#the many clans of sebastian lacroix challenge

[vampire-the-askerade]

LaCroix x Reader pt 1

[So this is a x reader fiction, but also a sort of au where instead of the fledgling being of a known clan, they’re caitiff. Speaking of, uses they/them gn descriptors to make character inserts easier :)]

There were many things that a prince would have to deal with. Seeing as LaCroix was sent to one of the most politically charged places at the time, he was dealing with evens more than most of the other princes appointed by the Camarilla. He was also acutely aware that this was on purpose as though he had proven himself to be capable of the job, he also wasn’t too concerned about who he had to upset and step over to get the position in the first place; something that certainly didn’t make him the most beloved of people. But, if there was one thing that Sebastian LaCroix enjoyed it was tackling a challenge- and, even more so proving his many detractors wrong. For this reason, he was determined and at least for the most part able to handle all that LA had to throw at him. He wouldn’t say that he was thriving, however.

While he was handling everything, it was just by the skin of his teeth, no matter how well he hid that fact. There was also the fact that he was no fool, and knew that the other leaders in the area weren’t fools themselves. They had been here longer than him, and therefore knew the landscape, political or otherwise better than he did. And, though LaCroix was loathed to admit it, some of them had been in a leadership position in the Camarilla much longer than he had been and could tell that he wasn’t as firm in his confidence on handling everything as he tried to put on. Most of them were content enough to sit back a wait for him to hang his own noose, which he didn’t mind as much as some might think; again, one of his driving forces for everything was proving people wrong. What did bother him was the one person in the Camarilla that was actually trying to undermine him at every chance he could get- one Maximilian Strauss.

The two of them both knew what Strauss’ intentions, but they were both, especially LaCroix, very aware that if either of them were to be more forward with their dislike for each other, showing it more as distaste, then there would be repercussions, not only from the local Anarchs thinking that infighting would be the go-ahead to try to attack, but also the higher ranks in the Camarilla itself would think that they were both unfit for their assigned positions. However, even with this slight problem, he was still pressing on. LaCroix had things balanced, no matter how precariously. And, as long as nothing else came to upset that balance then he would be fine.

That, of course, was when you came along.

There had been news that there was a vagrant of some kind that had come into the area and had, very sloppily embraced a childe. The kindred in question managed to get killed while being apprehended; it seemed they were rather young and uneducated on what he was as he died in a rather unavoidable way. That left you. Usually, there would be a trial of some sort, but this was an odd sort of situation. Seeing as the sire was a caitiff, you would be one as well. Again, there were usually established procedures, but with the Anarchs' current string of actions, if the Camarilla were to follow any of the usual procedures for caitiffs, namely execution in this case, there was no telling what sort of uproar would be caused for the proverbial underdog in this case. So, something else had to be done for you.

There was plenty of debate spanning the entire night on what to do with the thing that was staked and paralyzed in the middle of the meeting room. Every time there was something suggested, there was another party that would either express their concern or dismiss the idea entirely. And, of course, as prince LaCroix had to do his best to keep the peace between everyone as well as remember such things as what suggestions came from where. Just as it seemed that there was going to be no solution reached, someone that had been quiet the whole night, and that LaCroix wished stayed silent, finally spoke. Strauss, who either had been mulling over all the information given by his peers or waiting for the perfect moment to spring his plan into action (knowing the fiend perhaps a bit of both) decided to give his suggestion a go.

“If we cannot follow traditional procedure because we do not want to give other parties the chance to call us uncaring and antiquated, perhaps we should try to give them reason to believe the opposite?” All eyes were on the Tremere, and it seemed like that was exactly where he wanted them. Seeing as the rest of the primogen had already commenced with a buzz of questioning and doubtful whispers, Strauss took that as his cue to explain further. “Seeing as this young one is not affiliated with any clan, there could be opportunity for one of the more… non-Camarilla affiliated clans to be reintroduced into the fold. It could work as the first step to easing tensions between the both of us.”

“And, how would we know if this kid is even Anarch leaning clan?” The Nosferatu primogen rasped from the darker corner that he was sitting partially shadowed in; always a dramatic soul, that one. Strauss gave an acknowledging nod to the question before answering, “I would be willing to use my abilities to aid in that search. However, only if this childe could be deemed to be a viable member of the Camarilla. No reason to waste the time and resources if we do not plan on deviating from our usual course of action.” This sent another wave of murmurs through the other kindred in the room. All were taking part in the speculation except for Strauss and LaCroix. Not only was LaCroix prone to keep to himself as his opinion was to be as unbiased as possible, but his second reason for this is that he and the Tremere were too busy staring each other down, silently daring each other to say something.

