and windows slowly rise. Blade shoulders open the front door, moving across the lawn towards a bluff overlooking the ocean.

The pre-dawn air was chilly, wrapping its cold fingers around me, yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the scene unfolding outside. The sky began to lighten, a canvas of soft blues and pinks stretching wide over the horizon. The ocean’s waves crashed rhythmically below, a natural lullaby to the tragic yet beautiful moment before us.

Nyssa’s face, illuminated by the first light of dawn, was serene yet resigned. Nyssa's eyes widened in expectation, her breath catching. She looks up at Blade, stroking his face, and smiling. “Each day is a little life. Remember?” Blade's response was unspoken, communicated through the tear that escaped his stoic facade. It was a rare glimpse into the depth of his emotions, revealing a vulnerability that he seldom showed.

I felt a lump form in my throat. The simplicity and depth of her words struck a chord, resonating with the harsh truths we’d all come to accept. Life, no matter how fleeting, was a collection of these small moments, each one precious.

The sun, now peeking over the horizon, cast a warm glow that seemed to hold the promise of peace, if only for a moment. They kiss then as the sun rises in full glory, flooding the world with its brilliance.

As the sunlight grew stronger, bathing everything in a golden light, Nyssa's transformation was both tragic and beautiful. The way she clung to my father, seeking comfort in her final moments, was heart-wrenching. I felt Oscar's hand squeeze mine, a silent support in the face of such profound sadness.

When Nyssa finally turned to ash, the sight was devastatingly beautiful. She didn't suffer; it was quick, almost gentle as if the sun itself had reached down to cradle her. Blade’s mourning was palpable, the way he held onto the empty space where she had been, unwilling to let go.

As my father faced the sun, eyes closed and face serene, there was a sense of closure, of acceptance in his posture. It was as if he was allowing the warmth of the sun to fill the void left by Nyssa’s passing, embracing the pain and the peace that came with it.

Standing there, watching my father, I realized that each battle we fought, each loss we endured, was shaping us. Not just as warriors, but as beings capable of profound sorrow and resilience. In that moment, I understood that we weren’t just fighting for survival, but for these small pockets of time where we could feel, love, and remember. Each day, indeed, was a little life, and despite the darkness, there was always a possibility for light.

As my father turned away from the sunrise, his movements slower, weighed down by grief, I felt Oscar tighten his grip on my hand, grounding me. We lingered in the doorway as Whistler walked out to my father, neither of us eager to step away from the raw, emotional tableau we had just witnessed. Oscar finally broke the silence, his voice a low murmur barely audible over the crashing waves. "There's something hauntingly beautiful about saying goodbye like that, isn't there?" he asked, his gaze still fixed on Blade’s retreating back.

I nodded, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions I felt. "It makes you realize how precious every moment is," I managed to say, my voice thick with emotion.

Oscar turned to look at me, his eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and something else—perhaps a newfound appreciation for the fragility of life. "It does," he agreed. "And it makes me want to make the most of every moment we have."

The weight of his words hung between us, charged with an unspoken promise to face whatever lay ahead together. It was a commitment, not just to battle, but to life itself—to finding those moments of beauty amidst the chaos.

We finally stepped back into the facility, the normalcy of the interior felt starkly contrastive to the profound scene outside. The hum of machinery and the sterile, metallic smells seemed out of place with the natural beauty and emotional intensity we had just experienced.

As we walked down the corridor, the sound of our steps echoing off the walls, I glanced at Oscar. His profile was set, determined, yet there was a softness there that hadn’t been as apparent before. In that moment, I realized how much he had changed, how much we had all changed. We were bound together not just by our mission but by our shared experiences and the losses we had endured.

Oscar’s words, laced with both sorrow and resolve, resonated deeply with me. I could see in his eyes a determination, a shared vision that stretched beyond the current moment of grief and into the many battles we would face together. His commitment was not just to the cause but to us—to our life together amidst the chaos.

As we navigated the corridors of the facility, moving away from the aftermath of the sunrise, a plan began to form in my mind—a plan that involved Oscar not just as a partner in battle but in every aspect of life. I knew the risks, the uncertainties of our existence, but the thought of facing it all without him was unimaginable.

Turning to him, I stopped and took both of his hands in mine. The cold metal of the corridor seemed to drop away as I looked into his eyes. "Oscar," I started, the intensity of my feelings grounding my voice, "these missions, this fight—it's going to continue, maybe for a long time. But whatever happens, I want you there with me. Not just as a fighter, or a tactician, but as my partner. All of it—every fight, every quiet moment, every sunrise. Will you do that? Will you come with me, wherever this leads?"

His response came not just in words but in the gentle squeeze of his hands and the immediate warmth in his eyes. "Yes," he said firmly. "There's no one else I'd rather be with, through all of this and beyond. Wherever you go, I'm with you."

With that affirmation, a weight lifted from my shoulders—a weight I hadn’t fully acknowledged until that moment. Our path wouldn’t be easy; we had seen too much, lost too much to harbor any illusions about the future. But with Oscar’s promise, the journey ahead seemed not just bearable but hopeful.

As we rejoined my father and Whistler, now with a shared purpose shining clear between us, our steps were a bit lighter. We were more than just comrades; we were partners in the fullest sense, ready to face whatever challenges awaited, knowing that together, we could find those precious moments of life amid the battles we fought.

