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heartbrake-hotel · 1 year

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Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."

#blurb #ask #goddamn will they EVER let each other finish a sentence.???#sorry dialogue is Not my forte 🙈 im a prose kinda girlie hardcore #also yahhhh i just kind of . totally abandoned the ending to cater to my h/c fantasies. sorry not sorry 😎#halfway thru the second block of bullets i realized the hc format was completely pointless and i had basically written a full fic #on the other hand im nothing if not a stubborn bitch so.. not changing the formatting now.!#if u think about this too hard u start to see a lot of plot holes #or at least further questions about the specificities of vamp lore in this au #to that i would recommend u pls ignore them 🥰#GODDD i started writing this directly in the ask. like a fucking FOOL #knowing FULL WELL how this stupid post editor not only eats ask drafts for breakfast and spits out their bones #but ALSO that the even STUPIDER copy/paste restrictions would hit #since theres a character block limit separate from the character POST limit 🙄#so ive had this tab open for almost a week and have just been walking on eggshells around my laptop praying to not lose it dfghj #MASSIVE SIGH OF RELIEF TO POST IT TBH #also smitty ive got a sidenote for u as well but its gonna go on main lmao. one sec #oh god............ just realized i did the ff.net thing with the in-text ANs 😳😳#pOST CANCELLED; EVERYBODY GO HOME

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infiniteoreos · 10 months

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I have hit Post Limit so I am responding here:

So Lupin the Third:

This is an Adult series written specifically for Adults. It's crude, sexual, and violent. It is also complex and heartwarming and MOST OF ALL: IT'S HILARIOUS

Lupin III has the slapstick flirty hilarity that original Loony Tunes has but for more adult audiences. Lupin definitely has a joy of life and mischievous Buggs Bunny energy to him.

Arsene Lupin III is the third of a line of master thieves. This manga from the 60's (technically ongoing) and anime from the 80's is (very very very very loosely) based off of the french Arsene Lupin stories where Famous detective Herlock Sholmes chases after the titular master theif who bests Herlock on many occasions. (Originally it was Arsene Lupin v Sherlock Holmes but that was a very early and famous case of IP/Copyright and his name was changed).

Lupin's partners Jigen Daisuke (half Italian and half Japanese raised in NY half his life) and Goemon Ishikawa XIII (descended from a Samurai theif from IRL history) work with him to pull off incredible capers.

Goemon is a master swordsman with yakuza history and Jigen is a master marksman with mob history.

Lupin is in love with Fujiko Mine another master theif (imo) who is the femme Fatale of the series. She's sometimes a member of the gang and sometimes not. Lupin will do almost anything to get into her pants and she uses that to her advantage regularly to manipulate him into stealing things for her. She's sort of similar to Nami from One Piece in a lot of ways.

Zenigata is the intrepid Inspector/Detective thats chasing after our titular theif and his gang. He's a lot like Gumshoe from Ace Attorney. He's sweet, and deeply cares about Justice and Lupin is his Arch Rival. His luck is terrible and his pay is low but the people that love him are very loyal. He will chase Lupin to the ends of the earth. He's a major comic relief character even in the more serious entries.

Hayao Miyazaki worked on Lupin III in the second half of the first arch Green Jacket and the movie Castle of Cagliostro was his first big movie break. They're beautiful to watch and very heartwarming and he had a lasting effect on the media canon.

A lot of this information will be repeated in the video essays I'm about to reccomend but honestly she'll do a WAAAAY better job of singing this series praises than I will.

Check out the video essays by @infinitesnowpro (Infinite Snow Productions on youtube).

Her essays -Miyazaki's Lupin- and - The Mystery of Mamo (Will be in the Criterion Collection) - are fantastic and the Miyazaki Lupin video confirmed some of my suspicions about Green Jacket.

She goes over good places to start in the video but if you want a small taste : Lupin the 3rd The First is on Netflix I believe. It'll give you an idea of what the characters are generally like.

Some of the series is on TMJ's official YouTube. They actually put a lot of their stuff on their channel for free. Not just Lupin stuff.

My favorite arch is Red Jacket the second arch but I watched Red Jacket for the first time back in the mid to late 00's so it'll always have a special place in my heart. ❤

If you like funny cops vs robbers type storylines and like a lot of the tropes of detective or heist media I think you'd like it. It's a very fun watch.

It's infinitely memeable and there's a ton of hilarious shorts compilations and soundbites floating around the internet.

The music is fantastic btw. There's compilations on youtube thst are like an hour or more in length under funny names that reference memes and they're nice to listen to while doing housework. -It's a beautiful morning and you're a Terrible Theif- or -A five minute egg cooks in 5 minutes- etc.

Bonus: As a series for adults with adult characters it will appeal to Middle Aged Men Enthusiasts so even if that's all anyone takes out of it I've still done my job promoting it. o7

sounds cool as fuck 👍

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benbamboozled · 1 year

Note

Okay what's Red Hood vs Anarky? I saw it at my local comic shop but ended up deciding against it bc I really wasn't feeling that whole wedding arc, but now I gotta know why its so terrible. Please.

Essentially—

Bruce says he’ll pay Jason $150,000 to stalk Selina while she’s doing her bachelorette party because there’s a threat against her from Anarky. (Already I hate everything about this.)

Because it’s Anarky, and DC is so bad about ANY kind of classist discussion, there’s a whole lot of “both sides” bullshit about “angry people” who just want to hurt rich people or whatever.