LaCroix knew that Strauss was planning something, and that something would most likely be at his expense. But, once again, they both knew to keep appearances, especially in a place like this, so things would have to play out as they would in any other official scenario; no accusations could be made here. It didn’t take long before the others seemed to catch onto what Strauss was doing, and while they didn’t trust him, they hated the prince more. “Who would be in charge of the fledgling’s education?” Another asked, doing his part to set up this plan he was just picking up on. “Yes, we cannot expect them to simply know our ways from the start.” Someone else aided in this ploy. “I was thinking that the good prince could take that role. After all, he should know our ways better than anyone else here, given his title.” Strauss said once there was others on his side, and less fear of repercussion.

This annoyed LaCroix more than anything else; though the only sign of this he showed outwardly was a slight twitch of the nose as he willed away a scowl. This was nothing more than facing a group of schoolyard bullies, all going for him because he was the proverbial, “new kid.” He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of beating him down, and more importantly, he was going to give himself the satisfaction of proving their assessment of his character wrong. So, he straighten his shoulders, slightly turned up his nose to match his attitude, and boasted, “I believe that would be a wise idea as well.” Strauss and the others almost seemed surprised that he so quickly and willingly called their bluff. LaCroix didn’t give them a chance to respond before he continued, “As the local prince, it is my responsibility to be aware of the needs of my fellow kindred, as well as keeping the masquerade from being broken. Instructing this childe and keeping them in my charge would be the union of both these things.”

“Well, then, it seems at least two parties agree on this course of action.” Strauss grinned like the serpent he is while letting the others know where he stood. Between some of the others either wanting to try and trip up LaCroix any way possible, and the remainder just wanting to get back to their havens for the approaching morning, it didn’t take much longer or much more effort to get them to agree. Soon, they were all departing, and LaCroix was left alone with his thoughts, his sheriff, and his newly acquired childe. It couldn’t be that difficult to get this stray kindred to know their ways and perhaps even be a beneficial acquaintance for him; in a political sense if nothing else.

If only he knew how wrong he would be.

[missn11]

Chapter one of Sweet Corruption into Enlightenment now on A03

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29584833

For the Cainites of LA Discord server challenge: What if Sebastian LaCroix was embraced into the clan of the Followers of Set?

To many in Kindred society, the new Prince Sebastian LaCroix is yet another charming and ambitious Ventrue Ancilla Prince looking to make a name for himself by finally bringing the Anarch Freestate of Los Angeles back into the hands of the Camarilla, but it's nothing more than a well-crafted lie to hide his true goals for the city. For Sebastian LaCroix was never embraced as a Ventrue in 1815 after Waterloo but rather in 1799, in Egypt as an agent of Set to spread corruption and weaken the Camarilla from within in preparation for Set's return. And the total corruption of the Kindred of Los Angeles shall be his greatest triumph if he can get the most incorruptible and beloved Anarch Baron, Nines Rodrigeuz to fall with him into enlightenment... However, he soon discovers there is more to the Downtown Baron than he had first thought, and the constant visions of Set's memories along with the arrival of the Ankaran sarcophagus have him setting his sights on becoming Set himself...

[ryttu3k]

728 tonight, 23,524 total! Hit the 23,456 mark which is very fun. Next milestones are 25k, 30k, and I suspect I’ll still be going for 34,567, haha.

Sebastian visits the Last Round. Interesting conversations are had.

Session quote:

"Do you think," he asks bluntly, meeting Sebastian's gaze straight on, "It could be an Antediluvian?"

Sebastian blinks. "There are no such thing as the Antediluvians," he says, wishing the words had come out more confidently, less hesitantly; the Camarilla party line is not the belief of a clan that still called themselves the Children of Haqim. "There has never been any proof of - of Antediluvians, or that the Book of Nod is anything other than a Sabbat propaganda piece."

"There are Noddists who have never been Sabbat," Skelter challenges, folding his arms. "And yeah, there's scholars like Beckett who are skeptics, but what about ones like Vykos? They were there when the Salubri were being hunted down. They met Tremere himself, and if he's real, why couldn't Saulot be?"

Hiding a wince (Olivier had mentioned the Salubri in wistful tones, once, a long-lost and noble clan fallen to the fangs of the Usurpers), Sebastian shakes his head. "We simply cannot know how much is truth and how much is propaganda. There have been many rumours and falsehoods spoken about the Tremere. That they owe their beginnings as a clan to the diablerie of someone as powerful as a supposed Antediluvian is... unlikely."

