#and yet another reason for her to hate LaCroix

[playedbetter]

@the-haunted-office said: From the multimuse questions meme: 5, 9, 13, 14, 25

(Soft reminder to please include the full context, meaning the full prompt/question not just the number/symbol when sending me memes)

which of your muses needs / wants a hug the most?

Going by my current fandom divisions (which I need to put on my doc along with a lot of new muses)

Crime: Kento and his past life Dolly Harris tie for need thanks to being abducted from their families and raised without love; Haru Maeda is the runner up. Badger would like a hug the most.

Horror: Clara both needs and wants one the most on account of being sixteen, responsible for saving a town, and hated by nearly everybody.

Superhero: Incredibly tough competition due to taking this to mean love and affection there is a three way tie between Zatanna Zatara, Zachary Zatara, and Nick Necro. All of them crave love and affection and all have things that get in the way of that. Nathan McDonald wants a hug the most.

Vampires: Lucy Westenra, between all the infantileaztion she went through, dying horribly at age nineteen, and then everything afterwards, she really could use a hug.

Actual Play: Beauregard Lionett, please give this woman a sense of security with the people she loves.

Discworld: I can't recommend hugging any of them for either your safeties stake (Vimes, Vetinari, Adora) or your wallets (Moist). That said, Moist von Lipwig.

Dragon Age: Zinnia Lavellan, she has suffered more than Andraste and her story isn't even over yet.

League of Legends: A tie between Aphelios and Alune, both isolated terribly and put through questionable training and oppression that threatened their lives.

Borderlands: 100% Angel, any sort of affection or love would be amazing for her.

Overwatch: Amélie LaCroix takes the cake thanks to everything that Talon has put her through, please hug her.

Team Fortress 2: Honestly I don't think a hug would help any of them in any major way, though Heavy likes hugs so go give him one.

Misc: The Narrator and Joey Mallone tie for both having spent countless years unable to touch anybody else and watch their loved one slowly die while either going insane or watching their loved one be insane.

Danganronpa: Mukuro Ikusaba and Inuko Hachiya tie thanks to both growing up in completely child inappropriate situations and facing heavy abuse for the stake of despair.

Homestuck: Vriska Serket, another case of how much a secure relationship would actually help.

which of your muses tends to be the group “mom friend”?

Going by my current fandom divisions

Crime: Dallas, he goes mother hen over the gang and trying to get them to get along.

Horror: Artemy Brukah, he can't help but worry so much about everyone and making sure they all have what they need.

Superhero: Barbara Gordon, even when you don't know it she will have your back and keep you covered.

Vampires: Don't say it to her face but Damsel, she is shockingly nosey and absolutely will show you the ropes, there's a reason she's known as a den mother.

Actual Play: None of them, Fjord comes the closest but he's more of a dad friend.

Discworld: By the metric of being nurturing Vetinari, nobody in their right mind would say this though.

Dragon Age: Garrett Hawke, before every adventure he makes sure everybody has their gear, he will cook you soup, he will make you wear warm clothing in winter.

League of Legends: Yone. Literally canonically described as a mom friend.

Borderlands: Absolutely none of them asking for responsibility from these people is like asking water from a rock.

Overwatch: Honestly none of these guys either, none of them are really that nurturing.

Team Fortress 2: Heavy is the only one of them worth a nurturing bone in his body.

Misc: Kim Kitsuragi, his near endless patience and calming affect let him take the spot with ease, and is the blog wide answer.

Danganronpa: Hajime Hinata, exasperated but still trying.

Homestuck: Dirk Strider, which helps exactly zero people.

which of your muses would you consider to be the best cook? (Also asked by @amadaans, ty!)

Excluding Izuru Kamakura & Hajime Hinata given that he is the best at practically everything possible in his universe; it would be Zachary Zatara, he has an active interest in cooking and it's a skill he works on.

While not quite cooking the best mixologist (with the same exclusions) is Leah Kravitz thanks to spending a little over ten years working the New York club scene, Zach in his ritual and injustice verses is a runner up.

Baking wise (same exclusions) it would also be Zach, honestly not a lot of my muses are interested in cooking beyond just taking care of themselves and those that are don't have the time or resources to put into it.

which of your muses second guesses themselves the most? why?

Again by fandom cause I have too many thoughts.

Crime: Kento, he has been trained his whole life to obey orders, so when acting independently he never is quite sure he's doing the right thing.

Horror: Artemy Brukah and Clara tie as they have relived the same 12 days unable to stop many horrible events which has left them questioning what on earth else they could do to try to prevent harm and what the best path really is as none of the roles presented to them are appealing.

Superhero: Nathan McDonald, he is a nineteen year old who is deeply depressed and self depreciating, he is trying his best be he's not sure if it's enough. He hasn't gotten a chance to prove himself.

Vampires: Heather Poe, pre her ghouling she was a pretty anxious person that struggled even just going outside. Some of those doubts remain even now.

Actual Play: A tie between Caleb Widogast and Essek Thelyss, how could they ever fully trust themselves again after what they had done? Caleb grows from this faster than Essek.

Discworld: Vimes, if he fucks up someone is probably going to die. He second guesses himself to a healthy degree.

Dragon Age: Matthew Trevelyan, he spent his life getting indoctrinated by the templars and as he would put 'fell for 'it'. He's worried he's still that gullible, or that those beliefs rubbed off on ways he hasn't noticed.

League of Legends: Lukai Hwei, he was raised having to suppress his mental health issues and emotions which has left him underequiped to deal with them now, even so he has the self awareness to question himself as much as he does everybody else.

Borderlands: Angel by default as the only one without some sort of ego problem, it's certainly not her biggest problem.

Overwatch: Gabriel Reyes, he's made a lot of costly mistakes over the years and he's tired of it.

Team Fortress 2: Spy, his job is a paranoia inducing one where the slightest misstep could spell his death.

Misc: Harry Du Bois, half the time when he's said something he's thinking to himself "why the fuck would you say that"

Danganronpa: Yumeto Ariyoshi, he has actual anxiety and is pretty sure if anyone found out the truth about him he would get promptly killed or erased.

Homestuck: Dirk Strider, because he's fucked up so much before, unfortunately the second guessing does nothing to help.

which of your muses has / would have the silliest ringtone? what would it be?

Harry Du Bois, whose ringtone for literally everybody is this:

It has outed him on an undercover job.

[gothprentiss]

year in whodunits:

glass onion - good and fun, though i don't think it fully hits the mark in its more ambitious innovations on storytelling; but it's compelling throughout, and has a vibrant and stylized cast and tone, which meant narrative gripes weren't dealbreakers.

see how they run - definitely a misfire, fundamentally quite toothless in its attempt to critique and then rebut its critique of the genre. it severely underutilizes all of its central cast except saoirse ronan, who is the atlas upon whose back the whole of this movie's sky is carried. the choice to cast known and noted racist agatha christie's husband, a white archaeologist of the near east, as a black man (lucian msamati) is one which i think would merit some sort of serious critique in any movie with a more serious ethical and political spine; as it stands, it's just another example of the movie presenting itself as a riff and satire on the whodunit genre but failing to actually do more than pastiche (the adrien brody-heavy opening made the movie immediately feel like an attempt to channel wes anderson doing knives out, but without the wit or meaningfulness or explicit political angle). it wasn't terrible but it made me sad.

death on the nile - a pox upon kenneth branagh and all he holds dear. ptui! ptui! it is a fundamentally terrible movie, truly breathtaking in its capacity to be terrible: from the color grading to the adaptation choices to the graphics to the acting to the editing to the storyline to the scoring to the framing to the costuming, it is bad all the way down. the badness is enervating. there are scenes where a character's tan will, from shot to shot, vary from the ashy pallor of death to a ruddy, healthy, tan to something off the jersey shore. they give poirot trauma!! he's grimdark! that gay little frog! and a giant scar which is clearly absent from his face in all but two parts of the movie-- and also a thick scar which transects his upper lip, which should make it impossible for him to actually grow a mustache to cover it. yet he does. there's something quite grotesque about watching gal gadot struggle to deliver believable emotions (she delivers In Love the way [dated lacroix flavor joke]) in scenes with armie hammer, who is one of two actors (the other being sophie okonedo) who seems to realize that what a mystery like this calls for is elaborately stylized character choices, and hams it up accordingly. most of the shots of egypt look like they were taken from a video game. there are some very inconsistent attempts to shoot and frame scenes in artful ways. the scene where louise discovers the body shoots past neat and efficient storytelling, past suspense-building, past even playful riffing on suspense-building, and straight into miserable to watch due to the sheer number of pointless shots of the nile stuffed into it. they also make the most cowardly, imo, gay character choice, insofar as they default to a previously established dynamic external to the show (french & saunders), and spend zero time establishing any real emotional depth or connection. bette davis and maggie smith's versions of these characters from the 1978 version feel more meaningfully queer in their dynamics. my gay ass will not be pandered to in such a shallow and thoughtless way. its only positive is that it does not make rosalie otterborne forgive poirot; but it does not do this with any consistency or deftness, because it makes her, at a moment when she has lost it all and has the most reason to hate poirot, deliver nevertheless a thoughtful meditation on his nature as a detective. it's stupid. it's unfair to her. i AM rating this one: a blood feud with kenneth branagh / 10

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: Londerland Bloodlines -- This Girl Does Not Want To Be On Fire

So -- we all know that the most traumatizing event in Alice’s life is the house fire that killed her family, correct? Well, going through Vampire: the Masquerade -- Bloodlines in various forms (actually playing it, watching LPs, etc.) in order to write her Malkavian adventures in the Londerland Bloodlines series -- specifically, writing the Ocean House chapter in “Santa Monica’s Vale of Tears” -- got me thinking: how often does our poor Fledgling Alice have to face off against fire during the course of the story? So I took a look at the main quest line, and I’ve identified four major incidents where fire was a genuine threat to Alice (instead of just being a thing in the world, like the fire barrels that the homeless warm themselves around). Here they are, ranked by how traumatizing the fire itself was to her:

4. The final fire trap of the Mandarin’s death course -- This one is the easiest of the lot to handle, no surprise -- she only has to look at it for a minute or two before one of the Wonderlanders (likely Cheshire, but it might be somebody else) points out she can explode the trap with a well-placed bullet to escape. It’s not exactly fun for her to contemplate having to figure out a way through the trap, but it’s quickly forgotten as she works to escape the Mandarin’s lab.

3. The memory of the Ocean House Hotel fire -- Alice made it through this one okay -- she didn’t enjoy having to crawl on her belly around ghostly flames and dodge bursts of steam, but I think the fact that it wasn’t technically real fire, just a ghostly image of such, actually helped. It made it all feel a touch less real to her. Plus it was reasonably short, ending the moment she made it to Dorothy and Ed’s burned-out room. Not great, but not terrible.

2. The burning of Griffith Park -- Okay, before anyone asks why this is at number 2 -- the criteria for this list is how traumatizing the fire itself is to her. And yes, having the park go up in flames around her was extremely unpleasant and terrifying, especially when she and Nines tried to flee, only to discover the cable car already leaving --

But the furious werewolves quickly establish themselves as the top threat. Alice never forgets the park is on fire, trust me -- she spends a lot of time avoiding the flames as well as the werewolf, and the smoke does not make dodging it easier -- but the most terrifying thing to her in that moment is the eight-foot-tall toothy death machine trying to claw her to death. At least until she manages to lure it into the observatory telescope’s doors. . .

1. The burning of Grout’s Mansion -- This is the big one when it comes to the fire itself. Alice already hated Grout’s mansion because of his horrifyingly Victorian approach to mental health and what he did to his ghouls, but Bach setting the entire place aflame? Forcing her to run past all those ghouls, now burning alive because they’re too addled by Grout’s experiments on them to avoid the fire, until she has to save herself by throwing herself out an upper-story window?

Yeah, how did Alice escape the fire that killed her family again?

*slow clap* Winner on the basis of forcing Alice to relieve the absolute worst moment of her life. There is a reason that, after this mission, Alice goes from “trying to be polite to LaCroix because she’s worried about what will happen to her if she isn’t” to “fuck you asshole I’ll do your dirty work because I haven’t a choice but you can pay me for it and deal with my sarcasm in the meantime.” (Though, on the plus side, it also marks a more pleasant milestone in her relationship with Victor, as his genuine concern and care for her when she gets back to the apartment ends up earning him touch privileges. . .and is probably the moment when she starts falling in love with him.)

[dopesotherstuff]

Ariadne’s opinion of VTMB regulars

Prince Sebastian LaCroix: A disconcertingly beautiful and well-spoken monster that I wouldn’t trust with one of my books, let alone my life. Sometimes, in my darkest moments, I wish that I could take control of him, and force him to use all that cleverness and power for the good of his people. But the only way I know to do that is not only disturbing to me, but likely impossible to achieve.

Regent Maximillian Strauss: He has my gratitude, respect and loyalty. (And he and his honeyed voice make me weak in the knees, but that’s something that no one must ever find out). I want very much to impress him, and gain his respect. But I wonder what the cost may be, for through him I am yoked not just to the Pyramid, but to the dysfunctional Camarilla.

Andrei: Like a Cenobite and a dinosaur had a baby, Bela Lugosi taught it to speak and Josef Mengele taught it ethics--and interior decoration. Also, it wants to wipe out my whole clan, tried to slaughter Mitnick and his people and has an ego that makes LaCroix’s look modest. This city will be safer when Andrei is ash.

Primogen Gary: An amazingly entertaining curmudgeon with an asshole streak. But he looks after his own, and I respect him for that. I don’t want to see them harmed. Otherwise I wouldn’t have bled to prevent it.

The Sheriff: I do not trust that man any more than I trust his employer. Nor can I forget that he murdered Victor on LaCroix’s command. At least he made it quick.

The Barons Voerman: Therese is an imperious, homicidal bitch and I don’t trust her. Jeanette is my friend, but manipulative, so I still don’t trust her. I guess that’s just what friendships with Kindred are going to be like. I hate that, but it is what it is.

Bertram: Doesn’t he get yet that I can see right through his attempts to manipulate me, and that basically he’s asking me for help with extra steps? I’m neurodivergent and young, not an idiot.

Mercurio: If I could, I would count him as a friend. But he’s too observant. He keeps asking if I’m all right, and I can’t show weakness in front of a man who must answer to LaCroix.

John Doe: The so-called Southland Slasher turned out to be a vigilante with the best possible reasons for his rampage. I tried to direct him to someone who could help him. The fact that the Camarilla would have killed him outright does not speak well of them. Another reason I wish I was free to choose my own sect. But I am Tremere, and Strauss’s apprentice. That does not leave much room for choice.

Vandal Cleaver: He belongs to the Voermans, apparently, from listening to his babble when he thought he was alone. If he did not, I would have dragged every last drop of his blood out through his skin for what he did to Lily.

Smiling Jack: I will always like Jack. I will always be grateful to Jack for helping me out when I was at my worst. I will always enjoy Jack’s company. But Jack has an agenda, and I know better than to expect him to be honest about it. That really puts a damper on things--especially since I would happily agree to most requests from him otherwise.   

Nines Rodriguez: How can you be a good man among the Kindred and not be angry? How can you be a clear-sighted man dealing with the Camarilla’s insane ideas of justice and not end up an Anarch? I owe Nines much. I will always be his ally, and if I could choose, I would join him. But all I can do is aid him and his where I can, and refuse to act against them unless I am defending myself and mine.

Damsel: A knight in prickly armor. Her heart is in the right place, as abrasive as she can be. I wish I could make her understand my dilemma when it comes to sect politics. 

Skelter: Smart, observant, knowledgeable, and plain-spoken, with zero bullshit and a thoughtfulness of others. I honestly wish that more Kindred were like him.

Pisha: A cold-blooded monster, but one with a point. Still, there are corpses aplenty in this town, and she could easily fill her belly on those who have already died--or must die. She does not want to. Were it not for her occult knowledge and resources, I would have killed her on meeting her, and Dominated her last victim into silence. As it is, I hope that she moves on soon.

Mitnick: What can I say about someone who shares many of my areas of interest and expertise, is part of the community that I so extensively studied, and seems both as neurodivergent and as well-adjusted to his new state of being as I? My world would be bleaker without him in it.

Barabus: Smart and badass, and rather interesting in general. The combination of Nosferatu features and that remarkable body leave my sex drive in utter confusion, but that’s hardly his fault.

Imalia: What was supposed to be a somewhat nasty revenge prank drove a woman to suicide, and Imalia was gleeful over it. It made me sick. And I am wary of anyone whose life centers on how they can manipulate others with their beauty. I should never have helped her. Live and learn.