ANYWAY, Jason gets Anarky’s Angry Both Sides Mob (tm) to leave by saying he’ll donate money to “the causes” of everyone involved in the mob (which btw includes fascists—okay they don’t CALL them that but that’s what is alluded to—and pro-lifers and anti-feminists), BUT if they don’t leave he’ll donate money to “the opposition” (which…also includes said fascists and awful people).

Jason fights Lonnie who only did this whole thing because *sigh* Joker to ruin Bruce and Selina’s wedding and inexplicably Lonnie is still on his “I’m the Joker’s son” bullshit KIND OF?

ANYWAY…Jason uses the money Bruce was paying him to buy off the angry mob…but then Bruce calls him and says Jason owes Bruce a refund because Selina saw him.

And that’s it. AND I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT.

HOWEVER…

There is literally ONE point of note that I still don’t understand because it’s actually kind of meaningful but the rest of the comic is SO BAD that I’m like “is this an accident??? I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING FROM THIS.”

Because see…Jay brings Lonnie to The Station and Lonnie talks about how he was a street kid with a single mom and he was so desperate for any type of father figure that he’d look for one in the fucking Joker and how that’s pathetic. And Jason punches him.

And the narrative CLEARLY draws a parallel between Lonnie+Joker and Jason+Bruce by having Bruce (hilariously awfully) reject everything that Jason has done the entire issue for not being good enough LITERALLY during Lonnie’s monologue.

AND I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY THAT IS IN THERE! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE THINKING??? BECAUSE WHAT I’M THINKING IS THAT BRUCE WAYNE IS AS DESTRUCTIVE A FORCE TO JASON AS THE FUCKING JOKER IS TO LONNIE??? ALSO THAT THE NARRATIVE IS DRAWING PARALLELS BETWEEN BRUCE AND THE GUY WHO LITERALLY KILLED JASON??? AND THAT THE JOKER AND BRUCE BOTH USE VULNERABLE YOUNG MEN TO DO THEIR DIRTY WORK???

IS THAT WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO BE THINKING???? I LITERALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE I’M SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING FROM IT.

Anyway here are the pages—

Source is *deep breath* Batman: Prelude to the Wedding: Red Hood Vs. Anarky #1

#ask answered #red hood #Jason Todd #Anarky #lonnie machin #they should team up but DO NOT LET TIM SEELEY TOUCH IT.#unless it’s to build camaraderie about lunatic father figures.#he can write those parts. NOTHING ELSE.

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plutesboots · 7 months

Text

just random musings on maplestory (do not play this game)

Extremely long post btw I was rambling

It's just so aggravating how much the entire game changed so quickly.

When the game started, it was a small world. It took a week to reach level 10, and over a month to reach lvl 30 when you got the first job change, even if you were playing every day. This forced people to learn to share maps, thus increasing mob spawn rates. This ALSO necessitated the playing of party quests, a co-op instance where you and 3 other people killed monsters, did platforming, and worked together to beat it and get huge amounts of exp.

The amount of cash shop stuff was very minimal. Little outfits you wore over your armor that did literally nothing, really. They added content slowly, and I think I got to Ludibrium when it got bought out.

Like I had a friend who played more than me (I was in school at the time) and was one of the first people, like a year into the game, to reach level 60. It was rough.

And then they changed the exp curve! Which was great, but it was SUCH a vast change. Instead of taking a month to get to lvl 30, it took like, less than a day. And suddenly there was less demand for map sharing, way less demand for party quests, and as they increased the exp reward for stuff, people just. Ending up grinding solo constantly.

I was the weirdo who did the quests btw. I could barely play in high school so I just did Literally Every Quest lmao.

AND THEN. Then. They added extra stats to your weapons. This was the fucking worst thing. So. They made super bosses have a special kind of Boss Defense, and the only thing capable of piercing that defense was a special extra stat you could get on weapons, known as "Damage to Boss Monsters" that was only available as a "hidden potential" stat. And when you got those hidden stats, it was completely random what you would get.

BUT. If you ~really~ wanted a specific stat on your weapons, you could pay cash for "Cubes" and these would randomize the potentials. But to get the GOOD stats, the ones that would let you fight bosses, you had to buy the Fancy Cubes. And a lot of them. A stack of high quality cubes would cost you like, 50$ for ten of them.

The average cost of a single weapon capable of letting you fight a boss was $300. That's was the Average. Just a long series of gacha-type rerolls trying to actually do a main part of the game.

Good god they made you want to do it though. The best armor in the game was behind these super bosses, and only by getting that armor (which was a fraction of a CHANCE of being the one you needed) could you access a large portion of the game. And these bosses were extremely hard to get to, and many of them spawned like. Once a week. Or once a month. For the entire server.

If you REALLY grinded like constantly, forever, and got lucky by making friends with richer players, you could MAYBE get to be in the arena when they beat the boss. Maybe. If you survived.

And eventually they released the "No Cash" Reboot server, which was. Better. You couldn't trade with anyone or put any equipment in your storage which was stupid as hell, and even with the buffed enemies, you could probably get to the end-game shit Eventually. Though it was incredibly grueling, and relying on RNG to get any good items was. Rough. And they still had cash in the form of pets that could heal you so it was kind of a moot point regardless.

At that point though, all the people from early on in the game's life cycle, who enjoyed like. Playing with others. Had just gotten completely burnt out on the pay-to-win shit and the updates constantly nerfing and buffing classes based on....I'm not sure. Profit margins? Complaints? Who's to say. I tried Reboot for a while but after the third guild I joined that demanded constant leveling I just noped the fuck out of there lmao.

I know people still play this game considering it still gets updates but I hope they're doing okay. I don't want to stress myself out doing the research lmao. Fuck that shit.