"And the Giovanni and the Cappadocians?"

"Again, heresy. We simply have no proof that there was any diablerie of any Antediluvian. One faction of a clan subsuming the rest - yes, that is documented history. The Antediluvians are not."

Skelter shakes his head. "It's propaganda on the Cammy side too," he says with a sigh, then straightens up. "Anyway. Sorry we can't help more, Prince LaCroix. When Nines is in, I'll get him up to speed."

I'm sorry, Sebastian wants to say, every fibre of his being vibrating with the need to apologise, to explain. Of course I believe in the Antediluvians. I am a Child of Haqim, and my clan orbits around the reverence and terror of our own founder like planets around a star. Could it be an Antediluvian? Could that be what the sarcophagus holds, could that be why the city exists in such terror? The very idea is both terrifying and plausible. Oh, God, what will we do if it is, if I am the architect of bringing such a monstrous being into the very heart of my Domain?

[lots-of-little-pink-clouds]

Black Cadillac Valentines

Summary: A oneshot explaining how the PC from Bloodlines knows the Prince of Tucson, Arizona, Lettow Kaminsky. Also, the Cadillac incident Dove tells you about at the beginning of VTM: Night Road.

Characters: Malkavian PC (VTM: Bloodlines), Heather Poe, Lettow Kaminsky, Dove, Sebastian LaCroix (mentioned).

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660233

February 14th 2005

Briar Rose rots under the sand.

An eagle makes its nest out of blue bones.

Father plucks the feathers from a lark's wings.

Beauregard Sawyer wanders the streets of Tucson, Arizona under the pale light of the moon. All around him, couples walk arm-in-arm on the sidewalk, smiling and laughing and exchanging gifts and kisses.

After arriving in Tucson and presenting themselves to its new Prince last month, Beau and his ghoul, Heather Poe, kept busy. Beau was convinced that something was here, something important. Ever aware of his moods, Heather looked at local real estate agents for a secure haven to live in while Beau began his search. She eventually found a small two-bedroom, one-bathroom basement apartment where the elderly couple who lived in the house above never asked any questions. They officially moved in three days ago.

Whether it was successfully moving in or because it was Valentine's Day, Heather wanted to celebrate and Beau could never say no to his Heather Feather. She was planning something, so he stepped out to give her time to set up.

Beau closes his eyes, readjusts his blue-sunset aviators, and relaxes for the first time in months. Los Angeles was a total bust, but at least its Jester Prince was dust and ashes. Hopefully whoever takes over will be able to clean up the mess the Ankaran Sarcophagus left behind. He takes a deep, calming breath.

The scent of smoke fills his nose.

She got in the wrong Cadillac.

His eyes snap open as he stops in front of the parking lot of a Marriott. He watches as a red-haired woman flings herself out of a burning black Cadillac, pushes herself to her feet, and takes off running past him.

"Isn't that the Prince's Seneschal?" he wonders. Beau's Sight doesn't grant him night vision, but he could swear her silhouette matched that of the hulking Nosferatu woman with the skull face that loomed behind Tucson's Gangrel Prince. Funny, he can't remember her name.

Looking back at the vehicle the woman just vacated, Beau spots a man in a wolf costume hanging halfway out of the driver seat window, screaming and clutching the bleeding remnants of his arm. Ignoring the human, Beau turns back to the woman, flames licking at her heels, as she runs out into the street.

At that moment, a car with its headlights off swerves around the corner at full speed and slams into her. Beau stares as she goes flying, hits the pavement, rolls, and is run over. The car stops and a man in a cream suit jacket climbs out and goes to check on her.

Eagle eyes scan the eastern horizon.

Not yet, he thinks.

He has to keep her safe.

"That's the Prince of Tucson," Beau realizes, bewildered. The Prince of Tucson, Lettow Kaminsky, helps the woman to her feet and pats her down to douse the remaining sparks of fire that cling to her clothes. Beau's attention turns again to the woman and, "Yep, that's definitely his Seneschal."

Then, because his night couldn't get any weirder, a jeep speeds around the corner that the Prince came from. Four heads stick out from the vehicle's open windows and point guns towards the Prince and his right-hand-woman.

Beau immediately ducks into the nearest alleyway, reaching into his hoodie's pocket for his pistol as the sound of gunfire erupts behind him. Screams fill the air. He peeks around the corner and spots the Prince and the Seneschal taking cover behind the Prince's car. The jeep swerves and comes to a stop, the Kindred inside clambering out and taking up defensive positions as pedestrians flee.

