anon-argentine

[anon-argentine]

Went to class in complete darkness today at Filo (College of Philosophy and Literature), luckily it was during the early afternoon, so there was natural light.

I have class at 8pm tomorrow - what the fuck are we going to do? Use our phone lights? Listen in the dark?

Argentina has THE BEST public University of the entire south american region. Our current disaster of a president decided to reduce funding on said University. Now we don't know if all the colleges will be able to stay open after this first semester.

The college of Medicine can only remain open this semester by closing down lifts (it has 16+ floors), turning off any kind of heating (we're entering winter season) and turning off most artificial lights.

Students have to walk in semi-darkness to get to their classrooms. Access to classrooms is already limited because of the lifts being closed down and only people in wheelchairs will be allowed to use them. If you have any other kind of disability, well, tough luck.

And this is just the college of Medicine. This is just the tip of the iceberg, the first bit of news in regards to our University that is surfacing after this disgrace of a president declared war on intellectuals and the arts.

Yet you have fanatics consumed by hatred who say this is okay. They celebrate poverty, but they also punish it. If you're poor, you don't deserve education. If you're poor, you don't deserve access to the arts. If you're poor, you don't deserve anything. Your whole life should be dedicated to working so that maybe one day you will stop being poor. You won't ever stop being poor because the system is rigged against you, but you should sacrifice your whole life to try and not be poor anyway.

These fanatics celebrate suffering, not realizing they're screwing themselves up, too.

I'm sad for my own country. I want to say that I want to leave. But even when everything is being systematically broken down and destroyed, I want to stay. There IS beauty here. There IS hope.

But first and foremost:

Con la UBA ayer, hoy, y siempre.

[anon-argentine]

Consider something like this for a fanfic:

The Silent Sisters are secretly the Westerosi equivalent of the Faceless Men.

Women that are covered completely? You can walk in regular clothes and no one will recognize you. A vow of silence? People forget you are there and drop valuable info. An endless supply of dead bodies people give you access to? Time for experimenting.

The fact that this is an organization primarily made up of the willful rebel daughters of the nobility also means that you have a group of highly educated women with a bone to pick. Like: you dishonor your family so you are sent to the silent sisters but instead of being beaten and having your tongue cut off, you get to learn about poisons and ways to kill a man and when to give the gift of death.

Anyways, the Silent Sisters being an elite group of badass assassins.

I have a kind of curiosity about the Silent Sisters in asoiaf. We don't know almost anything about them because their presence is almost anecdotal in the story. But since Martin said the Order is like a Night Watch for women (they send there criminal women and probably other women that for some reason are 'problematic') I tend to think in them in a mystical way too. What if they have too a mission to fulfill against the Others? What if they know how to act against wights?

#asoiaf #silent sisters #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #house of black and white

[anon-argentine]

Hey, outlander fanfic writers, I have a proposition for you.

Genderbent Claire and Jaime.

WW2 Army Physician Clarence Beauchamp is on a trip with his friend Frank in Scotland, to celebrate the end of the war. Druids, stones, he finds himself in the 18th century. Enter a group of Scots that save him from Randall (who uncannily resembles Frank), and with them a fearless red-headed Scottish woman named Jenny. (Yes, in this AU, Jenny is Jaime laird of Lallybroch while his rebel sister is thought to be dead).

Jenny McTavish seems to have the respect of all the men that surround her, they treat her like one of their own. Clarence later learns of the bounty on Red Jenny’s head, etc, etc.

Plot goes along essentially the same. Clarence is taken to Castle Leoch, he wins their tentative respect due to his prowess as a healer. Jack Randall is trying to get him, Dougal still has him marry Jenny so that Clarence has some legal clan protection. Any other changes to characters and plot are up to you.

Someone tag me when they write this, I’d love to read it.

#outlander #outlander fandom #outlander fic #someone write this #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #genderbend #gender swap au #someone draw this

[anon-argentine]

(face claim for older Dyana is Hayat Kamille as Mariam in Vikings)

Dyana Rennard becomes Lady of the Wolfswood at age twenty-five, following the death of her mother. Her husband, Jon Snow Rennard, becomes Lord Consort and stands besides her and their two young children - Sybil, a girl of eight, and Robb (known as Little Robb), a boy of six - and Ghost carefully protecting her swollen stomach that cradles their third child.

Winterfell saw Sybil born amidst the War of the Five Kings.

Jon accompanied Robb as his general in to rescue and then avenge Lord Stark, leaving a three-month pregnant Dyana in charge of Winterfell and minding Bran and Rickon. Dyana had wanted to accompany Jon, but he pleaded for their babe’s life - even Ghost turned his puppy-dog eyes at her, resting his head against her stomach - so she agreed to stay.

Osha, Rickon’s wilding nanny, warms up to her quickly once she sees Dyana come back with a boar she hunted herself. “You really are a Northern woman.” It’s the first compliment she has received for her skills since the pregnancy was announced, which makes her really happy. Osha and her become fast friends as they care for the younger Starklings.