This commitment shaped our future operations and decisions. We planned together, fought together, and in those rare moments of peace, we built a life together—one carefully constructed moment at a time, treasuring each day as if it were both the first and the last. Our partnership became our strength, our beacon through the darkest times.

My father’s reaction to my decision to formally bring Oscar into both my personal and professional life was marked by his typical stoic demeanor, yet beneath his reserved exterior, I sensed a careful assessment taking place. Blade has always been a complex figure, grappling with his own solitude and the responsibilities that come with leading a war against darkness. His approval, therefore, was never going to be overtly enthusiastic or warmly affectionate, but rather conveyed through subtle signs of acceptance and strategic planning.

Initially, my father was quiet, his eyes frequently meeting mine with a discerning look. I could tell he was evaluating not just Oscar’s suitability as a permanent team member, but also how his personal relationship with me might affect our operations. Blade's primary concern has always been the mission and the safety of his team. He watched Oscar and me closely in the days that followed, observing how we interacted during both high-stress situations and downtime.

One evening, after a particularly grueling strategy session, Blade finally addressed the situation in his usual direct manner. "You two seem solid," he remarked casually while cleaning his weaponry, not looking up. "That’s good. Just make sure it stays that way in the field. We can’t afford distractions." This was his way of giving his nod of approval—it wasn't just about personal feelings; it was about maintaining operational integrity. His acknowledgment was a testament to his trust in our judgment and our ability to balance our personal relationship with our professional duties.

My father’s acceptance was also reflected in how he began to include Oscar more frequently in strategic decisions, often deferring to Oscar's expertise in technology and intelligence. This shift was subtle but significant, signaling Blade's recognition of Oscar's value to the team and his trust in my choice of partner.

Whistler’s reaction, on the other hand, was far more straightforward and warmly paternal. Having been a mentor and almost a father figure to me, Whistler always showed a more openly protective concern about my well-being, both on and off the field. When he first realized the depth of my relationship with Oscar, his response was mixed with cautious optimism.

"You sure about this, kid?" Whistler asked me one day, his voice tinged with concern as we worked on repairing some equipment. I affirmed, explaining how Oscar supported me and strengthened our team. Nodding thoughtfully while puffing on his ever-present cigarette, Whistler finally cracked a small, wry smile. "Well, I’ve seen the guy in action, and I gotta say, he’s got guts. Just watch each other's backs, alright?"

Over time, Whistler took it upon himself to offer both practical and personal advice to us, sometimes sharing anecdotes from his own past to illustrate the importance of trust and communication in relationships, especially in our line of work. His stories were often sprinkled with humor and hard-earned wisdom, helping to ease the tension and build camaraderie.

Whistler also became a sort of informal counselor to Oscar, taking him under his wing and guiding him in both the technical and tactical aspects of our operations. This mentorship helped Oscar integrate more smoothly into the team and reassured me that our relationship had the blessing of someone I deeply respected.

Both Blade and Whistler’s reactions, in their own ways, underscored a crucial aspect of our group dynamic—while we were warriors fighting against a dark and powerful enemy, we were also a tight-knit family, looking out for one another and valuing each member's happiness and well-being. Their responses reinforced the balance we strove to maintain between our personal lives and our responsibilities to the team and the mission.

[zhansww]

[mummer]

just saw asteroid city last night, pls explain the proposed significance of the kiss!!

answering this publicly hope thats ok! cant do a readmore im on mobile *****asteroid city spoilers below beware*****

i dont remember anyones names so this is gonna sound partly unhinged. okay so the edward norton playwright and jason schwartzman actor (not character, in the black and white parts) are lovers right. tbh i thought this was kind of a gag and forgot about it. but later we find out that the playwright died 6 months into the production. i didnt make the connection that THAT’s why the actor-jason has to suddenly leave the stage and freaks out backstage about how he’s not sure he’s Doing it right. hes not talking about acting!! because he himself is literally grieving his lover while he’s playing a character who’s grieving his wife written by his lover so obviously it’s too much!!! actor-jason is trying to find meaning in his death through his writing but there isnt any meaning in death [gerris drinkwater voice] which is what the play is trying to say anyway. he doesnt think he’s performing grief right even in his own life!!! (and tbh it’s the 50s so he wouldnt be able to perform grief publicly anyway!!!!) the play starts with a car accident… anyone would search for some hidden meaning there, some sign…. so when he talks to margot robbie outside it’s not really about finding the CHARACTER’s motivations it’s about the actor himself being able to process the playwright’s death! and adrien brody director was probably also dealing with that too (him and norton seemed to be good buddies) so the whole “sleeping backstage” thing gets a bit sadder maybe? maybe everyone else got this in the theatre and im just stupid lol but crazy making stuff to me!!! the whole story is about sublimated gay grief that cannot be expressed?!?!

the tweet that caught me onto this was here which posits that the playwright’s death was a suicide but i think that’s pretty stupid and unnecessary because the whole thing about the play asteroid city is that death is random and meaningless. im pretty sure that’s what the alien represents— a shocking and absurd event that isnt outright evil or menacing, not something anyone can predict or make sense of, it’s just a thing that happens to you out of nowhere, it doesnt mean anything. he’s a little black figure, he’s death! giving and taking! aagh

[nickhugs]

Nick’s journey from “hi” to “i would fight the whole world for you”

[lewkwoodnco]

while I was skimming through ep 4 I stopped and rewatched the bit where lucy's pulling out the marissa fittes interview tape from the stack and just felt so overwhelmed/SEEN by the terribly anxious and devastated vibe of the scene through the camera work, the visual composition of the scene and ofc the brilliant acting by ruby stokes in her slightly jerky/unstable actions conveying the tremor, both literal and figurative, in lucy. especially cuz of how lucy's generally not one to display these kinds of emotions (or 'weakness') which just goes to show how badly shaken up she is by that fight w lockwood. and it just reminds the audience once again that yes she is so brave and so tough but she's still just a teenage girl and here she is having a very average teenage girl experience.....while shouldering burdens she is far too young for.