Baron Isaac Abrams: My feelings about him are very mixed. His mistakes in dealing with Ash and his inaction over the hunter invasion stick out in my mind. And yet he is a good man, and with his aid I was able to find the Nosferatu. Moreover, he was able to see me and value me as I am upon witnessing my diligent efforts, and their fruits. LaCroix will never do that. No accomplishment of mine will ever raise his opinion of me out of the dirt, no matter what he says. Under Abrams’ rule at least, I could be seen as more of a person, and less of a pawn. But it is not to be.

Ash Rivers: Part of me thinks that he is a Hollywood-spoiled, self-pitying fool who does not see how Isaac saved him out of love. Then I think of all that he has lost, of what depression does to the mind, and how I myself am not adjusting well--only masking it, as I always do. So I can’t judge him too harshly.

Velvet Velour: My introduction to this woman was when she saw my sire and I kneeling for execution not feet from her, and thought so little of it that she took the opportunity to flirt with my Regent. Yes, she turned away when they took Victor’s head, but did she protest? Did she show one bit of sympathy? No. Only Nines. She just sat there. And then I show at Vesuvius and become her errand girl, killing for her because she is afraid to, tearing up her friend’s magnum opus because she can’t bear to. Pure manipulation. If she had any respect for me she would have simply asked, not tried to toy with my feelings. As for the scriptwriter, she could have easily busied him by asking Isaac to admit him to the industry and load him down with work, using some excuse to keep the Masquerade-breaking script in limbo. Instead, it vanishes, and he will think I did it. Their friendship stays unstained. How convenient. Were I beautiful, charismatic and sexually confident, I would never use these qualities to toy with people as she does. I am only glad that my Regent’s will is nowhere near so easily swayed. And that mine is not either. But I wear my Pavis now whenever I visit Hollywood, or one of the Prince’s gatherings, and she is part of why.

Romero: A horny zombie hunter who is good at his job and works for the Baron. I can’t match his appetite for casual sex, but it was tempting. I could use a good cuddle, if nothing else.

Beckett: This man is very dangerous to my whole internal equilibrium. He is the closest the Kindred seem to come to a celebrity, and I am both dazzled and exasperated by him. I would talk with him for hours if I got the chance. I would just spend time with him for hours, if I could. I want to impress him, just as I want to impress Strauss. As it is, I wonder if he’ll even remember me when he leaves this place. Probably not. One day, though, I’ll be much more memorable. And perhaps then, things will be different.

Bonus: Sects and Clans

The Sabbat: Terrorists with a fanatical apocalypse-cult bent. Skelter is right about them. They claim to be freedom fighters, but I have no doubt that the ones using them as pawns laugh to themselves when they hear them say it. Anyway, they want us all dead, so the answer to dealing with this is a lot simpler than with most. Kill them all.

Anarchs and Independents: This is where I should be. I should be able to simply be Tremere, and have all other loyalties be determined by those who have earned them. The Anarchs ruled this area for decades with little apparent issue. The Masquerade was kept, and we weren’t overrun by their childer, so why is Camarilla control of this region even necessary, except to serve LaCroix’s ego? I fear the other Camarilla-supporting clans have been dragged into the conflict over this area strictly because of LaCroix claiming praxis.

The Camarilla: It seems that I am “married into” this extraordinarily flawed sect by virtue of being Tremere. Regent Strauss will never hear me speak against them. But all I have seen so far are misuses of its laws and traditions. The Prince is easily the wickedest man among its members in the city, and yet he leads, and we obey. They abuse the helpless, they condemn those who act out of ignorance, and they protect many who spread misery among human and Kindred alike. I fear that the Camarilla that Strauss believes in so firmly is no longer what he remembers it as. I wish that it was worthy of his staunch loyalty, but I see no signs of that.

The Kuei-jin: They hate us, and they want us dead. Two claimed to me to have a treaty with the Prince, but meanwhile they were kidnapping and experimenting on Kindred behind his back to find ways to kill us. They were infiltrating Santa Monica and making deals in Downtown. Their High Priestess is behind it all. I have warned Strauss, Mitnick, and Nines of these things. I know that LaCroix would never listen to me, so I pray the others can do something about this.

The Thin-Bloods: I will never in all my existence understand those who antagonize people for things they can’t help. The Malkavians are dismissed for being “crazy”, as I often was as a human when people got too close. The Nosferatu are dismissed for being disfigured. And the Thin-Bloods are dismissed because...why? An old legend? Not being able to fight back well? It disgusts me. I do what I can for the local ones. Perhaps we could even be proper friends, but I know the lot of them are moving on. I can’t blame them.  

The Giovanni: I have heard all sorts of bizarre rumors about them. However, I infiltrated their mansion without killing so much as a ghoul. I can confirm the bit about extensive necromancy, but that was not reason enough to slaughter them. Still, I stole LaCroix’s precious box from them, so they’re likely to be incensed at me if they sort out who did it.

The Malkavians: On the one hand, they’re the only clan that exists whose members will not judge me for how my neurology works, and how sometimes I simply can’t act “normal”. On the other, they are too observant. I don’t want to share my loves, hates and frustrations with someone who doesn’t care about me. But they can pick up on such things, apparently even when they don’t want to. And in that clan, for every Jeanette, there’s the fanged equivalent of Vandal fucking Cleaver.

The Tremere: I am of their blood, and they have accepted me. They have my loyalty. My oaths will be kept. How ironic that I had to die and be transformed before any august institution would accept me, and let me seek my path among them. I will make sure that they know--that Strauss knows--that I will not waste their time and trust. I will make of myself a sorceress and scholar of great merit among them, not to have power over others, but to achieve the personal excellence and expertise that I seek, and be known for it. I want to make my mark among them, like I wanted to make my mark on the human world. My clanmates will have my cooperation, my hospitality and aid if needed, and of course, my discretion. Yet I don’t know if any among them will become trusted friends, or loved ones, either. They may all disdain such sentiments, or consider them inappropriate. All Kindred may. I may be just as out of touch with them internally as I was with humans.

[missn11]

Feel free to answer this later because we've been talking Vampire all day (thank you! Made my Friday) and I'm sure you have important stuffins to do, but when you have time, do you have any tips for writing Ming Xiao, LaCroix, and Nines? And their triad? How do the babes babe. Thanks!

@badass-at-cuddling aw your more than welcome :D I enjoyed our vampire discussions too! :D

Oh wow, I'm really flattered! XD buckle in cause this is going to be a long post!

For LaCroix and Ming Xiao

okay, Well I feel that the way I feel writing LaCroix and Ming Xiao is examine what they are willing to justify to themselves, how do they explain away themselves feeling or doing things that are expected of them? Have they been wounded by Kindred/Kuei-jin society enough to even be willing to admit to themselves that they can even feel love? What do they see their actions as? Do they see it as the ends justify means, in how I see it, LaCroix's case about him gaining the power and respect he deserves, in Ming Xiao's stopping the Sixth Age and building the legacy she desperately wants. this of course will depend on how you see their ultimate goal, maybe LaCroix thinks by gaining great power he can make the world a better place or its a desperate grab so he can survive another night. I also feel that in their desperate drive for their goals, they have also neglected their personal needs, companionship for example. Ming Xiao might feel that she is always sacrificing her needs for the chance for the Sixth Age to be stopped, and will make excuses to herself about how maybe her hurting the people of Chinatown via the Tong was necessary in the pursue of the greater goal.

Bottom line is, they think they are in the right in vtmb and will have a hard time seeing otherwise.

For Nines

I feel writing Nines is peeling back the front he puts on himself, he has to appear strong for the Anarchs as they can't afford to lose another leader and thus hope. But he doesn't want to here, he's been left alone by MacNeil and Garcia, when they shouldn't have left him and all the Anarchs alone. There is a lot of anger, sadness, and perhaps forced acceptance of the importance of his leadership role. He wants to do right by the Anarchs, taking care of them is his number one goal, but he also can't afford to get too close them as well, for they might be gone tomorrow night. So he tries to help toughen them up so they don't need to rely on him anymore, but yet they always do and worship the ground he walks on and it makes him feel alienated and pressured to not screw up.

In LA by Night, Nines is out of the anger phase and is fully in his depressive state, he's seen too much war and is tiiiired, he'll fight when its needed but he cannont bring himself to lead, he is afraid of it. his beast desires to have it all, maybe the reason Nines is scared to be the leader of the movement is that he thinks he'll go too far, perhaps wanting to control everyone, or crush anything he sees as unAnarch like. I'm sure he has some feeling about the gangland way of things in LA and wants to do something about it, so he holds back. Again he might stifle his own needs and comfort about himself for the sake of everyone else, but deep down might think he is isn't the right man for the job but the only one who can now.

Okay, for the triad, it depends on what route you wanna go with them, healthyish or unhealthy cause I see many ways to either.

But either way it'll usually start with full enemies to lovers knife/gun to the throat and barbed banter and maybe hot hate fucking, it'll take a lot for these three to be sweet to or at least admit that they care about each other! XD But the biggest draw for them is that they have the chance to be equals, bare themselves about how hard it is to be the leader, and discuss/debate about their different leadership styles, maybe Nines gets to understand that maybe taking more control isn't going to doom him to corruption or he'll be become more comfortable with the idea of being corrupted since the ends justify the means. And maybe LaCroix and Ming Xiao can learn that maybe being awful isn't a great thing for a leader to be! XD

Eventually, they'll get to the point that they will slay their enemies for each other(Maybe after said enemies threatens or captures one of them and they have rescue their lover and their feelings start to grow or be admitted from there), LaCroix and Ming Xiao are wooed when they talk to each other about how they'll destroy each other's enemies, however, I can see Nines being like "Hey please don't into detail about how you'll ruin our enemies lives, just say you'll protect me or something." XD But most importantly once they can be vulnerable and soft with each other, LaCroix will spoil Ming Xiao and Nines however he can, money is no object to him after all (poor Nines would perfer if LaCroix would just buy him a good solid car to drive in, something big familes would have, or weapons or havens for the Anarchs! XD) Ming Xiao would also spoil LaCroix and Nines with unique gifts and tell them tales about the Kuei-jin or her life. While all of them will be affectionate towards each other, Nines will be the one who is the most affectionate to LaCroix and Ming Xiao, giving them attention when needed or little thoughtful gifts. :3

And of course I see them enjoying movies together.

I hope this answers your questions :D

[brujahinaskirt]

@missn11​ says:

Ask and ye shall receive, fellow neonate! <3 Bear with me, because I’m about to hammer out 2000 words very quickly...

This massive rant by its topic nature is sort of Nines-critical, so lemme start by saying that, in my own way, I love Rodriguez. (I was partially self-burning in the shitpost that ignited this rant because I SEVERELY exaggerated Nines’s canonical shadiness levels in my ancient fanfiction, and for no other reason than because I was a teenage edgelord. I am appropriately embarrassed, but only by my excess and melodrama, not by Troika’s characterization. I think the writing behind VTMB’s Nines is superb.)

When it comes to Bloodlines, I think he’s one of the most psychologically interesting profiles in the game. In fact, I could never get into LA by Night because they so de-toothed Troika’s vision of him. Not to say LA by Night’s Nines was a poorly-developed character in his own right, ‘cause he wasn’t at all, but “my” Nines will always be unapologetically and only Troika’s: boiling angry, viciously pragmatic, a survivor who doesn’t let anyone too close lest they see through him, whose over-the-top confident façade cracks a little more every time his back’s against the wall. Troika’s Nines is the epitome of greater VTM’s “fallen rebel” archetype, and even though we don’t get to see it on all playthoughs, that makes it even better and more believable.

But as with all characterization in Bloodlines, we have to read between the lines and between our own play styles a bit to piece the truth of the puzzle together...

Besides the direct evidence Troika gives us—i.e. the music cues, which are a bit overbearing if I’m honest (sorry, Troika! ilu); the absence of Nines in Rosa’s prophecy re: people you can trust; and the overt warnings Camarilla-aligned characters give us about him—the biggest red flag about Rodriguez, imo? It’s twofold:

the way the characters he surrounds himself with talk about him and the type of vampire he chooses to fill his den. Namely: Nines exclusively recruits angry, spurned, mistreated people who are younger and far less experienced than he is

those messy, ugly, fleeting moments where you see his toughguy everyman personality crack

So! Starting with point one:

THE PERSONALITY CULT ITSELF

We can’t deny that Nines does not surround himself with peers. He surrounds himself with followers—people who don’t challenge him in any way, who are fanatically loyal, who openly profess their worship of him and their conviction he could never/would never do anything wrong. If you listen to how Damsel and Skelter talk about him, it’s with frightening adulation, often repeating Nines’s lines word-for-word without truly understanding the argumentation behind them. (Damsel’s the main offender here with her “IT’S A PYRAMID SCHEME… it just makes sense, you know? It just makes sense!” And then, of course, she gets pissed and refuses to speak to you when you push her into elaborating.)

Nines has clearly made himself much more than just a friend-figure or a Sire-figure to them. He’s utterly and completely mythologized by the LA Anarchs, held up next to other politically mythologized names like George Washington and Ho Chi Minh. His followers love him… but there’s a pecking order, and like good body shields, they believe their lives don’t matter as much as he matters. And they love that, too. They want to die for Nines. They’re not just willing to or resigned to it; they’re eager to die. Damsel will volunteer this information the first time you meet her. She just can’t wait to prove herself by taking a bullet for goddamn Nines Rodriguez. It’s literally how she introduces herself to new people.

And yet Nines deliberately withholds his attention and time from his followers. He uses his attention as a reward, as incentive. He rations some care and reassurance and help—makes you feel good and gives you reason to crave his attention—and then he pushes you away, back into his adoring ranks until the next “two minutes” you earn from him in which you’re special enough for such an exceptional, important, cool guy to talk to. That’s a classic manipulation tactic, and a classic personality cult tell.

And Troika is so damn fuckin’ brilliant about it because they don’t stop at showing us that an Anarch-aligned fledgling might feel this way—no, they make the PLAYER also feel this way. On our first playthrough of Bloodlines, we’re desperate to talk to Nines. We want the reward. “Let me finish the plaguebearer quests… let me run to the Elizabeth Dane… I hope Nines talks to me again now! Quick, to the Last Round! Maybe if I say the right thing to make him like me, he’ll give me another free EXPERIENCE POINT!” (iirc he’s one of two characters who will do so, and the only one who gives multiple points.)

But at the end of the day, Nines is indisputably the leader of the Anarchs, and even fledgling figures that out. (“Sounds like you’re the Prince of the Anarchs.”) He’s very much the Baron of Downtown LA, even if he won’t use that language. As for the grating day-to-day management and leadership stuff that might make him somewhat unpopular among the Anarchs, though? He fobs all that stuff off on Damsel!

Damsel, his Minion No. 1—whom a lot of players will hate on their early playthroughs, because she assigns tough missions with little to no reward. Damsel, who has no real power role in the Anarchs and functions only to serve Nines. You help Damsel, and you do Nines’s work—i.e. you do the work of the Barony of LA—and he doesn’t even have to take the admiration hit by having to ask you himself.

There’s only one non-follower of note around Nines. It’s Jack, and by his own words, he’s not one of Nines’s people; he disparages them, in fact. And we’ll notice that Jack—who is stronger, older, and wiser than Nines—very much doesn’t talk about Nines the same way Nines’s followers do. While Jack doesn’t directly insult him and occasionally defends him, Jack also has a downright shocking response to the announcement of the Blood Hunt. When fledgling desperately asks what they can do to help Nines—Jack says, word-for-word: I could give a damn.

Something ain’t quite right about this place.

Moving right along:

NINES IS A FAKE ALPHA MALE WHO KNOWS HE’S GOING TO DIE

Part of why Nines is so attractive to someone scared and weak like our fledgling (or Skelter or Damsel) is that he seems utterly fucking untouchable—like nothing scares him, and that must be reassuring when two of your age-old enemies are moving into town. But Nines’s tough, cool, Devil-may-care persona outs itself as a protective shell, too… and this is another thing I think Troika handled so subtly and so well.

You’ll notice that even Nines’s voice is dramatically different in a couple different situations: when Ming Xiao is borrowing his body, when he’s afraid, and when he’s distracted or deeply disturbed. (A successful Malkavian mind read will really slam a crack in his coolguy persona. For a second, the nonchalance shatters and he childishly screams SHUT UP!)

But whether you Malk him or not: In those isolated moments, the Coolguy Nines Rodriguez we normally see frays. Physically, even! His accent loses its burr (that ballsy rural American everyman accent), shoots up to a higher register—and reveals a much softer voice than the one he uses in front of other people. No wonder; part of Nines’s charisma comes from his performance of masculine confidence, and even if it’s not a toxically patriarchal masculinity in the way we often picture it, the fact this performance cracks at all shows it’s not his genuine self. He’s acting. In the way a lot of toughguy men do—but for Nines, whose survival depends upon attraction now, he’s acting toughguy for his very life.

