#vampire the masquerade au

[pattons-second-cookie-v2]

Relationship Map for The Blood That Binds- A Sanders Sides X Vampire the Masquerade AU

There's a title now!!! From now on, posts under this project be titled and tagged with The Blood That Binds.

2 weeks ago I posted a poll asking if people would like to see Character Profiles or a Relationship Map first. The results showed a majority rule for the Relationship Map, which I am sharing today! But! I will be uploading the Character Profiles as well some time between now and the publishing of Chapter 1 (which I do still plan to release on Halloween).

Anyway, I've rambled enough- HERE'S THE MAP

So I know this is an absolute mess to look at so let me further explain how it's set up. Each character has their own color (I am aware of the shade similarity between Patton/Logan and Roman/Thomas but I genuinely couldn't think what other colors to use). The symbols next to most characters are their Clan Symbol- which I will further explain in the Character Profiles.

Characters connected by solid lines have interacted directly at least once. Characters connected by arrows have not interacted, but will interact in the beginnings of the tale. Below the cut, I've included some further explanations of the relationships.

Patton and Virgil

This is the dynamic that made me want to write this story in the first place. In this AU, Patton is Virgil's biological father. Through a misfortune that will be explained later on, Patton became a vampire when Virgil was still a baby (late 90s). Virgil grew up in the city believing his father to have passed away, all while Patton has been silently observing him from the shadows. At the time where our story takes place, Virgil has returned to the city after a little over 6 years away. And Patton is going to have a totally normal and rational reaction to seeing his son again.

Roman and Thomas

I knew I wanted to toy around with the supernatural power dynamic of a Sire Bond. And I knew I wanted Thomas specifically to be someone's Sire. In the context of the story, Roman was once Thomas' love, and was given the gift of immortality as a means to stay together forever. Thomas himself was still quite new to vampirism, and he quickly grew to regret making Roman. In the modern day, Roman is more like a lackey to Thomas. Following his beck and call in hopes of earning his favor once again. It has been over 70 years, and still Roman very much has the desperate hero vibes about him.

Roman and Virgil

Roman has spotted Virgil, and where the story picks up, he's beginning to close in. The only issue is he can't decide what exactly he'll do once he gets close to Virgil. He could make him a mindless Blood Slave. He could string him out as a forlorn lover. He could recruit him to his vampiric faction, as either a Bonded Ghoul or a fledgling vampire. His decision will drastically reform the dynamics of all those around him. But he's a little too lovestruck to realize the potential damage he could cause.

Logan and Patton

A healthy relationship?? In my toxic vampire romance? Yes, actually. Logan found Patton as a terrified fledgling who'd been abandoned by his Sire. Having roughly two decades of vampiric knowledge to rely on, Logan was quick to lend his talents to guide Patton. It became rather apparent that Patton did not take well to vampirism, and Logan's levelheadedness eased him into his new existence. In the modern nights, the two are inseparable. This is mostly at Patton's request, as he begins to grow paranoid in Logan's absence.

Janus and Remus

Janus is power-hungry and Remus is easily controlled. Janus has a few years of seniority over Remus, which he is quick to remind him of. Remus is also the only character who is beginning the story already Blood Bound. He has been Janus' thrall for since the 80s, and after spending over 30 years unbound, he just feels grateful to be noticed. He thinks being close to Janus gets him closer to Roman gets him closer to the command and power he truly craves. He views his Bond as a necessary evil. Janus views it as a means of controlling a scary guard dog.

Janus and Thomas

These two are both members of the Inner Circle, a sort of Sect within the Sect of the Camarilla. Those in the Inner Circle often interact directly with the Prince of the city (or whoever is in command) as well as following out any jurisdiction placed by the Prince. Janus and Thomas entered the Camarilla at roughly the same time, as well as being welcomed to the Inner Circle during the same night of Elysium. Their specific roles within the inner circle will be explained later.

Janus has always viewed Thomas as a potential adversary, believing that their power and influence combined could be immensely beneficial to the Camarilla. Thomas, on the other hand, is extremely jealous of Janus. He believes that their parallel rise to power is building up to an ultimate showdown where one of them will be forced to overtake the other. And he does not intend for Janus to have the advantage.

Remus and Logan

Remus has a 20 year advantage on Logan. At the time of their meeting, they were both strays who were not bound to any vampiric Sect. Remus viewed Logan as a fellow outcast, someone with skill and poise that could prove a useful asset in his major goals. Logan viewed himself as superior to Remus, believing his pragmatic approach to vampirism made him more appealing. They had a messy breakup, to put it lightly, and neither of them have made any attempt to reconnect.