[airenyah]

so i finally got to yank-kiss-yeet with my mom and when zo just leaves joke hanging after calling joke his boyfriend my mom (and me too actually) were already cracking up about it and then the scene continues and then the door opens and zo yanks joke inside and my mom laughs in surprise and goes "ahahah nice!!" and then they're kissing and my mom is like "that's a beautiful kissing scene. yeah, i get it now" and then zo yeets joke back out the door and we're laughing even harder and just continue to laugh all the way until the credits roll

[panharmonium]

“it would be meaningless if the citizens of the hidden leaf are dead” 

WHO is this root operative???  i need to know more

danzo is listening to this like ‘god no not another one who’s ready to have a life-changing chance encounter forcing them to re-examine their ideology and reject their misguided beliefs in favor of joining hatake kakashi’s found family; not again’

[myfriendtheghost]

goodnight, handsome

[altruistic-meme]

gotta do everything by myself around here 😔

[ronanlynchbf]

[sylvies-chen]

something I just love about the Helnik dream sequences in season two is that the first thing Matthias sees in his dreams of Nina is her cupping his cheek with her hand, and how that’s like the one piece of physical touch from his dreams that he actually knows what it feels like because she did it in 1x08 so that familiarity is probably why he dreams of it first 😭

[delicatebluebirdruins]

Mia's nightmares

a/n some time working for the connections (going off the Kaitai Shinsho guide for it)

this is very self-indulgent, yes, the pictures where needed, yes, I wanted to touch on somethings but writing wise? I am rusty.

small playlist: You shine Carrie the musical; go tell aunt Rhody (both versions original and re7); I found amber run; someday and bullet proof by Godsmack (I wish I could have found acoustic versions); I’ll make it up to you by imagine dragons.

Information on how to handle missing people is really interesting and I included a bit of my research into this.

No beta reader we die like ethan must never die but a huge thank you. To @precambrian-sea-pancake for putting up with me through out all of this. I don’t have the words to describe how grateful I am for their help.

more notes in the tags

2010 March 1st Interview Day. When she went in, she was as prepared as she was going to be. The day was warm for March. The job was entry level with some traveling involved and some desk work. It would also be putting good in the world months of research told her that much... the interview went well and by the end of April she started work and for the few months she was on desk work, and it was normal. Routine. During that time fire drills were very rare and of course the outbreak drills were slightly fewer but still there and it startled them all every time. The implications behind it created a horrible combination of safety and terror that it could happen here in her place of work. After three of these outbreak drills it was decided that all desk workers got put into the combat training course for a few months after that was done, she and a few others were put into advanced combat. For the next few months, she could have sworn she was being followed but it’s a small world you're bound to run into people outside of professional (or educational) places, right? but she didn’t actually recognise the guy when she got a good look at him, it wasn’t from work she was sure of that much, but the recognition remains, and this just seemed to be deliberate...

date night few months later: she was always giddy to see Ethan and they'd been so busy of late. This time it was simple. A takeaway dinner from their favourite place and a walk in the park and they walked past the horse statue and sat next to the pond talking and keeping an eye on the bolder squirrels as they ate their food enjoying its warmth and, talking about everything and looking at the clouds shape. it was the most normal she felt in months. Neither noticed the people watching them.

2011 May after many more dates she and Ethan got married. it was joyful their friends and family there, the favourite photos of the shoot and the gift of the music box from Ethans grandmother was what made her cry. he told her about it how much it soothed him when he was younger and scared of the dark. throughout all of it they don't let go of each other’s hands. As the day slipped away the light flickered into gold and the last pictures of the day were done everyone went home and then so did, they.

2012 She was still being taught combat training and was improving with hand to hand, and her arms training was doing even better. As time went on, she was moved away from desk work and sent out and trained off site for a greater range of terrains like the beach at night (the running she had to do was killer) that specific trip took a few days to recover from. But it all meant she got stronger, and it meant less makeup and less bruises. less things to hide from Ethan (she didn't want to think of the times he grazed a bruise by accident, and she flinched. and how hurt he looked for it) considering the world she felt confident... it was only a matter of time till the next major outbreak shook the news. (And just as quickly the BSAA will take control and the information coming out will be cut off). As it was. The civil war in Edonia and rumors of something being used in combat situations. That fear was reflected on everyone she saw during those months.

Getting home and hearing the soft music playing put a smile on her face the first genuine one in months. approaching quietly, she dropped a kiss on Ethan's head as he played a song that she hadn't heard in a while. dimly remembering the lyrics, she sat next to him and sang softly "What a surprise, gazing into your eyes. I swear that I still get lost in the light. No photograph could possibly show. The you I know" and watched a smile grace his face as it always did when she joined him here, she was glad that he couldn't see her face as she remembered how that song and the story itself ended. Realising what was coming up she had an idea of what to get him.

