#and that one time I was a toreador

[cuthbert-beckett]

Playing vtmb again for no good reason. And still after all these times, I cannot for the life of me successfully complete the graveyard quest without celerity. So for like the 8th time (minus the one time I played toreador), I’m here crouched at the corner of the map so that none of the enemies spawn ‼️

[svampira]

lineart practice + elias' collection of truly insufferable t-shirts

[panvani]

What is the funniest clan makeup for a vampire girlgroup

[tinknevertalks]

It just struck me, as I got out of the shower, that in ten-fifteen years time, some teenagers are going to be doing their Music GCSEs (or whatever the group of exams will be called then). They'll remember the first time they heard that specific bit of classical music...

... And the episode of Bluey it was in. 😂🥰

[ghost-bard]

As a big big fan of the vtm game and system i REALLY hope one of the jrwi crew plays nosferatu or gangrel mainly because i am biased and those are my favorite vtm clans LMAO

Although idk how many ppl in the fandom have ever like. Played vtm? Or even watched a game of it?

Would anyone be interested in a rundown of vampire the masquerade or anything? I know charlie will probably give a rundown of it in the beginning, similar to how he did for bitb, but also i just. Really like vampire the masquerade.

[corvidfeathers]

soon it will be time for me relearn everything about Robert the Bruce btw. For reasons

[howaitot]

“Anyway, we’re in love,” and now let them onto the ship, please!

Love putting characters into screencaps! Joon and Andrew ( @mekanikaltrifle ) are going to save the universe in the fifth element (but the fifth element is now incredible amounts of violence instead of love)

[mechieonu]

do you ever think abt the funny logistics of mike making his ringtone toreador march. like, if mike lost his phone and asked his friends to call it or if find-my-phone exists, and in the middle of the night or day you get hit w freddy's music box

[breakingthemasquerade]

i created an actual sire for each of my VTMB characters instead of just a nebulous entity and oh nooooo my Malk's sire is so cute i love her so much

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “PI, actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked. 

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.” 

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

[probablybadrpgideas]

What kind of Internet Vibes do the different Vampire Clans have?

Assamites: The most impenetrable discourse you've ever seen in your life. The kind of callouts where you need 350 years of context and several PhDs to figure out what the person's actually being accused of. Despite the fact that maybe 10 non-vampires on earth know what any given post means, it still gets 80,000 notes worth of argument.

Brujah: An otherwise blank page that simply says "if you venmo $20 to this account I will eat your landlord no questions asked"

Followers Of Set: As a group of soulless immortal monsters dedicated to spreading wickedness in service of an ancient god of evil, the Followers Of Set's profiles sometimes make the top ten most fucked up things you've seen online today.

Gangrel: Extremely distressing furry art pages.

Giovanni: They reanimate dead memes and send them after you. More then one prince has been destroyed after having a LolCat captioned "I can has your soul?" myspaced to them.

Lasombra: The Lasombra don't show up on camera so instead of putting out content they just break into your house while you sleep.

Malkavian: Listen. Listen. You look me in the eyes and tell me you aren't following at least one blog obviously run by Malkavians right now.

Nosferatu: Monsterfuckers but the other way round.

Ravnos: Sadly if I continue White Wolf will delete my blog for bringing up that time they wrote the Ravnos.

Toreador: Toreadors have literally never experienced anything they have loved more then Instagram. The entire clan has gone feral, several elders have been killed over follower counts and the Toreador Antediluvian reentered torpor because it couldn't stop Instagram scrolling. It's a fucking bloodbath.

Tremere: You know those "occult safety" tumblrs that say things "don't use Ouija boards on Halloween"? The opposite of those. "Hey kids! Break a cursed doll over your head while yelling the true name of Satan! It'll be cool and fun!"

Tzimisce: Yet more unrealistic beauty standards for women.

Ventrue: Those weird focused group "cool tweets" designed to appeal to the youth, except the focus group is 1000 years old. Ever had a tweet show up in your feed "You know what's leet and unsus? The divine right of kings"? You're welcome!

[pixlokita]

Now I just have the imagery of the gang having to go to a Freddy’s for some plot reason

Gregory/CC: if we need to find the current night guard how will we know who it is?

*Mike starts whistling the toreador march seconds later one dude dives under a table*

Mike: found them

(Though I do wonder if the other animatronics at other places will see Mike and go “ah one of us carry on”)

Michael: word of advice? next time don’t hide under the table. If the electricity is still on you should shut both doors.

Security guard: a-and if the electricity is out?

Michael: -eyes glowing- Pray.

-security guard proceeds to pass out-

Gregory: HEY! We needed to ask him questions!

CC: that’s …. Never do that again, please.

Michael: ah- yeah … sorry.