Summer and Shaggydog, much like Ghost, quickly realize there is a new cub and become very protective (bordering on overprotective.) Every single person in her presence is regarded with suspicion - a maid that accidentally bumped into her in the hallway nearly pissed herself when the grey direwolf at her side jumped forward with his teeth bare. (Dyana apologized profusely and gave her extra coin for the scare.)

She is eight moons along and ready to pop any day now when they receive news of Ironborn raiders led by Theon Greyjoy heading to Winterfell.

The fucking turncoat who had danced with her at her wedding and promised to spoil her child so he could beat Robb in becoming the favorite uncle. That man was now coming to Winterfell and expecting a warm welcome.

He was gravely mistaken.

Dyana sends all the castle staff to their homes with the promise to send for them once the danger has passed - only the guards remain, as well as the midwife from Wintertown. “I have no doubts that your Stark babe will be born in the worst possible moment, and I shall be here to make sure they greet the cold wailing and kicking”. Dyana thanks the woman profusely and hands her a knife - just in case.

She sets new traps all around the perimeter of Winterfell, these ones meant for humans and horses. They are traps set to kill, not to maim.

When the time comes, Bran and Rickon are safely hidden in Winterfell’s crypts with Maester Luwin, Hodor, Osha, and their wolves. Rickon held on to her skirts and cried for her to stay with them too, only calming down when she promised to come back for them as soon as it was safe.

Her water breaks just as the first Ironborn fall to her traps and scream in pain. It seemed Theon had forgotten her house words. Never the Prey. She was the predator, a she-wolf willing to kill and maim to protect her cubs. Dyana Rennard would not show the invaders any mercy, she would kill them all.

Dyana grits her teeth as the contractions hit and resolves to finish this before her child is here. The midwife doesn’t want to let her out of her sight, neither does Ser Rodrik, the master at arms. But she has hours of labor ahead and she will not spend them in bed while there are hostiles surrounding them.

Later, the stories would tell of Dyana Rennard of House Stark, who defended Winterfell from the Ironborn with her bow and her hunting skills. They would talk about the wits and wiles of the huntress and how she led the people of Winterfell and Wintertown to safety, how she stood in front of an army of Ironborn while heavy with child and refused to back down when they demanded she hand over the young princes.

Theon Greyjoy even offered to trade: her life and her child’s life in exchange for Bran and Rickon. She would be allowed to return to the Den unharmed, provided she did as they said.

Dyana Rennard scowled and notched an arrow. Witnesses claim she shot three at a time, ending the life of Theon Greyjoy and two of his generals in a second. Others will mention that she commanded the Stark’s direwolves as if she were their master, and that anyone that dared to step in front of her would quickly find themselves with their throat ripped out.

The truth was she fired a single warning shot first, but not with an arrow.

“Look at you, begging at the feet of a new master for a scrap of attention. Did you not dance with me at my wedding feast, as Northern tradition dictates that the bride dances with her new brothers? Did you lie when you proclaimed you would spoil my child to become their favorite Uncle? What is the truth, Theon Greyjoy? Who are you? The man Ned Stark raised among his children with lessons in honor and bravery, or the coward who wants to pillage the home he was raised in?”

When Theon steps forward with a reply, she quickly fires two arrows into her throats of each general. She also shoots another one that grazes Theon’s throat. It’s a reminder to him - her aim is true, always. He will die because she wills it.

“Go back to your islands and your Ironborn, Greyjoy. And out of the friendship we once had, I will give you this warning: your father will not even bother to kill you when you prove yourself useless to him - and if you think of stepping foot in the North ever again, it will be Robb Stark you face off against.”

A stronger contraction hits as Theon leaves, forcing her to her knees. The midwife and Ser Rodrik are by her side in a second. “Hang the bodies, let those wet sons of bitches know what happens when you mess with the North.”

Sybil Rennard was born amidst wolves. She had a head of dark brown hair and eyes so blue they seemed purple and a strong cry that “nearly had the Ironborn running away”.

Maester Luwin sends a raven to Jon while mother and child rest peacefully with the Stark boys and their wolves.

To General Jon Snow of House Stark,

It is a pleasure to relay the news of the birth of Sybil of the Houses Rennard and Stark, a hale and healthy girl. She was born during the sunset, shortly after Lady Rennard killed two Ironborn and injured Theon Greyjoy, who fled.

Mother and child are healthy and recovering quickly.

With great regards and sincere congratulations,

Maester Luwin of Winterfell.

Jon Snow deserves the world and luckily for him, Dyana Rennard is willing to get it for him.

House Rennard is a Northern house right in the middle of the Wolfswood. Their sigil is a red fox in a field of light grey. They are known for producing excellent hunters, hawkers, trackers, and tanners - they are also proud of teaching both girls and boys to hunt.

According to legend, House Rennard was founded by a shapeshifter: a vixen-woman fell in love with a First Man and stalked him as he hunted through the Wolfswood. One night, she approached his camp, where she laid a dead rabbit at his feet - an offering. The First Man, even unaware that the fox was a woman, thanked the fox kindly and shared the rabbit with it - whereas a lesser man would have killed the fox, he instead showed kindness and gratitude.

