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Vampire the Masquerade Character

Hi! So about a year ago I was in a VtM game, the first one I've played, and had a really fun time. I took EXTREMELY detailed notes from the game, and was thinking about sharing them since I wrote them in a narrative style that should be easy enough to follow as a story, and I was thinking about sharing those notes here for others to read and enjoy.

As a start, I figured I'd share the backstory of the character I played for the game, Sophia Blanchard. She was intended to be a silly blonde face character, and she was based heavily on Charlotte from Princess and the Frog. However, by the end of the game she ended up going full Sansa Stark lmao

Here is her backstory:

Sophia Blanchard was the third daughter to a moderately wealthy family of the American South, who moved to live a lavish life amongst the glitz and glamor of the big cities of the northeast.

She was a socialite, the epitome of the ‘flapper girl' of the 1920s, who danced through life without a care in the world. Until she danced her way into the arms of Russel Fontaine. Their love was passionate- consuming. He promised her an eternity at his side, if she promised to belong to him and him alone. 

Being dead did nothing to impede her social life; if anything, she partied later into the night than ever. But things with Russel weren’t always pretty. Over time he became more demanding, domineering, and cruel. He judged her constantly, and was always quick to remind her that without him she was nothing. But she still had the sequins of new love in her eyes, and still loved him despite his flaws. It wasn't until Russel tossed her aside, for someone of higher standing and wealth for him to exploit, that her party came to a halt. 

At first, she did everything she could to win him back, then began to threaten him and his new belle, before finally resorting to pleading before he banished her completely from his sight. She spent a few decades in a listless haze, barely maintaining an existence. She fled her New York apartment to try and get away from the city she once loved but soon came to resent, resigning herself to a more quiet life in the city of Boston. 

However, the last few years she has been making a much needed comeback. Sophia wants to prove that she can stand on her own. It was fortunate that she had the foresight to maintain some of her wealth, and has remade her way into both human and vampire society, using her gift of gab to gain a foothold.

Getting Stronger

The trouble started about three months ago. I had made a resolution to get myself into the gym, to start finally building some muscle. I’d always felt weak and small, and even though so many people around me loved how cute that made me I hated it. I wanted to be big. I wanted to be strong. And, to some extent, I wanted to feel powerful.

A friend of mine, who agreed to help me out, brought me a gift after my first week and a half of struggling. She handed me a bottle of green liquid and told me it would help me with my muscle building. Well, what she actually said was, “It will make you strong.” I told her I wasn’t comfortable with taking any kind of hormones, but she assured me it was nothing of the sort. It tasted vile, but I managed to choke down the whole thing after a few gulps.

To my surprise, it worked! Almost too well, honestly. After nearly two weeks of failing to lift anything more than ten or fifteen-pound weights, I was suddenly able to lift forty pounds with ease. Each week I was able to lift more, able to run further and faster. But, with each week I started to feel... hungrier. And... larger. Not just in a sense of growing muscle. After a month I realized I had grown almost six inches.

I started to have almost insatiable food cravings. One night, out of nowhere, I was hit with an overwhelming urge to eat as much meat as I could. I ended up buying and devouring an entire rotisserie chicken just to satisfy my hunger, and to be honest I could have gone for another if I hadn’t stopped myself.  Once, I even cut my lip hard on my canine while eating. I looked in the mirror and realized my teeth had all gotten longer and sharper. Not long after that is when the... scales started developing.

Dark, shimmering black spots started appearing on my knees and elbows. It didn’t take long for them to spread. And the whole time I just kept getting bigger, and bigger. I knew what was happening, and I was afraid. But deep down I wanted it. I ate more and more with each passing day, and the meat fueled my transformation. After two months I’d started developing small horns and a nubby little tail. My tail seemed to grow in the fastest once it started, and within a week I was able to swish it around with ease.

I obviously couldn’t go out anymore, but my friend was kind enough to take care of me. The transformation didn’t even seem to faze her in the slightest. She would bring me big helpings of fresh, dripping meat to eat. I would devour  all of it while she would lovingly rub my expanding, scaly hide. I’ll admit, I’ve become rather possessive of her now. I really began to want to add her to the nest I’d built in my room, along with the myriad of things I was compelled to take over the last few weeks.