[raphael-angele]

If Hades raised Nico and Bianca Then Took Them to Camp Later-er Part 1

This will be a side series where I list down things that happened as Hades and the entire Underworld raises Bianca and Nico. Of course, Bianca does not die because I am in denial and I refuse anything bad that happens

Bianca's Violin

I've been having this headcanon for a while now that Bianca knows how to play the violin.

She was formerly taught how to play by Maria, before the Lotus Hotel. When she and Nico arrived in the Underworld, Bianca wasn't settling in very well so Hades got her a violin as a welcome present. It didn't exactly cheer her up but she felt a little bit more comfortable.

Here's the thing though, she brings that violin to Camp and she plays it as much as she can and all she knows how to play are songs and pieces from the 1900s. One of the pieces she's perfected is Los Toreadores, which if you don't know, is the famous FNAF soundtrack.

Everytime she plays this, other campers would panic where the sound was coming from. Bianca has no clue what they're talking about, growing up in the 30s and all that.

Bianca looks around the infirmary in search for a particular blonde boy with blue eyes that glowed like the sun itself. "Bianca!" she hears from one side of the room and she sees him walking towards her. Lee Fletcher, one of the few people that bothered to make friends with her and her brother when they first came to camp.

"Lee, hi." She greeted with a soft smile. "What brings you here?" Lee asks, looking her up and down to find any injuries. "I need some bandages. Four of them." Bianca answered. Lee looks at her, a little confused. "What do you need that many bandages for?" He asks. Bianca holds up her left hand, showing him her bloodied fingers. The blood had stained her entire palm and dripped from the tips of her fingers. "My fingers are bleeding." She says, unfazed by her injury.

"GODS!" Lee panicked, seeing her hand. He quickly took it into his and examined them carefully. It looked as if something had sliced the skin. "What in Hades happened?!" He asked, pulling her to an empty cot. He made her sit down as he pulled a chair from the side and sat down. Bianca was confused by Lee's worry. It wasn't like she was dying; it barely hurt.

"Will! Go get me the first aid kit, please." He ordered the boy passing by. He looked to be around Nico's age. Quickly, the boy, Will, set the sheets he was carrying and ran off to do what was asked of him. "What happened?! Why are your fingers bleeding?! Is this from archery practice?!" He asked. Will came back with a small red kit with a white cross on the front. He put it beside her and opened it.

Lee took some hydrogen peroxide and dabbed it on some cotton before carefully applying it on her fingers. "I was playing the violin. I didn't realize how hard I was playing until I saw how red the strings became." Bianca explained. "Who on Earth wouldn't notice their hand bleeding?!" He asked, still a little shock. "Apologies. I get distracted easily playing the violin" she says. Lee sighed, "Be careful. You'll never know, strings are really dangerous if you play too hard" Bianca rolled her eyes as he dabbed betadine on her fingers.

Will stared at her, as if examining her. "Hey, you're Nico's sister, right?" He asked. Bianca looked at him and smiled before saying yes. "Does Nico play the violin, too?" He asks. "Uh, no. No, he doesn't. He doesn't like the sound of the violin much either. He says it's too squeaky and annoying." She answered.

"Lee, can Bianca play the violin at the campfire?" Will asks, hoping his brother would agree. "Will, her fingers are hurt. I doubt she'll be able to play for the next few days." Lee explained, wrapping her fingers in a white bandage. The younger boy frowned. "Maybe next time, William." Bianca smiled, ruffling the younger's hair. He smiled back and nodded his head before going back to his other works.

"Okay," Lee exclaimed as he finished off with the bandages. "A few things. Sorry to say, but no violin for the next few days." She sighed. "Secondly, your archery training might be affected so take it easy a bit. Maybe ask for finger guards. I have some extras if you want. And I need you to come in some time after lunch so we can change the bandages." He said.

"How long do I have to wear these?" Bianca gestured to her bandages. "I reckon...no longer than a week" Lee replied, walking over to the nearby counter. "Don't worry. They didn't look too deep of a cut. But I recommend that you take it easy on archery practice and dagger training with Annabeth." He came back with a jar of lollipops. "Now, since you were a good patient, have a lollipop" he gave her a wide smile as he opened the lid. Awkward silence drifted.

"You're giving me a lollipop." Bianca deadpanned. "Yeah. We give all our patients lollipops." Lee continued to smile as Bianca continued to blankly stare at him. "I'm not a 5 year old, Lee."

"There's a grape flavored one" Lee informed her. Bianca quickly stuck her uninjured hand into the jar in search of the grape flavored treat she was promised. She pulled it out, along with two lollipops; one grape, the other lemon. "You mind if I take two? Nico's gonna ask where I got it and I don't want him to end up in the infirmary just to get a lollipop." She said. "Go ahead." Lee replied. She put the lollipops in her jacket pocket and stood up. "Alright. Thank you for helping me." She said, heading for the door.