Though no Rennard has ever confirmed that they can take the form of a fox, the women of House Rennard take to courting like them. If they are interested in a match, they will go hunting with their intended in the Wolfswood for three days. Together, they shall set traps and hunt animals, showing their conflict resolution skills and their patience. If the man tries anything untoward, the Rennard woman will knock him out, take his supplies, and leave him to find his way out on his own (some have also taken to hunting said man for sport). However, if the match is successful, they will return together with pelts for their wedding bed.

Jon and Dyana as adults (image generated with Bing AI, I can’t draw and have no money, sue me)

They met as young teens. All of 12 years old and angry at the world. Jon had gotten into a fight with Robb and ran off into the Wolfswood, where he ran and ran until he stepped right into a trap.

As he hung in a rope net in their air, a girl came out from behind a bush and started berating him for messing up her trap and scaring all the game away.

And this is how the love story of Dyana Rennard and Jon Snow started.

#ch: dyana rennard #ch: jon snow #original westerosi house #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #got oc #original northern house #asoiaf original house #house stark #ch: Sybil Rennard #game of thrones #asoiaf oc

[anon-argentine]

Listen, Jon “I won’t have sex with a whore because I don’t want to sire a bastard” Snow has his resolve tempted every single day he meets with Dyana since they kissed for the first time. And Dyana knows this.

Even though the Rennard women have the upper hand in the house and no child of hers would ever be considered a bastard, Dyana understands his hesitation and respects it. Which is why she marches into Ned Stark’s solar the day after she comes of age and her mother has given her leave to choose a husband.

Now, Ned Stark and Cynthia Rennard are neither blind nor stupid. It’s clear that the two share a deep love and trust that most marriages never achieve. Cynthia has been stitching a wedding cloak since Jon Snow brought the boar he killed to the Den, offering it to the household with a lovestruck smile. Ned Stark had a smile on his face as he watched Dyana Rennard wait for his nephew at the gates and beaming at the sight of him.

Dyana kneels in front of her liege lord and looks him in the eye. “My lord, I have come to ask for your blessing to propose to your son Jon.”

Ned Stark smiles softly. “Is Jon aware of such a proposal?”

“I’ve discussed it with him. But he also deserves the care and respect most nobles would show towards the House of their intended.” Dyana says bluntly before bowing her head. “May I speak frankly, my Lord, even though you might consider it an offense?”

Gods, this can’t be good. “Of course.”

“The reason Jon hasn’t told you of my proposal is because he doesn’t believe himself worthy of a noble wedding.” She says, lifting her gaze and looking him in the eye. “I would humbly ask that you marry us in the Godswood, with your family present and a celebration afterwards. Allow him the chance to feel important here before he leaves.”

Ned Stark smiles with teary eyes. He isn’t blind to his nephew’s isolation, his wife’s derision, his lack of opportunities in Winterfell. He was keenly aware of Dyana Rennard’s intentions Jon - the raven from Lady Cynthia letting him know she approved the match and commending him for raising such a strong, kind man had him praying in the crypts for an hour.

A stray tear slid down his cheek. The love and care for Jon was present in Dyana’s every syllable, in her resolve to speak to her liege lord with hard facts, in her beseeching to his fatherly love to make Jon happy. Your son is safe and loved, Lya. Good and strong and happy with a woman who loves him.

Lord Stark holds out his hands and helps the huntress up, squeezing her hands with gratitude. “Thank you, my lady. Thank you for caring for my son.” They take a step back and Ned bows to her. “I am honored to call you my good-daughter.”

She is invited to dinner at the Hall and insists she will only sit with Jon - at the main table and nowhere else. Ned agrees, much to his wife’s chagrin.

They announce their engagement and are received with cheers and claps on the back. Jon’s ears turn red from the attention and his whole face burns when Dyana kisses him and the hall cheers and hoots.

Then one of their children has purple eyes and Ned Stark has a heart attack lol

Jon Snow deserves the world and luckily for him, Dyana Rennard is willing to get it for him.

House Rennard is a Northern house right in the middle of the Wolfswood. Their sigil is a red fox in a field of light grey. They are known for producing excellent hunters, hawkers, trackers, and tanners - they are also proud of teaching both girls and boys to hunt.

According to legend, House Rennard was founded by a shapeshifter: a vixen-woman fell in love with a First Man and stalked him as he hunted through the Wolfswood. One night, she approached his camp, where she laid a dead rabbit at his feet - an offering. The First Man, even unaware that the fox was a woman, thanked the fox kindly and shared the rabbit with it - whereas a lesser man would have killed the fox, he instead showed kindness and gratitude.

Though no Rennard has ever confirmed that they can take the form of a fox, the women of House Rennard take to courting like them. If they are interested in a match, they will go hunting with their intended in the Wolfswood for three days. Together, they shall set traps and hunt animals, showing their conflict resolution skills and their patience. If the man tries anything untoward, the Rennard woman will knock him out, take his supplies, and leave him to find his way out on his own (some have also taken to hunting said man for sport). However, if the match is successful, they will return together with pelts for their wedding bed.

Jon and Dyana as adults (image generated with Bing AI, I can’t draw and have no money, sue me)

They met as young teens. All of 12 years old and angry at the world. Jon had gotten into a fight with Robb and ran off into the Wolfswood, where he ran and ran until he stepped right into a trap.

