#tremere pc

[grob-trava]

in my tremere era rn

[sisigull]

Oh how I dream to be you, Tremere PC from the cult classic game Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines

[viiihouse]

Day 5: Show Me Your Fangs

*I am participating with my Bloodlines player character, for context. Yes, I still intend to finish it even though the month for it has long since passed.*

When Heather woke up, the bathroom door across from where she lay on the four-poster bed was slightly ajar.

‘Oh, I must have nodded out…’ she realized upon sitting up to find the fashion magazine she had been flipping through while she waited for her domitor in her lap with her glasses lying across it. Guilt washed over her immediately.

‘What if they needed me while I was asleep? What if they needed me and I was unavailable after I’d told them I’d be useful to them and do anything for them? And to find me asleep on their bed like this too, I must’ve looked so lazy and useless…!’ her mind succumbed to a relentless onslaught of anxious thoughts.

She quickly rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and slid her black frames back onto her face before approaching the bathroom door to place her eye to its crevice.

Inside, she found them standing in front of the mirror, clad in their usual black pantsuit, carefully and precisely applying their eye makeup. Despite being as quiet and discreet as she could be, their cloudy eyes almost instantly found her chartreuse ones in the reflection of the mirror.

“Heather?” they acknowledge.

She gently pushes the door open to reveal herself. “Y-Yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak. I just wasn’t sure if you were back from your study...”

“I am, but not for long unfortunately. I was summoned for a mission,” they say with an exasperated sigh, “so I’m preparing to go take care of that.”

“O-Oh…” her voice projects more disappointment than she intended.

It was only some hours ago that the redhead was looking across at them from where she had laid on the bed with her magazine. They sat at their desk, legs crossed with their gaze deeply trained on the thick, leatherbound book in their lap. A black band hoodie that was a size bigger than their slender frame hung over their shoulders with matching wide leg sweatpants that were patterned with a trail of crimson kisses along their side seam. A rare sight, their face was bare and not hidden behind the wide brim of a hat or the shades of sunglasses. It was uncannily pale, with the only color in their features not their trademark black makeup, but lividity dusting their eyes and staining their lips.

‘Tonight was the first time I had even seen them dressed casual—let alone in anything outside of their usual attire—and even though they were busy, it was nice to be under the same roof for more than just a few minutes for once. I just wanted them to come back to me so I could see them again. I hated having to be away from them all the time.’ Heather brooded.

They pop the cap off their lipstick tube. “I’ll be back shortly,” they reassure, obviously discerning her disappointed tone.

As she watched them color their lips in with the black bullet, she couldn’t help but notice how their pure white fangs stood out beneath the onyx matte.

They were no bigger than the rest of their teeth apart from their length. They were thick and wide at the top and curved as they extended down into their sharp points where they ended. Their points were just as sharp as the sewing needles she used in her fashion projects back at home, where even the smallest brush along their tips could snag her skin and draw blood.

Their voice tears her out of her trance, “Heather, could you bring me a blood pack?”

“…Why not just bite me?”

“Because I have plenty of blood packs to spare.”

“But you need those for your missions, don’t you? I mean, I’m still new to all this vampire stuff, but I can’t imagine those are easy to get your hands on,” she reasoned. “I told you I’d do anything, remember? Just ask me!”

“…Heather, you know you don’t have to be ‘useful’ to stay with me, right?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You always talk as though you have to prove your worth to me, but you don’t have to do that. I’m happy to let you stay with me as you are.”

“But I do! You saved my life!”

“Because I wanted you to live, not because I wanted anything from you.”

“But I want to repay you! I want to help you! I…I love you!”

They meet her infatuated gaze with an expression that is something of a mix of concern and pity.

The night Heather met them outside Venture Tower, they tried to turn her away. Not because they didn’t want to take her in, but because they didn’t want to put her in any more danger than she had just narrowly escaped in that hospital room. However, the more she pleaded, the more they perceived her to be lost and lonely, and later, they would learn that those perceptions were not completely unfounded.

‘I’ll only let her stay long enough to help her understand her situation as a ghoul now and get back on her feet,’ they told themselves, ‘then I’ll tell her to leave and forget about me.’

Their mental cut-off point had long since passed. Tonight, they stand before her with those very words trapped in their throat yet again.

They knew her confession of love was influenced by their blood bond and was, more or less, empty, but they also knew that beyond the blood bond, there was a part of her that had been yearning for what was torn from her in her loss—a feeling that resonated with them.