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rxmuz · 2 years

Photo

Red is the Color of Temptation CH.3

ao3 link

Idk why I didn't think to post the fic here as well but whatever lol. I'll post the first two chapters after this! Anyways, horny thoughts about old fat man and his stomach and excuse my shitty writing skills, I'm new to this 😭

(btw this isn't a first person fic, I just wrote it this way for this chapter!)

word count: 2.3k

It's 6 am when I clock out. The sun hadn't risen yet but there was a light sprinkle falling. As soon as I get home I get into the shower, washing off the grease and sweat from my shift. I usually only had a few minutes under the spray before the streaming water turns lukewarm and then freezing.

The shower helped to soothe my aching muscles but I was still tired. Not enough to fall asleep but enough that I didn't even have the energy to get up and fix myself something to eat.

It's three weeks later that I'm sitting on my couch and mindlessly browsing through channels.

My place doesn't really have any decorations, a few pictures here and there but outside of that, it looked like no one lived here.

There are two leather layers, a coffee table made of faux wood in the living room, and two hanging photographs on my wall. It was a single bedroom apartment, the room consisting of a queen bed, a desk, and a medium-sized drawer.

It's not much but it's something. It's mine, even if I have to work at a club owned by criminals.

I truly don't mind though.

I didn't have the best upbringing, but that could be said for a lot of people in Gotham.

My mother died when I was three so it was just me, my two siblings, and my dad until I moved out. My dad worked two regular jobs and some odd jobs then a there, those odd jobs being some work for the mob in our neighborhood. When my twin brother and I were old enough we started to run errands for them. Delivering money, packages, and letters for whoever needed them. It was enough to help our dad pay the bills and we really didn't mind. It was the norm for us.

That was until my brother was killed.

Shot dead in the middle of the sidewalk walking home from school. It was a drive-by and they had mistaken him for someone else. We had just turned 15.

My dad took me and my younger sister and all the money we had and moved to the outskirts of the city. That was about 8 years ago.

It's hard to lose a sibling but it's a different pain to lose a twin. For the first few years, I didn't feel like myself, I still don't but I've gotten better. The grievance isn't as strong, and the pain doesn't hurt as much, but the loneliness is still there.

But I kept moving.

I always do.

By the time I finally fall asleep it's around 4 pm in the afternoon but I don't sleep for long. I wake up about two hours later. I look around for my phone for a bit before I find it under one of the cushions of my couch. I unlock it to find several messages waiting for me. Three from Chez and one from Oz. He texts me every day or so to check up on me but every time I'm still slightly shocked to see a message from him

Cheeze: hru?

The topic moves on.

Cheeze: are u fucking mr boss man? Cheese: wait are you sleeping?

Fuck hell.

Me: …not anymore Me: go away!

The answer I receive is instantaneous.

Cheeze: so thats a yes…lol! Cheeze: he good in bed or???

Me: i am not fucking mr boss man Me: why would you even think that?

My phone buzzes again.

Cheeze: i saw you go into his office Cheeze: is it considered a office? Cheeze: it don't got a door dawg…

I genuinely need new fucking friends. Actually, just a “friend” because Chez is my only friend.

I am not lonely…

I am not lying…

I don't even want to give her the satisfaction of a reply, but I'm so bored I end up replying anyway.

Me: it's a private room. Me: he has an office with a door in the 44. Me: this doesn't mean im fucking him

I decide to ignore the new messages Chez sends, instead going to look at Oz's message.

Oz: Are you up? You got time for an early dinner?

What do I even say to this? I know Oz isn't the typical boss but it's not like I can out with him.

Wait is this a date? By definition, sure. In my mind, maybe, though he could just consider this as him checking up on me.

Me: I wouldn't call 6 pm an early dinner

Oz is typing…

Oz: It is if you sleep through the day!

Well, that was quick.

I don't date anyone, I don't meet anyone, and I practically don't speak to anyone beyond what was necessary. I only ever go out with Chez if I'm feeling up to it. I'm not really a people person. But this is completely different. It wouldn't really mean anything if this was a date. It could be like a friend date, like the ones I have with Chez.

Am I even friends with Oz? I'm pretty sure I am. We've been talking more during my shifts, I've even been making him some new drinks for him to test. We even played cards together!

We're definitely friends. Totally!

Me: Sure why not :)

I stare at the screen, waiting for the three dot-dot-dots designating a response.

I'm nervous.

Oz: I'll pick you up Oz: Think you can be ready in about 30 minutes?

Wait what?

Me: U KNOW WHERE I LIVE?!?!?!

A new text bubble forms, only to disappear. It pops up again.

Oz: You should know better

Me: wut does that even mean

Oz: See you in 30

He's going to drive me fucking insane.

---

I get up to open the door 30 minutes later when there's a knock on the door. I open it to find Oz leaning against the right side of my door, his arm above my head and sweat running down his brow. He looks exhausted and like he's in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“Can I sit?” He rasps out, not answering my question.

“Yeah, of course.” I say as I step out of the way.

He moves past me, making a beeline to the couch closet from us, and his limp is more obvious. He takes a seat and leans back into my couch. I don't know what to do so I just stand there and watch him. Luckily Oz speaks for me.

“Your elevator is out,” He pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, and sighs. “Had to walk up 3 flights of stairs. I just need a minute to rest.”

“Shit sorry, I thought you would call me to come down,” I say, moving towards him, “If I knew you were coming up I woulda told you the elevator on this side was out.”

He only grunts.

“I've got some painkillers if you want them.”

"Hmm?"