The wise decision would be to let them fend for themselves. The Prince and his Seneschal are both Elders. They would be fine. And after LaCroix and the debacle in LA, Beau's never held much stock in the Camarilla or any of its rivals. Kindred and Kine are the same in that sense - both will do whatever it takes to attain power. However...

Father's flock frays and turns to dust.

A lark stretches her wings to embrace the dawn.

Decision made, Beau leans around the corner, raises his pistol, and fires, just missing the head of one of the attackers. Immediately, the person calls to their fellows, drawing attention to the new challenger shooting at them. Their voice cuts out as Beau finally hits his target, the impact knocking them back on the pavement and stunning them.

"Shame that Kindred are so resilient," he thinks. He ducks around the corner again as the other Kindred focus on taking him out. Sticking his head back out as the assailants reload, Beau catches the Prince's eyes and gestures to him.

"Come on! This way!"

Then he steps out from the alley and continues shooting. He watches as the two share a look. The Seneschal finally nods and then they dart out from behind the car, dodging fire as they go.

Beau feels a bullet tear through his gut. He grimaces, throwing himself around the corner and back into the alleyway just as the two Camarilla members reach him. The Seneschal covers them, turning around and firing at their attackers with extreme prejudice.

"Evening Prince," Beau says, using the wall to push himself back to his feet.

"You are... Beauregard, correct?" the Gangrel asks.

"Yeah. My ghoul and I moved here last month." Beau puts a hand over the wound in his side to staunch the bleeding. "I know a place you can hide until they're gone. Or until dawn, whichever comes first. This way." He starts jogging down the alley. Lettow and his Nosferatu companion follow as the shouts of their pursuers ring out behind them.

"Who were those guys anyway?" Beau asks.

"Remnants of the Sabbat that took advantage of the turf war," Lettow replies.

Beau heard about that. From what little he learned from LaCroix and afterwards from rumors, Tucson's Camarilla was embroiled in a turf war. It started four years ago, when the old Ventrue Prince sought to purge the city of the riff raff. That is to say, every Kindred not part of Clan Ventrue.

Many people took offence to that.

Some rebelled, others fled. The Prince's childer took it as an opportunity to latch onto any form of power they could get their hands on and began fighting each other. Soon, they too were as much of a target as the other clans the Prince warred against.

Then in the midst of all that, the Sabbat arrived - led by Beau's sire, LaCroix always loved to mention - and made everything exponentially worse. It was every Kindred for themselves up until Lettow killed the old Prince and took over.

"We need to lose them," the Seneschal says. Footsteps pound on the pavement behind them, the Sabbat giving chase. The Nosferatu huffs, fists clenching white around her gun as she shoots behind her.

A dove with clipped wings and no other place to go.

"We'll find a way," the Prince replies.

"My haven's not too far," Beau says, "If we can shake 'em, I'll lead you straight there."

"You sure we can trust this guy?" the Seneschal asks. Beau feels the Gangrel Prince's sharp eagle gaze settle on his back.

His eyes see all, a gift from someone dear to him.

"For now," Lettow replies with certainty. Then to Beau, he says, "I do not take betrayal lightly. For your sake, you will uphold your end of the bargain."

"And if I don't, you'll dust me?" Beau laughs. "Sounds like someone I used to know. But you don't have to worry, Prince. I always keep my word."

With that, Beau leads them through Tucson's twisting alleyways, letting his feet and the voices tell him which way to go. He guides them through narrow streets and over roof tops, the Sabbat slowly falling behind. The trio eventually lose their pursuers completely when Beau stops, grabs the Seneschal's muscled bicep and the Prince's sleeve and lets the tingles of camouflage cover all three of them. The Sabbat run past none the wiser.

They wait for a time as the confused shouts of the other Kindred gets farther away. Approaching police sirens scare off the remnants. Only after the cops pass does Beau drop the camouflage with a heavy sigh.

"I think we lost them," he says.

"We should get somewhere safe in case they come back," the Nosferatu adds. The Prince nods and turns to Beau.

"Does your offer of sanctuary still apply?"

Beau shrugs. "Sure, why not. It's been a weird day. Night. Whatever."

He leads them back through the maze of alleys. Without the hassle of being tailed, the trio make it to Beau and Heather's haven without difficulty. Beau takes out his key and unlocks the door, leading them inside.

"Beau?" Heather's voice calls from the kitchen, "Is that you?"