"Anytime, corpse girl. See you at dinner!"

[spell-fox]

Tertius Aurelius Augustus

Gangrel keeper of Elysia for Oxford 1348, definitely not planning any dubious rituals. Character from my Dark Ages chronicle.

I haven't shared too many details, as I didn't want to spoil things before the players discovered them, so here goes.

Gregarious, loud, fond of the finer things in unlife; music, hunting, drinking, Tertius, born Tadhg, grew up with one foot in the Cainite world.

His mother entered the services of Aurelia, a Toreador from an already fallen empire desperately clinging to past glory. For the most part he avoided the household, preferring to work with livestock, until the lure of vitae proved too tempting. Long life, power, vampiric abilities, not to mention to allure of the mistress herself. But she had little use for a swineherd and so he had to shift into something more lucrative, eventually working his way into her good graces and vitae supply through the usual routes of bribery, blackmail, and doing all the accounts work no one else wanted to do.

What he didn't account for was the tedium of earning someone else money for several hundred years, always at a fickle cainite's beck and call, and the slow erosion of humanity that can happen when you act as assistant for a cainite more accustomed to even crueler times.

Expansion of her interests meant expanding into the nearby ancient forests, where he met, attempted to hunt, and preceded to nearly get killed by his future sire in the form of a white boar. What happened next is not clear, but history does record Aurelia taking a trip down from Chester to London. Perhaps there was a miscalculation of the route, as the until now flawless scheduler Tertius made an apparent error, sending her straight into lupine territory. It is also to be noted for the record that Tertius was embraced some time later by the very Gangrel who wanted rid of the rose.

Since then he's been working on his own holdings far from his sire's extension territory, trading, acquiring a bathhouse, and generally continuing the skills that served his well in life; insinuating himself into affairs of state so thoroughly it would be so much trouble to untangle his roots he is nigh irreplaceable. No one else quite knows how the local council's funds are distributed and earned, and that is very much by design.

In that time he's had a string of short-lived romances (the medieval cainite queer scene isn't exactly a large dating pool...), sired two troublesome childer, Safiyyah and Lettice, and seems to have a soft spot for those seeking revenge.

More recently, a troublesome priest has thoroughly stolen his heart and they even bound their souls together. They're all planning a little ritual to summon the spirit of the River Thames.

[faircailin]

Best Vampire the Masquerade Clan Poll Masterpost

That's right baby! Now that polls have been added to tumblr, it's time to decide once and for all which VTM clan is number one, and who better to decide that then the denizens of Tumblr dot com!

This randomized tournament bracket is comprised of four rounds, with each round getting a day for voting (bc i cant dedicate 4 weeks to this lol). This post serves as a masterpost/directory to each individual match-up.

Get voting, and may the best Clan (plus caitiff and thinbloods) win!

ROUND ONE

Gangrel VS Nosferatu Winner: NOSFERATU

Ravnos VS Hecata Winner: HECATA

Brujah VS Lasombra Winner: LASOMBRA

Banu Haqim VS Ventrue Winner: BANU HAQIM

Malkavian VS Thin-Bloods Winner: MALKAVIAN

Tzimisce VS Tremere Winner: TZIMISCE

The Ministry VS Toreador Winner: TOREADOR

Salubri VS Caitiff Winner: SALUBRI

ROUND TWO

Nosferatu VS Hecata Winner: NOSFERATU

Lasombra VS Banu Haqim Winner: LASOMBRA

Malkavian VS Tzimisce Winner: TZIMISCE

Toreador VS Salubri Winner: TOREADOR

ROUND THREE

Nosferatu VS Lasombra Winner: NOSFERATU

Tzimisce VS Toreador Winner: TZIMISCE

FINAL ROUND

Tzimisce VS Nosferatu

WINNER

CLAN NOSFERATU

[the-art-block]

ROOTS OF THE OLD COUNTRY

Oneshot Chronicle hosted by Storyteller @syntheticmortal !

Featuring the absolute stars - @zoominalong as Winnie Milliner | Giovanni @dragomirthewizard as Myles O'Riley | Brujah @renaissancebadboy as Felicia Bellamy | Toreador @tweltchy as Gigi Jones | Nosferatu The One True Me as Bianca De Stefano! | Ventrue

It's been such a wild ride already after only three sessions 🤩 I have fallen head-over-heels for all of these PCs and I am having the time of my life! Though the time with them will ultimately be very short, I'm savoring every goddamn minute. Thank you to these amazing people who joined us for a fun lil game, I'm looking forward to future games with each and every one of you ✨ and I hate to tell you this but there is one edit so far, circa last night's game

😭🙏🌹

A star leaves the building... sleep well you gambler you