I think those little fray-under-pressure moments are the “real” Nines, or as close as we’re going to get: scared, desperate, worn-down, and very aware of his doom.

Now, all that said…

BLATANT FALLEN REBEL CONCEPT APOLOGISM

I don’t think we can quite throw Rodriguez into the same Mean Monster Morality Dungeon for Evil Vampires as other Big Bads in LA. This is where motivation comes into play, at least for me. We know Nines can be merciless and violent, and he doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice his own soldiers (namely, um, US!) to protect his holdings. But he does seem to have a twinge of genuine anger over injustices wrought upon “little people” (look no further than Nocturne)—one that seems like it stems from a sense of right v. wrong rather than sheer pragmatism. This stands in stark opposition to the rationed pacificism of characters like LaCroix, who simply doesn’t want the headache of cleaning up a pile of dead humans on his nightly to-do list.

Nines also, of course, just doesn’t have the same kind of disaster reach other Bloodlines Big Bads do in how much harm he can cause. When LaCroix gets up to some bullshit, he crashes the national economy. Nines, like, crashes a car into a corporate office window or takes over a street or something. Can’t really compare the two when it comes to the scale of damage done.

And even Nines Rodriguez is, for all his strategy, still an honestly angry person. Not all of him is fake—what’s troubling about him is what he’s willing to sacrifice and do to satiate his anger-passion. It’s the standard Brujah emotional-moral struggle. Even though I agree with much of what he says about bloodsucking late capitalist vampires (tbh he seems to hate vampires in general!), one wonders if it’s not partially the anger-passion that’s warped him into the façade of a noble leader he’s become. It’s not a pure anger anymore; he’s weaponized it in selfish, unhealthy, destructive ways.

But if he’s a fallen rebel—and since he is still apparently capable of some genuine anger and sadness—then we can infer he wasn’t always like this. He fell, and narratively, that’s key to understanding Clan Brujah. Maybe he fell in a way all of us angry rebel-types risk falling if we let our hatred of the bloodsuckers in real life outgrow and consume our care for the real-world little people.

I think we also have to appreciate that—as far as we know—the shady shit Nines does, he primarily does to prolong his power. But for a threatened Anarch like Nines, power doesn’t mean expansion or accumulation as it might for an ascending Ventrue; it primarily means survival. The Camarilla and Kuei-jin incursions into LA have numbered his days, and he can’t possibly have any delusions about this, no matter how much he swaggers. So he does what he can do with the skills and limited resources he has. He corrupts vulnerable, angry, abused people by giving them the appearance of friendship, family, and hope they can become stronger—much like effective gang leaders do.

If he’s morally nastier than other power-players like LaCroix in some way, imo, it’s here. It’s the intimacy with which he manipulates the people around him. LaCroix may lie to you; Strauss may withhold information from you; Ming Xiao may double-cross you. But none of them ask that you love them. That’s not their goal; that’s not how they operate. None of them expect or encourage anyone to happily die for them of their own free will. If they get you killed, you’ll die resenting them—resenting that you had to die, at all.

But when you die for people like Nines Rodriguez, you do it willingly, if only because you believed he cared somehow and that he’d fight tooth-and-nail for you, too. You believed that you were a member of his little outcast family—or that you would be, if you just proved yourself a little bit more. If you just fought a little harder. If you were just a little happier about having the chance to die for the cause. Maybe if you die for Nines, then Nines will love you, too.

I don’t think he does. I don’t think he will. If he’s a true fallen rebel archetype, I don’t know if he can anymore.

That’s enough Anarchs for now! I’m gonna peace out with some copy/pasted lyrics from the theme song of Nines’s den: the ballad of the charming and vengeful Lecher Bitch. Stay sharp, my little Bloodlines fanatics!

Tell me your story Don't worry, I've been there Crown me your savior Don't worry, I'll be there

[Chorus] I said hey You're coming all the way I've got some hell to pay I'm diggin' all the way All the way down I said hey You're coming all the way I've got some hell to pay Gonna rip you every way On the way down again [Bridge] Don't belong lording above me Won't be hard to pull you underground It won't be long 'til you love me And I'll be coming at your back To break it down

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 2x2 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

I see work has been in full swing on the ship and our two honorary brothers have reached Trinidad, Bash’s homeland. I love Gilbert’s instant fascination with it and its smells. 

“I like potatoes”... Gilbert must be the whitest of white guys I’ve ever seen, and I can say that because I’m a white girl who also happens to love potatoes in any shape and form. Also, I haven’t tasted a hot pepper in my life either, and I don’t think of starting now. To each their own, I say. 

Gilbert is painfully uneducated about black slavery, but I’m glad to see he’s eager to learn and correct himself. 

Wait, was that the first ever cold open not to feature Avonlea at all? it seems it was. That was kind of weird.

Nate smokes, too? Well, that’s the least of his vices. Also, “don’t have an expert eye”? I bet there’s no gold at all in that sample. 

Marilla is once again the only sensible person here. She’s right for the wrong reasons, but he’s right anyway. 

Wait, Anne is getting a new slate just now? Wasn’t it over a year ago that she broke her old one? And “defending herself”- from whom? Gilbert? I’d much have preferred to see her smash something into Billy Andrews’ head. 

Well, leave it to Diana to remind Anne how much she really is worth. I believe she played a crucial part of making Anne the activist she became in season 3. 

I love Jerry’s smile so much and I absolutely hate seeing it fade away at the sight of Nate. This fraud must pay for all the harm he’s done and is going to do, both financial and emotional. 

Wait, is this... can it be... it is. It’s really Cole. I’m so glad to finally see him again. But is this a plot hole - how can Anne know him if he definitely wasn’t there last year?

Shut your filthy mouth, Billy! Name-calling is so immature, and he’s obviously jealous of Cole who doesn’t need to be rude to prove his worth. Billy fully deserves what Cole does to him later after he finally snaps. 

Billy is just a horrible, horrible person. And what does Philips want? First of all, what Cole is doing is too brilliant to be brought down to “doodling”, and second of all, I myself sometimes draw in class instead of taking  notes, and it hasn’t once affected my marks. In fact, it sort of helps me remember better. 

“Draw that.” I love how literally Cole takes the words literally. Also, excellent calligraphy. Bullet journalists have nothing on this guy. And Philips can only dream of having such perfect penmanship. Internalised homophobia is a [no swearing on main]... curse. He’s just jealous that Cole can be so unapologetically himself, while he won’t dare to and prefers to bully literal children instead. 

There she is... Hazel Lacroix in all of her matronly glory. It just breaks my heart how slavery has affected her mindset. And that boy looking like “a wet fowl” (love this simile, btw) - she’ll come to call him Mr. Blythe, and that breaks my heart, too. He’s a friend and a brother, not another white guy who will treat her like an object. 

No, Gilbert, slavery has sadly not ended yet, and in some places it’s very much a thing even today, in the 21st century. This is the painful reality and something must be done about it. Kudos to AWAE for raising awareness of this very real and important issue, among many others. #renewannewithane

Is this because of Nate’s stupid compliments? Marilla experimenting with her hairstyle, I mean. She’s falling into his trap, too, and I really don’t like it. 

It’s awkward that Josie should, as the girls suggest, have a thing for Cole, since she moves on to the polar opposite, Billy. But then again, so does Ruby, doesn’t she? 

I love seeing Jerry’s writing and reading progress. It’s like when I watched my little brother grow up in front of my eyes. And I’m so glad he’s making this effort for his own sake. Jerry is an icon and that’s that on that. 

In a brilliant adaptation of that beautifully frightening scene from the book that is a cautionary tale about letting your imagination get the best of you, Anne is battling her own fancies on her way through the woods. This is just as chilling as the book’s version, and even a bit more. 

Hey, there’s the fox. I don’t remember exactly why it was important, but I do remember Billy hunting it. We’ll have to wait and see.

Dunlop might not be the bad guy here, it’s likely just Nate. I mean, he wouldn’t just give her a fancy pen... wait, is it the pen? Things just got way too curious. 

Ok, now I want to be at this party. I usually run away from any gathering of more than 10 people, but this is lovely. And I’m in love with Diana and Dunlop’s performance.

Practically part of the family? Jerry, yes. Nate, big NO. I mean, nobody was talking about Jerry, but I am and that’s that. 

Minnie May always knows what’s up. Kicking Nate in the shins, what an eloquent and brilliant move. I loved seeing that. 

I mean, Marilla is right, but what’s not real isn’t always not good. And what’s real isn’t always good. That’s important to remember. Moderation is key. 

“Thomas Lynde never makes decisions without consulting Rachel.” I mean, he’s kind of under her thumb, but once again, moderation is key. 

“There’s this girl over in Avonlea”... someone’s in love, and Bash is about to become captain of the Shirbert ship. I love this. 

Aww, Cole is using the stains on his sketchbook to draw Anne’s freckles. i love it. I love it so much, but I can’t help feeling sorry for all the damage that ink did to the sketchbook. Pages upon pages wasted because of stupid Billy... and even though I find it charming, I also feel bad for the drawing of Camelot. 

And so the Shirbert written correspondence continues... with the pen this time. but alas... another ink stain. Those are such a nuisance. I’m glad we don’t need to worry about them so much anymore nowadays. 

To sum up: Gilbert gets to know Bash’s homeland and his mum, is very white, learns about black slavery; Nate is a scoundrel and a big jerk - what’s new?; Jerry’s literacy progress; Cole’s first appearance and a blatant case of internalised homophobia from Philips; Anne is a victim of her own imagination; the fox and the pen appear; Dunlop is not the bad guy; big gold rush party at the Barrys’, Dunlop and Diana make a lovely musical duet; Minnie May is God; ink stains and Shirbert’s written correspondence.

[halcyonmusings]

can i get uhhh 1, 10, 12 (past) / 4, 5, 6, 10 (present) / 1, 4, 5 (future) for eris, isaac, and drew 😈

hehe

PAST

1. Briefly describe the way their parents grew up, and how it affected the way they raised them.

- eris was homeschooled by her mom and was overbearing. her dad was more carefree and let eris and adrian get away with things. her mom got after her a lot for acting tomboyish and doing things that girls shouldn’t be doing. because her mom was overbearing and overly protective of the kids, eris wasn’t allowed to be out without her mom or dad present. that led to eris being distrustful of people and not exactly knowing the social etiquette when talking to people she didn’t know too well. 

- isaac’s parents sometimes forgot they even had children, so they weren’t too involved in isaac’s childhood as he grew up. when they would remember they had kids, they paid more attention to isaac’s sister. for isaac, it affected him in that he acts out to get attention, hence why he throws big parties and likes to make himself out to look like an idiot when all he wants is people to notice him :(

- drew’s parents weren’t around a lot, they had a nanny look after drew. drew’s mom did try to raise her in her younger years and sort of pushed her dashed dreams of being in a beauty pageant, so when drew rebelled from that, it created a rift between them. for her, it affected her self-esteem and thinking she’s not worthy of love and of anyone’s time. 

10. What did they dream of doing when they grew up? How and why did it change, if it did?

- eris didn’t exactly have any dreams. her mom expected her to marry into another noble family and be someone’s wife. but then her dad died and everything went downhill and they lost everything. 

- isaac dreamed of getting out of pandyssia and exploring the world, which he was able to do when he was sixteen. once he managed that and became a captain, he was pretty much content with that and decided to retire from that life. 

- drew wanted to be an actress, and was on her way of doing that until she met richard. he turned her and now she’s working for lacroix :/ so that’s yet another reason why she hates richard. 

12. What are some of their biggest regrets?

- eris’s main regret is not trying harder to save her mom from getting executed. 

- isaac’s regret is not leaving pandyssia sooner with his sister. his sister had actually found a way for them to leave but he didn’t want to at the time because they were too young and didn’t think they’d make it. 

- drew’s regret is meeting richard. and it’s not even because he turned her, it’s because he involved her in the camarilla and anarch rivalry and she wanted nothing to do with it. 

PRESENT

4. Do they have any enemy factions or groups? Why and how are they opposed, and how do they feel about it?

- eris doesn’t have any enemies? maybe just prudence, but it’s not really anything lmao

- isaac has some pirates from his past who’ve tried to kill him, and a few married men who want to see him dead. he thinks all very funny and never gives it much thought. he antagonizes the married men for laughs tbh

- drew’s main enemy faction is the camarilla and doesn’t agree with them on a lot of things. although her only exception is straws. she doesn’t like knowing there’s a group who hates her, but she makes due with it. 

5. What kind of people do they usually interact with? Who are their friends, the people they look up to/trust, and who are their “associates”?

- eris mainly interacts with nobles who are 90% of her clients. when she doesn’t talk with them, she’ll usually be conversing with the other girls in the gc including naomi’s oc miss lulu :) 

- isaac got on well with most of the pirates he met, spare the few who’ve tried to kill him. he does talk to the nobles, mainly the women. his closest friends are the pendleton twins, but he favors treavor a lot :)

- drew can talk to just about anyone. she’s very friendly and can easily strike up a conversation. she’s closest to velvet, damsel, smiling jack, and beckett. 

6. What is their current relationship with their family?

- eris’s relationship with clara is fine. eris is very protective of her and puts her needs above her own, sometimes above mateo’s, due to clara being sick from the plague. she always makes sure to visit her when she’s able to and spends time with her. she still hates adrian for abandoning them and has told herself if she ever saw him again, she’d probably kill him sfjskfsf

- all of isaac’s family is gone, so.... :/

- drew has never seen her parents after she lived on her own and hasn’t tried to look for them since she got turned. 

10. What do they always carry with them and why?

- eris carries with her a corrupted bone charm given to her by her mother and a locket that has a photo of her parents. she has it with her since it’s the only things she has of her parents. everything she ever owned was taken away or destroyed once her family lost everything. 

- isaac has a brooch that belonged to his sister. his sister had lost it a long time ago and then died shortly after. he had found it in his room and keeps it close to him. he also has a sword given to him by the pirate captain who took him in when he was a stowaway on his ship. it’s a reminder of his life on the sea and likes to be armed in case he gets challenged to a duel or if he’s telling a story of his past to the nobles.

- drew just carries her phone with her lmao 

FUTURE

1. Briefly describe their life in the future, regardless of how far into the future this is.

- eris is teaching callum how to play the piano while mateo and teague are out the docks trying to catch fish for dinner later. teague is telling mateo about his former life as a highwayman. 

- isaac is traveling again. he has a small crew, but he’s not a pirate. he visits pandyssia to see his sister’s grave and pay his respects. he lives in tyvia now. 

- drew is living her best life with straws in LA

4. What’s something they were sure would happen in their future but didn’t?

- eris thought she would be married into a noble family and have multiple kids. she did get to sort of achieve that hehe

- isaac also thought he’d be married, not necessarily with jessamine, but with someone and live out the remainder of his life living near the ocean surrounded by his kids. 

- drew had thought she’d become an actress and if that hadn’t worked out, at the very least be married to a director and get to host fancy parties for famous celebrities. 

5. Did they get married or have a family? Why? If otherwise, why not?

- eris and teabag do get married and have another child :) they retire to karnca where mateo and callum cause trouble and make teague develop a lot of gray hairs

- isaac doesn’t get married or have kids :( his future died with jessamine... haha

- drew doesn’t get married but she does stay with straws and they become like, idk.. life long partners or something

[geek-patient-zero]

Intermission 1

Hey, how’s your day been? How’s the family? Good? Great. We’re gonna talk about vampires boning.

Sex among the Kindred is a... contentious subject in Vampire: The Masquerade. Can they have sex? Do they get any pleasure from it. Do they even desire it in their unlives? These questions spark online debates between the nerds who strictly follow canon and the nerds who’re just horny. Official Vampire: The Masquerade stuff like the novels and video games don’t help much, sometimes contradicting themselves in their own texts. At least the stuff I’ve seen does.

If you go strictly by lore, the answer seems to be a hard no. See, when it comes to vampire physiology, the key thing to keep in mind is that vampires are dead. They don’t breathe. Their hearts don’t beat. Their digestive system no longer functions. Which I guess means that when they drink blood it’s absorbed through the stomach lining into their veins where it just... sits? It’s probably explained in a sourcebook. Point is, many of the bodily functions that define something as a living organism don’t work anymore in Kindred. That includes reproductive organs.

There’s a way around that, something called the “blush of life”. That’s when a vampire uses the blood they currently have in them to kickstart their body into working again to help them appear to be alive. They can pinken up their normally pale skin, like the name implies. They can even eat and drink without immediately throwing it back up. And yes, they can get things working down there. 