As he hung in a rope net in their air, a girl came out from behind a bush and started berating him for messing up her trap and scaring all the game away.

And this is how the love story of Dyana Rennard and Jon Snow started.

#wolfswood #jon snow #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #original character #the north #house stark #asoiaf oc #asoiaf original house #original northern house #original westerosi house #ch: dyana rennard #ch: jon snow #the godswood #winterfell #house stark of Winterfell #got oc

[anon-argentine]

oh look, the silly fic has developed its own canon

After that fateful encounter with the trap, Dyana and Jon become fast friends despite their opposing personalities.

Dyana has the wiles of her house symbol, complete with predator grins and disarming charm. She is quick to endear and to strike. She talks while setting up and checking traps, always finding a new topic to comment on, but stays deathly quiet while on the hunt, becoming a ghost to kill her prey.

Jon, in his sullen silences, doesn’t talk much at first. The Wolfswood has become a welcomed escape from Winterfell, and he feels that breaking his silence will lead to him saying the wrong thing and finding himself escorted back to Lady Stark’s disdain. But Dyana never stops talking, and she eventually says something that has him laughing and scaring off every animal nearby.

She berates him, but there is only mirth behind it now. “Useless- if I left you here you would manage to scare all the prey out of the Wolfswood- they’ll probably think a dragon is chasing them.”

Jon smiles at her. “It’s a good thing you are here to stop me, then.”

“Of course, I would never leave you behind.” Dyana replies naturally, smiling softly. Jon’s heart jumps in his chest and heat rushes to his cheeks.

When the sun starts to set, Dyana escorts him back to Winterfell. “I’m not letting you wander about and get eaten by the elk, Jon. I’ll see you cross the gate and then I’ll leave.”

Jon doesn’t tell her that he is already pretty confident he could find his way back to Winterfell alone, but he enjoys her company and revels in having someone be concerned about his well-being. In return, he waves goodbye and watches as she disappears back into the forest - not out of fear for her safety, but in awe of the easy way she blends in with the trees as she heads back home.

He eventually is deemed passable enough at archery by the Master-at-Arms, so he brings a bow and quiver the next time he goes into the forest. He is met with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

“Let’s go hunting, then.”

The first time he shoots down a boar and slaughters it clean, Dyana laughs and congratulates him so earnestly that leftover adrenaline in his body takes control and he kisses her. She eagerly kisses him back.

They are fifteen years old with bloodied gloves and sharp grins, the lovers in the woods. They remain together until the sun sets and the vixen escorts the wolf back to his lair.

Jon Snow beams when Dyana Rennard looks back and smiles at him a final time before going back into the forest.

Jon Snow deserves the world and luckily for him, Dyana Rennard is willing to get it for him.

House Rennard is a Northern house right in the middle of the Wolfswood. Their sigil is a red fox in a field of light grey. They are known for producing excellent hunters, hawkers, trackers, and tanners - they are also proud of teaching both girls and boys to hunt.

According to legend, House Rennard was founded by a shapeshifter: a vixen-woman fell in love with a First Man and stalked him as he hunted through the Wolfswood. One night, she approached his camp, where she laid a dead rabbit at his feet - an offering. The First Man, even unaware that the fox was a woman, thanked the fox kindly and shared the rabbit with it - whereas a lesser man would have killed the fox, he instead showed kindness and gratitude.

Though no Rennard has ever confirmed that they can take the form of a fox, the women of House Rennard take to courting like them. If they are interested in a match, they will go hunting with their intended in the Wolfswood for three days. Together, they shall set traps and hunt animals, showing their conflict resolution skills and their patience. If the man tries anything untoward, the Rennard woman will knock him out, take his supplies, and leave him to find his way out on his own (some have also taken to hunting said man for sport). However, if the match is successful, they will return together with pelts for their wedding bed.

Jon and Dyana as adults (image generated with Bing AI, I can’t draw and have no money, sue me)

They met as young teens. All of 12 years old and angry at the world. Jon had gotten into a fight with Robb and ran off into the Wolfswood, where he ran and ran until he stepped right into a trap.

As he hung in a rope net in their air, a girl came out from behind a bush and started berating him for messing up her trap and scaring all the game away.

And this is how the love story of Dyana Rennard and Jon Snow started.

#ch: dyana rennard #ch: jon snow #original westerosi house #got oc #fanart welcomed #winterfell #Wolfswood #jon snow x oc

[anon-argentine]

Jon Snow deserves the world and luckily for him, Dyana Rennard is willing to get it for him.

House Rennard is a Northern house right in the middle of the Wolfswood. Their sigil is a red fox in a field of light grey. They are known for producing excellent hunters, hawkers, trackers, and tanners - they are also proud of teaching both girls and boys to hunt.

According to legend, House Rennard was founded by a shapeshifter: a vixen-woman fell in love with a First Man and stalked him as he hunted through the Wolfswood. One night, she approached his camp, where she laid a dead rabbit at his feet - an offering. The First Man, even unaware that the fox was a woman, thanked the fox kindly and shared the rabbit with it - whereas a lesser man would have killed the fox, he instead showed kindness and gratitude.