“For your leg. I'm assuming that's the problem.”

He opens his eyes again and turns his head to look at me. He looks surprised that I even offered. It kind of makes me sad.

“Yeah I would appreciate that.” he mumbles.

When I get back with the painkillers and a bottle of water, he's leaning forward on his knee and his bad leg stretched out in front of him. He looks lost in thought and doesn't hear me the first time I call him.

“Here you go Oz.”

He smiles.

“Thank you doll.”

He has a beautiful smile.

I know Oz isn't considered attractive by societal views. He's an old heavyset guy riddled with scars that has a limp, not your average-looking Joe. Yet I personally think he's nice to look at. Scars are something endearing to me, they tell a story visually. They are proof of a life of hard graft, pain, and strong will.

Plus bigger guys are more my style anyway.

I wouldn't say I'm in love, definitely not that, but over the past few weeks of talking to him and being in his presence, I would say I have a pretty decent crush on him. He's just really interesting to me. He's a mystery I want to solve and immerse myself in. I find that most days my mind wanders to the thought of him, thinking of the things he could possibly be doing. Counting cash, smoking a cigar, or beating the shit out of someone. I'm not blind to the things that Oz gets up to and he's made that distinctly clear since we've started talking.

Yet I'm drawn to this dangerous, unattainable man in a way that's completely indescribable.

I know I shouldn't be getting as close as I am to him but I can't help it. I'm fucking lonely and I can tell he his too. We both need a real friend.

No harm in it.

“Why did you want to go to dinner?” I ask, trying to refocus on actually talking to Oz rather than staring at him.

“Why? Not interested in a free meal before work?” he chuckles.

I click my tongue, “I didn't say that, I was just curious is all.”

“I needed to get out, so why not get out with someone that I can keep a genuine conversation with.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“What do you mean nuh-uh?

"Me? Keep a conversation? You're real funny Oz.”

“You don't think ya can?” he's laughing again, the pain that was once on his face now residing.

“It's more of me just answering your questions, you're the one that keeps it going.”

“Well I like your answers girlie.”

I smile, small and coy.

“Glad you think so, Oz.”

His mouth quirks, and stretches his bad ankle a few times before standing up from the couch.

“We should get going.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“I don't know, I assumed you had someplace in mind,” I say standing next to him, “What do you want?”

He chuckles, “I'll pretty much eat anything.”

My lips turn into a soft small smile, “How 'bout Mexican?”

He smiles and nods.

---

I hadn't noticed what Oz was wearing when he first came by, more so worried about him, but now that we're walking into the restaurant, I take the time to really look him over. He's wearing a fine suit, black pants and a shirt so dark it seems to swallow the light around it, and a red jacket so rich I've never seen it before. He tops it off with a white tie.

He looks handsome.

Me, on the other hand, I looked raggedy. I'm wearing a pair of dark blue wide-leg pants, a cropped black sweater with a white and red flannel over it, and a pair of old Doc Martens.

My favorite dirty boots by the way.

I should've known that Oz wouldn't take us somewhere more casual. We're at this place called Javier's Cantina. It's definitely out of my price range, the place is covered in beautiful dark brown wood and tan stone walls. High ceilings with long lanterns and ceiling fans hanging from them, filling the room with low yellowish light. It was beautiful.

“Wow.'' is all I can muster.

“Like it?”

“Yeah! This place is amazing, never been anywhere this nice.”

“I'm glad you like it sweetheart.” he chuckles as a waiter leads us to a booth.

When we get to the table Oz waits for me to sit before he settles in on the other side of the booth. It's a little bit of a squeeze for him and I can't help but look at the paunch of his gut that pushes into the table. He sucks in before readingjusting himself. There's a hint of a blush on the top of his hears and I can't help but feel bad for the slight look of discomfort on his face.

I smile to reassure him, “We got in pretty quickly…did you threaten someone?” I tease.

“Nah, just called in a favor from an old friend.” the change of direction seemed to help.

“Let me guess. A friend of a friend of a friend?”

He laughs and folds his arms over his stomach, “You just think you're hot shit, don't ya?”

“Yeah, actually, I do.”

“At least you're honest about it.”

"Of course! I would never lie to you Oz.” I say in mock offense.

He snorts, his mouth pulling into a brief, sideways smile.

The two of us fall into a companionable silence as we look over the menu. I ended up ordering a small platter of mixed enchiladas while Oz ordered a sizable steak with veggies and a bottle of wine for us to share. We made short work of the wine as I chatted about work, mostly ranting about the annoying assholes that grace the club and how my landlord wouldn't come to fix my damn dishwasher.

I had a pleasant little buzz but it appeared Oz was able to hold his drink better than me. That was okay though, as he continued to let me rant freely.

“The asshole had the audacity to look surprised when one of the twins kicked him out.”

“You seemed to handle it pretty well though.”

“Had to,” I pause, raising my eyebrows slightly, “Wouldn't want to get fired by you, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Hmm, I wouldn't fire you, you're the best bartender I've had in a long while.”

There's a long pause, before “It is…plus if I got rid of you, who else would I have to talk to?”

“You've got a club full of people to talk to every night.”

“That's true but I like talking to you the most,” he says.

I stare at him.

“Are we friends?”

He stares back and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck raise and my hands becoming clammy.

But then I notice something, he's just as surprised by the sudden question as I am.

“Yeah - uh - at least I think we are.

“Good, I like being your friend Oz.”