As time went on her business trips were training of a different kind. She got sent with minimal warning (having to come up with a plausible reason for her leaving that got harder and harder) and a firm order of no personal items. So she also had to think of when to take off and stow her wedding ring she was already worried of losing it. The missions were always how to get items from a certain point to a specific destination unimportant things with different challenges thrown in to distract and horrify her. They did at first but then they didn't as much. On the occasions of people dying (both friend and enemy) her superiors always waved it off with fake blood and hired actors to play dead. That explanation worked for a while, but the nightmares and guilt remained. It wasn’t until she got told that she had completed the training and she was sent out on more serious missions. With real life and death stakes. That she had doubts about the first explanation during the training period there was no difference between the real and the faked. And she got better at seeing the potential pitfalls the traps and sometimes the violence turned her stomach, but she worked through it thinking she was working for the good guys. The trips put their own kind of strain on her relationship with Ethan because she couldn't tell him what she was transporting or anything else and seeing each other so rarely. They had more arguments then ever during this period.

Anniversary one (2012) she got Ethan a few sketchbooks as he was lamenting that he hadn’t had a chance to get any recently. It was simple but then so were they. Ethan had her grandfathers clock fixed. It was a big clock or particularly old but when she was a child she remembered Gappy winding it, remembered when the paint faded the time he spent taking care of it. Time and use had damaged it and it was not easily fixed. And she cried when she realised that she couldn’t fix it. So this meant so much to her.

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Jan 2014 was when she was approached and told she fit the criteria to be brought onto the E-000 project and the world shattered. Alan Droney (the director of the special operations division he introduced himself as) collected her and left outside the door. She went through the blood-soaked bed was out of place in the blinding white room she did not notice the black and the man crying in pain as he cradled what was left of his arm. and the child standing over him. and they all watched as the limb regrew and the sound of the sobbing and the horrible scratching of pen on paper as the stop watches they all had ticked on marking the time for this regrowth to take place, she knew these sights and sounds would follow her into sleep tonight.

snapping to attention as one of the researchers said her daughter was so powerful, wasn't she? the fanatical gleam was even more unsettling than the words somehow then the woman turned her attention turned and she approached the child. Eveline, they called her. they didn't say any names to the researchers they just referred to each other as elements on the periodic table (it felt more like an inside joke at times) the woman with the fanatical gleam was not called anything of the sort she was simply called Maică Superioară. Afterwards the researchers sat with and described what her role will be that the imprinting protocol will be started between her and Evie. With that bond Evie will trust her implicitly and listen to her the most. The pressure and the responsibility for it was immense. She would have an increase in pay. The display when she entered was part of a show. Put on to shock her. A small test for her mind. Another one when she thought about it. They mentioned briefly that there may be a time where she had to transport Evie but didn't elaborate and she wasn't given the chance to ask. Transporting a child, a bioweapon is hugely different then transporting old treasures. She hoped they would give her more training for that event. Listening to the sales pitch and thinking of all it will entail her thoughts cycled. This went from shadiness to beginning to descend into a cave from which there would be no leaving. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore like the companies’ goals anymore or their apparent desire to do good in the world.

She was lucky to get home when she did a week later as rifling through the post, she opened the plain envelope addressed to her and there were pictures of her and ethan in their house, on dates, with friends. the message was clear you are being watched and you know what will happen if he learns anything. Anything at all. She felt like an injured animal cornered by her own thoughts and his concern and love, so she walked out the door and he found her after a bit. the ticking got louder every time he asked what she was hiding from him every time he said she was lying to him... she was relieved at not having to answer as their phones rang but it wasn't over. it never was with Ethan, but he left it alone gave her space, but she could feel his eyes watching her and the feeling of being on a balancing beam that was getting more lopsided every second (she just did her best to avoid him for the next few months)

left to right: Manganese; Boron; Iridium.

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Coming back into work the next day the researchers mentioned the envelope repeating plainly to not tell anyone what she saw with Evie... she felt anxious more than she had ever been before here. There was no official paperwork to sign and there was a threat here. A threat that became all to, clear when weeks later and she and Evie were talking (all the while being watched) and being made to interact more and more when the child said, "you're nicer than the old one" and confused she looked down and the girl smiled and pointed at the wall of pictures the researchers put up (something you can see through the large window of Evie’s room) and in the middle one was of an older woman and Eveline moved her finger to another photo of a man and said that was her husband and then there was another photo of them being covered with mold. They were both turning into the monsters she was being trained to fight. the warning was clear. don't fuck this up.

Home time brought another ominous envelope feeling tense around her shoulders and neck she opened it and it was just bills. but the day was stressful and long and the tears spilled over and didn't stop until Ethan got home. he took in the situation and crouched in front of her gently taking the letter reading it and just understood it was the last straw of a long day. taking her hands and sitting next to her and just being for a bit. then they got supper ready simple and warming then went to bed.

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there were many times where she noticed how the researchers treated Evie. when she started Evie asked her many questions about her family (she mentioned bits but never any names) about the world at large she wondered why (it didn't last long) the other researchers treated her as a tool, to a certain extent Iridium and Manganese were the closest to treating her as a person, and she was never around for Evie's one on one conversations with Maică but knowing the woman she wished she was... Iridium had an ear worm and for weeks on repeat whistled the same song over and over again or worse sang it. Evie sometimes hummed (getting a smile from Iridium) along as well adding to the eeriness of the tune but she didn’t do it often. the lyrics she didn't think much of until they found her at sleep "go tell aunt Rhody old... gander is weeping because his wife is dead" always morphed into "when she’s done, he’ll be torn apart" when that happened, she always woke up always reached for Ethan before stopping as touching him would make him wake and she would have to come up with yet another lie.