Though no Rennard has ever confirmed that they can take the form of a fox, the women of House Rennard take to courting like them. If they are interested in a match, they will go hunting with their intended in the Wolfswood for three days. Together, they shall set traps and hunt animals, showing their conflict resolution skills and their patience. If the man tries anything untoward, the Rennard woman will knock him out, take his supplies, and leave him to find his way out on his own (some have also taken to hunting said man for sport). However, if the match is successful, they will return together with pelts for their wedding bed.

Jon and Dyana as adults (image generated with Bing AI, I can’t draw and have no money, sue me)

They met as young teens. All of 12 years old and angry at the world. Jon had gotten into a fight with Robb and ran off into the Wolfswood, where he ran and ran until he stepped right into a trap.

As he hung in a rope net in their air, a girl came out from behind a bush and started berating him for messing up her trap and scaring all the game away.

And this is how the love story of Dyana Rennard and Jon Snow started.

#jon snow #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #original character #the north #original Westerosi house #ch: Dyana Rennard #ch: Jon Snow #jon snow x oc #house stark

[anon-argentine]

POV: you are a Lord sauntering about your life, you went to a ball in 1840 London, got a little handsy with a maid or two, were suddenly enchanted with a beautiful foreign woman that invited you to her lodgings, and were in the middle of stripping off your clothes when you turn around and see this. What do you do?

Not included in the POV: your bones have been used as baleen for corsets and dresses, your skin is now a very nice leather satchel and apron, and your cock given to the pigs

Game by @elequinoa

Character: Maria “Mariska” Szereda, Clan Tzimisce (Vampire the Masquerade)

just me rambling about my Vampire: the Masquerade characters because I made myself sad

Your name is Lucía Szabó and you are being raised by your eccentric aunt in Buenos Aires. Your mother died shortly after giving birth to you in 1906 and it clearly still pains your aunt. You have no other family to speak of and your aunt doesn’t like to talk about them, so you brush it off. You are brought up in luxury and comfort and you attend the best private schools and clubs, mingling with the elite. One day your friend confesses that the mayor’s son assaulted her and the next day he is found brutally murdered. Your aunt doesn’t pressure you to get married, any unwanted suitors are quickly kicked out and any wanted suitors must pass her judgement. You become a teacher, meet a charming professor that you love with all your heart and create a school together. Your husband eventually tells you that right before proposing he had a nightmare about your aunt turning into a monster and threatening to kill him if he hurt you. You brush it off. You get older and suddenly realize that your aunt looks exactly the same, even as the years pass and your friends’ parents begin to grey. You brush it off, reasoning that the rare cosmetics she keeps in her vanity and forbids you from touching are the secret to keeping her young looking. You give birth to two daughters and name your aunt Godmother (unofficially, of course, since she refuses to step foot in a church). On a soft summer night, your aunt asks you if you want to live forever. You say no and she never brings it up again. Your daughters grow up and your aunt still looks the same.

Your name is Ana Zaselki, born in 1928. You are raised by your parents in a nice house and attend their school, but money is a bit tight so you are not used to luxury. Any presents and fancy things come from your great-aunt and Godmother. She is imposing and beautiful and sometimes looks younger than even your own mother. She teaches you Hungarian and makes you beautiful dresses. You fall down while playing in the garden and break your leg, that angle is way too unnatural to be a simple sprain - but your Godmother has you close your eyes and you scream as she sets the bone back in place and- it’s good as new. Like nothing had happened. After that, you want to become a doctor. Your godmother uses her power and influence to get rid of any man who tries to stop you. You contract polio while working at a hospital during an outbreak - no one is allowed to see you and they are keeping you in quarantine, but somehow your godmother sneaks in and sits at your bedside. She brushes your hair back and holds your hand with no hesitation, singing old lullabies from the old country. She asks if you want to live forever, without ever getting sick again. You refuse. Your Godmother nods and keeps singing until you close your eyes again.

Your name is Luisa Zaselki, and you’re born in 1930. You are raised by your parents in a nice house and attend their school, but money is a bit tight so you are not used to luxury. Any presents and fancy things come from your great-aunt and Godmother. She is imposing and beautiful and sometimes looks younger than even your own mother. She teaches you Hungarian and makes you beautiful dresses. You fall in love with the process of making clothes and decide you want to be a designer. You work hard and refuse any direct help - it will be your name on the brand and no one else’s. The owner of a best-selling magazine asks that you model your lingerie line yourself if you want your collection to be featured there. The next day, he is found caught up in the printing machines, blood mixing with the ink. The editor publishes an extensive praise article on your collection. Your parents grow older and weaker and your godmother stays the same. She is there for the birth of your daughter - the result of a fling, but husbands are useless anyway - and your godmother presents her with the prettiest blankets and socks.

On and on it goes. Mothers and daughters and a single Godmother that started it all.