#Oswald Cobblepot #oswald cobblepot x reader #The Penguin #the penguin x reader #oz cobblepot #Oz!penguin #colin farrell penguin #Colin!penguin #red is the color of temptation

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noa-ciharu · 2 years

Note

Second Sakura with gun is the filler episode on the bus where they're on a bus and that's the entire episode. P sure it was season 1 so it's not like the still didn't have manga to adapt. Bee train my detested <3

Thank you for telling me but also no thank you at same time because my idiotic brain forced me to watch that wonderful episode :< I had one braincell left and now even that is ruined so officially no brain 🧠💫

It's actually season 2, episodes 38 and 39. I don't understand what's the plot, nor I want to but here's the link to tsubasa wiki if anyone wants to read. I couldn't...

So what's the deal?

They got on a bus! There are Shogo, Primera, some old man, Yuzuriha and Chitose on bus with them. As usual gang is searching for feathers

Look what Bee Train did to Kurogane. He has sticks for arms they made him a twink. Unbelievable. Ffs he's a warrior. And don't get me started how that outfit looks on him.

-20/10

Some bs happened and there's a mob gang chasing the bus (I think bc of Primera and Shogo?). Bus has laser beams that shot the mobs. Yea

But lasers weren't enough, Kurogane and Syaoran had to go out fight the motorcycle gang. This is how episode ends btw, like it's so extremely cool shot. 100/10 on cringe scale

Fast forward alot of cringe filler, Syaoran finds the feather - it's on top of truck.

But mobs are shooting him. Don't ask why I don't know nor i do want to.

But gang fires back from the bus! Out of all people they have Sakura a gun

Go girlboss go!

She made them mobs explode.

Kurogane and Fai are on top of bus ofc. Kurogane is shooting too.

However one rocket got to Syaoran and hit him. He didn't explode, he flew right at Fai and Kurogane who caught him like protective parents.

I thought this episode was a fever dream nightmare, but it very much did happen. I'd pay real money to watch Clamp's reaction to infamous bus episode.

Indeed Bee Train my detested <3

#i lost will to live from this ep #somehow tsubasa anime is what got me into clamp (i was 15) but i blocked everything out of it #except some gay ass stick match kurofai had and how bee train tried to ship Fai and Chii #those stayed with me #clamp #tsubasa chronicle #tsubasa anime.......................................#sakura kinomoto #gets a tag bc of gun

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a-partofthemob · 1 year

Note

hi! i hope you're doing well ^^

do you have any thoughts on reigen with cats

im pretty sure he canonically likes dogs, so i think him with cats is a funny concept

i like to imagine he's cool with them and thinks they're cute but they hiss at him </3

(i love your blog theme btw "get ready wake your psyche up mob" was stuck in my head for WEEKS)

-💫

i like to think that reigen loves dogs much more than cats but he still love cats, like 100% dog and 60-70% cats

he loves cats dont get me wrong, he doesnt hate them nor dislike them theyre cats theyre cute hes 100% chill with them, he likes cats, but most of the time they dont like him 😭 he'd have staring contests with cats, lose, and the cat is smug. he's try to get a cat's trust for the whole day and at the end the cat still doesnt want to be near him, but the moment mob enters the room the cat is purring and allows mob to pet them. reigen 100% hurt and wallowing

the only cats that pay him any attention would be cat cafes, but if serizawa was there the cats would gravitate to seri more and reigens only left with one cat by his side

#he physically recoils when a cat hisses at him its my canon now #in his mind hes screaming WHAT DID I DO #mob: shishou stop offending the cat #reigen: HUH #teru: yeah reigen-san you're making her uncomfortable #ritsu: you're better off just leaving the office #ritsu: the cat attracts customers. you dont.#shou's just playing with the cat #reigen: THIS IS MY OFFICE???#serizawa stands by and watches and stops himself from laughing out loud #tome is not stopping herself from laughing out loud #the esperkids and honorary esperkid tome all gang up on reigen fr #if takenaka was there he's tell reigen to leave too bc *insert thought the cat had*#idk if he can even read animals minds but even if he couldnt i think he'd gang up against reigen too #its bully reigen o'clock on their watches #ALSO I WAS RLLY GIDDY WHEN I GOT THIS ASK THANKYOU #i hope you're doing well too 💫!#all the openings are such a bop but get ready wake your psyche up mob was ingrained into my mind like nobody's business #if a telepath could hear my thoughts it's just that phrase rotating like its in a microwave #☆.inbox #💫.anon

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the-underworld-aes · 2 years

Text

Mafia 3

Okay so I’m gonna take the L and admit I’ve never played the other 2 games, I just watched the cut-scene movies on YouTube, and while I enjoyed the story and characters of the first 2, when I watched Mafia 3′s it DID something to me. So I actually went out and got the game so I can play it all myself.

First things first, I’m gonna wonder why people seem to hate this game so much until the day I die, sure it’s glitchy but not as bad as any Bethesda glitch I’ve seen and nothing game breaking, more or less just funny stuff like “lol that cop car exploded in the middle of the street. I’m gucci tho.”. I really like the time-period cause I actually like learning about the 60′s in American history because SO MUCH important stuff was set in motion back then. Others seem to not like how it’s nt focused on the Italian Mafia anymore and...sure?? I guess?? I mean they’re still there, you’re allied with some Italians while taking out the bigger Italian crime family (I think they’re mad that the protag is black and it’s an important part of the game tbh) And another complaint I see a lot is the games too repetitive, I think that’s the lamest excuse personally. I played this after I beat Far Cry 6, and honestly? It was NICE! I like being able to sneak and take people down, or just blow up everything! Maybe it’s cause I’m autistic perhaps (ASD gang rise up!) but having a pattern was nice for me, I have a specific way of playing and it was fun. Hell, I’ve beat the game twice already cause it felt nice to play.