But even if they can perform and go through the motions of sex, according to strict lore, they don’t enjoy it. They might go through with it anyway to try and hang onto a piece of their humanity, something Dire McCann briefly referenced back in Chapter 1, or they could use it as a manipulation tactic. But they don’t experience actual pleasure. There is something close to it they experience, but it comes from a completely different act. Here’s a hint: we’re talking about friggin’ vampires.

Every instinctual, primitive lizard brain action a vampire has is governed by their craving for blood. It’s what the Beast is all about. It replaces their need for food and drink, and it turns out it replaces their desire for sex too. The closest feeling they can get to sexual pleasure is the euphoria, the high, whatever you want to call it, they get from drinking blood. If you’re familiar with vampire stories, that isn’t surprising. Vampires drinking blood has been used as a sexual metaphor since the modern idea of a vampire was a thing, and this franchise is no different on that front.

That sounds decisive, doesn’t it? Vampires don’t fuck. They can, but they don’t want to because they get nothing from it. They get similar pleasure from drinking blood, and for them, that’s enough. Case closed, the end. Right?

You guys ever play the first Witcher game? The one with the “sex cards”, which you get every time Geralt has sex with a different NPC? One of Geralt’s potential conquests is a dryad, who, in Witcher continuity, only have sex for reproduction. Yet, if you pick the right dialogue option, Geralt will mumble something about sex helping with stress and being good exercise or some shit, which is somehow convincing enough to get the dryad to agree to a casual one night stand. Also, to make the scenario sexier, the dryad is naked, even though they wear clothes in the Witcher novels. And needless to say, she’s conventionally attractive.

It’s like that.

Let’s use Bloodlines as an in-franchise example. There’s the character Jeanette, a beautiful and flirtatious Malkavian wearing a skimpy schoolgirl outfit and pigtails. When the ghoul Mecurio is telling you what he knows about her, he says that he’s heard people claim to have “conquered that territory” but his boss, Prince Lacroix, says that vampires aren’t into that. Yet it turns out that, depending on your dialogue choices and decisions, your character can sleep with Jeanette. According to the dialogue between her and the player, sex between Kindred is different from the norm, implying that it involves one or both of them drinking the other’s blood. That detail might give it some wiggle room. But you can also hack her computer to find her “little black book”, which has star/asterisk ratings next to people’s names. Something tells me they aren’t being rated on their carotid artery-opening techniques.

(Your character gets a three out of five, by the way. Congratulations, you’re adequate!)

Later on, when you meet the suicidally depressed Ash Rivers, he says that one of the reasons he hates being a vampire is because he ‘can’t love anymore,” implying that he can’t get any pleasure from sex and might not even be able to have romantic feelings. You can’t prove him wrong with some loving, so at least he seems lore accurate. But in that same hub, you’ll meet Romero, a ghoul who your character can sleep with if they’re female (or male too, in the Plus Patch) in order to skip that zombie mission everyone hates. He’s not a vampire, but your character is, and seemingly has no trouble banging this dude despite his pick up lines being just as bad as Geralt’s. (”So I was gonna go out and get a prostitute, but you’re super hot, wanna have a go instead?”)

Bloodlines takes a “have your cake and eat it too” approach to Kindred and sex. There’s some lip service paid to the lore, but they also use implied loopholes and vague areas the player can fill with their imagination to get around it. I imagine many players would use similar methods to excuse the sex lives of their OC’s. That and, well, for some people sex metaphors like drinking blood aren’t enough. They identify more with the in-and-out, nerve stimulating, boob touching parts of sex and sexuality, and will look for any excuse to justify putting it into their stories, games, etc.

At least, back in the day.

All that stuff I just said? It applies to the older additions of the V:TM tabletop, which Bloodlines and Blood War are based on. The most recent addition, v5, made some changes. Changes that can best be summed up as White Wolf throwing their hands up and going “Okay, fine, Kindred can have and enjoy regular sex if they have high humanity. At least Humanity 8, maybe 7 but that’s pushing it.” That stuff I said about their bodies being dead and the blush of life is still true, and the best pleasure they can experience is still drinking blood. But they can still enjoy a good fucking if they’re not complete dickbags.

There’s bigger topics related to all this. About objectification, sexism, and the straight male view of sexuality that seems to dominate media. But those are much bigger topics for another time. Maybe I’ll touch on how they apply to Blood War in a later entry. There aren’t any actual sex scenes in the book, but sexual elements in general... That’ll come up quite a bit.

Two more things about the physical act of Kindred sex before I’m done. One, even in v5, sex stuff is tied to Humanity. If a vampire follows a Path of Enlightenment or otherwise abandons their humanity, none of that applies. They can’t even use blush of life and likely don’t care to. That might change when the v5 Sabbat books are released, but for now, the Sabbat Kindred remain limpdicks.

And two... If a vampire has their body perform life-like bodily functions, blood is used in the place of other fluids. Tears are an obvious example, and apparently Kindred saliva is diluted blood.

The rest I’ll leave to your imaginations.

[pressedviolets]

They Really Paid Mary Dust, Huh?

I can’t believe they killed off Mary just so they could make Bash get with Ms. Stacy. The writers literally tore apart the Blythe-Lacroix unit and killed off yet another member of Gilbert’s family just to insert someone else in it. Mary was used as a plot device to give birth and die so Ms. Stacy can get a guy. I really wish they’d let her just remain single. Plus I find it really disrespectful that Bash is even thinking about another woman so soon after Mary died.

The whole reason Bash is even thinking about getting remarried is so that his new wife can take care of Delphine. Is Ms. Stacy just supposed to quit her teaching job to be a wife and mother? I hate this storyline and it’s my only complaint about an otherwise perfect episode.

[justanotherdumpingground]

Personal Opinions on Choices Villains

In this post, I'm covering the antagonists of the series, not subordinates (e.g. Cecile Contreras) and side villains no matter how loathsome they are (e.g. Priya Lacroix). However, I'm not including everyone, such as those who are too early or appear in multiple books in the same series as significant characters but are villains in one or two books (one of the villains I will mention is an exception).

Everett Rourke: I seriously despise Rourke, both as a character and as a villain. Saying that I hate him for his heinous actions isn't enough. While I acknowledge that he's a force to be reckoned with, most of what he says and does boils down to him being an egomaniac who wants to take over the world just to satisfy his ego. This kind of motive is really shallow and makes him a mere plot device. The only moments I admire about him being more than just a villain is his fondness for Olivia Montoya, such as the way he talked about her. But even then, he liked her just because she gave birth to a child he considered perfect in any way. In short, I find him a pathetic and short-sighted individual. Would be really fitting and satisfying if there's an option to flip him off. At least it was cathartic to see him go crazy in the Vaanu ending.

Azura: I feel like she's less like a character and more like a plot device, so there's little I could say about her other than her being a psychopath who wants to conquer places and prolong her own life by sucking other people's life force. Reminds me of Rourke in some ways.

Luther Nevrakis: He is, in my opinion, one of the best villains Choices has ever produced. Not only does he exercise his acumen well to the point of posing a challenge against Kenna, but he has understandable motives that still doesn't excuse his actions. I understood his frustration at the disunity of the Five Kingdoms against the Iron Empire, even as I despise the massacre he perpetrated at his fellow rulers at Stormholt. Compared to his son Marco and henchman Bartel Gremley, Luther maintains his composure and guile while brokering deals with his enemies and uses them for his own ends.

Rowan West: I'm glad he has motivations that don't necessarily boil down to solely god complex, making him a compelling villain in his own right. It started with his childhood experiences that lead to his talk of wanting to help humanity evolve. That, and coupled with his competence as a villain and persistence, makes him someone I can fear and respect at the same time.

Dorian Delacroix: I find him rather forgettable aside from his resemblance to Donald Trump. Not to mention his offer comes across as fake and paper-thin. He practically exists to give Sebastian some sort of challenge in him. I mean, I like Sebastian more since The Sophomore, Book 2, but it still doesn't erase his initially selfish behavior in The Freshman, up to and including committing a crime.

Nathan Sterling: Nathan is a bland and inept villain with shallow motives for being bad, really predictable when it comes to him being the culprit behind the car crash and the mastermind behind the pranks, and an utter failure at covering his tracks. To quote Kaitlyn if she records his monologue: Drop the evil mastermind monologue, you knock-off Draco Malfoy!

Anton Severus: Anton takes the bad stuff about Nathan Sterling (bland and inept) and applies it to a nation. Sending a bunch of assassins to target the bride (or brides), only for said assassins to end up defeated is an example of his failure as a villain. If you're plotting to overthrow a country's government, you better succeed in doing what you have to do, and Anton fails big-time. Even his motives for becoming king are weak aside from wanting to have all power for himself.

Jonathan Spencer: Another forgettable villain. I feel like he's there to give Matt a chance to stand up to him the moment he was exposed as the one who leaked the secrets.

Viktor Montmartre: Viktor is no doubt a poorly written villain who not only commits sexual assault towards actresses and ruins their lives if they don't comply, but also gets away with a mere slap in the wrist. I get that the story involving him is supposed to be based on the #MeToo movement, but it gets shoved aside in favor of building up Thomas Hunt as a forced love interest. It's distracting. Not to mention that he's pretty much a mere plot device with passing reminders of his importance to the story. Not saying that I should change him, because he's supposed to be a monster like Azura and Rourke.

Silas Prescott: I like that he really cared for his family and tried to bring his late wife back, though it certainly doesn't excuse his heinous actions. In terms of effectiveness, he pretty much succeeds in what he does, particularly having Hazel get info on the MC. Nevertheless, he's an acceptable challenge.

Trent A.K.A. ex-fiancé: What can I say about this guy? All he does is being an utter douche to his ex-fiancée, such as cheating on her, roughly grabbing her, and even conning her into signing a marriage certificate. Granted, the latter is partly the protagonist's fault for not consulting with others, but it still shows how much of a jerk he is. I have mixed feelings on his disappearance, however. I was relieved I didn't have to deal with him anymore, but also felt that having closure with him costing diamonds is a disservice to the plot, since it explores a character's motivations. Even with the closure, cheating on his fiancée was a stupid move in his part.

Aunt Mallory: Oh, boy. Where do I start? Her actions are consistently loathsome while her motives came too late. She even continued being horrible (giving real weapons to kids, casually suggesting that her daughter give her child up for adoption against her will, tampering with her niece's boat, etc.) even after she mentioned her history with her daughter, which shows that she made a choice and must face the consequences. Unfortunately, she gets away with nearly killing her own niece and future nephew-in-law, which makes it all the more infuriating.

Brian Crandall: Oh, Brian's definitely one character I really detest with a passion. On one hand, it's easy for me to dismiss him as some mere bully, but on the other hand, his actions and motivations are more than just being a bully. His lack of remorse without compelling concerns, selfish attitude and mindset, creepy gestures towards Myra, and refusal to see his own mistakes are the topreasons. I think PB did the right thing by characterizing him as unlikeable as possible, as it's their intention to do so. Even worse is that he comes off as persistent even in presence. It's like I can never escape from him.

Principal Amanda Isa A.K.A. Ashley Faris: Since her dictatorial rule in Berry High, I suspect two different things about her: either she was sincere in enforcing order and discipline by going too far because of her bad experience with chaos, or her policies were ultimately a facade to cover her criminal activities. I wasn't surprise that the latter was true because she picked Morgan, a notorious opportunist, as hall monitor. As for Isa herself, I really hate her for her actions and motivations. Sure she was indebted to a couple of criminals since she fell for a pyramid scheme that ruined the three of them, but that doesn't excuse what she did, especially since she probably should've turned Phantom and Blackbird in. Still doesn't make me hate her as much as I hate characters worse than her.

Max Warren and Kara Sinclair: I swear, these two are the kind of people I love to hate, but even then they pale because they don't do something genuinely threatening, like usurping the club leader positions from Julian and Mia, respectively. That would've made them threatening, I guess.

Danielle: Honestly, I find her rather pathetic and immature because of her obsession with Rory that reaches possessive levels. She knew what she did could've injured the Class Act protagonist, but she did it anyway. Even if she didn't know about the true purpose of the play was no excuse for her misdeeds, which screams Aunt Mallory to me. Moreover, what she said in the premium options didn't even explain the reason why she considered Rory her friend. I wish she develops differently, however. And what's with her motivations being paywalled?

Redfield A.K.A. Jane Marshall: Oh, this is an interesting one. I find Jane (and Redfield in general) a very interesting villain because she still maintains her childish personality even after becoming Redfield, which warps her way of helping her old friends. Even after her rejection and rampage, she still retains a childlike view of what's right and wrong. She's dangerous and tragic at the same time, and I like that.

Countess Henrietta: I swear, for someone meant to be a villain, Henrietta has the personality of a walking cliche. Sure she wants Edgewater and lives in an era where women had less rights compared to nowadays, but her behavior and characterization just boils down to unnecessarily abusive towards others, including her own husband and son. I feel like Duke Richards is more of a villain than she is, though that was because his establishment as one was gradual and just the beginning. I swear, I'm starting to find her slightly less unbearable, but if Pixelberry pulls a Mallory on her (have her do horrible deeds that threaten people's lives yet expect sympathy in the end), I'll be furious.

Duke Tristan Richards: I find it a bit funny that he quickly dwarfs Henrietta in terms of the threat he poses. That aside, he's utterly vile like Rourke and Montmartre and has shown no humanizing qualities thus far. All he does is act like he owns everything and that he's the only person that matters. Sick of his attitude.

Jeff Duffy: Like Luther Nevrakis, Jeff Duffy is a very well-written villain who not only succeeds in his goals, but also has a sympathetic motive that still doesn't excuse his actions. It helps that he has a really scary grin when his true colors are revealed. Sure I'm angry at him harming Kate, but I can also step into his shoes as he gets angry at the Sterlings for ruining his life. In the end, I chose to let him die in the Endurance while saving Pierce, who I think deserves to watch his family's legacy crumble.

John Tull and Hayley Rose: These two are interesting villains that surprise me in the end. While their actions are despicable, their motivations show them as still human. Tull going great lengths to protect her daughter, who was wronged by several men. That makes them interesting villains in their right.

Adam Vega: This one's tough. I find him an effective villain when it comes to gaining good publicity, framing Adrian, and gaining the upper hand in some situations. What bugs me is how and why did he start adopting Gaius Augustine's agenda. I mean, he was rather shocked about it when Gaius revealed his master plan about a century ago.

Gaius Augustine: He may not have a lot of free screentime, but he has proven to be an interesting villain who works behind the scenes for a long time, and effectively, no less. There's still not much I could see of him so far, but here's hoping Bloodbound, Book 2 treats him with justice by making him a three-dimensional character with believable motives that explain his reasons well while not whitewashing them.

Garret Redmond: Honestly, this guy comes across as forgettable. I know that he's a threat to the Oakleys and Mendozas (attempted to bribe them, then damaged the Oakley ranch by burning the barn and destroying the fence), but I see nothing much in him besides being a ruthless and corrupt business tycoon.

Martin and TJ: Honestly, these two piss me off because all they do is treat other people, including their co-workers, like dirt for no real reason. Even worse, TJ forcefully grabbed MC, which shows his willingness to cross the line. What I find outrageous is that we don't get to see their reactions to their defeat in the finale. The only assuring thing about them is that they're intended to behave that way.

Rose Waverley: Eh. I get that Rose is paranoid, pessimistic, and suffering from a mental illness, but whether being undead has warped her mind or her behavior was naturally that wasn't fully explained in detail. I think she could've been more interesting, if only THoBM isn't so short.

Ivy Fisher: OK, so I feel like I should hate her for taking advantage of the competition with Carson's help, but the truth is I don't. The reason is because I was reminded by Adam/Handsome Stranger to not take game moves personally, so I wonder why the love interests start taking offense at her targeting my protagonist? It's like they know the reason to participate in the competition is to have fun, yet they disregard it anyway.

[runephoenix6769]

Shattered. Part 3B

Widowmaker attempts to break free from Talon.

(one shots culminating in a collection of short fics, From all povs.. Lena is not overly friendly to begin with)

Ill be constantly editing before putting it to ao3 and ff.

Thankyou @call-signtracer for the title and first read

Part 3 is super long so not wanting to jam up your feed, Im going to split it into Part A and Part B.

                                     Shattered. Part 3B

Holstering her gun, the athletic woman turned, disappearing back down the hallway. Alone, Angela tenderly drew a strand of damp hair out of her former friend’s face.

Amelie, what have you gotten yourself into this time?

It was all too reminiscent.

A bright spring morning, Angela had been attending a conference in Paris when the call had come through requesting that she attend the townhouse Gerard Lacroix and his wife shared in the city as disturbing reports of an incident had come through. Information had been sparse, an phone call to the base in Switzerland from the Overwatch agent’s hysterical wife, barely discernible, was all they had to go on.