Your name is Maria Szereda, you are the fifth child in a minor noble family in Hungary. You are awkward and quiet and prefer to spend your days at the loom and sewing table. The war kills your older siblings and mother and nearly everyone you knew. You are seventeen and unmarried, the nobility are also dwindling in numbers, and your father doesn’t know what to do with you so he sends you away to serve a countess. Maybe she’ll find you a husband. The Countess is a beautiful woman and a very vain one too. She loves the way you work with dresses, altering them to be more up to date and coming up with new ways to add details. She asks if you want to live forever. You wouldn’t have to worry about husbands or dowries, you can sew and weave to your heart’s content. You say yes. You almost faint the first time Countess Bathory shows you the blood bath she uses to remain beautiful, the now dead serving girl with her throat cut hanging upside down to add to the blood. It’s also the first time your mouth waters at the scent of fresh blood. You don’t watch the torture your mistress enjoys so much, you drink their blood because the smell permeates every inch of the castle and not drinking it feels worse, and you keep to your sewing needles and fabrics because if you do a good job then she won’t turn on you.

It’s 1605 when the church and crown come for your mistress. You escape and find yourself completely alone. You spend the next three centuries going around Europe, endearing yourself to courts and kings with your skills and beauty. A French duke tries to have his way with you and you kill him, draining him dry. You are euphoric and restless and eager for more, was this how Bathory felt when she tortured scullery maids? You catch an English lord taking advantage of a maid and kill him too. The Spanish prince and Austrian count and Swedish captain suffer similar fates.

You get bored and go to Buenos Aires in 1900. There you hire a lady’s maid named Ana Szabó, a fellow Hungarian immigrant. She is soft-spoken and sweet but has a ruthless streak and can draw blood if needed. You ask her if she wants to live forever.

She says no.

#vampire: the masquerade #clan tzimisce #elequinoa #vtm oc

[anon-argentine]

Your name is Lia Vargas, you are seventeen and live in Buenos Aires. When the 2020 pandemic breaks out, your doctor parents send you to stay with your godmother Mariska so you don’t catch it from them.

She is your great-(great?)aunt and no one in your family has the slightest idea of how old she is. She’s always been there with presents and advice and a cup of tea with honey, but everything else about her is a complete mystery. She also remains looking stubbornly 40 throughout your life.

She lives alone in an old manor house where she houses her amazing collection of historical dresses and antique books. She is a dress historian by trade, specializing in Eastern European fashions, and her collection of surviving garments has museums and universities eating out of the palm of her hand.

The house has a lot of pictures of your family: you, your mom and her sisters, your cousins, your grandmother, even your great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother. And in every single one of them is your Godmother, looking younger or older but very much still her. You first chalk it up to strong genes - but the doubt still lingers.

The shutters on the windows are usually closed during the day and your godmother doesn’t leave the house if she can help it during daytime. She is allergic to the sun, so even on the few occasions she joins you for breakfast on the veranda, she stays in the shade and fully covered. Always in elegant long-sleeved blouses and sleek tailored pants and polished shoes.

She likes listening to your online classes as she does embroidery or hand-sewing. Sometimes making off-handed comments about certain historical events or literary phenomena. She hears your history teacher talk about the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror and spits in disdain - “do you know how many wonderful dresses were burnt by those zealots?! Hours and hours making hundreds of yards of lace ruffles and they fucking burnt it like it was nothing! The dresses didn’t do anything wrong!”

You go looking for a glass of water one night and find your grandmother wide awake in her sewing room, sitting at the craft table working on something while she sips red wine from a glass. She moves the overhead light and lifts what she was working on to see it better and you stop breathing. She is holding a bone, a very human looking bone like the ones she saw on TV. It’s been bleached white and bent out of shape - your godmother places her manicured red nails on it and molds it like it’s made of clay, forming a beautiful swirl that looks like- like the decorations on the hem of your godmother’s winter coat.

You scream, and red eyes stare right back at you.

just me rambling about my Vampire: the Masquerade characters because I made myself sad

Your name is Lucía Szabó and you are being raised by your eccentric aunt in Buenos Aires. Your mother died shortly after giving birth to you in 1906 and it clearly still pains your aunt. You have no other family to speak of and your aunt doesn’t like to talk about them, so you brush it off. You are brought up in luxury and comfort and you attend the best private schools and clubs, mingling with the elite. One day your friend confesses that the mayor’s son assaulted her and the next day he is found brutally murdered. Your aunt doesn’t pressure you to get married, any unwanted suitors are quickly kicked out and any wanted suitors must pass her judgement. You become a teacher, meet a charming professor that you love with all your heart and create a school together. Your husband eventually tells you that right before proposing he had a nightmare about your aunt turning into a monster and threatening to kill him if he hurt you. You brush it off. You get older and suddenly realize that your aunt looks exactly the same, even as the years pass and your friends’ parents begin to grey. You brush it off, reasoning that the rare cosmetics she keeps in her vanity and forbids you from touching are the secret to keeping her young looking. You give birth to two daughters and name your aunt Godmother (unofficially, of course, since she refuses to step foot in a church). On a soft summer night, your aunt asks you if you want to live forever. You say no and she never brings it up again. Your daughters grow up and your aunt still looks the same.

