beach episode by night is a (hopefully) yearly january creative event in which vampire: the masquerade OCs and canon characters (and potentially other wod splat and vtr characters, if people are interested) have creative works made in which they are having a "beach episode." these creations are then reblogged to (or submitted to) this blog.
guidelines:
for our purposes, "beach episode" can also cover pools, lakes, billabongs, whatever. as long as they're in or near a swimmable body of water, it counts. and yes, merfolk AUs can count.
you can draw, write, cosplay, craft, whatever you want! if you're using OCs that are not your own, make sure you have permission from their owners.
bloody and gory creative works are permitted, and will be tagged appropriately.
suggestive creative works are permitted, and will be tagged appropriately.
how to participate:
make something that fits the "beach episode" theme with vtm/wod/vtr ocs or canon characters, then either post it yourself and tag this blog or use the submissions box to submit directly to it! the event runs for the entire month of january, and there's no specific required prompt list, so go wild. and yes, you can tag this blog on old beach episode art, it will be reblogged.
important reiterated note:
mod is aussie, so this event is held across january! you can tag this blog and submit in the off-season, it will be dutifully queued for the next january. welcome to my world :D
It's the night of the season where all the monsters and creatures of the World of Darkness come out to enjoy some time at the beach!
Introducing the first ever Beach by Night collage event, inspired by @zinziinziiin's OC beach event from previous years and @crownedinmarigolds's collage events. Draw your OC in beach attire to add onto a beach landscape in any section you choose!
Here's how to participate:
- Download a copy of the background image below to use for scale. Credit to @underpaid-paragon for the design!
- Draw your character in SFW beach attire only! Some blood and light body horror is okay. This is a 13+ event.
- Submit your post of your character with a transparent background.
- OPTIONAL: Place your own character within the scene with the desired location for placement.
- Make sure to @ me and/or use #beachbynightcollage when posting so I can see it.
- The event will run from August 4 to September 4 where the final collage with everyone's characters will be posted!
Also totally optional. If you're looking for art folks to hang out with, the event will also be hosted in the Gallery Noir discord server: link here
This is a low stakes event, so make sure to take it easy and remember to have fun. I can't wait to see what you guys bring!
In honor of the upcoming fashion week, I will be releasing Vitae (magazine covers with my PCs) leading up to it!
Today’s model is Lattie Ditzler! Thought my lovely Nos needed a trip to the beach since she has never left Columbus. I decided to do this cover completely in grayscale since Lattie is a huge fan of black and white films. To be honest, this has been my favorite piece to come out of the series.
@beach-episode-by-night here’s a piece for next year
beach episode by night is a (hopefully) yearly january creative event in which vampire: the masquerade OCs and canon characters (and potentially other wod splat and vtr characters, if people are interested) have creative works made in which they are having a "beach episode." these creations are then reblogged to (or submitted to) this blog.
guidelines:
for our purposes, "beach episode" can also cover pools, lakes, billabongs, whatever. as long as they're in or near a swimmable body of water, it counts. and yes, merfolk AUs can count.
you can draw, write, cosplay, craft, whatever you want! if you're using OCs that are not your own, make sure you have permission from their owners.
bloody and gory creative works are permitted, and will be tagged appropriately.
suggestive creative works are permitted, and will be tagged appropriately.
how to participate:
make something that fits the "beach episode" theme with vtm/wod/vtr ocs or canon characters, then either post it yourself and tag this blog or use the submissions box to submit directly to it! the event runs for the entire month of january, and there's no specific required prompt list, so go wild. and yes, you can tag this blog on old beach episode art, it will be reblogged.
important reiterated note:
mod is aussie, so this event is held across january! you can tag this blog and submit in the off-season, it will be dutifully queued for the next january. welcome to my world :D
slightly late (irl issues), but thank you to everyone who participated this year! it was really lovely to see so many people wanting to create scenes of their vamps at the beach.
im not much of an artist these days, ive been artblocked hard all month trying to figure out what to draw. this is all i could muster, so here’s lilac and static at the beach for @beach-episode-by-night
@bloodgurlz for more of these losers plus more of their vampire buddies
Author's Note: My “drabble” (inspired by a music ask) for the lovely @beach-episode-by-night event. A heartfelt thank you to @mortifying-macaroni and @alibellerosetta whom I dedicate this piece to. Your encouragement made it possible.
Along the I-10 highway to Tucson, Wynter takes a detour toward the coastline on impulse, chasing the memory of a bygone summer’s day.
Content Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, references to murder, wraith, pre-canon, weird uncle/niece relationship, blame it on the Giovanni.
How long has it been?
The chime sounded as she left the car door open with her keys in the ignition, monotonous, comforting yet cajoling her to do something about it. It didn’t matter; hers was the lone automobile on the desolate street. If someone wanted this piece of junk, they’d earn the right by swiping it off her hands behind her back.
In the tepid late October air, Wynter had taken a detour off the I-10 toward the Gulf Coast on a whim, with the windows rolled down because the air conditioner wasn’t working—it never did. Closer to the basin, the smell of brine from the Atlantic hit her tenfold. She had been swimming in her thoughts, her reflexes on autopilot, as if she remembered the route by heart. That was the question, what did she remember? Why had she come here, when she had spent the last two decades running off and reinventing herself, just like her estranged sire, Violetta, taught her to?
Instead of answering, she faced away from the wind, lashes downturned and fluttering, as she cupped her hand over her mouth, lighting up a cigarette and ignoring the faint protests of her Beast. The wind was still as violent as she’d left it. Heeled boots crunched into gravel, which finally opened out to soft mounds of sand. She wasn’t in a hurry; she had time to kill, even with her battered, old Honda that was on its last legs.