Morrison had assured her that he was on his way that it was probably nothing to worry about, it being more than likely linked to Amelie’s recent return from Talon’s clutches. Time was of the essence, keep the local authorities at arm’s length if need be. If that couldn’t be avoided, her orders were was to subdue the wife whilst Gerard secured all documents. Keep it contained.They couldn't afford another PR incident, not so closely on the heels of the unmitigated disaster of the Slipstream accident. Gerard knew the drill.

The press being held back by Officers had been the first indication that something was very wrong. Hover cars blue lights flashing, an Omenic police officer had let her though after inspecting her credentials.

The blue and white ticker tape fluttering in the spring morning zephyr had looked out of place on the idyllic cobblestoned drive way flanked by blooming cherry blossoms, twinkling in rays of the mid morning sun. The apprehensive knot as she walked up that drive way sometimes still, years later, gripped her in the darkest hours of the night. To this day she still recalled the sombre faces of the local officers, some refusing her gaze, others looking at her in pity. One officer had approached her,

“We secured the area, we didn’t want to go in until one of your lot came, but we had no choice.”

White knuckled, she had enquired,

“Where’s the patient?”

He had blinked,

“I’m sorry to say Ma’am, there isn’t one.”

Entering that townhouse, a place usually so full of love and life that had now been replaced with a heavy stillness, had taken all her courage.  Her feet had felt like lead as she followed the officer up the winding staircase that would lead to the bedrooms. She had paused, stock still in the doorway of the master suite.  The curtains had shifted in the double bay doors that she had known lead out onto a south facing balcony, the view into the garden had been Amelie’s favourite place, the breeze disturbing soft duck feathers that littered the French polished floor boards as the waft of cherry blossoms intermingled with the metallic tang of blood.  

The officer had stood to one side, remaining by the door as Angela had approached the bed, a lump covered over, one white hand limply dangling down the side, the other flopped on the mattress uselessly curled beside a revolver. Peeling back Egyptian cotton sheets had revealed a pillow placed over the face, duck down feathers mottled through the hole and dark maroon spittles.  She had steeled herself to remove the pillow to stare at Gerard’s once handsome face, marred by a bullet hole, unseeing eyes and lips blue from lack of oxygen.  

She had collapsed into a nearby chair and wept.

“We think there was in intruder. Someone he brushed up the wrong way. Bound to happen in his line of work.”

She had ignored his incompetence at the glaring facts. Better the locals think it was an intruder, rather than the dark suspicions that had grown in Angela’s mind.

“Where’s Amelie?”

“Who?”

“His wife!”

“We didn’t know she was meant to be here.”

“Find her!”

With a crackle of comms and urgent whispers in French, she had been left alone. And that is how the Overwatch leader had found her, in that room that stank of death failure and regret, beside the body of their friend. Morrison had drawn her into a hug as she had sobbed over and over,

“I was wrong Jack. I was wrong!”

Suddenly Tracer’s usual chipper voice replaced with gentle reproach, brought her back to the present.

“Are you ok there Angie?”

Cupboards banging echoed through the apartment. Looking up into Lena’s expressive face, Mercy gave the concerned young woman a small smile,

“I’m fine.”

“We’re gonna help her, right?” Holding up a surveillance sweeper, Tracer began scanning the walls, “I don’t wanna but it’s the right thing to do, init?”

The plucky pilot had been still been classed as MIA when the Lacroix incident had occurred and probably only knew Amelie as the Talon codename of Widowmaker. God only knows, she had every right to hate her; Angela had patched the youngster up plenty enough times after she had come worse off grappling on roof tops with the assassin, and how crushed she had been after the murder of Mondatta, yet the girl’s understanding and good nature gave Angela some hope.

“You’re a good kid, Lena.”

Lena let out a puff of air as she tossed her head in attempt to remove a lock of her unruly hair from her face, a habit she had and a tell-tale sign she was nervous at accepting the compliment.

The Lieutenant returned, holding out a threadbare bed sheet,

“This is all I could find.”

“It will do.”

Tracer continued to check the walls and surroundings as the two other women struggled to manoeuvre the Talon operative onto the sheet. Each taking two corners of the makeshift sling, they grunted under the weight as they shuffled out into the sitting room. Angela worked quickly and with a practised ease as she firmly but gently pressed a stethoscope to a blue breast bone causing Widow’s skin to give an involuntary shudder. Holding her breath, the Doctor listened intently for tell-tale signs of the heart.

Ba dum.  There it was, weak but there none the less. She counted out the seconds. Ba dum. slow, far too slow than was humanly possible. A number of medical situations ran through her head.

Hypothermia. Was it even possible for Widow to suffer from hypothermia?

Flipping the stethoscope over neck, she fished out a small flashlight and began to lift up Amelie’s eyelids to reveal sclera littered with purple dots similar to petechial haemorrhaging.

“She looks like a djinn.” Came the soldier’s brusque tone.

Rifling through her bag, Angela realised she was woefully unprepared for the situation. The last time she had attempted to administer aid to one of Moira’s experiments it had resulted in dire consequences from which no amount of science could return. She was damned if she was going to run the risk of another Reaper happening by her hand.

“We need to bring her to my lab.”

Momentarily, Tracer paused what she was doing,

“Ange, are you barmy? We can’t just waltz into Watchpoint with one of the enemy’s top agents. Its espionage 101, that is!”

From her vantage point, leaning against the wall, Fareeha added,

“Thank you for being the voice of reason.”

“I can’t treat her here, I don’t have what I need.”

“Can’t you just zap her with your staff?”

“It doesn’t work like that Lena. Her physiology is beyond field medicine. One wrong move and she could die, or worse.”

“What could possibly be worse?” Fareeha muttered, darkly.

Lena cocked her hip, the beeping of the sweeper forgotten,

“Look I’m not saying that we’re gonna,”She stressed the words, “Or that we should, but if we were, how the hell we supposed to get her out of here? Its not like we can just mosey on down the stairs and hang a right at the elevator.”

The two older women glared at each other.

“In a body bag.”

“Fareeha, you’re not helping.”

Before another argument could ensue, Lena butted in.

“No she’s right!  Think about it.” Lena began to pace, “We pop her in a body bag and Bob’s your Uncle if there’s anyone watching they won’t know who we have and they will assume whoever it is dead!” Tracer vibrated with excitement, “Its genius!”  

Anglea added, thoughtfully,

“We do have one in the hovercraft. Its standard issue.”

Fareeha rubbed her temples, staring at Mercy. After a long moment she let out a deep sigh,

“I want it on record that I think this is reckless and I’m against it!”

“Mint!” the Brit almost squealed before there was a pop and she zipped out of the door in a flash of light.

Putting her hand to her ear, Angela activated her comm,

“Genji, I need you to contact the base and tell them to prep the secure lab. Protocol 1426, contingency WhiskeyMikeAlphaLima.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I have a duty of care.” Angela replied, softly.

“Are you sure that is what this is?”

Angela studied the woman across from her. She sometimes forgot just how astute she was and how well over the last few years she had come to know her. Fareeha had been far too young to remember what had happened but it was common knowledge to her mother and the other senior members of Overwatch that Angela had taken to personally shouldering most of the blame. She and Amelie had been close at one point, not being part of the gung-ho commandoes; they had found an appreciation in other things such as the arts and a mutual respect had blossomed into a firm and fast friendship.

“I failed her once, I won’t fail her again.”

Fareeha’s features softened, as she quietly replied,

“Alright.”

Tracer popped, breathlessly back into room, triumphantly holding up the bag,

“I got it.”

Taking the bag from the girl’s unresisting grip, Angela unfolded it, hating the sound of the heavy duty rubber. Too many times she had need of such a thing, she had always loathed the feel of it.  The Egyptian soldier reached out to help her, taking a corner to unfurl it next to the comatose assassin.

“Gather everything. And I mean everything. Not a single trace she was here. Understand?”

Lena buzzed about in a blue blur grabbing everything she could find, only pausing to flick the locks on an expensive state of the art guncase to find Widows Kiss safely cloistered within.

“Score!”

The two women lifted Amelie into the bag, careful not to zip it up all the way. All three Overwatch agents looked at each other.

“Now what?” Asked the Brit.

The lieutenant shook her head,

“I can’t believe I’m asking this. How close can you get to the building?”

“How close you want it?”

Mercy’s head snapped between the young women,

“What are you thinking?”

“We go out of the window onto the balcony.”

Lena grinned,

“I like your style!”

Fareeha pressed.

“Can you do it?”

Lena struck a cocky pose, breathing on her nails, and making a show of dusting then against her shoulder,

“They don’t call me an Ace for nothing.”

“Are you both nuts?”

“What other option do we have?” Fareeha asked, “Do want to risk dragging her ass through a civilian housing hub. All it takes is one idiot with a holocam and we’re all over the news. Puft, so much for a clandestine mission.”

“Can I do it, Mom?” Lena asked with an enthusiasm that belied the gravity of the situation.

Blinking in disbelief, Angela waved her off.  Tracer clapped her hands excitedly before, once again, the young pilot disappeared in a haze of blue light, casting after images of where she once stood, leaving the two women alone.

“Thankyou.”

“Don’t thank me yet. When it goes wrong and it will, you can be the one to explain it to my mother.”

The low thrum of the hover craft, heralded its arrival. Through the window Angela could see Genji hanging casually in the aircraft doorway.  A gust of wind entered, as Angela opened the door as Fareeha , with Widow’s limp body unceremoniously slung over her shoulder, took Genji’s outstretched hand, the cyborg making ease of pulling her into the awaiting craft.

Once there precious cargo was inside, Genji began collecting the remnants of Widow’s belongings.

With one last sweep of the bathroom, Angela spied a small bottle. Picking it up, she gave it shake, the sound of pills rattling within. Slipping it into her pocket, she quickly grabbed her med bag.

“Are we ready Dr Zielger?”

Anglea nodded.

Stepping into the hovercraft, she gave one last glance as the bay doors closed behind her, Lena’s chipper voice coming over the comms,

“Welcome to flight Tracer. Keep all seat backs and tray tables in the upright and locked position. Please be aware of the overhead compartments as things may shift in transit and knock you the fuck out. Our ETA is two hours. Sit back and enjoy the ride!”

[madrut16]

BB Rewrite Chapter 2 - The Vampire

Author’s Note: Hello guys! I’m back with chapter 2 which was both fun and a little sad for me to write. I’ve already started chapter 3 as well so, that should be out shortly too. After that, I’ll probably insert one or two additional chapters that are just my original writing in order to extend the timeline. I’m still figuring out how I want to structure everything/what I want to happen when. 

Anyways, I also wanted to quickly thank all of the people who read chapter 1 and all of the notes. Be sure to comment if you want to be tagged in future installments. Also, this happened a few weeks ago but, I reached over 100 followers! Thank you for that, I haven’t been around that long but, thanks for letting me come here and have fun you guys. I love it here and I can’t wait to share more of my obsession over this book and the others. 

Disclaimer: Characters and plotlines not created by me belong to Pixelberry Studios. I’m simply borrowing them and giving them my spin. 

Summary: Isabel deals with finding out that her boss, Adrian Raines, is a vampire and attends a fashion show of the charismatic and dangerous Priya Lacroix. 

Pairing: AdrianxMC

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"Oh my god!" Isabel screamed before she could stop herself. She stood in the office of Adrian Raines, late at night as he was crouched over his VP, Nicole. His eyes were glowing red and his fangs were dripping blood as he looked up at her.

Panicked, she tried to decide what to do next. She wanted to scream but, the small amount of reason she could still summon told her to say nothing. Unable to process the scene in front of her, she stood paralyzed in the doorway. Finally, her body caught up with her mind and she turned to run, terrified….but quicker than a flash of lightning, Adrian leaped off the desk and moved around her so she couldn't leave. Now it was just the three of them in there. Trapped.

"I...I...Please," Isabel managed to beg, her heart hammering in her chest. She backed away, terrified, as Adrian stepped forward. Then, another voice suddenly cut in.

With a scowl, Nicole yelled, "How dare you!"

Turning, she was stunned to see Nicole sit up and casually button up her blouse, a furious look on her face.

(She's alive?!)

"He was...You were…"

Adrian strolled back to the desk, taking a monogrammed handkerchief out of a drawer and handing it to Nicole.

"Thank you," the cold blonde said, before craning her head to the side with an expectant look.

With a smile, he told her, "My pleasure," before lightly pricking his own fingertip on one of his fangs. He pressed his finger to Nicole's neck...and the wound instantly healed.

(Whoa...) 

Nicole calmly wiped at her neck with a handkerchief, then turned towards her glaring.

"Now then. Listen to me very clearly," she ordered. "You do not ever walk into Mr. Raines's office unannounced. Do you understand?"

Gulping, Isabel replied, "But he was…"

"Yes?" Adrian responded stepping toward her...eyes still glowing red.

"You're...you're…"

He finished the sentence for her. "A vampire."

Her mind was reeling. It was impossible. Inconceivable. Unreal. And yet, as Isabel replayed the day's events...somehow it made perfect sense.

"My god," she murmured. She noticed the red fading from his eyes, his fangs receding.

”I'll admit," he said thoughtfully. "I didn't think you'd find out quite so soon…"

(Wait he was planning on me knowing eventually?)

"So...explain how this works exactly?" she asked.

Grinning, Adrian answered, "Curious?"

Blinking, she replied honestly. "I'm just trying to understand what the hell I just saw."

"I'd be happy to explain," he told her, appearing more than willing to fill her in.

Nicole interjected. "With all due respect, Adrian, perhaps it's time to just take care of her."

"Wait," Isabel urged, alarm returning. "...you're not going to hurt me, are you?"

Meeting her scared gaze, Adrian reassured, "No, of course not. I'm not a monster."

Her fright began to slowly dissipate as she realized that he wasn't planning on killing her...at least for now. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, she said, "Just...a vampire."

Her alarm quickly turned into fascination...maybe even a little excitement. Alyssa's conspiracy theory was true, although she would probably never be able to tell her that. 

He shrugged. "I was feeding on Nicole. That is true. But it was completely consensual."

She glanced at Nicole who nodded. Wincing she asked, "And it doesn't hurt?"

"Define 'hurt'," the other woman replied before furrowing her brows. "Actually, on second thought, don't." She turned to Adrian. "Adrian we ought to debrief her. Now."

Isabel had no idea what that meant, but she assumed it wasn't good. "Wait, what does that…"

Adrian quieted them both. "I'll do it, Nicole. Don't worry. But there's no rush. We can talk this through. Seeing me like this must be quite a shock. Isabel deserves some time to process it."

Nicole nodded, but still glared at her. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Suddenly, Isabel remembered why she came back in the first place. "Oh! Right! I realized that the clerk gave me some mandrake extract to give Adrian, and I'd forgotten it and…it seems kind of irrelevant now."

Adrian shook his head with a smile. "Not at all. I'll find that most useful." He extended a hand, and she gave him the vial.

"Don't forget, Adrian," Nicole told him. "You've got your meeting with Priya in an hour."

He replied, "I'll take Isabel with me. You're not busy right now, are you, Isabel?"

Surprised, she inquired, "Now? Hang on, you've got another meeting tonight?" Adrian shrugged, the corner of his mouth almost smirking. Realization dawned on her quickly. "Right...vampire. Which makes you...nocturnal, I guess."

"So? Will you come with me? As my assistant?" he asked before adding with a grin. "Don't worry. I'll pay overtime."

She was planning on saying yes without the comment, but that definitely helped. Deciding to mess with him a little, she commented, "Oh...maybe there's another way to pay me back…"

Eyes going wide, he stammered, "I'm not sure...I mean, that would be…"

Her lips turned up into a smirk. "Relax, I was talking about stock options."

He exhaled sharply and visibly relax. Behind him, Nicole rolled her eyes.

"Subtlety's your strong suit I see," she quipped sarcastically.

Adrian told her, "I imagine we can work something like that out. Now...are you still interested in joining me for the meeting?"

Isabel was about to reply when Nicole stated firmly, "I would like it noted for the record that I think this is a spectacularly bad idea."

"Noted," he told her, amused. "I'll see you on Monday."

Isabel had to bite her tongue hard to keep from laughing.

"See you then," the blonde said. She slipped on her stiletto heels, picked up several folders from the desk and exited the room, giving her some serious side-eye. Isabel was momentarily annoyed as the door clicked shut, leaving her and Adrian alone.

He turned to her, a look of concern on his face. "Are you okay?"

She thought about it for a moment before replying, "Yeah. I think so." She turned away, taking a deep breath.

(This is, no joke, the wildest, scariest thing that's ever happened to me…)

But, yet now that she'd had some time to process it, she felt calm...oddly calm. And maybe even a little excited.