I know this game came out in 2016 and I’m way late to the party, I became aware of the Mafia series in 2021 and finally played Mafia 3 in March 2022. And I need to be physically restrained from playing it a third time lol.

Anyways onto the story and characters (SPOILERS BTW)

The story is so 😩👌💦💕 I love crime stories, I love historical fiction (sometimes...), I love seeing racists get CRUSHED, I love the time period, I love the music. It’s just AAHHHH so good!!!

Sure I guess a black Vietnam vet cruising around in 1960′s New Orleans isn't what you’d think when you imagine “American Mafia” but that’s a you problem at this rate, I’m having a great time.

I did like Tommy Angelo, and Vito Scaletta too, but Lincoln Clay is honestly my favorite of the 3 and I wish people looked at him and appreciated him more. Imma say something real controversial here: I know Vito is the fan favorite, he’s unofficially the face of the series now and while I DO LIKE HIM, I think... he makes a better side character in Mafia 3 (also low-key irritated Lincoln gets thrown to the wayside while everyone rushes to Vito). That’s just my personal opinion... also my man aged like milk, how is he 10 years younger than the Irish man dying of liver cancer and yet Burke has his hair color still while Vito looks so chewed up? lmao anyways yeah I do like Vito, when I pick up my kickback from him I always leave saying “Bye Peepaw!!”

Anyways, Lincoln comes back home from Vietnam and is ready to see his adopted family again, Sammy and Ellis Robinson (Father and Brother), Father James Ballard (Raised him in the orphanage before he got adopted and sticks around) and his other friends, Danny Burke and Giorgi Marcano. Without getting too much into it, Giorgi is the son of Sal Marcano, boss of the Marcano Crime Family (Which has power over Sammy Robinson and his Black Mob). Giorgi was friends with Lincoln, Ellis and Danny, but this whole time Sal had him playing the long game of eventually screwing them all over. It ends with Giorgi, Sal and an associate of the Dixie Mafia betraying them all after a job they did together (For Sammy to pay back Sal). Giorgi shoots Lincoln in the head, leaves him for dead, kills Danny, Richie Doucet (Dixie mafia) stabs Ellis to death and Sal shoots Sammy in the back. They burn down Sammy’s bar and in the flames Father James ran in looking for survivors and found Lincoln clinging onto life. Lincoln survives, but he lost his family, friends and was betrayed by someone he thought he could trust. And now he’s got the scar to prove it.

This ignites his revenge quest to wipe out the Marcano Crime family, and all the damage they’ve done to him, his community (Delray Hollow) and eventually the mess he’s made for his soon-to-be under bosses. And while he’s doing that he’s sworn to build up a crime family of his own and needs people he can fully trust.

When he’s recovering from the gunshot wound to the head, he tells Father James to call his old friend and contact from Vietnam, Donovan, who is currently working for the C.I.A. He drops everything and shows up willing to help Lincoln with his goal (btw their friendship is so great, it’s so sad Lincoln lost everyone but he’s got Donovan still and the writers did so great with their chemistry *chefs kiss*). While Lincoln’s recovering, Giorgi lets the Dixie Mafia move into Delray Hollow and turn it inside out. Donovan tracks down possible allies for Lincoln to get in touch with by the time he’s recovered.

The Under bosses:

Delray Hollow: Ran by Cassandra and her Haitian mob. (She’s also called the “Voodoo Queen” btw and she runs a Voodoo shop) You meet Cassandra first and it’s a shaky start, Sammy’s Black Mob has been fighting with the Haitians beforehand so she has many reasons to not trust Lincoln, but since then now the Dixie Mafia took over, thanks to the Marcanos and is greatly harming the community with human trafficking and she wants them wiped out and she can’t do it alone. Cassandra has some painful history with the Dixie Mafia and she wants nothing more than to see them all dead.

River Row: Ran by Vito Scaletta and his Italian mob (that's loyal to him at least). After everything that happened in 2nd game, Vito found his way down here and had to work with Sal Marcano as one of his lieutenants, Vito’s miserable and Sal hates him but can;t do anything about it cause Leo Galante put him there. Sal did put Grecco, his nephew, into River Row to mess things up from the inside and make it look like Vito’s fault so Sal can finally have an excuse to put a hit out on him to not anger the Commission. Being screwed over and wanting to get back, Vito agrees to help Lincoln because this is personal for him too.

Point Verdun: Ran by Thomas Burke and his Irish mob. He did have a deal worked out with Marcanos prior, but at some point there was a failed shipment of Burke’s end and that made Sal insert someone else to take over his rackets, Barbieri, who brutally took over a crippled Burke’s leg. And after Danny, his son’s murder, Burke’s been spiraling into alcoholism and constant grief. He wants nothing more than to make Barbieri suffer for what he did to him and for the Marcanos to burn for murdering his son. Which makes him eventually side with Lincoln.

Thoughts and extra on the bosses: They all got folks that work under them as their own lieutenants, Cassandra has Emmanuel Lazare, Vito has Alma Diaz and Burke has his own daughter, Nicki Burke. Unlike the other 2, Lincoln is actually friends with Nicki and they all used to hang out together. She’s mourning the loss of her younger brother and it’s clear there’s some tension between her and her father.

