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#just toreador things

discodiablo · 5 months

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The sheer joy Aidan has when he gets a chance to whip out his camera. He takes every chance he can get to indulge his hobby. The Toreador compulsion interacts great with this tendency because his photo roll has pictures of things like a random fire hydrant or a mosquito that he got obsessed with for no reason, or car headlights in traffic

He takes a LOT of pictures at work. He's an artist. That's his art. This guy's darkroom is a nightmare

#just Toreador things #Aidan Evans

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robotslenderman · 1 year

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Also. Absolutely loving the contrast between Armand and Lestat and what it says about Louis and his journey from abuse victim to abuse survivor.

(Keep in mind I've only just met book!Armand, so this is based off the show and may have a lot of wrong assumptions.)

Lestat is this incredibly emotional man; Armand is very calm and stoic even when he's getting worked up.

Lestat is also flamboyant and loves his luxury and indulgences. Armand's home is the definition of boring-ass minimalism.

Lestat pretty much mocked Louis whenever he wanted to do anything but Armand seems supportive? Like he seems to be all "yes, let's bring your touchstone here so you can use him as talk therapy, I'll stay in the background for emotional support!"

I have no idea if Armand's fondness for Louis is genuine (someone mentioned a really good point in the tag that even though Louis loves books, Armand keeps them all out of reach, which is a small hint that not all is as it seems...) but ngl I ship it hard and hope it doesn't all end in tears which it probably will given that I'm currently at the part in the books where Armand is telepathically calling Claudia a little bitch who needs to DIAF uh ohhhhh wondering how the show's gonna handle THAT one and what I hear comes after

#Dusty watches #IwtV #Interview with the Vampire #pls excuse my VTM terms #I'm just pretending the entirety of IwtV is a bunch of Toreador drama #jury's still out on what clan Armand is but given the stage acting thing looks like he's another Toreador #IwtV spoilers

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porcelainseashore · 23 days

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Into the Ether (1)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, ...)

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 characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Sherry, Hunnigan, Rebecca, Baker Family, Merchant, Patrick, Luis), VtM concepts (Camarilla, Anarch, Sabbat, Second Inquisition, Toreador, Ventrue, Brujah, Gangrel, Nosferatu, Malkavian, Tremere, Ghouls).

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.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #porcelainscribbles

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svampira · 3 months

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unrelated to the ask game but. can u drop some elias imesh lore for me pleek how'd they meet how exactly do they feel about each other🥺👉👈

Heheheheh CAN I. yes. Need to figure out how to write a plot summary first though

So the hunters sent Imesh to seek Elias out shortly after his embrace both to "save" him and as a link to his sire (famous abstract artist, did a lot of sus shit that put him on their radar). Short story short they thought Elias was a thrall + didn't know his sire has been executed. They meet in a nightclub where Imesh immediately realises something is very very wrong and that Elias' memories had been fucked with, meanwhile Elias just assumes he's another guy coming onto him and starts flirting to eat as usual. Imesh goes along with it almost against himself and finds out Elias is a vampire by getting bitten in the shitty club bathrooms ^^.

Vtm is very silly so a vampire bite (especially with the specific powers Elias has) just feels like a really intense orgasm and the only reason Imesh even realises he's been bitten is that he's a hunter, and even then he doubts himself because he'd somehow never expected something like that to happen to him. Elias just leaves while Imesh is recovering and he doesnt even get to go hey man wtf :(. Another thing abt Elias is that his bite is very addictive and it makes his victims easier to manipulate, so Imesh just keeps thinking about it for days on end.

Once again going against his better judgement he tells the hunters Elias is a thrall, both because of his attraction to him/the shame that comes with it and because he genuinely feels sorry for what he can gather happened to him. He doesn't tell his mh. Very pregnant wife this either.