She tried not to think how many have died at her own hands during the actual missions she was sent on and the people she heard die whilst she was learning about the d series (the screams and roars echoed) and what happened to them during the nights where that song was the accompaniment. Maică seemed to see her as a rival for Evie’s affections but during this training stage Mia and Evie hadn’t interacted a lot at all. And her looking in on the lessons especially about the ones that would neutralise Evie she always had a terrifying look on her face whenever she happened across these lessons. But the researchers insisted that these lessons were worst case scenario that Eveline was perfect. That there was hope for her looking at Eveline's stony expression Mia didn’t know what to say. The day after training she arrived and was going through the motions of arriving. Getting in putting her stuff in the locker assigned and wishing she had a lab coat as well because it was getting harder to explain to Ethan why she came home in different clothes that she left in. Exchanging a smile with Manganese they pushed through the door and heard the scream. A scream from Maică, and Maică was never anything but calm and distant. No one could think of a time where she had raised her voice let alone screamed. So, they all came running expecting carnage, but nothing was amiss, but Maică just seemed frustrated hugely so. Before anyone could ask anything, she knocked over a tray of syringes making them all jump and left. They didn't see her again for the next two days. Everything changed after that Maică was distant and angry and everyone who had to cross her path did so on eggshells and Evie just seemed hurt and wouldn't speak around anyone but Mia and even then, not like she used to.

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2014 Anniversary third: last years was missed entirely all money and effort were spent in mending their house that was damaged in a storm and they were just busy. But this year busy again but they did manage to get each other something needed as their originals were no longer salvageable Mia gave Ethan a new wallet and he gave her a travelling bag with little extras thrown in. His had a picture from their first date and an old penny that his mum found. It would seem silly to anyone else, but the coin is distinct and had a story behind it.

Home time was something dreaded especially on bad days with Evie. As the rates of accidental infections of the mold became unnervingly frequent. As it was not clear for her what the imprint would mean for her if she was infected... she dreaded bringing baggage home with her, she dreaded his eyes that watched her every move and the invisible axe over Ethan's head. She couldn't bear the sound of ticking now wondering how long it will be before this blew up. they started to bicker and argue. There were many times she felt the words explaining what her job entailed bubbling up and wanting to be shared with him to help them all. The threats were effective though and she felt she could deal with her problem as long as Ethan was safe. The dreams were getting worse. one night a bad one had Ethan screaming begging for something she couldn't hear, and she tried to get to him but couldn't. She was going through treacle and her hands felt sticky and wet looking down realising they were covered in blood. Ethan's blood. Waking she began to reach for Ethan but remembered the dream. She lay down again and turned away from him and waited for the morning.

She didn't want to sleep again that night. when she "woke up" Ethan had already left fixing herself a quick breakfast she noticed a piece of paper on the table and picked it and realised it was a doodle of the horse statue in the park seeing it inspired her. During her lunch break she went out and got a pad of paper and cheap colouring pencils after she smuggled those in once the days testing was done and she was certain they were not being watched. She sat with Evie, and they doodled together for the rest of the day. To start with Evie was content with just shapes and lines as any child would do but she got more confident and drew people as well. It was one of the most normal interactions Evie and Mia has ever had. After they were done Mia hid the pictures under Evie’s mattress and said goodbye to the girl. To Evie however this afternoon meant the world to her. The next few weeks after was terrible though. Manganese didn’t show up for work at all and the others seemed on edge. Mia was kept out of the loop as usual. Then one day he was brought into the lab handcuffed and bruised. Looking like he had been tortured. And shoved to the ground he faced his fate. As Maică and Boron told Evie to take control of him and she did. As they all watched he grabbed a knife and slashed himself repeatedly. All the while this was silent… Mia wanted to stop it, but she knew this mood. It had been all to frequent with Maică recently and her ire would turn on Mia herself if she said anything. It wasn’t until the next day when she heard the reasoning behind this display. He was merely suspected of giving secrets to the BSAA or someone else. They didn’t know for sure. They found something suspicious and jumped straight to executioner. It was something a long time coming.

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October 2014 you would think Maică announcing that was leaving soon would throw a spanner in everything but it stabilised things more than anything else. And considering recent events the loss of Manganese and Iridium being “fired” she felt nervous coming into work the next day. As she entered the head office area leading to the stairs Mia noticed boxes everywhere and people packing them up and moving. She was told that this part of the building was rented out to other businesses, so she thought nothing of it. Turns out they were all moving as Maică and Boron announced Evie would be moved under the care of her and Alan. they weren't told why or why there was only two of them she felt a little confident. She and Evie had a solid rapport, and she and Alan worked well together but still they’d not been in the field with just the two of them and a powerful child. If the powers that be weren't confident in her and especially Alan's (as her superior officer) abilities, they wouldn't be sent at all. Still the doubt and the dread remained. They were given a time and a place. They were to be given an envelope holding their specific orders that was not allowed to be opened until they got onto the tanker. the Annabelle... all she heard in her dreams that night was screaming.