The Prince could wait.
What was a couple of USB sticks that he desired good for? They lay stuffed and suffocated in her worn-down satchel—one she’d found while rummaging through the trash—with its straps chewed and frayed at the ends. Maybe just enough for emergency repairs and a meal or two, if she was lucky.
From afar, she could make out the salt-stripped cafes, gaudy tiki bars with their balding straw roofs, and a row of little wooden clapboard houses, paint-chipped and peeling, along the boardwalk. Weather-beaten “For sale” and “We’re closed!” signs hung awkwardly from the establishments, some on their last nail, swaying to and fro, creaking in the breeze. Her gaze trailed over the tired beach chairs, deflated pool toys, and broken surfboards. A smattering of them had found their way across the divide, acting like driftwood in the sea.
The sound of children’s giggles and bare feet pattering on the floorboards echoed in the distance. She gripped her bag tight, but did not look back. Her shoes were sinking into the wet sand now, and the air carried warm moisture which settled beneath the layer of clothes onto her skin. Her very own form of sweat.
The moon illuminated her path, but at the edge of the ocean, she was at a loss for what to do. Why was she here? What had called her? How—
“Wynter,” it whispered, balmy in the zephyr. “Why don’t you come out to play?”
She shielded her eyes, as though blinded by the brilliant sun, peering out into the vast space before her. And there he was, clear as day, in his light blue shorts and a roseate burn creeping through his tanned back, wading toward her in the water. Earlier, she had been sulking under the beach umbrella while her mother flipped through a magazine and her father chatted jovially with other men over rounds of drinks at the bar.
The wind was howling. Fine, white sand swirled in the current. She didn’t like how hot it got under her feet. Everything hurt. But for Lucien, she would bear through it all. His smile ached as she splashed into the water, salt clinging to her lips and foam gathering in the tendrils of her hair. She took a deep breath and dived, dipping under the waves of the high tide. A strong pair of arms entangled around her waist as she was drawn out of the sea, and she wriggled to break free of their grasp while her uncle chuckled. And soon, she was laughing too.
“My very own mermaid,” he murmured.
Wynter bared her teeth and hissed, “But I will drown you and taste your flesh.”
He touched her chin, smiling sadly. “Well, it would be worth it, to me.”
She didn’t think anything of it then, bounding out of Lucien’s embrace and paddling through the waters. That day, under the cloudless sky and the sun’s rays glittering beyond the horizon, she felt how magnificent it was to be alive. Glancing over at Lucien, she paused, meeting his eyes, shifting azure blue, watching the droplets trickle down his brow. The waves crashed on shore. Seagulls crooned overhead. Time whiled away in silence. Their eyes searching for a morsel they could hold on to. Years of an unspoken bond buried in a look. He believed in it then, how pure and indescribable it was. And the curve of his mouth reflected hers.
For all the trials he would be put through, he’d gladly suffer, even if there was no end in sight. She waded closer to him, the water now reaching waist-high. But it was murky. Her cigarette butt had gone out, leaving traces of the woody scent of dark tobacco in the air, but even that too was fading. Instead of the heat of the sun beating down her back, she encountered the cool, umbral glow of the moon, iridescent on her bloodless skin. She wanted it to burn her alive.
Her Beast recoiled at the mere thought of seeing the light of day, but Wynter entertained it for a moment longer, savoring the fear, the way the light extinguished in someone’s eyes before they expired.
“Let me drown with you,” she prayed, the flicker of an unearthly sheen present in her eyes.
In her peripheral vision, a shadow flitted between the steel scaffolding of the once-grandiose pier, now in a state of irreversible decay, rusting to the elements. She remembered standing there as a child, sick from cotton candy, and the noise of the fairground rides flooding her ears. A postcard marred with heavy creases—one of the many within the bundle she had stashed in her glove compartment. She held it out in front of the pier, shutting one eye and squinting, then doing the same with the other.
Every year, she received a blank card, the address scribbled in handwriting she didn’t recognize. Regardless of whether she stayed at a temporary residence or relied on throwaway collection points dotted across the country, they arrived without fail. “Wish you were here’s” by the ghost of a loved one on perpetual vacation. Places she had been to. Places she had dreamed of. This time, a picturesque painting of the old pier at dawn.
It could have been a trap, but she found it strangely comforting, knowing she had a place to come back to, observing the swell and receding waves until she would be nothing more than ashes floating on the surface at the break of day. Kindred talked about death as if it were so final, but to her, death was only the beginning. A concrete structure on the pier groaned, loosening from its bolt before collapsing into the sea. The sound and vibrations were tremendous, but Wynter didn’t flinch.
How long could she drag this out? How much more could she keep on going?
For a while, she had been aware of a presence watching her, but made no sign to acknowledge its existence. It was tempting to seek it out, as was the habit of being a hunter, but she decided otherwise. The Shroud was thin here. Mortals had long since abandoned this place. Yet some remained.
There was a deep rooted tingle in her spine. She had overstayed her welcome; she should leave, but not before—
The postcard slipped from her fingers, drifting in the stream until she lost sight of it. A featherlight kiss on the nape of her neck. She shuddered again and closed her eyes. When they opened, she checked the time on her cracked iPhone screen.
Without a word, she followed her tracks back to her awaiting car, the chime still ringing incessantly. She hopped in and drove off, leaving whatever had happened that day behind.