He basically seeks Elias out once again almost every night after this until they finally meet again a few days later, except this time the moment they're alone Imesh points a gun at him😍 Elias realises he doesn't have it in him to shoot and basically plays the part of the innocent clueless vampire which Imesh 100% falls for. That's kind of how their relationship starts off.

When it comes to how they feel about each other🤔 I would say it starts off with them completely not understanding each other and Elias being very manipulative, evolves into something much more sincere, then completely implodes (because theyre being more honest about who they are and they both really suck). Elias starts off completely enamoured with the thrill of their "illicit" relationship and caring very little about Imesh himself, to actually starting to fall in love with him. Imesh is the main person that makes him rediscover "human" things and he's the only one who treats him with any gentleness or empathy + they genuinely get along (though Elias is very extroverted he could get along with a wall. They don't have that much in common Imesh is literally 17 years older).

Imesh instead feels much more lust for him than love, he loves feeling like his saviour and his perception of him is very much skewed by the persona Elias projected on his social media when he was alive (fake wholesome to his millions of followers, evil cunt irl) + just genuinely wanting to see him as a victim and an innocent to be able to be ok with their relationship. When Elias does let slip his real personality he just assumes it's a consequence of vampirism which just makes his saviour complex worse. He is also still under the effects of Elias' bite throughout all of this, though he never realises the full extent of it.

As they start to care more about each other Elias gets more and more jealous and possessive, while Imesh starts bringing up his missing memories, his relationship with his sire and his human life more and more in an effort to "bring him back to himself" which makes Elias go completely crazy insane every time. He ends up threatening Imesh' wife and children which prompts Imesh to stake him while he's not expecting it the next time they meet (it doesnt kill them in vtm lore, just paralises). He is unable to pull through with killing him once again and lets Elias go and Elias reacts. How you can probably imagine he would react.

#you know the wife was not going to survive when i mentioned she was pregnant she is naut carrying it to term #anyways WAHHHHHH THANK YOU BLAKE🥺 id been meaning to talk about them for a long time but i didnt know how to like. make a textpost about it #/elias #/imesh #ask #other things i havent mentioned🤔 elias has cheated before (on his ex wife w his current wife) and has a 12 year old daughter from #his previous marriage who survives you know. elias. she shoots his whole shoulder off but he survives that too #elias can manipulate other people's emotions and just generally has a very attractive aura. literally thats his main vampire power #it is very op honestly real toreador girlies know what im talking about #HUGE CORRECTION. IMESH* HAS CHEATED BEFORE elias is naut married he is 2 days old (not true. like a few weeks)#oc lore #elias lore

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probablybadrpgideas · 1 year

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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!

#vampire the masquerade #Horror #setting idea #World of Darkness

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ask-kurt-wagnerandrpwithhim · 4 months

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Kiera was hard at work. Laying bricks for a new wall in her little house.

Most of her belongings were still in boxes. Only Ayesha’s toys and her coffin were out. As well as of course some food and things.

And a few vials of morphine near a pile of pillows on a thick Persian rug.

She hummed to herself the toreador song as she laid the bricks and Ayesha dozed in the rather lazy way cats tend to.

@kiera-just-kiera

A 21 year old Kurt had somehow gotten thrown back in time and the second he realized that he turned on his image inducer, found a pre programmed outfit that almost matched the fashion of the time, a few decades out of date but he couldn't tell, and started searching for some place to hide out. He finds the opera house and decides the people inside are probably too busy performing to notice him sneaking around, so he climbs in through a window and leans against what he thinks to be a solid wall, only to go right through a fake mirror into a dark corridor. He hears commotion approaching the room he just came from and panics, heading down the stairs infront of him, not even thinking about the possibility of traps when he catches his foot on a trip wire

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paarthursass · 6 months

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also "silent protagonists aren't immersive" my "immersion" in a game has been broken so much more by voiced protagonists saying The Wrong Fucking Thing than it has been by me having to use my brain to read dialogue options.