Date night: she was nervous. Worried. She was going to tell Ethan she was leaving on a longer trip tonight and she’d noticed people following her on and off again. And she couldn’t tell who they were working for this time. She heard the rumors that the BSAA was investigating bioweapon manufacturing in the area. She had considered calling them. Many times. But anonymous or not Ethan would still be caught in the middle. Ethan would be in danger. And she couldn’t see it be more or less if she said nothing or something. Hands shaking as she applied makeup to dark circles, she considered Evie what would happen to her. Despite everything she cared for the girl. They were both monsters at this point (especially Mia herself isolating herself from her friends and to a lesser extent Ethan himself) and she wanted to scream at everyone that showed her kindness. She was not able to protect Evie from Maică and her cruel comments (she still did not know anything about the woman other than she used to see Evie as her daughter but there was more to it than that… there had to be).

Especially recent comments. Breathing in and out she finished off her makeup and wanted to get rid of the mask. All of them and a small hope that one day she could… She hoped when it came to it, she could help the BSAA and bring down the connections. Her help would be minimal she had a few names, few places but some knowledge is better than no knowledge… going that way was where madness lies. So, she put it in the overstuffed drawer of pain and horror and tried to ignore it… The café she was going to was nice and Ethan was handsome as ever. She felt like she hadn’t seen him for years so this was so nice. Especially when they left and shared headphones. Less nice was the first song that came on “Oh I'll use you as a warning sign. That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind.” The song felt very close to raw nerve endings. She was amazed that she didn’t recoil hearing that song. He took the news well as she told him on the way home and taking what felt like a risk told him a little about Evie and he was understandably very confused about the child she was also going to be looking after as well but she just told him it was her boss’s child, and the kid was going to a new boarding school in the same area as where her destination is (he was going to ask where that was but she cut him off. Taking him aback), and they didn’t want her travel on her own just yet. So, it was two birds one stone.

October 3rd Early Afternoon the group gathered together for a photo, and she felt out of place. Maică left not soon after and then they received the envelope and were sent home for last minute packing and so they did. She felt on edge and nervous as she checked her bag. Jumping when Ethan spoke from the doorway and asked (again) why she was lying to him. All she felt looking at him was a lump stopping her from speaking and the never-ending sound of ticking in her head. Even though this time she could actually be more truthful than usual. She said she wasn’t good enough for this trip. This time he only partially believed her… she could tell. In a change of pace Ethan offered to come with her and see her off at the dock. Her panic at Ethan and Evie meeting made her “no” too sharp, a tone she had never used on him, and the gutted feeling of watching Ethan flinch back from her was something she’d never forget. Picking up her wallet and ensuring her driver’s license was inside and putting it in her bag. Which she folded around and put it in the suitcase. As she did that Ethan noticed amongst her things there was nothing for a child in there. But dismissed assuming the kid would be having her own things with her. She backtracked and hoped her panic and fear was not obvious.

That he might come anyway all she said was good enough to make him stay home but not enough to wipe that wounded look off his face. And the sound of the car horn from her taxi prevented further words and there was only just enough time for her to press a kiss to his cheek. Before going outside and getting in the car. Losing sight of home and Ethan who was at the door by that point almost made her cry, but she couldn’t. At all. The last time she had really cried was getting the bills strangely putting that thought to the side she arrived at the dock and smelling the sea and the sounds of shouts and waves. Looking up at the tanker Mia felt miles away already floating in the sea. She hadn’t even left yet but she wanted to go home to talk to Ethan and be completely honest with him, but she was rooted to the ground with the fear of what could happen and of course the feeling of cold fingers on her arm and the tug on her sleeves made her look down at Evie who was looking up at her and then turned and looked at Alan who had his camera out. they stood together and she wondered if her discontent was obvious...

Getting into their quarters she eyed the open envelope that Alan had left for her to read as well. Picking it up with a sigh she began to read through it. It was not long but it still took a reread to understand their duties. She felt sick. Any confidence she had was gone. She had seen Evie take over people with her mold and how she made them act once infected and she felt nervous especially when focusing on that last point... what would make the mission that compromised? she supposed briefly that she would know what is considered to be "beyond reconciliation" when it happens but even then, she has seen Evie infect multiple people in a day, almost simultaneously. That had been her challenge the weeks after Manganese was executed infect multiple people at once. The next few nights she dreamed of screaming and blood and a horrible high-pitched giggle.

She woke up to a beautiful day and Alan and Evie weren't in their quarters... before she could worry, she noticed the note and only slightly relaxed she took the chance and went outside on deck sending a message to Ethan. Without thinking about her actions she pressed record. Something she did not usually do but considering her location and the oncoming storm she wanted it to get through. Starting off she was bright and happy how could she not? She was told her job here was almost done. The brightness dimmed a little as she caught sight of Evie and Alan, and she signed off after telling Ethan that her "babysitting" job would be over soon she brightened up again when she took the chance to say she loved him. She tried to ignore the feeling of foreboding that only got worse when she admitted her role in this was almost done to the camera just before stopping the recording.