"It's me," Beau replies, closing the door and locking it.

Heather rushes to him, red hair whipping behind her. Beau catches her, stumbling backwards as she flings herself at him.

"I missed you," she says, hugging him. He smiles and pats her back.

The Prince coughs, interrupting the moment. Heather quickly lets go. Her face flushes as she recognizes their guests.

"Ran into some friends. They needed a place to stay a bit," Beau shrugs, taking off his aviators and tossing them onto the hall table. "Hope you don't mind. I know you had plans."

"No, no, it's fine," she replies, tucking her hair behind her ear. She shuffles in place, wringing her hands. "Um, Beau?"

At her tone, Beau pauses. "What did you do?"

She bites her lip. He crosses his arms.

"... I caught a fish again."

Beau blinks. Then, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Feather, remember what I told you last time you did this?"

"I'm sorry," she deflates. "But we just moved in, and I wanted to get you something since you've been so stressed lately."

"And I appreciate it, I really do, but it's still super dangerous. What if you got caught?"

Her silence is telling.

"You got caught."

"... I caught two fish."

"Please Heather, please tell me you didn't use the shovel."

She swallows and braces herself. Beau throws his hands up.

"Feather, you know how I feel about the shovel!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Just... Just go," Beau rubs his eyes, desperately wanting to scream. "Where are they?"

"I locked them in the guest room..."

He waves her off, exasperated. He watches her disappear into the living room before turning to their guests. "Are you two hungry? I've got bagged in the fridge, and you're welcome to that, but I gotta take care of this mess."

The Camarilla members stare at him. Beau glances between them.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"See," the Seneschal finally says, turning to Lettow, "I told you he was a Lunatic."

"Come now Dove," the Prince sighs, "That is no way to speak to our host."

"Oh right," Beau thinks, "Her name was Dove." Then the rest of her sentence registered.

"Lunatic, huh? That's a new one."

"It's the eyes," Lettow says. "Because of your sunglasses, it was hard to tell. I believed you were Toreador."

"Huh." Beau pauses. "I honestly don't care either way. Let others see what they wish to see, the truth is always obscured." He shrugs. "But enough of that, we did a lot of running earlier. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," Dove replies.

The Prince agrees. "We will make do."

Cold and slimy and unfulfilling.

Blood bags don't provide enough subsistence for Kindred. The ones who subsist entirely on them are either desperate or clinging to the remnants of their humanity. Most prefer obtaining their fill directly from the source. With this in mind, Beau extends another olive branch to them. The voices whisper that something good will come of this relationship.

"If you want, you can help me with the fish," he offers. The two look at each other.

"Fish?" Lettow asks. His lips twitch into a small bemused smile. A dubious expression crosses Dove's face.

Beau grins as he leads them to the guest room. He stops by the closet and pulls out the shovel he and Heather own, hauling it over one shoulder before continuing on. Dried blood sticks to its metal blade.

"Yeah, fish. But not literal fish. I think you'll like it."

[missn11]

Chapter two of Sweet Corruption into Enlightenment now up on A03

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29584833/chapters/77893193#workskin

[missn11]

Care for a Drink? https://www.deviantart.com/nk11/art/Care-for-a-Drink-868838931?ga_submit_new=10%3A1612090466

So this is an picture of an AU version of LaCroix where he is not a Ventrue but of the Follower of Set clan! I'm hoping to write a fic of this AU soon for the The Many Clans of Sebastian LaCroix challenge on A03 archiveofourown.org/collection… check it out there are already some fun and different fics in the collection! In this AU LaCroix was lying about his embrace being in 1815, in reality he was embraced 1799 in Egypt, his sire had wanted to have an agent in the Camarilla in europe so he picked up LaCroix who was the likely possible candidate for a Ventrue embrace and embraced and trained him how to pretend to be a Ventrue. LaCroix's role was meant to be to weaken the Camarilla from the inside, to prepare for Set's return and junk. By the time LaCroix goes to LA he's only play at the incompetent Prince to slowly weaken the Camarilla and slowly seduce more Anarchs in to the cult of Set, (he actually tries to seduce Nines into following his path, btw Nines in this AU is a Malkavian so he is going to be tricky to fool! XD) However, as LaCroix begins to dream about Set's memories lately, as in this canon have all Settie have, he has gotten it into his head that Set is already gone and anyone can become Set, so that's what's got him interested in the sarcophagus. Btw if you like what you see and want a commission drop me a direct message on tumblr or a note on deviantart