vtmb may be buggy as hell. it may have textures that load incorrectly sometimes so you've got doors that are half a stop sign. but i still get so drawn into the story that the ocean house hotel level manages to scare me every time. it's still so so tragic to watch how heather descends into her obsession with you if you make her your ghoul. it's satisfying to be able to have 5 different ways to tell lacroix to go fuck himself. and it's fascinating how, depending on which clan you pick, you have an entirely different experience - not just playstyle-wise, but interaction-wise as well! there's certain dialogue with maximillian strauss you only get if you're a tremere. your opinion of gary golden is going to change MASSIVELY depending on whether you play a nosferatu or a toreador.

voiced protagonists don't create immersion. fancy bells and whistles don't create immersion. good writing does.

#sophie.txt #vtmb #vtmb2 #vampire the masquerade bloodlines #vampire the masquerade

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kaeryncaffeine · 1 year

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VtM Clans Dating Headcanons

Because i’m full in Vampire: The Masquerade, i’m doing these headcanons based on the source book Camarilla V5, where a Toreador gives you tips on getting into romance with the stereotype of some clans. Feel free to add other headcanons or clans if you like!

*English is not my mother tongue so sorry for any mistakes or weird phrasing.

VENTRUE

Very good companions if you’re a young kindred and starting a career in the Camarilla.

They’re powerful, reliable and rich, expect a lot of gifts.

You can’t be boring if you want to get a Ventrue, be flightly, passionate, temperamental, make them feel anything to keep them interested.

Most likely to use you as a trophy or showcase partner tho.

If they get bore, you’ll just be another of their servants.

TOREADOR

Most likely to be your sire, embraced you out of a infatuation.

And... most likely to get bore of you in the end if you dont keep up.

Surely they’ll be beautiful and charismatic.

You’ll be their muse

Expect art dates and getting a good amount of juicy info about othe kindred.

Will ask for attention in subtly ways.

TREMERE

Boring at first glance, will act as if they dont care and then will surprise you with particular moments of attention.

Gets freaky in bed, experiments a lot on that field.

Remembers everything about you.

Worth the romance to get a glance at their libraries of vitae.

MALKAVIAN

Most likely to break your heart.

Easy to manipulate if you know their weakness.

They say you loose your mind if you drink their vitae, is it true? no matter it’s kinda exciting anyway.

Will be more open to experimentation in bed too.

Unpredictible, will say or do some crazy shit if you put them under pressure.

Expect some profecies out of the blue.

NOSFERATU

Honest and grateful for your love and attention.

Looks at you in awe.

Insecure and most likely to be jealous.

You’ll get your hands on some juicy information.

The most romantic clan second to Toreador.

Easy to manipulate if you've got a pretty face or you’re a good actor.

GANGREL

Cold at first but if you get to their hearts, they’ll cherish you a lot.

Jealous and possesive, will fight anyone that disrespects you.

Dates on tiny cabins in the woods, maybe naughty activities in the wild.

BRUJAH

They like to be direct and honest, they’ll confess to you and wont beat around the bush.

Most likely to talk your ear off.

Passionate and emotional, will be the most human like relationship out of the other clans.

BANU HAQIM

Passionate and obssesive, they will try to court you desperatly so you should act hard to get for fun.

Very serious about your relationship, commitment is very important to them.

Will kill for you, mostly out of jelousy.

Makes you feel desired, wanted. You’re always present in their mind.

TZIMICE

You’re in for some serious crazy shit

Most likely to resculpt you and make you some dragonborn appearance kinda shit.

Expect some weird things behind those pants too.

Top energy

They have a strange personality, very attention seeker but will cherish you regardless.

If you behave, maybe they’ll teach you vicissitude so you can scuplt some vessels together.

#VTM #Vampire The Masquerade #white wolf #world of darkness #vampires #Toreador #Ventrue #Gangrel #Nosferatu #Malkavian #Tremere #Banu Haqim #Tzimice #Headcanons #Camarilla

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