"I never lied to you," Adrian pointed out. "I just...omitted some things."

Raising her eyebrows, she countered, "I'd call 'being a vampire' a pretty big omission!"

To her surprise, he didn't deny it. "Let me remedy it," he conceded. "What can I tell you now that will ease your mind?"

"I...don't even know where to start. All I know about vampires is what I've seen in movies and TV," she responded. "Well, that and Alyssa, my friend. She's a big fan of those."

A little scoff slipped out as he commented, "That stuff isn't completely wrong. Depending on what you've been watching, that is." He added with a grin, "And before you ask...no, I don't sparkle."

(Wasn't going to.)

"So you're immortal?" she questioned.

He nodded. "Correct. I don't age."

"How old are you?"

After a moment he replied, "Well, let's see, I was born in 1753...I haven't done the math in a while, but...not quite three hundred yet." The number caused her to mouth to drop, though she suspected that wasn't even close to being the oldest. Seeing her expression, he chuckled, "Sounds pretty old when I put it that way."

Her mind spinning, Isabel told him, "I'm going to need a lot more details."

"I understand," he said. "Right now, though, we need to get over to Priya's studio."

Earlier, she knew the name had sounded familiar. Suddenly, she knew why. "Wait, Priya…? You mean fashion designer Priya Lacroix?"

"You know her work?"

It was her turn to scoff. "Are you kidding? Her studio is The Crimson Veil. Which is only the most famous downtown studio since Andy Warhol's Factory. Her shows are legendary!"

"Priya would be very delighted to hear you say that, given she's throwing a fashion show tonight," he told her. "But we must hurry."

Isabel grew excited, but then she hesitated. "Wait..."

"What?"

Looking down she answered, "This outfit isn't exactly Lacroix-worthy."

He took a moment to think before saying, "Priya sent over a shipment of her newest dresses earlier today for some of the senior staff. We might have one lying around."

He ducked into an adjacent office and comes back holding an Avant-garde, iridescent dress on a hanger.

"This was hanging on the back of the door. Do you want to wear it?" he asked.

Without much hesitation, she took the gown, quickly going to change into it. Coming back shortly, she was grinning from ear to ear.

(This looks amazing!)

Looking at her approvingly, Adrian complemented, "Impressive. That looks like it was custom made for you."

Sheepishly, she asked, "You think I can pull off a Lacroix?"

"I think you kill in it."

She glanced down, cheeks burning. Although she hated to admit it, Derek almost never spoke to her like that when they were dating.

"Ready to go?" Adrian inquired.

With a nod, she told him, "Yeah. Just keep me away from red wine. I don't think I could live with myself if I got a stain on a dress that costs more than my rent!"

Winking, he commented, "Don't worry, something tells me it is going to be more of a champagne sort of event."

For one second, Isabel felt the absurdity of the moment... accompanying a vampire out to a high-end fashion show...and she just shook her head and laughed.

However, she was too intrigued to turn back now.

Smiling, she threw the last bit of caution she had to the wind. "Let's do it."

Moments later, she and Adrian walked down the sidewalk, the twinkle and neon glow of New York City by night danced all around them. They passed couples holding hands, groups of friends laughing. It was a gorgeous night and everyone seemed to be starting the weekend in good spirits.

A little nervous, she asked, "So, I kind of have a lot more questions for you…"

She was scared that she was prying too much. But, he didn't seem to mind.

"Ask and you shall receive," he told her.

(Where do I start?)

After a minute she inquired, "Tell me...how many vampires are there?"

"In the world? I'm not sure. There are many places where my kind still has to hide our true nature," he answered.

(Okay…)

"How about in New York?" she asked, figuring that would be more manageable.

He answered almost immediately. "180."

Stunned, she stammered, "That's...a very precise number."

"It is."

She assumed from this that it was intentional.

Next, she wondered, "Tell me...Does sunlight hurt you?"

"Yes," he told her.

(Woah.)

"Oh wow…" she exclaimed. "So like one ray of light and poof?"

He shook his head. "Not exactly. I wouldn't turn to ash in an instant, but it's very painful and would be fatal within half an hour or so," he explained. "Think of it like a hypersensitivity...like accelerated heat stroke."

"The heavy curtains in your office suddenly make a lot of sense now," she said before asking excitedly, "Can you fly?"

He countered with a dry laugh, "No. And for the record, I cannot turn into a bat either."

Slightly disappointed she sighed, "Aw, really?"

"That's just an old wives' tale," he explained. "Based on the fact that we're nocturnal."

With a smile, she gushed, "Bats are awfully cute though."

"Oh, they're adorable," he said before commenting, "And often rabid."

Isabel raised her eyebrows. "Cool…?" Thinking for a second, she asked, "Are you super-strong?"

"Depends on your definition of 'super-strong'..." he answered, making her wonder if he was trying not to sound arrogant.

She prompted, "Like, could you lift a car?"

"Sure," he replied nonchalantly.

Amazed she marveled, "That's…my definition of super-strong."

"That would be a yes, then."

Finally, she inquired, "Okay, tell me...can you eat garlic?"

He shrugged. "It's a minor annoyance. More like a general distaste."

That was a shame because she happened to love it. A slow smile spread across her face. Slyly, she teased, "So if I told you I know this old school pizza place that has the best garlic rolls in the world…?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'd pass. Anything else?"

She thought about it for a minute. On a serious note, she inquired hesitantly, "Have...you ever killed anyone?"

Adrian was quiet for a moment, seemingly considering how to answer.

Isabel began to feel guilty. Afraid that she crossed a line, she mumbled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

He interrupted her and admitted, "Yes. I have." He appeared sad, maybe even remorseful.

She stared at him in shock, although she kind of suspected it.

With a frown, he quickly added, "But not recently. I don't. Not anymore."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Up ahead, Isabel saw a huge crowd lined up outside a black door.

"This is it," Adrian told her hesitantly as if he wasn't sure where they stood.

However, after thinking about it, she couldn't really blame him about what happened in the past decades, maybe even a century ago. All that mattered to her was the present, and she could tell that now he was a different person. It also explained why he was so intent on helping people.

Eyes wide, she exclaimed, "The Crimson Veil... it's so crowded for a show that starts at midnight!"

"That's early for Priya…" he hinted.

Isabel picked up on it immediately. "Wait...is Priya...a vampire?"

He nodded. "She is."

"Holy…"

Adrian continued, "She is one of the six most powerful vampires in New York. She sits on The Council."

(Wait... what?!)

There was so much more to this than she thought. "What's 'The Council'?"

"There are six major vampire Clans in New York City," he explained. "Each is ruled by a single leader, with 29 followers. Priya is one of them."

Processing the information, her mind quickly started to make connections. "So 30 vampires per Clan...6 Clans...180 vampires," she surmised in fascination. Alyssa had mentioned something like that in one of her theories. Now, she wondered how her friend knew so much.

He gave a slight nod. "Precisely. The leaders of the Clans tend to be older vampires, vanguards in their fields," he described.

She caught on relatively fast. "Wow...so Kamilah...Lester...you?" she inquired, her eyes lighting up.

"Yes."

(Oh...my...God.)

All of this information was beginning to overwhelm her. "I think my brain is exploding.” Her voice came out sing-songy, which happened when she was frightened or excited. 

"87 years ago, the six of us formed the Council, and agreed upon a Pact consisting of two principles," he told her, after a minute. "First, that vampires are only allowed to feed off of willing humans."

Isabel couldn't help smiling at that. "Consent. Very sexy."

He went on. "The second is that the creation of new vampires is strictly limited and subject to the approval of the Council."

"Why?" she asked curiously.

He answered, "To keep the peace, preserve the secrecy of our kind, and allow us to consolidate power behind the scenes."

Her eyes shimmering, Isabel commented, "Oh my God. That's... incredible."

"I suppose."

Grinning she told him, "You suppose that a secret council of vampires controlling New York City is incredible?"

This caused him to stop and think. "When you put it that way…" He laughed, and she couldn't help but laugh too. "The show should be starting soon. Shall we go inside?"

Looking at the enormous amount of people still waiting, she replied, "There's still, like...a massive line…"

"Not for us," he disclosed. "Follow me."

As they got closer, Isabel noticed that the waiting crowd is made up of some incredible-looking people. Club kids in outrageous outfits, fashion groupies, models that looked like they just stepped off the cover of Italian Vogue. At the door, a bouncer selectively let in a few guests at a time.

But, as she and Adrian tried to follow, he stepped right in front of her, blocking her way and glaring.

"Um...I'm with Adrian?" She told him, eyes wide.

Skeptical, the bouncer replied, "Oh really? Listen, lady. You look great. But I have no idea who the hell you are."

Starting to get annoyed, Isabel rolled her eyes. "I'm his assistant," she asserted.

Turning to the vampire, the man growled, "Mr. Raines, I'm sorry, but you know how Priya hates when people bring business associates to the club. It ruins the vibe."

"Who says she's just a business associate?" Adrian contests, seemingly unfazed. Isabel's eyebrows rose at him in surprise as he continued to bargain with the guard. "Life is never just black and white, Brandon."

She had to admit that he was could at making a compelling argument.

Wavering, the bouncer muttered, "... Whatever you say."

He shrugged before moving three inches to the side and he grudgingly tipped his head for her to pass. Adrian put his head on the upper part of the small of her back and gently guided her into the booming heart of the club.

They descended some stairs into a cavernous room that pulsed with music. A raised catwalk, glowing under bright white lights, extends through the middle of a packed crowd. The show was underway.

She paused on the stairs to look down at the scene, taking it all in. "Whoa..." she exclaimed with a smile.

"I hope I didn't go too far," he told her loudly over the music. "I just wanted to make sure that you got in."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't. I was just surprised. I know you're intentions were good," she reassured.

Otherworldly models strutted the runway in a rainbow of neon colors. Mesmerized, she raved, "The colors are incredible..."

Looking around, she gawked at all the famous faces she could see around the room. "Whoa, that girl's, like, the queen of Pictagram...and that guy's on the Knicks." Suddenly, she turned and asked, "Wait...are all these people, the models, the celebrities, vampires?"

Chuckling, Adrian answered, "Oh no, not at all. There are very few...out here."

"What do you mean 'out here'?" she wondered.

Vaguely, he replied, "Just watch. Enjoy." He gave her a gentle push forward, encouraging her to step closer to the runway.

(He's not going to tell me, is he?)

She barely noticed him leave her be as a hot, shirtless waiter approached, carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

"Champagne?" he asked, and she couldn't help but stare for a second before scolding herself.

Smiling she said, "Thank you."

"Hang on...didn't I just see you on the runway a few minutes ago?" the waiter asked in surprise.

Confused, Isabel stammered, "Me? No..."

Sheepishly, he apologized. "My bad. You just look like a model I guess. That's a great dress on you."

She bit her lip nervously. "Thanks!"

She sighed as the waiter moved away, and took a sip of champagne as she watched the show's finale.

After a few minutes, she strolled over to the bar for a refill, but as she did, she noticed something on the floor. A ripped fragment of paper, frayed at the edges. However, it seemed to glow as if it was calling out to her. 

"Huh..." Isabel mumbled with curiosity. She knelt down and picked it up, and it felt charged, almost electric. "Whoa..."

As she took a look at it, she felt lightheaded. The world swayed and her knees quivered. "Hhhh..."

She slumped back against the bar, and a white light enveloped her as she felt herself somehow leave her body.

Suddenly she was transported to a cabin...old and rustic...the air stale and heavy. Sprawled in the middle of the floor was a man. He jolted awake, gasping for air.

"Hhhhhhh!" A young Adrian Raines exclaimed, dressed in a ripped colonial undershirt.

He sat bolt upright, eyes darting wildly around the cabin, his breath coming in uneven pants.

"Where am...why do I..." He wondered.

A figure emerged from the shadows, and reached out, placing a hand on Adrian's shoulder.

"I assume you have questions," the man asserted with a smooth but powerful voice.

Adrian winced and jerked away, rubbing at his temples with a frown.

The strange man, dressed in what appeared to be black Roman-like armor and a cape, continued, "My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."

With a frown, Adrian fretted, "W-what is...what is the matter with me? Everything is... I feel different. Like I am...like I am seeing the world for the first time."

"In a way, my friend, you are," the stranger told him before a slow, creepy smile spread across his face. "You have gone through a transformation."

"A transformation?"

The man nodded. "It left you rather incapacitated, so I took it upon myself to bring you back here."

"And who the devil are you?" Adrian inquired, a look of fright on his face.

With a grin, the man takes a step back. He waved his hand in front of himself and gave a showy bow. "Gaius Augustine. At your service," he announced.

"I am--" Adrian began before being interrupted.

With a scoff, Gaius replied, I know who you are, Adrian Raines."

He tore his gaze from Gaius to look around the cabin, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Panicked he asked, "Wait. Where...where are..." he broke off, eyes going wide as a memory hit him. He collapsed, his body shaking with sobs.

"Oh no... merciful God... How... How could this happen," he cried.

Gaius watched him, expression unreadable. He merely tilted his head slightly to the side. As Adrian's sobs dissipated, he sat up straighter and swallowed. He licked his lips and looked across the room.

He whimpered, "I...need something to drink."

With a knowing grin, Gaius replied, "More than you know."

Adrian got up and crossed the room in the blink of an eye. He stumbled straight into the kitchen table, which screeches against the wooden floor. He paused, paralyzed in shock and desperation.

He stared at the table, then shook his head. "I...I..." He snatched the pitcher and a cup from under the table and poured himself a glass of water.

Gaius commented, "Regretfully, I suspect that water will not suffice."

Adrian ignored Gaius and drank down the entire cup of water. When he was through, he scowled and poured himself another.

The mysterious man snickered, "What did I tell you?"

Adrian clenched his hand around the cup, and it shattered in his grip, water and ice cascading to the ground.

Gaius told him, "Careful now, friend. We would not want you to destroy any more valuables with that newfound strength of yours."

Adrian suddenly whirled on Gaius his eyes blazing with fury. "You...What have you done to me?"

Innocently the man answered, "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Something is wrong with me, and you seem to know all about it!" the young man fumed.

He shoved Gaius hard in the chest, but he merely chuckled, shaking his head. "So we are to resort to violence? You will have to try harder then."

"What have you done to me?!" Adrian demanded in agony. He took a swing, but Gaius's hand flew up and caught Adrian's fist. He squeezed it, holding Adrian there. "Hrrrk!" he yelped in pain.

"What I have done," the man boomed, "is save your life. I'd advise you to be grateful."

He shoved Adrian back and gestured at the torn fabric of his shirt, which showed a shallow cut across his stomach. The skin slowly knitted itself back together, until no sign of the injury remained, not even a scar.

"Witchcraft..." Adrian gasped, amazed.

Gaius snorted. "You should be thanking me, Adrian. I have saved your life, and gifted you immeasurable power. Power enough to live forever. Power enough to rule this world." He added with anger, "And power enough to get revenge on those who have wronged you, who have taken what you loved."

Adrian cradled his head in his hands. "Are you a demon, sir?" he asked in bewilderment.

Gaius laughed, taking a step closer even as Adrian shrank back. "Oh no, dear friend. I am no demon. I am something far greater, far more...remarkable."

Frightened, Adrian wondered, "What do you mean?"

He backed away when suddenly, there was a loud rustling coming from the woods outside, followed by the shouts of a young man.

Outside, he shouted, "Someone help! Please! I do not know how much farther I can go!"

With a frown, Adrian said, "That must be a soldier, injured in battle. We have to help him!"

He rushed out the door, while Gaius followed slowly behind, a bemused smirk on his face. Stepping out onto the porch, Adrian scanned the fog for the man.

The man, a British soldier, pleaded, "Please! Help me!"

Adrian started to rush over, and then abruptly stopped, his whole body tensing. Gaius stepped up behind him.

"What is the matter? I thought you were going to help him..." he asked him, tauntingly. "Or does the color of his uniform change your mind?"

"Please!" The soldier begged. "Is someone there?" The red of his uniform barely disguised the blood seeping out, darkening the fabric.

Adrian licked his lips and swallowed.

Observing, Gaius prompted, "You smell it, do you not? His blood?" He leaned in close, one hand on Adrian's shoulder, breath ghosting over his ear. "You need blood. It will sate the hunger inside you," he told him with a knowing, evil smile. "Kill him and drink."

Adrian's eyes widened. "No! No! I...cannot do that!"

"Why not?"

Frowning, Adrian started to protest, "Because..." he trailed off.

"Think of how easy it would be," Gaius encouraged. "He has yet to even see us. It would be all over in a second."

Shaking his head, Adrian argued, "I will not kill a defenseless man!"

Gaius merely shrugged. "He is already injured. I doubt he will survive a wound so grievous. You would be sparing him an agonizing death. A mercy, really."