Nicki’s actually a lesbian and comes out to Lincoln, she even has a girlfriend. Burke already kind of knows somehow and does not approve of it, but they still have to work together, so it causes inner personal problems. ALSO SIDENOTE: It was kind of refreshing seeing gay characters in a crime based video game, Nicki is a lesbian, Lincoln is a supportive ally (may or may not be bi/pan himself cause of his response to Nicki after she asks him about his thoughts...) and in one of the DLC’s, there's a side character named Oscar who’s a gay Vietnam vet and Lincoln gives him a job at the renovated Sammy’s bar.

While they may be side characters, I still appreciated it, and because of that dialogue between him and Nicki, it does strongly suggest he might be bisexual, so I’m def taking it and running with it. You can play a bi protag at least and I love my bisexual headcanons.

The Main Antagonists:

Sal Marcano: Sal is the Don of The Marcano Crime family. He does have a pretty interesting history and how he got to where he is now. I won’t deny that, but he’s a master of fucking over people he works with just because they were deemed useless. He did it to Sammy, once Sammy was having problems with the Haitians and short on his kickback, that was his death sentence along with his sons. He was doing it to Burke, who had a shipment go missing and that was a sign he needed an immediate replacement. Working on Vito, who just hated him and was willing to mess up his whole rackets just so he can be allowed to put a hit on him. And let’s not forget his racism at all, he knowingly works with the Southern Union and the Dixie Mafia that do lynchings/hate crimes and specifically target the black folk in New Bordeaux. He keeps using slurs when talking about Lincoln. So...yeah. This dude sucks lol.

Giorgi Marcano: Sal’s only son and the Under boss of the Marcano Crime Family, unlike his dad, he was given his life on a silver platter and is a typical spoiled rich kid with a gun who thinks he owns everyone. Hey may have been Lincoln’s “friend” at one point, but either he was playing a long game or that friendship was truly one sided if he could be fine with shooting him in the head when the time came. (I’m looking at everyone sideways who stan him btw). He worked with Ritchie Doucet, the leader of the Dixie Mafia and let them take over Delray Hollow to abuse and traffic folks in the community there after he thought Lincoln was dead. Racist little spoiled brat with access to weapons and a Daddy’s boy. I hate this rat. In his dying breath, he could have tried to make peace with Lincoln and apologize or something, but it was clear he never saw Lincoln like that at all.

YES I AM LOOKING AT PEOPLE SIDEWAYS IF I SEE PEOPLE STAN GIORGI, SHIP HIM WITH LINCOLN OR TRY TO SOFTEN HIM UP IN ANYWAY. I’VE HAD IT, YOU’RE ALL ON A LIST NOW!...anyways. There’s a whole lot of Capos and Lieutenants that work under them but I’m not really gonna get into em all.

There’s other characters and the DLC’s now I can get to instead.

Father James Ballard: Ran the orphanage before it got shut down and has known Lincoln since he was a child. Kind of an Uncle figure. WW2 Vet and kept close to the Robinson’s. Now....why I understand why he doesn't want Lincoln to go down the path he does go down....cause seeing a loved one do that kind of stuff is painful... I also...REAALLLY...don’t like him. A whole family got wiped out, Lincoln lost so much and is scarred from it, the people that did the killings are also ruining the Hollow and making it worse. If Lincoln did just, after healing, decide to listen to Father James and not do anything, things would have been WORSE. The Marcanos would have full control, the Dixie Mafia would have free reign, The Southern Union would have gotten stronger. AND IT’S DOUBLY INFURIATING IN ONE THE DLC’S: THE SIGN OF THE TIMES! Lincoln’s adopted family was killed, Father James knew them, sure they were a mob but they were still individual people who loved and cared for each other. And yet he wants Lincoln to let go of his revenge and just leave. BUT THEN THERE’S THIS CREEPY ASS WHITE SUPREMACIST CULT THAT FUCKS UP A WHITE GIRL WHO’S A COMPLETE STRANGER AND THE JAMES IS LIKE “Okay Lincoln, take them out.” AND IT’S JUST SO-...no diss to the white girl though, Anna, she was a victim and it’s tragic what happens in her story, but idk man. James bothers me.

John Donovan: I already talked about him a little bit, but him and Lincoln met in Vietnam where Lincoln was assigned to work with him on an ops mission for the C.I.A. Lincoln learned a lot, including psychological warfare which he uses against the Marcanos later. They eventually got really close, to the point that John dropped everything and ruined his C.I.A career to work with Lincoln in building his own crime empire. He’s a fun character, he’s very chaotic, and him and Lincoln bounce off each other really well, no wild card/straight man dynamic, they’re both wild cards in their own right. I think the game is trying to frame Father James and Donovan as the Angel and Devil on Lincoln’s shoulders and, like, sure, okay, Father James is like “Don’t do it!” while Donovan is like “LETS FUCKIN GOOO!” and neither character really likes each other. James is priest and John is an atheist so the usual clash there too. I’ve made my thoughts clear on James. Donovan though is just willing to do the most for Lincoln and in a DLC he asks him for his help with his own problems that’s started before they even met. And Lincoln gladly helps him. It’s a real “I’m here for you and I hope when the time comes you’re here for me” kinda friendship. Anyways, despite leaving the C.I.A and becomes involved in criminal organizations, John is dead-set to find out who really organized the JFK assassination and finds that Sal Marcano has ties to politicians and others in the country to he goes off on his own manhunt. It’s a fun time. Good time. Don’t watch live political hearings on TV at the time though cause you might see someone get blasted.