Your name is Ana Zaselki, born in 1928. You are raised by your parents in a nice house and attend their school, but money is a bit tight so you are not used to luxury. Any presents and fancy things come from your great-aunt and Godmother. She is imposing and beautiful and sometimes looks younger than even your own mother. She teaches you Hungarian and makes you beautiful dresses. You fall down while playing in the garden and break your leg, that angle is way too unnatural to be a simple sprain - but your Godmother has you close your eyes and you scream as she sets the bone back in place and- it’s good as new. Like nothing had happened. After that, you want to become a doctor. Your godmother uses her power and influence to get rid of any man who tries to stop you. You contract polio while working at a hospital during an outbreak - no one is allowed to see you and they are keeping you in quarantine, but somehow your godmother sneaks in and sits at your bedside. She brushes your hair back and holds your hand with no hesitation, singing old lullabies from the old country. She asks if you want to live forever, without ever getting sick again. You refuse. Your Godmother nods and keeps singing until you close your eyes again.

Your name is Luisa Zaselki, and you’re born in 1930. You are raised by your parents in a nice house and attend their school, but money is a bit tight so you are not used to luxury. Any presents and fancy things come from your great-aunt and Godmother. She is imposing and beautiful and sometimes looks younger than even your own mother. She teaches you Hungarian and makes you beautiful dresses. You fall in love with the process of making clothes and decide you want to be a designer. You work hard and refuse any direct help - it will be your name on the brand and no one else’s. The owner of a best-selling magazine asks that you model your lingerie line yourself if you want your collection to be featured there. The next day, he is found caught up in the printing machines, blood mixing with the ink. The editor publishes an extensive praise article on your collection. Your parents grow older and weaker and your godmother stays the same. She is there for the birth of your daughter - the result of a fling, but husbands are useless anyway - and your godmother presents her with the prettiest blankets and socks.

On and on it goes. Mothers and daughters and a single Godmother that started it all.

Your name is Maria Szereda, you are the fifth child in a minor noble family in Hungary. You are awkward and quiet and prefer to spend your days at the loom and sewing table. The war kills your older siblings and mother and nearly everyone you knew. You are seventeen and unmarried, the nobility are also dwindling in numbers, and your father doesn’t know what to do with you so he sends you away to serve a countess. Maybe she’ll find you a husband. The Countess is a beautiful woman and a very vain one too. She loves the way you work with dresses, altering them to be more up to date and coming up with new ways to add details. She asks if you want to live forever. You wouldn’t have to worry about husbands or dowries, you can sew and weave to your heart’s content. You say yes. You almost faint the first time Countess Bathory shows you the blood bath she uses to remain beautiful, the now dead serving girl with her throat cut hanging upside down to add to the blood. It’s also the first time your mouth waters at the scent of fresh blood. You don’t watch the torture your mistress enjoys so much, you drink their blood because the smell permeates every inch of the castle and not drinking it feels worse, and you keep to your sewing needles and fabrics because if you do a good job then she won’t turn on you.

It’s 1605 when the church and crown come for your mistress. You escape and find yourself completely alone. You spend the next three centuries going around Europe, endearing yourself to courts and kings with your skills and beauty. A French duke tries to have his way with you and you kill him, draining him dry. You are euphoric and restless and eager for more, was this how Bathory felt when she tortured scullery maids? You catch an English lord taking advantage of a maid and kill him too. The Spanish prince and Austrian count and Swedish captain suffer similar fates.

You get bored and go to Buenos Aires in 1900. There you hire a lady’s maid named Ana Szabó, a fellow Hungarian immigrant. She is soft-spoken and sweet but has a ruthless streak and can draw blood if needed. You ask her if she wants to live forever.

She says no.

#clan tzimisce #vampire: the masquerade #vtm #erzsebet bathory #modern gothic #sometimes a family is a vampire Godmother and the descendants of her lady-in-waiting

[anon-argentine]

just me rambling about my Vampire: the Masquerade characters because I made myself sad

Your name is Lucía Szabó and you are being raised by your eccentric aunt in Buenos Aires. Your mother died shortly after giving birth to you in 1906 and it clearly still pains your aunt. You have no other family to speak of and your aunt doesn’t like to talk about them, so you brush it off. You are brought up in luxury and comfort and you attend the best private schools and clubs, mingling with the elite. One day your friend confesses that the mayor’s son assaulted her and the next day he is found brutally murdered. Your aunt doesn’t pressure you to get married, any unwanted suitors are quickly kicked out and any wanted suitors must pass her judgement. You become a teacher, meet a charming professor that you love with all your heart and create a school together. Your husband eventually tells you that right before proposing he had a nightmare about your aunt turning into a monster and threatening to kill him if he hurt you. You brush it off. You get older and suddenly realize that your aunt looks exactly the same, even as the years pass and your friends’ parents begin to grey. You brush it off, reasoning that the rare cosmetics she keeps in her vanity and forbids you from touching are the secret to keeping her young looking. You give birth to two daughters and name your aunt Godmother (unofficially, of course, since she refuses to step foot in a church). On a soft summer night, your aunt asks you if you want to live forever. You say no and she never brings it up again. Your daughters grow up and your aunt still looks the same.