Roman and Remus

These two are still canonically twin brothers. There's a lot to explain, which I will cover in better detail in each of their Character Profiles. But to summarize here: Roman became a vampire first, and has believed Remus to have passed away after being deployed during WWII. However, Remus did return home after the war, and had heard whispers of his brother joining a "secret society". Efforts to find Roman ultimately lead to Remus becoming a vampire himself. Rather than wallow over what had become his fate, Remus has instead spent the last few decades working to use his abilities as a means of finding Roman and taking all that he is.

Characters who have NOT interacted together!

Patton and Roman

Logan and Roman

Logan and Janus

Janus and Patton

Janus and Roman

Remus and Patton

Remus and Thomas

Logan and Thomas

Virgil and EVERYBODY

I believe that covers everything for now. My goal is to have a Character Profile posted every Friday between now and Halloween, and then posting Chapter One on Halloween as a way to enjoy the spooky evening. As always, if you wish to be tagged in this project, reply on this post or send me a DM.

Tag List: @sethlost @thearomanticsnake

Above board for a moment, I do want to thank everyone who has been encouraging this story. It's been a long while since I've written any major works, and I'm really excited to be worldbuilding again. So just- thanks for the kind words and the sharing and the support. Its really means a lot <3

-🍪

[prof-hemp420]

📸

A death-pale man sits on a balcony, overlooking a strange city. The shore is nearby, waves crashing up, beside him sits a young man who has curly short brown hair. He looks alive, but also not quite human due to the third eye red like Zekrom's in the middle of his forehead.

Adoration gleams in Hemp's brown eyes, something near fanatical and not quite natural.

Slowly his already prominent fangs grow longer and he leans down and bites the other man while hugging him close.

[yandereloveraw]

Imagine: Vampire Vanilla and Xavier admitting that they both feel lonely, even in each other's company. As a solution, Vanilla pulls a Lestat and Claudia from Interview with the Vampire and makes you a vampire. The three of you live happily together as a vampire throuple.

[bl00dfroma-fairy]

[svampira]

and there was only one vampire horse👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

(click on the image for better quality)

[academic-vampire]

First date idea: we turn into bats !!!!! 🦇

[crownedinmarigolds]

OKAY SO LIKE UH, I love Vampire the Masquerade Bloodlines set up and setting - so I've been reimagining the Stakebait coterie and etc as the main characters of its plot... So here's Ralph and Khlo culminating their relative slowburn romance during the game. Bathed in the bisexual lighting of some California city in the middle of a sect war just finding love in the dark places!! I'm sorry this is a break sketch that got out of handddd. (my cheesy write up beneath the cut!)

Ralph: *The Nosferatu Thinblood stares out at the city below them, the two Kindred bathed in neon. He doesn't look at her as he begins his nervous confession.* "I just think you're... so cool." Khloe: *She looks a bit taken aback that someone she thinks is pretty impressive likes her in any capacity. She doesn't think very highly of her looks. For a moment, she looks down, taking into account what she should do next. She decides to be brave and to take hold of what she wants - him. Khloe's hand reaches out and takes Ralph's shoulder to give the both of them a foundation.* Khloe: "I-I think you're very cool, too." *It feels like the hardest thing in the world to say. It feels like the easiest thing she could ever say.* Ralph: *He finally turns and looks at her, obviously nervous as the both of them feel their still beating - despite it all - hearts pounding.* "Yeah?" Khloe: *She doesn't break eye contact.* "Yeah." Ralph: "Oh." *He almost falls into her as his clawed hands wrap around her head, cradling her as they both lean in to kiss the other.* "Thank God."

[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, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's 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. “P.I., 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.”

[eggslamwich]

Been listening to alot of Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines ambient music while I draw, so of course I combined brainrots and made a vtm au for some jjk stuff (ignoring most of 5e because they gentrified my vampire ttrpg 🥲)

Kenjaku is an extremely old Tremere antitribu and has taken the path of biothaumaturgy, thus the brain transplant cursed technique in this universe. Kenny likely doesn’t have a sire and was part of the big Tremere transgression, still working out the kinks on that, but they tend to take on the identity of those whom have resources valuable to their goals and the Sabbat overall, which is why despite being Tremere they’re tolerated amongst the Sabbat.