The DLC’s

Sign of the Times: A creepy cult called the “Ensanglante” infests the burned remains of Sammy’s bar and Lincoln and Father James discover this on their way to pay the old place a visit. A young girl runs out terrified and men chase after her. After James takes the girl to a safe place and Lincoln investigates what they were doing in the bar. The learn the girl is named Anna McGee and the cult was doing a ritual in the bar because of the past human suffering in there, the murder of Lincoln’s family. The Ensanglante preforms rituals in places where people have suffered, like old slave market areas, a middle school that burned down, a plantation house etc. It’s run by a woman named Bonnie Harless who indoctrinated Anna into the cult through manipulation and promising she’ll be loved. It just left Anna abused and out of her own mind and miserable. This side story isn't really crime orientated, but it’s taking down a creepy racist cult and it gets really trippy sometimes. In my Father James bit I said a little about this already. Bonnie is a creepy bitch and off her rocker, Anna’s story is so tragic what happens to her. The cult does get wiped out and after that Lincoln meets with his aunt Lily and they restore Sammy’s bar into a functioning club again and as a memorial to Sammy and Ellis.

Faster, Baby!: You go to Sinclair Parish, a sun-down town outside of New Bordeaux that’s run by a corrupt Sheriff “Slim” Beaumont, who wants to keep the town white, even if that means making people who oppose him disappear. There’s civil rights activists who are ran by another of one of Lincoln’s allies in the main game, “The Voice” (Charles Laveau). One of their members who was carrying the evidence that they compiled against was murdered by the sheriff and they need to get it. The Voice’s daughter, Roxy joins and works alongside Lincoln to take down this entire corrupt police force with the help of her friend, M.J, another Vietnam vet who just wants to see his hometown become better. A pretty fun DLC, a lot of car chaos and destruction, brings ACAB to a whole new level. Lincoln and Roxy kinda got a thing going on (I think Lincoln likes girls who bully him lol), and it is pretty cute, especially near the end of the story, Lincoln hears something he really needed to hear to give him comfort and it’s pretty sweet (WELL IT WOULD BE SWEET IF ROXY DIDN'T IMMEDIATELY LEAVE BACK FOR GEORGIA RIGHT AFTER SHE GOT SOME DICK FROM HIM 😭). Not crime focused either, but a lot of fun and with M.J you can actually grow weed and make new strands to actually sell to the districts you take over in the main game. Roxy’s cool, even if it does kinda hurt if I think too much that she just said all the right things to get into Lincoln’s pants but....I’m not gonna judge her either cause he really...👀💦. She’s got a really cool car you get when you beat the story. M.J is cool, Vietnam vet, turned pot smoking/growing, racism fighting hippie. You also get a hippie van from him later when level up the grow operations, and I love me some hippie vans.

Stones Unturned: Donovan calls onto Lincoln for his help once someone from his past starts showing up in New Bordeaux and stirs up some shit. You meet one of Donovan’s old allies, a former C.I.A agent now turned bounty hunter Robert Marshall and he joins in the hunt down for Conner Aldridge. You learn more about John and Connor’s history, they used to work together and be friends but Connor turned his back on America and started feeding intel to the NVA. Eventually John found out and they had a violent falling out. Aldridge’s face got scarred and Donovan’s hand got really messed up. Aldridge’s main goal is to sell information on the U.S to all their enemies, from Vietnam to Cuba. There’s a lot of heavy weapons in this DLC and military grade vehicles. You even leave New Bordeaux to somewhere in Cuba to infiltrate a bunker to get the warhead and hunt down Aldridge. Very much more of a war/action plot than a crime plot, even though I guess John’s brand of shady is better than Connor’s brand of shady (??), still very fun to see more interactions with Lincoln and Donovan. Lincoln even forces him to open up more, that’s how we learn more about Aldridge (I still think he’s hiding more from Lincoln cause that anger felt more visceral...hmm). You first reach Cuba and it’s BEAAUUTTIFULLL, the water is so blue omg it’s so pretty. Robert Marshall is a weird guy, I see why him and John are friends. He’s a little unhinged but over all he’s friendly??in his own weird little way. You actually get bounty hunting missions from, only 3 though, once you’re back in town, and he offers this pretty handy sniping service. Connor as a villain is something alright, not saying he’s a bad character but I do wish there was more information you could have uncovered with Donovan. And he’s pretty nihilistic about the war and America and stuff and as someone who personally is pessimistic about how America is now...uhh...can’t say I blame him. Though selling weapons to people who wanna blast us to the Fallout Universe, that’s not cool. Nooo nope no sir, don’t like that. Anyways, the DLC is a good time. Less of a heavy story than the other 2 which is good cause I don’t wanna feel totally miserable lol

The order in which the DLC’s came out isn't an indicator of a timeline either, there’s no real set timeline in the game. Just the main plot begins during Mardi Gras in 1968, Lincoln needs his time to recover, and the only other indicator is on Anna’s gravestone so I’m assuming at least Sign of the Times is the first one and takes place when Lincoln’s trying to get his under bosses together. That’s a me thing tho, I’m a stickler for timelines and stuff like that.

BUT ANYWAYS I TYPED A LOT SO MUCH OMG I JUST WANTED TO GIVE MY THOUGHTS ON THE GAME AND THE BASIC RUN DOWN OF THE STORY AND CHARACTERS LOL

MAYBE I’LL SHARE MORE HEADCANONS LATER AND SHIZZ CAUSE IT’S SUCH A HYPERFIXATION RIGHT NOW AND EVEN ON MY ART BLOG I MADE SOME FANART K BYE

#mafia 3 #mafia iii #lincoln clay #john donovan #vito scaletta #mafia series #mafia definitive edition #2k games #hangar 13 #video games #thoughts #review #headcanons #rambling #this is my favorite game i wish people loved it as much as i do #also lincoln clay is the only fictional man i've ever turly loved U<U

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