Your name is Ana Zaselki, born in 1928. You are raised by your parents in a nice house and attend their school, but money is a bit tight so you are not used to luxury. Any presents and fancy things come from your great-aunt and Godmother. She is imposing and beautiful and sometimes looks younger than even your own mother. She teaches you Hungarian and makes you beautiful dresses. You fall down while playing in the garden and break your leg, that angle is way too unnatural to be a simple sprain - but your Godmother has you close your eyes and you scream as she sets the bone back in place and- it’s good as new. Like nothing had happened. After that, you want to become a doctor. Your godmother uses her power and influence to get rid of any man who tries to stop you. You contract polio while working at a hospital during an outbreak - no one is allowed to see you and they are keeping you in quarantine, but somehow your godmother sneaks in and sits at your bedside. She brushes your hair back and holds your hand with no hesitation, singing old lullabies from the old country. She asks if you want to live forever, without ever getting sick again. You refuse. Your Godmother nods and keeps singing until you close your eyes again.

Your name is Luisa Zaselki, and you’re born in 1930. You are raised by your parents in a nice house and attend their school, but money is a bit tight so you are not used to luxury. Any presents and fancy things come from your great-aunt and Godmother. She is imposing and beautiful and sometimes looks younger than even your own mother. She teaches you Hungarian and makes you beautiful dresses. You fall in love with the process of making clothes and decide you want to be a designer. You work hard and refuse any direct help - it will be your name on the brand and no one else’s. The owner of a best-selling magazine asks that you model your lingerie line yourself if you want your collection to be featured there. The next day, he is found caught up in the printing machines, blood mixing with the ink. The editor publishes an extensive praise article on your collection. Your parents grow older and weaker and your godmother stays the same. She is there for the birth of your daughter - the result of a fling, but husbands are useless anyway - and your godmother presents her with the prettiest blankets and socks.

On and on it goes. Mothers and daughters and a single Godmother that started it all.

Your name is Maria Szereda, you are the fifth child in a minor noble family in Hungary. You are awkward and quiet and prefer to spend your days at the loom and sewing table. The war kills your older siblings and mother and nearly everyone you knew. You are seventeen and unmarried, the nobility are also dwindling in numbers, and your father doesn’t know what to do with you so he sends you away to serve a countess. Maybe she’ll find you a husband. The Countess is a beautiful woman and a very vain one too. She loves the way you work with dresses, altering them to be more up to date and coming up with new ways to add details. She asks if you want to live forever. You wouldn’t have to worry about husbands or dowries, you can sew and weave to your heart’s content. You say yes. You almost faint the first time Countess Bathory shows you the blood bath she uses to remain beautiful, the now dead serving girl with her throat cut hanging upside down to add to the blood. It’s also the first time your mouth waters at the scent of fresh blood. You don’t watch the torture your mistress enjoys so much, you drink their blood because the smell permeates every inch of the castle and not drinking it feels worse, and you keep to your sewing needles and fabrics because if you do a good job then she won’t turn on you.

It’s 1605 when the church and crown come for your mistress. You escape and find yourself completely alone. You spend the next three centuries going around Europe, endearing yourself to courts and kings with your skills and beauty. A French duke tries to have his way with you and you kill him, draining him dry. You are euphoric and restless and eager for more, was this how Bathory felt when she tortured scullery maids? You catch an English lord taking advantage of a maid and kill him too. The Spanish prince and Austrian count and Swedish captain suffer similar fates.

You get bored and go to Buenos Aires in 1900. There you hire a lady’s maid named Ana Szabó, a fellow Hungarian immigrant. She is soft-spoken and sweet but has a ruthless streak and can draw blood if needed. You ask her if she wants to live forever.

She says no.

#vampire: the masquerade #clan tzimisce #vtm oc

[anon-argentine]

Don’t judge me, this is my first OC for Vampire: the Masquerade and I made her with limited lore knowledge

Maria “Mariska” was one of the unlucky girls from the Minor Nobility sent to study court etiquette under Erzsebet Bathory in 1609. She was 16 years old and a talented textile artist. Bathory, impressed by her skills, embraced her in hopes of having a personal seamstress for all eternity. For a while, Mariska enjoyed the life of luxury and brutality in the Castle - but it all came to an end when the investigations into the deaths of her fellow ladies ended with the trial of Bathory and her main accomplices.

Mariska managed to escape the country, where she used her skills to endear herself to different nobles and monarchies, seducing servants and lords alike to feed off. She maintained minimal contact with other vampires, even those of her clan.

She grew bored of Europe somewhere around the turn of the 20th century, so she boarded a ship to Buenos Aires and established her lair in a fancy palace.

There, Mariska employed the services of Hungarian immigrant Ana Szabó as her lady’s maid. Mariska grew attached to Ana, even allowing her to stay employed when she became pregnant from an affair with an aristocrat. However, shortly after birth of Ana’s child, the man decided to tie up loose ends before his marriage to another prominent family and killed Ana.

Enraged, Mariska killed the man and decided that she would punish those who preyed on the weak and discarded them when they were no longer of use. For Ana and for herself - because that’s exactly what Bathory did to her too, only she never got the opportunity to discard her.

Nowadays, she splits her time between curating her historical fashion collection (and sometimes lending it to museums), killing men who abuse their power and using their bones and skin to make clothing, and taking care of Ana’s descendants (who live close by and thrive under the patronage of their mysterious ‘Aunt Mari’)

Show me your Tzimisce ocs please