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October 5th evening: when everything went wrong nobody else noticed (they would soon enough) to Mia it sounded like waves normal hustle and bustle the storm picking up as she passed a porthole carrying Alan. Evie’s giggle as she ran off. Trying to stem the rising panic getting to their quarters Alan pulled away and collapsed by the sofa. Coughing and weak. She sounded a lot calmer than she was feeling ignoring the panic at Alan’s infection and that she should have gone after Evie before tending to Alan. She crouched next to Alan. Stating the obvious “Alan you’re getting worse.” He admitted it was his fault Evie got out that she heard her own voice agree with him then everything rushed in and became clearer again when she promised Alan that she was not going to let him die and saw Alan reach out to her and felt the cool touch of the vial containing Evie's tissue samples with Alan saying, “you find her- you fix this”. She knew what it meant. Taking the vial, the situation was getting bad, but it could be worse. Fix this was echoing inside her head. She just had to get to Evie in time. So, turning to the door she searched for calm and finding it and the weight of her knife and handgun on her hip said with more confidence then she was feeling breathed in and said "Okay, Evie. Where are you ."

Leaving their quarters, she followed the codex to the kitchen finding the black vomit covering a good part of it cursing she reset the codex and updated Alan who stating the obvious said “this is getting out of hand” but she agreed because he was right. Going down to the bottom level fighting any molded she sees on the way. Going into the second engine room and hearing Evie’s voice from the shadows “are you mad at me mommy?” the response was automatic and truthful “no Evie I’m not mad” she wasn’t mad but as she spoke, she stuttered when the last word registered, and she felt wary and confused and wanted Evie to elaborate “wait what did you call me?” and with a pleading voice Evie continues with “I don’t want to live at the lab anymore. I want a house. And I want you to be my mommy” listening to Evie’s voice, Mia said something that she hoped would work “okay Evie I’ll be your mummy. come back with me right now.” It didn’t and Evie ran off again giggling with Mia’s over voice saying “Evie wait” as the Annabelles blaring sirens started up. Warning off the molded or the storm that was upon them? She thought. It was both. Leaving the engine room, she contacted Alan. “Did you find her?” Alan asked straight away her frustration was there “Yes but she ran off. she’s making more friends Alan; those things are everywhere.” More Coughing came from Alan. He did not sound good… he waved off her concern reminding her she has a job to do “you just worry about getting Eveline back.”

Making the trek back to their quarters to grab more ammo and check on Alan. Found Alan not there. Calling him lead nowhere there was no answer, and she left a message then she noticed the wall and the writing on it. It looked like blood all it said was “Evie’s upstairs.” Leaving going upstairs entering the corridor with Alan hunched over leaning against the wall (she only distantly noticed the open e Necrotoxin case near him). How did he get up here? She asked him that but all he said was “where’s Evie” updating him that Evie’s condition was deteriorating. All he said was “good thing I’m already dying” feeling desperate she pleads, not quite grasping how futile it was “don’t say that.”

A look comes over Alan’s face she hasn’t seen before or how to describe it really as he says "She trusts you. That little bitch, she never—” Getting up moving away from her spinning side to side looking at something she cannot see he begs “No, Evie, I—Evie—I didn't mean to call you that, Evie." Realising what was happening she spoke as clearly as possible “Alan, listen! She's trying to take control. You have to fight her”.

But it was too late, and he started to scream as the mold appeared on his body seeping through skin and clothes and vomiting it up. As he looked back up Mia turned her attention to Evie. It was instinctual to grab Alan as he was reaching forward. Her hands, on his shoulders ignoring the coldness of the mold she commanded “Eveline, stop! Stop right now!" trying to help them all. But it was too little the imprinting bond should have made this impossible and now it was too late. Alan realising, she was touching him yelled "Don't touch me!"  Pushing her as far away from him as he could but it wasn’t enough as she watched the mold consume his body and he collapsed. She saw the codex flashing red before his arm moved and Alan died. And then she saw Evie’s boots and a silhouette of arms swinging in the air before stilling as mold formed around her and Mia felt it cover her head and face screaming as the world went black… she did not know how long she was out if it all, but she became aware of her surroundings again looking down at her hands the macabre lace gloves of mold covering them. Getting up and panting watching as the mold sank into her skin. Leaving her normal hands behind. Not so normal.

Feeling Evie call for her, she began to follow it but first she noticed the bright light of the laptop. The brightest thing here. Fighting against the summons she went to it and sat down. Clenching her fist she pressed the record button, and this final message. Because one way or another she was going to die soon. She said “Ethan...” closing her eyes shaking herself. Panting as the calling became stronger, she continued “You were right. I did lie to you. I shouldn't have, but—” confirming his suspicions with that sentence and dooming him She closed her eyes again as Evie’s call was insistent “All I can say is that if you get this...” begging she said the words “Stay away. Forget that you ever knew me. Have a good life." She wanted him to live. She wanted him to move on when she was gone. Finishing the recording she stepped away from the laptop and continued on thinking she had pressed send but she hadn’t and in her desperation and Evie calling for her she didn’t think about the storm outside... Unbeknownst to Mia when she was buffeted by the wind it also hit the laptop sending it crashing to the ground and broken.

Going through the next door she caught up with Evie. Hearing the sound of running and screaming she put her arms up to defend herself as the crew member appeared and just as he was about to run into her exploded. As he did so Evie appeared and before Mia could say anything Evie promised in the most sinister voice Mia had ever heard from her “We’ll be together forever” As the siren lights flashed highlighting areas in red a blast of wind whipped down the corridor and the windows exploded. For the first time really feeling the power of the storm outside the walls of the ship broke apart. Mia felt herself slipping and grabbing for purchase but finding none found herself falling. Gripping onto an exposed pipe she looked up as if the power of her stair would keep her stable on the slippery metal, then she saw the falling bodies. As one went past, she felt it and it made her lose her grip. Looking down at the raging see she caught a glimpse of a gash on her arm but catching sight of a fire she looked up as the top exploded then she heard more closer to her. She looked up as something above her exploded and her grip was lost, and she fell. Her last look was of the ship and trying to keep afloat fighting the inevitable, but the storm was stronger, and she lost. The sea swallowed her. Fading in and out of consciousness she saw the colours of fire and the ships destruction before she lost consciousness entirely.