"I said no."

"And what do you think he would do if the roles were reversed?" the man asked, growing impatient. "I think he would kill you without a second thought."

Adrian snapped. "Enough! I have given you my answer."

It was clear Gaius wasn't going to take it. "No one would miss him. Just another soldier lost in battle. Besides, this is what he deserves. After everything the British have done, everything they have taken from this country. From you."

The cracking of branches drew Adrian's attention back to the soldier who moved ever closer.

"Hello? Is someone home?"

Adrian took a deep breath and nearly doubled over, his entire body trembling. Gaius ran a soothing hand over his back.

"Why do you continue to resist? Even when it so clearly pains you to do so?" the man murmured.

Brows furrowed, Adrian answered, "Because I cannot live like that, as some kind of abomination! I would rather die."

"Suit yourself," Gaius sighed, plastering a look of sorrow on his face. "You can die as an...abomination. I will not stand in your way." He took a step back from Adrian, giving him space.

The young man stared at him, obviously conflicted. "...Or?" he wavered.

"Or...you can embrace this gift...and live as a god."

The soldier stumbled into the clearing around the cabin, now easily spotting the two men. "Please, sirs, I am hurt, I need--" His eyes flit between Gaius and Adrian, who still stand unmoving on the porch. He asked, "Are you with the rebels then?"

Scowling, Adrian replied, "Proudly."

The soldier let go of his wound, hand coming away sticky with blood, to grip his musket.

With a smug look, Gaius gloated, "It is as I said. If your positions were reversed..."

Adrian watched the soldier tensely. Their eyes met and the soldier raised his weapon. And before he could fire, Adrian was on top of him, closing the distance between them in an instant.  

His eyes were red and two fangs suddenly appeared. "Hhhhh!"

The other man was stunned. "How--"

Adrian tackled the soldier, musket clattering to the ground beside them. The soldier struggled beneath him, easily overpowered.

"Get off of me, sir! Get off--"

"RAAAUUGH!" Adrian growled before leaning in and digging his fangs in the soldier's neck, piercing the skin.

"AHHHH!!!"

From the sidelines, Gaius hissed, "Yessssssss...." his eyes equally ablaze.

The soldier thrashed against Adrian, causing his fangs to rip the wound open further, blood gushing out. He latched onto the man's throat, drinking eagerly. Blood leaked out from between his lips as he swallowed again and again.

"Please!" the soldier wailed. "Let me go! Please!" He struck Adrian repeatedly, but the blows glanced off. His hits gradually grew weaker, until his arm fell to his side, his breath coming in shallow pants. "S-S... Stop... Please..." As Adrian continued to drink, the soldier stopped pleading, and eventually, fell still.

Adrian pulled away from the soldier's body, mouth stained with blood. Shocked, he stammered, "I...I..." He stood up and looked around the clearing, doing a full rotation. Finally, his eyes landed on Gaius. With a smile, he yelled, "This is incredible!"

It was as if he was a completely different person.

"At last," Gaius beamed. "You understand."

Amazed, the young man exclaimed, "I can see everything, in such sharp details! The bark on the trees...every blade of grass...I can hear the beating of a bird's heart...the rustling of the worms underfoot..."

"And how do you feel?"

"Strong," Adrian replied. "Stronger than I've ever felt." He looked down at his blood-stained hands, flexing his fingers. "I feel like a god."

Gaius stepped down from the porch and walked over to Adrian. He reached up and gently ran the back of his hand along Adrian's cheek. "Congratulations, my dearest Adrian...You have been reborn."

Suddenly everything turned white. All at once, Isabel was back in Priya's club, leaning against the bar. "Hhhh!" She looked around bewildered. Only a second had passed, and her head felt foggy like she was coming out of a dream. She could almost remember a few images...the woods...a man's face...some kind of painting? But it all faded, vanishing from her mind.

(Weird...)

As she shook off that feeling, Adrian appeared behind her.

"Listen," he told her. "I need to go speak with Priya immediately after the show. He gestured to a heavy red door at the far side of the hall.

Blinking, she asked, "What's in there?"

"It's...a private room," he explained.

"Like her office?"

He shook his head. "Not exactly. More like a private club within the club." Frowning, he added, "But it might be dangerous for you to come."

Suddenly it dawned on her. "Oh. That's what you meant when you said there were very few vampires out here..."

"Yes. It can get a little wild in the Red Room. Vampires acting on their...natural instincts," he told her. "I'll be back in a few minutes. There's plenty for you to see out here while you wait."

Isabel raised an eyebrow. "But, I'd like to go with you," she said quickly.

While it did frighten her a little, the intrigue she felt excited her more.

"Are you sure?" he asked her in shock.

With a smile, she replied, "No...but how can I not check it out? And if I'm going to be your assistant, it seems like I ought to go with you, right?"

After a moment of thought, Adrian conceded. "If you want. But stick close to me." As they approached the entrance, he suddenly paused. "And a word of warning. Priya can be charming and alluring...but she is incredibly dangerous," he cautioned, furrowing his brows at the last part.

Swallowing nervously, Isabel replied, "...Right."

A burly guard at the door gave Adrian the nod. He took her protectively by the hand as they passed into the back room.

Her jaw dropped in awe. "Huh...it's like a Vegas casino meets an opium den..."

"That's pretty much Priya's aesthetic," he commented in response.

As her eyes adjusted, she noticed something scandalous in every corner. Barely-clothed vampires lounged around, feeding off willing, equally unclothed humans. Muscular male go-go dancers undulated in cages.

"Whoa..." Isabel whispered, not wanting to draw too much attention.

(Damn. She could outdo Catherine the Great.)

"You okay?" Adrian asked.

Nodding enthusiastically, she replied with a smile, "I'm going to just take it all in!"

As he guided her through the room, she absorbed more of the scene. At the bar, a group of gorgeous vampires laughed delightedly, fangs bared, as the bartender served them flaming, neon-green drinks.

"Is that absinthe?" she wondered. She knew that it had a high alcohol content and that it was popular among artists and writers such as Picasso and James Joyce. Even though she knew people still drank it, she'd never seen it in person.

Adrian sighed, "It's trendy with the under-200s right now. So tiresome," clearly showing his disapproval.

Further down the bar were several humans hooked up to machines that looked like fancy IVs.

Eyes wide Isabel gawked, "Are they draining their blood?"

The answer was obvious but, the question tumbled out anyway.

"Yes," he said before explaining, "but only in small amounts. Like giving blood at the hospital."

"Why?"

"Some vampires prefer to separate the food from the person. It's considered 'more civilized'. Frankly, I think its an affectation," he answered.

She saw the bartender pour the blood into highball glasses and serve it to waiting vampires, who toasted with it.

"That...almost seems worse," she stammered.

To her surprise, he agreed. "My thoughts exactly."

Adrian led her to the back of the room, through some filmy red curtains, where finally she saw her...Priya herself, lounged on a luxurious, richly upholstered throne. She was surrounded by a cadre of shirtless, tattooed guards. A large cluster of admirers waited to speak to her, but the guards kept them back, allowing one or two at a time to approach her throne.

But when Priya spotted Adrian, her eyes lit up and a languid, cat-like smile spread across her face.

"Adrian!" she exclaimed. "My sweet darling, come here!"

The guards part and he stepped up onto the throne platform and kissed her on the cheek.

With a charismatic smile, he told raved, "What a fantastic show, Priya. You've truly outdone yourself with this collection."

Rolling her eyes she teased, "You're a liar, but I don't mind. Say more nice things about me!"

Her guards laughed, but Adrian remained serious. It was clear that he had an objective. Isabel watched in silent fascination.

"I know this is a night for celebrating, but there is some Council business that can't wait," he told Priya who promptly ignored him.

She looked past him and caught Isabel's eye. She smiled flirtatiously. "Don't bore me with Council business when you're hiding this delightful stranger!" she gushed to Adrian. "Who is she? Come, come!"

Priya beckoned Isabel up to the throne with a curl of a single, perfectly neon-painted fingernail. She stepped up and approached the vampire with caution, one eye on Adrian just in case. Priya was even more stunning up close.

Eyeing Isabel up and down, she extolled, "Oh, you look absolutely amazing in my dress. Just what I'd imagined."

"It's wonderful to meet you," Isabel said. "I loved your show." She made sure to remain alert for anything the fashion designer had up her sleeve, Adrian's warning still fresh in her mind. She extended a hand to shake Priya's, but instead, the woman reached up and stroked her face, peering questioningly into her eyes. Her hands were cold. Ice cold.

Isabel began to feel slightly uncomfortable, the sudden touch reminding her of what happened with Lester hours earlier. She glanced at Adrian nervously, not sure if he'd react the same this time. His narrowed eyes told her that he wasn’t amused.

"What a beautiful creature you brought me, Adrian," Priya continued. "She is for me, isn't she?"

(Oh no.)

Isabel's nervousness quickly turned to alarm and her eyes widened at him, silently begging him to do something. She figured if she said something, the outcome would be a lot different this time around.

Luckily, he quickly interjected. "No. She's with me," he announced, brows furrowed.

Priya brushed off his statement. "But surely she can be convinced to stay the night?" she pleaded. She continued to caress her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes.

(Um, no! This is really creepy.)

Isabel felt her anger return, simmering below the surface. However, she couldn't just erupt like she did earlier. She had to react more...delicately.

She reached up and took the woman's hand from her cheek. Calmly, she said, "Priya, thank you, but..." she stepped back cautiously. As she pulled away, she clasped her hand and shook it, making sure to keep a smile on her face. "Truly, it's an honor to meet you. But I don't want to interfere with your business with Adrian."

The designer scowled. "Now that's disappointing. And I hate being disappointed."

Isabel breathed a sigh of relief as Adrian cleared his throat, giving her a small look of approval before turning to Priya.

"I'm sorry, but this just can't wait," he urged. "As you know, we have a growing problem in the city, The Feral attacks are getting out of control."

Priya adorned a sad expression. "Yeah, yeah. It's a nuisance, but I'm not sure what you think I can do about it."

Adrian clearly wasn't buying it. "Don't play dumb, Priya," he scolded. "Someone on the Council is allowing unauthorized Turnings...If we don't get this under control, it'll blow up in all of our faces."

The younger vampire let out a huff. "I don't know what you expect me to do about it. I'm certainly not Turning anyone. I honor the Pact, and I hate Ferals. Have you looked at one lately? Disgusting." With a smile, she added. "I prefer the young humans anyway..."

Eyes lit up, she turned back to Isabel and reached her hand out, inviting her closer. Alarmed, Isabel shot Adrian another panicked look. Instinctively, she stepped back and her foot went off the edge of the throne platform, causing her to stumble backward.

"Whoa!" she yelped. She threw her hand out to steady herself on a bar table but she knocked over a glass, breaking it. "Ow!" she hissed angrily as a sharp pain shot through her hand.

She looked down to see that the glass had cut her hand. Blood flowed down her fingers and dripped on the ground. Her eyes widened in panic, knowing that this was the worst place for that to happen. The room goes totally silent except for the drip, drip, drip.

Every vampire's head swiveled towards her, almost in slow motion, intensely interested in the blood. Including Priya who licked her lips as her fangs extended. The entire room moved in, drawing closer.

Now, she was terrified. "Adrian!" she cried, her heart hammering in her chest.

He quickly moved close to her, protective, fierce. His fangs extended in a display of force to the other vampires. "Back off. Now," he growled. His back pressed against the front of her body. She could feel the heat and the strength radiating off of him.

Without thinking, she grabbed onto him, wrapping her arms around his chest. Adrian slowly turned his head from one side to the other, glaring out at the room. Slowly, everyone stepped back, defusing the tension. Priya let out an aggravated sigh.

Realizing that she was still holding onto him, Isabel quickly let go and stepped back as he turned his attention to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worriedly. "Let me see..."

Still shaking from the adrenaline, she replied, "I-I think it's not too...too bad."

He looked at the cut on her hand, still slowly dripping blood. He put her hand gently up to his mouth and carefully licked the blood from her fingers. It tingled...intensely...an electric charge. "Oh, that's... Oh." Immediately, she reprimanded herself.

She tore her gaze away, trying not to think about it too much. Once her hand was cleaned of blood, Adrian took a bar towel and wrapped it around the cut. "Better?"

Looking back at him, she answered, "Yeah. Better." Her voice still wobbled from the fright she had felt.

"Let's go," he told her, nodding a curt goodbye to Priya. "We will revisit this issue," he argued.

"Ugh, whatever," she groaned. As Adrian led Isabel through the crowd to the door, Priya longingly watched her go, making her slightly annoyed.

Back in the club, Isabel made her way to the bar, catching her breath for the first time.

"How are you holding up?" he asked her.

With a shaky sigh, she replied, "That was...intense. Not bad, necessarily. Just...intense."

(Well minus the last part anyway. And Priya wanting to devour her.)

"All things considered? It could have gone much worse," he commented.

This caused her to raise an eyebrow. "What's...the deal with Priya?"

A dark look crossed Adrian's face, perhaps as he relieved a memory. "Priya is one of the youngest members on the Council. She was Turned just over 150 years ago."

"A real baby, huh?"

Adrian let out a scoff. "I know you're joking but...in the terms of our kind, more like a teenager. And it's a very dangerous age for a vampire to be." His expression darkened. "At that age...many of our kind do terrible things."

(Like...you?)

"Why?" she asked.

After a minute he explained, "You're old enough that you've experienced all of the things you could've wanted as a human. Old enough to have seen everyone you loved die. And yet you're just as powerful. Just as hungry."

"Right..." Isabel said. "Does she...kill people?"

"Officially? No. Per the Pact," Adrian answered. "But there are rumors. Rumors of what she gets up to in that manor of hers." His brows furrowed in anger. "Rumors...and a whole lot of missing persons."

She frowned. "Yikes."

"I think it's time we both left," he instructed.

She couldn't agree more. "Yeah. I think so too."

They stepped out of the club, out into the semi-deserted streets. The roads were shiny and wet, as though a flash storm moved through while they were inside the club. The city lights reflected back up at them. Isabel couldn't help but be calmed at the sight.

Smiling in disbelief she exclaimed, "I just can't believe it. I actually got to see Priya Lacroix's show. And she's a vampire. This all feels like...like a dream."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Adrian told her. "Sometimes I think I've been in this world so long, I've forgotten it's smaller pleasures." They walked together silently down a pathway into Central Park, the curvy road lit by old-fashioned lamps. "The sun will be up in a few hours. Do you remember what Nicole said about you needing to be 'debriefed'?"

The memory instantly came back to her. "Yeah..."

"Well, we still need to go do that, before dawn breaks," he told her.

She felt her stomach start to knot once more. "Um...and what is that exactly?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing that will hurt or harm you. It's just--"

He was interrupted by a terrified scream that rang out from up ahead. They both looked ahead to see a young woman lying on a park bench. Crouched over her is a thin, bald figure in tattered clothes, feeding on her. The woman shrieked and flailed, struggling under the figure.

(What the hell? I need to do something!)

"HEY!" Isabel barked impulsively. The figure froze. It swiveled its head around, blood dripped from its mouth. She finally saw its gaunt, pale face under the sickly light of the streetlamp. And then its red eyes looked right at her.

"HSsssSSSSssssSSSs...!"

(Oh no. That can’t be good.)

To be continued....

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

[alexiela73]

Hey! I hope you had a happy Halloween this year. Widowmaker is crushing hard on Dr. smol fem reader and is planning to ask them out on a date but she finds herself in competition with Mercy, who also likes reader. So they're both sabatoging each other or one uping one another while Sombra and Moira are in the background entertained. Eventually it becomes a poly mercymaker with reader.

It was okay. Sorry that it took so long to get to this, or if this isn’t very good >.

You often find yourself wondering how on earth this strange predicament came about, as you stared up at the ceiling of your office. The tension in the room was almost palpable

Behind you stood a tall woman with purple skin, wearing black leggings and a low cut black shirt that hugged her every curve. Long hair pulled up into a ponytail, she rested her hands on the back of your chair. Most men would kill just to be stepped on by Amelie Lacroix here, also known as Widowmaker.

“You do not seem to understand what I am saying, Doctor Ziegler,” said a beautiful French accent, and one slim hand touched your shoulder. “But y/n is mine, no questions asked.”

The certainty in her voice at least told you of her confidence, though right now you really wish the two of them would give you a little peace so that you could finish your work. Obviously fate had other plans today, and you grimaced as hands slammed down at the front of your desk.

The woman standing in front of you was a bit shorter then the Frenchie, and had soft blonde hair and a doctors coat. Named Angela Zielger, she was beautiful, with blue eyes and a smile that could stop hearts in their tracks…except it was no where to be seen as she tried to stare the woman behind you down.