Slowly, they approach her and settle one hand upon her shoulder with the other cradling her head. Heather instinctively lolls her head to the side for them, and they lean into her willing neck, drawing a swoon from her as their fangs pierce her delicate skin. She succumbs to the euphoria of the kiss, and they envelop her wilted form in a firm embrace while they suck the thick, rich vitae from her veins in full, ardent gulps.

When their thirst is slaked, they ease their bloodstained fangs from her neck, leaving the swollen, charcoal impression of their kiss behind. Her head languidly dips into their chest, their arms never unraveling from her waist.

‘I have to let her go,’ they delude themselves once more, ‘I can’t let this go on any longer…’

[1baroness3]

my pronouns are she... because I'll never be her 😔

[medeaft]

Oath of allegiance of the pawn (originally: A gyalog hűségesküje) 2023 Acrylic on paper

This is a very self-indulgent picture of my Bloodlines self-insert PC handing a chess pawn to Strauss; it represents the final choice in the game, but it is a choice that had been made long ago in my heart.

When earlier I told @master-of-shenanigans what I was working on, they described my thought like this: "I didn't want to be a pawn and you didn't want to play this game either, but here we are with no other choices. Let's stick together. Let me be your pawn, if a pawn I must be."

Aside from the fire, I gave us a little bit of moonlight through the windows, because it seemed fitting.

I made a minor mistake. I tried to paint a picture that was as big as can possibly fit into the new scanner. It didn't quite fit. This is why I have the white borders cropped off this time; not because it didn't have them, but because that was what I could sacrifice the most. The other mistake I made was framing the picture such that the nice carvings on the fireplace were out of frame. It's a pity for that. But then how big would it have been, and how much less would it have fit into the scanner! Altogether, I don't mind.

[bloodshotgun]

some vtm sketches feat. Beckett and 2 of my Tremere ocs: Alex (the Bloodlines fledgling) and Eden

[vtmb-imagines]

f!tremere with trust issues trying to confess her feelings (romantic or platonic) to Beckett? Maybe it can take place a couple years after the ending of vtmb. Please <3 and i'm sorry for my poor english :(

i’m drawn to beckett and i’m all you’ve got right now so i’m gonna put my grubby little hands all over this prompt. ~ mod malkavian

Gehenna, that terror of the mind, the horror not to be spoken of aloud, the misericordiae of providence all that keeps it at bay…

Well, it doesn’t look a thing like the signs predicted.

No lakes of fire, no antediluvians rising to consume their childer, no earthquakes and world-shattering calamities thrusting kine and kindred alike into a pit of despair.

She remembers a movie, some 20 years old now, which featured a pit more desperate, in fact. A fairy tale. Nothing at all like the dark nights in which she now walks.

But the point remains: if this is Gehenna, it’s a poor one.

“I don’t mean to say I told you so-”

“Don’t-”

“-but I told you so.”

She rolls her eyes, an expression so seamless she seems born to it, and one so frequent as to be utterly impotent to him by now. In fact, he seems amused, which is one of his most frequent, and thus most annoying, expressions.

“You don’t have to be so smug about it.”

“Of course I do. Don’t they teach you anything in those chantries anymore? The older you are, the smugger you have to become.” He chuckles, a short, quiet sound.

“You’re an asshole,” she mutters.

“Indeed.”

He adjusts the collar of his coat, looks over the edge of the cliff. Mount Lee is as kitschy as ever, but the cliche seems to suit them both. Clinging to old glamour, ignoring the mud-filled slushie cups and used condoms that litter the grass. The glowing letters blaze down on the city, the two of them hidden behind its light.

She crosses her arms, taps her fingers on her elbow, worries the loose thread at the seam. It needs attention.

“I must admit, I didn’t think I would see you out of those walls anytime soon. Did Strauss let you out on a night pass?”

She can feel his amused smirk on the side of her face. A muscle in her cheek twitches.

“No…” he answers for her, moving to stand beside her in the dry, flattened grass, his hands in his coat pockets. “A solo venture, then.” He pauses. “What would your master say if he knew you were associating with doggerel kindred like me?”

“He’s not my master,” she barks.

Silence passes between them.

“There was something I wanted to say,” she finally admits.

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise, just slightly, his eyes cutting sideways toward her from behind his sunglasses. “What was it?”

She returns the glance, then looks back out over the busy, glittering halo of Los Angeles nightlife. Self-assured, intelligent, free of outside demands and obligations. If she lives long enough, she might claim the same, one of these nights. Might even feel safe enough to give voice to the feeling she doesn’t quite trust inside herself yet.

“Never mind,” she says, content enough to stand at his side. “I forget.”

[grob-trava]

catch this air kiss, Andrei!! 💋

what I've achieved this year: 1) redrawing old art, 2) alcoholism lmao