During their era as Noritoshi Kamo, they created Choso and his brothers through experimenting with blood magic and breeding ghouls in an attempt to create more powerful revenants, but as is the case in canon that didn’t turn out the way they wanted rip. At some point when they took on Kaori’s identity, they made Jin into a ghoul as well, and he blood bonded with them ❤️

Mahito is a shovelhead tzimisce who surpassed her role as canon fodder and proved to be a prodigy among Sabbat fledglings. Kenjaku took interest in them especially and took her under their wing in guiding her through their new life as a vampire, curious to watch her grow in her disciplines. (And totally doesn’t plan on diablerizing them)

At some point Junpei crossed paths with her, and was tricked by her under the promise of making him a vampire too into becoming their ghoul. The stitches are from places she opened up to see the insides, but they kept them for “aesthetics”, and a benefit of being a tzimisce is you can get all the body mods you want without risk of infection. :D

(I mainly based human mahito off @cursedvibes ‘s depiction of her in his fanfic here)

I’m still churning lore ideas in my head to make every thing better tho, I hope to add more to it sometime uwu

[macbethz]

My current vtm pc for our Coachella chronicle, Dr Adrian Clarke. He's a manipulative 70s pop psychologist turned malkavian would-be cult leader

[crowcollectorarts]

fuck it. santa clarita diet au for our vtm pcs

[alanide-arts]

trying out a brush

[eroutesque]

Goodnight sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest” - Shakespeare

There is a smell of something rotten in the room,

And the air is heavy,

Dirty yellow curtains hide the leading star,

You pretend you cannot ignore the suffering of the bleeding clouds

Stuffing tired sky before the night steals the show,

And throws the clouds away, bending the sky over.

The twilight scratches the sky bleeding,

Like you scratch your skin during cravings,

Grinding your teeth into dragon powder,

You pretend like you dont find the suffering sky beautiful,

Like it doesn’t make you sentimental,

Like it doesn’t remind you of who you are.

Stuck in a motion movie,

you know what happens to jerks like you,

White dragons eat you for dinner,

And you hope to get eaten,

You expose yourself in the middle of a desert,

Offering your flesh, your dreams , your will,

You sold your life for the pain to get forgotten.

A few seconds glimpse of heaven,

and then they close the gates,

throwing you down the dragon hole.

The white dragons swimming in the void of your chest.

Like Cobain you found friends in your head,

and they pushed you over,

You were falling down thinking you were flying high.

You are a washed watercolour illustration,

once an oil paint masterpiece.

You are the one who crosses the line everybody only dare to sketch.

Everyone dreams of their downfall,

you are the one ending up fallen.

Your confession is tart bleeding,

there is a hole in your chest,

Snow powder spiders spinning web with your veins,

Crawling across your brain.

Your pathetic forget-me-not eyes soaked in tears,

As you spill the last bottle to quench the fire,

Dancing flames on the ceiling,

And you are lying under,

dazed, amazed, hazed,

And you have blown the candle,

Voice muted.

Dreaming of a watercolour darkness,

Havent the heaven forecast warned you?

Eclipse of your eyes says it all.

The white dragons has torn you into pieces,

Exhale the magic flames,

Burning you down to ashes,

All the golden pieces of my sweet prince.

And I watch the ashes turn into flickering moths,

stupid little things flying towards the dragon flames,

In hope of warming up the pain,

Just to get burned again

and turn into moth once more.

The daunting cycle repeats,

they never learn,

moths like my prince, never learn.

You smiled about all the things that you have done,

That under cover of the night they didn’t really matter,

You laughed about all the promises

you spitted in the face of the night,

The words bore no meaning,

would be forgotten

as the sun bulletshoots the dark.

Bent body, hazy mind,

nothing is real when the sun is sleeping.

Until the dawn gets you exposed,

You wait for every twilight

In hope of tonight you might finally lose yourself

as the night swallows your shadow.

Your swollen veins attracts the dragons,

Begging to pop,

While you lie on a floor, half dead, half alive,

You dont need to chase them

They find you anyway.

Your little crimes make the spiders sew your lips together,

Dazzled junkie,

Who did you stop to impress?

[yandereloveraw]

In my Vampire the Masquerade AU, Vanilla is Xavier's sire. This fact comes as a surprise to many newly turned vampires being introduced to them because they both don't look past their early twenties. (Even as a vampire, Xavier is extremely protective of Vanilla, even more so because she sired him.)

Sire: One's Sire is the vampire that turned them. A new kind of parent, to teach them the new ways of the world. 

[bl00dfroma-fairy]

[svampira]

in his vampire cowboy era