“And I am telling you, Amelie, that you cannot have her,” Angela said, her swiss accent soft but her tone defiant. “She is my apprentice and under my care! And besides, I refuse to share the love of my life with some murderous psychopath!”

There was a small fit of laughter behind Angela that caused all three of you to glare. It was Sombra and Moira, both looking both devious and evil as they exchanged money. 

“My money is on Widowmaker,” Moira mutters.

Sombra flipped her hair, almost casually. “You’re on,” she said, looking unconcerned, though she did eye Angela with encouragement.

Hating how everyone would come to your office in the middle of Numbani, only to make bets of you and pull you around like some kind of tug-o-war rope. This has happened three times this week already and each time you’d refused to answer who you wanted to date.

“Look,” you said, putting your fingers together and looking between the two women. “Can we just stop this ridiculous argument and talk like adults?” The request sounded rather reasonable, didn’t it.

Obviously, not reasonable enough as Widowmaker’s eyes locked with Mercy’s and a smile curved those sensuous lips. “I do not care what you have to say, little angel. She is mine and I can prove it,” she said.

Mercy didn’t understand quite at first what she meant, until Widowmaker lifted your chin without warning and you found a soft, cool pair of lips against yours. It was probably your first kiss, and it was sweeter then you had imagined it would be…

When Widowmaker leaned back, she smirked. “There we are,” Amelie claimed.”She is mine. You could see how she melted at my touch.”

“Well, hey now-” you started but your face heated up further as Angela leaned across the table and took you by the chin. Pulling you in, Angela’s eyes met Amelie’s briefly before she smiled.

“We’ll see about that,” she said haughtily, before pressing her lips to yours. You wanted to protest-who were they, to do all this and make decisions? Yet you melted into that kiss too, into the taste of honey and mint and the warmth of her lips. It was hard not to, really.

When Angela pulled away, she looked victorious and you swore there was a look of cold murder in Widowmakers eyes. The two almost instantly started bickering, going on about who you should date and who you would be better off with. 

Every time you opened your mouth to speak, both or one would cut you off and neither seemed to be paying attention to you. What was the point of all of this if they wouldn’t even look at you? 

“That's enough!” you said finally, slamming a hand down on the table after about five minutes. Both jumped slightly but quieted, eyeing you. “Take a seat. Now.”

The tone of your voice told them that you were not thrilled, thus they obliged you and sat in the two chairs in front of your desk. Angela looked a bit uncomfortable, and Amelie just stared at you, crossing one leg over the other and looking lovely all the while.

Sitting back in your chair, you took off your glasses and stared down the two of them. “Why do you think I opened my own clinic?” you asked finally, but held up a hand to quiet them when they both tried to speak.

“It wasn’t so that other people could run my life. Does that make sense to the both of you?” you ask, tilting your head back to stare at the beautiful women. “I appreciate the flattery and attention from both of you but I refuse to have you both make decisions for me. You don’t know who I would choose or what I want.”

There was a pause and you decided to let that sink in as you straightened the pages on your desk. Yet when you looked up at them, both looked even more intent then before.

“So what do you want then?” Angela asked immediately, staring at you hopefully.

Widowmaker tilted her head back. “More importantly, who do you want,” she asked, voice a purr.

For a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. Since the two of them had seemed so determined to choose for you, you hadn’t really had a chance to choose between either one of them. But in the end, you knew you couldn’t turn them both down...

“I...uh...we'll all go on a date together. The three of us,” you said, only to see both women make a face. “And I’ll choose one of you at the end of three dates. That way...we can see who’s superior,” you say quickly, unsure how else to get you both to agree and not kill each other.

Mercy looked rather unsure as she sat back to consider this. She really had just wanted to take you out herself, and she preferred for there not to be any competition of any kind. 

Yet Widowmaker was a woman who liked a challenge. The thought of coming out superior over Mercy was too good, and you knew you had her hooked instantly.

“I agree,” Widowmaker says, looking over at angela. “Three dates and she can choose. Agreed?”

After another moment of hesitation, Angela nodded slowly. “Agreed,” she said, looking determined.

And this is how you ended up in a relationship with both of them at the same time. 

[solarbird]

Old Soldiers, Chapter 5: don’t have to tell me twice

[AO3 link]

[All dialogue in «angle quotes» is translated from the Spanish]

«Whatcha doin', Spooky?»

Jack Morrison looked up upon hearing Leticia Delgado's question from where he sat with his notebook. Paper, pen, overstuffed chair - old school, like he was. «Updating the dossier.»

«On your old friends?» she asked, putting away her phone, and grabbing an orange off the counter separating the small kitchen from the small living room.

«They're not my old friends,» he growled. «But this attack by Amari, and this fake Overwatch news - maybe it'll help fit some more pieces together.»

Leticia nodded, peeling the orange. Morrison had been hauling that notebook around as long as she'd known him. He'd never let her look at it, and she'd never pushed too hard. But she'd been curious, and if he was going to open up a little, well, it beat sitting around, anxious and bored. «Why you so obsessed with this new Overwatch, anyway?»

He shook his head. «It's not Overwatch. The real Overwatch - my Overwatch - went down with me, when Talon moved against us.»

The street fighter cocked her head to her left. «I thought that was the UN.»

Morrison snorted. «Talon, UN - it's all the same thing, has been for a long time. Early 2068 - a few months before the Slipstream exploded - that's when I started to realise what was really happening, what was going wrong.»

«Talon,» she said, before biting into a wedge, «...controls the UN?»

«Talon proxies. Maybe mind controlled, like Lacroix, maybe conscious traitors, I don't know. But they're pulling the strings. I just have to find them all, cut them all down, show the world what they've done.»

«I know they're terrorists, but that's what they call us, too...» She swallowed the piece of orange.

«They really are, though. More than anyone knows. More than anyone understands. But I'm the one who's seen it.» He poked at his notebook. «I'm the one who's figured it out.»

«You got evidence?» She peeled threads off another piece of the orange. «I mean, if they're that kind of dangerous...»

«It's everywhere you look, once you start to see it. Start with Gérard Lacroix's murder - Talon eliminated him as soon as he got too close. You think he was their mole? Of course not. He just knew too much.»

The young Los Muertos gangster bit into another wedge. «I don't even know who that is.»

«You...? Yeah, I, guess you wouldn't. You'd've been, what, 12? 13?» He chuckled. «Gérard Lacroix was head of Overwatch's anti-Talon task force. Good man. Murdered in his sleep by his wife - or rather, by whatever thing Talon put in his wife's head after they took apart her brain.»

«Wait. I've heard part of this story... are you talking about la blue girl?»

«The killing corpse? The purple assassin? Yeah. The Widowmaker. Second-best sniper in the world. I was friends with the woman they killed to create her.» He flipped to the Amélie Lacroix section of his notebook, filled lately with his notes on her partner, the teleporting assassin known as Venom. «I'm not sure who they killed to create her girlfriend. I thought it had to be Lena Oxton, somehow back from oblivion, because...»

«Lena Oxton... the Widowmaker's girlfriend? Wait, you think the hero of Old London is the spider's sidekick? Really?» Laticia snorted. «Put this in your notebook, I heard about it from the old squad leader. Those two showed up at an arms show together a couple years ago, right? Got disrespected by a some anglo Texans, and killed like a dozen people just to make a point. They're not...»

«I know. The girlfriend part, that's what made me think it might've been Lena.» He tapped the page with the tip of his pen. «Still think it might be. Just can't figure out why they'd keep the lesbian angle. I didn't even think Amélie liked girls, not that there's anything left of her in that machine. But it has to be important, for some reason.»

Hoooo, she thought. This is kind of nuts. «I'm sorry about your friends, Jack. But this - it's a lot to take in.»

Jack looked up at Laticia, and nodded. He trusted her. He hadn't trusted anybody in a long time, and he didn't trust the trust, but it was still there. «It's a lot more to live through.»

She let out a little bit of a 'heh,' and replied, «This's why you don't talk about your past much, huh?»

He nodded, flipping through pages, adding small notes in tinier text. «One of the reasons.» He dotted a couple of lower-case Is and put the book down. «The part I can't get past - there is just no way that the real UN would ever have moved against us. Not like that. They'd never have shut me down, not us, we mattered too much. Not even with that bastard Gabriel turning on us, turning on me...» He'd run through the story too many times in his own head even to get angry anymore. «I don't know whether they brainwashed him or reconditioned his mind or whether he just got bought out, but he turned on us. All those lies at the hearings, all that slander, all those leaks...»

«I remember that part,» she said, finishing the last of the orange.

«Big news, even to the tween set?»

«We watched the hearings in school.»

The solder smirked. «Not surprised - schools are about control. But all that propaganda aside - we mattered too much. The real UN - an uncompromised UN - wouldn't've shut us down. Never.»

She tapped her fingers, one, two, three, four, on the table, working out bits in her mind, before sweeping the peels away. «So... if Talon took over the UN, then...»

He nodded again, this time, approvingly. She gets it, he thought. «Then they have control over a lot of the governments, too. Deep state agents, fingers in key parties, big and small.» He picked the book back up, made a few more notes, and closed it again. «But I'll get it all out there, sooner or later. Once I have it all figured out. Then everyone will know, and we can start to put the world back together.»

The soldier looked down at his empty mug, feeling all talked out. «Hey. You mind making some more of that coffee?»

Delgado looked quizzically at Jack Morrison. «My coffee?»

«Who else's? I can't make it the way you do.»

«You can't... you hate my coffee. You always dump it out, and by the way, you still owe me new beans.»

«I don't hate it, I...» and he remembered, oh, yes, he kind of did, didn't he? No, that's not right, he loved her coffee. Nobody else could get it quite right, particularly not that white-haired... he shook his head, no, that doesn't make sense. «I'm getting used to it. It's kind of growing on me.»

«Ha!» She grinned. «I'll teach you how to appreciate good food yet, gringo. If I do this, you can't pour it out! I have to make a whole pot, or it comes out too weak, like yours. Just, you know, not as bad as yours. Which is terrible.»

«Wouldn't dream of it,» he groused, and stood up. «While you make that, I'll go out, get some more beans. I do owe you.»

«It's been quiet long enough, yah, I think it's safe.»

He nodded his agreement. «You heard anything from Araceli?»

Laticia shook her head, checking her phone again. «No, not yet. I'm worried.»

«Afraid the Maras got her?»

«Worried they might've.»

«I hope not. She's no soldier, but she's... a pretty good kid.»

Delgado smiled, surprised. «Thanks, Spooky. That's the nicest thing you've ever said about her.»

Morrison looked through the edge of the blind from the gang house. Twilight, and all clear - at least, as far as he could tell. Amari doesn't double-dip, he thought. We should be fine, for now. «I'll be back in a few minutes,» he said, throwing his gun over his shoulder. «With dinner.»

«No hunting in city limits!»

«Not even for tacos?»

«Okay, maybe for tacos. You know the kinds I like?»

«'Course I do,» said the soldier, opening the door. «If I'm not back in 15 minutes - leave, and don't look back.»

«Don't have to tell me twice!»

«I won't.»

[tahthetrickster]

Domestic Dispute (mercymaker, G, 1k)

i actually started writing the first one forever ago and forgot about it so i dragged out the draft and finished it up LMFAO

for those just joining: this is based off the true event of the time i was in quickplay and our widowmaker named “daddy” got a lifesaver play of the game for saving my fragile healer ass from both a reinhardt and a s76 and i wanted to die of embarrassment

read on ao3 here

When the team returned to the dropship after a successful defense of the payload, nobody was quite sure why, exactly, Angela seemed to be in such a foul mood. Her lips were drawn tight, her knuckles white on her staff, face flushed with something like furious embarrassment... Lúcio had tentatively asked her if she was alright, and the dark glare she'd shot in his direction quickly dissuaded the remainder of her strike team from asking.

With the exception, of course, of one Amélie Lacroix, whose shit-eating grin was equally noticeable.

It became quickly evident that the two were correlated when Amélie wrapped an arm about Angela's waist and was unceremoniously shoved away. "Not one word," Angela hissed, her blush worsening immediately. Amélie laughed, low and dangerous, and only managed to get out a teasing "Oh, but chérie," before Angela pointed a single threatening finger at her. "Don't," Angela snarled.

"What's uh..." Hana gestured between the two of them with one finger, then immediately thought better of it. She'd been traumatized by the pair's battlefield antics once before. "Wait no, nope, nevermind, I don't actually want to know—"

"Lena," Amélie purred, voice dripping with mirth, "run the playback from that mission, if you would."

Lena looked deeply unnerved at the amenity with which the sniper spoke to her, and from the way Angela cut her eyes over to her, she wasn't sure she wanted to be involved either.

"Don't you dare," Angela barked, stiffening sharply.

Lena held up both hands defensively. "I, uh—think I'll pass, luv, not really in the mood to wind up the doc." She laughed nervously. Angela simply gave her a single firm nod.

The remainder of the team glanced uncomfortably amongst each other. Athena kept detailed records and recordings of each mission of theirs for strategy and improvement purposes. Additionally, at some of the younger members' behest, Winston had implemented some algorithms in the recording protocols to calculate the most effective "plays" of their missions—to commend those who did particularly well was the official explanation, but the younger crowd tended to just have a running competition between them to see who could manage to grab the most plays. It was tradition to watch the playback for all those reasons. That Angela was seemingly forbidding it was baffling in the extreme.

But nobody was going to argue with her, either.

"Athena," Amélie spoke up, grinning devilishly, "run the playback, s'il vous plaît."

"Now playing," came the AI's smooth voice as the nearby console lit up. There was a brief pause as Athena ran the necessary algorithms. "Play of the game," Athena announced, "callsign Widowmaker. Category: lifesaver."

Angela paled for a second before her face lit up anew in a furious blush. She whipped around and made to grab her girlfriend by the collar, but Amélie appeared to have anticipated it and sidestepped the grab. "Amélie you son of a—"

"Lifesaver?" Jack echoed with raised brows. Nobody blamed him; that was one of the rarer categories to receive a play in. "I didn't ever see anything that would've caused..." He trailed off, brow knitting in confusion.

Lúcio looked between Angela and Amélie once again, the furious glare Angela had fixed her evilly-grinning girlfriend with, and winced sharply as he made the connection. "Uh-oh."

Hana simply nodded, ashen-faced, in agreement. This was a fight that was going to last.

The playback started rolling. Angela sank into the nearest seat, burying her face in her hands. Sure enough, there was Amélie, hidden safely away atop the balcony of a nearby building as the fight raged on below. And there was Angela on the streets, propelling herself from soldier to soldier, patching them up as needed—and then with a scream she was caught in the charge of a great, hulking armored attacker as he rocketed forward, pinning her, set to crush her against the wall—

And with a little snort of derision Amélie took him out in a single clean shot through the skull. "Magnifique," the sniper purred as he fell. Nonetheless the velocity carried Angela the last few remaining feet into the wall, forcing the air from her lungs and cracking her skull hard on the brick. She staggered, wheezing and grabbing at her skull, too disoriented to notice another soldier rushing in to flank her.

Angela had only just whipped out her pistol, still in clear pain but willing to fight, when with another single shot from the Widow's Kiss, the soldier crumpled at Angela's feet. She froze for an instant and whipped around, eyes pinning the sniper immediately.

Amélie gave her a cheeky wave and blew her a kiss.

The recording just caught Angela's furious blush as she whirled around to leave before it ended.

"I hate you," Angela hissed from behind her hands, face just as red as it'd been at the end of the video.

"A 'thank you' would suffice," Amélie informed her with a grin, reaching over to tousle the doctor's hair. Angela roughly batted her hand away.

"Fuck off," Angela spat.

"That was a good save, though," Lena chirped, brow knit in confusion. She hopped up to sit on a nearby table, idly kicking her feet back and forth. "What's the problem?"

"The problem," Amélie drawled, "is the doctor's manners. I haven't heard a thanks yet."

Angela bristled and whipped around, jabbing a finger into Amélie's bare sternum. "That is not the problem and you know—"

Jack was already rubbing the bridge of his nose, as if trying to stave off the future headaches he knew he'd be suffering as a result of this argument. "Angela—"

"She knows what she did," Angela insisted, folding her arms stubbornly.

Amélie wrapped an arm around Angela's waist, yanking her close despite Angela's immediate flurry of German swears and shoves. "Quoi?" She put on what was possibly the fakest innocent tone possible. "Perhaps I did not understand the meaning of the phrase—"

"Oh you liar—"

"All I said," Amélie insisted, grinning in a decidedly not-so-innocent manner and raising her voice to be heard over Angela's protests, "was 'who's your daddy' and Angela—"

That marked the first time that Jack had ever had to physically separate the two before Angela actually broke several rules of her Hippocratic Oath all at once.