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Back home master bedroom 9th October 2014 A tanker ship was missing. Due to a storm. He didn’t think much of it at the time. Ethan was sitting on their flooring rummaging through papers and thought about Mia and her everything, little things like how jumpy she was how paranoid at times. And bigger things like the bruises and being vague about what she was doing. At the start she told him a lot but since the bruises started appearing. She began lying to him. And now he didn’t know what to think especially looking at the letter he was holding. The one with a threat against him. Before anything solidified in his head a loud knock sounded downstairs and opening the door, he found two men who introduced themselves as police officers asked to come in. and they talked about how in reviews of lists they found Mia’s name among the missing from the ship Annabelle. He closed his eyes as they told him they knew no more than that and left after telling him they will be back with more information when they get more for it. Few hours later a different set of police officers appeared in uniform said the same thing and Ethan didn’t say anything about the first pair. He didn’t think it was bad just poor department communication. But the look in the police officers’ eyes when he didn’t react as expected (because he already knew) was suspicious. With the same promise they left.

October 10th onwards Ethan began to look at the news slowly but surely putting information together as it became known. He looked at the list of names available Captain Ed Carlile to the Physician Gerald Waddel. He felt useless reading them. The investigators only gave him so much especially when their investigation was focused on him it was hard and relationships were damaged if not severed entirely because of it but that investigation only lasted a month and 1 week. But the damage was irreparable for everyone… he had a hard time trusting everyone in uniforms after that. It was a hard time for everyone, at the meetings of families who had also been affected by the Annabelles disappearance (people like him) he didn’t like hearing the arguments between those who thought their loved ones were dead and others thought they were alive and the amount of work they had to put in to making sure everything is safe for when… if they return. And of course, his situation and three others of being suspected of having something to do with it was still hard… in 2015 a few of the families decided to get a presumption of death certificate in March. Ethan heard their reasoning and understood why they were doing it but couldn’t take part, he and a few others still had hope. But they all went to support their friends, misery loves company and watching the argument take place was that indeed. That whilst it’s been less than a year the disappearance of a ship in a hurricane and coastal rescue teams finding nothing is good enough reason to believe they’re dead… It was not long later when Ethan and the others did the same. It was easier for them. They knew what to expect and there had been more time.

The day was warm, and the sun was shining, and he looked at the simple gravestone he and the others put together with the names that they knew. People who had families and friends. Mia Winters was towards the end. The others were obscured by flowers. He looked at his wedding band. The gleam in the sun, felt the engraving and took it off. Putting it in his pocket and going to a home that no longer felt like it.

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It was decided that they move back to the old facility. It was deemed safe. The leaks potential and actual were plugged. Going downstairs the gloved hands holding hers let go when they went through door into the room with a window. It wasn’t anything different then what she had been in before. It wasn’t until she was left alone, and the lights dimmed, she sat on the bed. Lay down on the thin mattress and heard a rustle. Getting up she reached under and found what had made the noise. Pictures of things she hadn’t seen before or heard of. She could barely make out the name on some “Eveline” and Mia was on the others. She didn’t know the names, but she knew that Eveline was her sister she wondered who Mia was (she hadn’t been introduced to her caretaker yet). Realising that made her… happy. She carefully put the papers back under mattress, the rustle meaning that she wasn’t alone. She lay down again and fell asleep. And had nice dreams for once. The girl was called Elora and she had no idea what was coming next.

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Chris Redfield read the file that was placed on his desk, then again, the third time he was able to read what was actually on the pages outside of “Blue Umbrella”. It was all the information that Blue Umbrella had on a bioweapon manufacturing group called The Connections and they were experimenting with a special type of mold that is it. There was a suspected list of incidents possibly related to it. Including a disappearance of a tanker called the Annabelle with a list of victims one seemed familiar Mia Winters nee Thorne but the familiarity was distant and he wasn’t able to place it. (the reason why would be something he remembered a few years later)

He heard the door opening as he continued reading the last page that they request him for his experience in handling bioweapons in the field when the need arises (it was never a question of “if” always “when”). No startling when a hand landed on his shoulder how could he? It was just Jill and Carlos behind her. Coming to check on him again possibly because they heard about this file. They took a seat with him and read through it all as well. Reacting as expected to the intel provided and how little they had. They had time (a week) so they read again and contacted informants. Contacting the families of the missing people from the Annabelle was a struggle and discussed every angle there was they could in that week and in the end? Chris signed the papers and started working with Blue Umbrella.

[arolesbianism]

I may not be authorized to have lob corp character options given I've only read at best 30% of the story and only because of me watching playthroughs while I play but also I need everyone to give more of a shit abt Lisa right now she's literally the best one objectively because I said so

[rippy-bits]

utena fandom this is me talking directly in your ear listen closely. make thank you for the venom amv.

[skydigiblogs]

oh god i just finished 01 subbed

how dare they use butterfly as an insert so many times in two episodes

i'm not crying you're crying