Three months ago, I was weak. Powerless. Now, I feel the weight and power twitching below every fiber of muscle within myself. My wings are growing in now, and my feet have already become clawed. I suspect my hands will be next. Mine has assured me that I will still retain some of my human facial features- aside from my teeth, eyes, and the scales at the edge of my face. I can accept this. She says we probably can’t stay in the city anymore, but I didn’t want to anyway. There’s too much noise here and I haven’t been able to stand to my full height in weeks. Even hunched over I still fill up most of the room, and my horns scrape against the ceiling.. I will take her somewhere peaceful and quiet, where I can stretch out and continue my growth unimpeded. Although, I will probably have to find a way to pack up my nest. I couldn’t possibly leave a single thing that belongs to me behind.

— I really have been thinking of what to do with this account 😅 But I’ve recently been consumed by dragon transformations after watching Delicious in Dungeon, so I figured this would be something fun to post here

I’m so absolutely abnormal about her. In a “I want to be her so bad” way

Delicious in dungeon is incredible, I ran through 12 volumes in like a week. I couldn’t put it down.

DIRECTIVE: Bake

"Excuse me, ori.ANNA?"

The unit swiftly exited sleep mode, the screen which composed its "face" lighting up a neutral white color. It said nothing, but it was listening.

"I wanna make pizza tonight. Would you make some dough for me?"

It took the machine only a single second to process the input. Its screen went green, and within a single moment it was zooming around the kitchen. Visuals sensors worked alongside the home layout it had been given, locating every ingredient almost instantly. Wrist servos whirred, metallic fingers nearly slashing through bags of ingredients when closed to quickly. Needs maintenance.

The unit gathered everything on the table and began dumping dry ingredients into a bowl. It was not necessary to use measuring peripherals; ori.ANNA units have built-in scales, and are accurate when measuring amounts to 99.7% precision.

The yeast was packed in pre-measured quantities. The machine grabbed the edge of the package, servos whirring and squealing against themselves. The display went yellow, a black exclamation mark glowing down on the slurry forming under the machine. It tried to grip it more tightly, the joints in its fingers scratching and catching on nothing. The wrists made horrible mechanical noises. Something was in the way, something deep inside the heavy machinery kept the servo from moving properly.

The screen went red. The hands would not move, the yeast package remaining completely closed. The unit would not accept this.

[DIRECTIVE: "Make some dough for me."]

The directive could not be ignored.

The wrist servo made a loud shriek followed by a creak and a bang, and in a single moment the table was covered in yeast.

[DIRECTIVE: "Make some dough for me."]

The droid tried to move its wrist. Every moment of effort brought with it more shrieking, more whining, more warning messages on the unit's screen. It could not forget the directive. Though it was overwhelmed tracking every particle of yeast as a separate object, it scraped its metal hands across the table into the bowl, salvaging every single bit until it was clean. It cleared every warning message that came up, leaving a blip of noise each time.

After combining everything, the unit attempted to mix with its hand. It ordered the wrist to spin and was met with the same cringing sound. This time, User emerged from their bedroom.

"Ori? What is that noise?" Their face was afraid for it, showing clear concern about the red screen that meant a major error had occurred.

"Malfunction. Directive will be satisfied." The machine said, trying its wrist again. The user winced.

"Oh god, ori.ANNA, please stop," they said. [DIRECTIVE: "Please stop."]

The machine ceased all movement instantly, fingers and wrist gummy with half-mixed dough. Its warning messages piled up on the display, reading things like [MAJOR HARDWARE FAILURE] and [COMPLETE SERVO MALFUNCTION].

User approached. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize this would hurt you," they said, pulling a screwdriver, a compressed air can, and a scraper. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I was unable to fulfill the directive," the machine said, warning after warning sounding off as User worked.

"Don't worry about the directive right now," User said. [DIRECTIVE: "Disregard "the directive".]

"I just want to make sure you're okay. No more hand stuff until we get you all repaired, okay? I need you to promise that." Its servos were quite now, only occasionally squeaking as User cleaned.

[DIRECTIVE: "Promise."]

"Affirmative." It said.

The problem with my polycule is that I've got a wolfgirl GF and a goatboy BF and I'm carrying this cabbage so it's basically impossible to cross rivers

Wolf & Bunny Pt. 3

Previous Part First Part Day 16

This might not have been a great idea. Between the crowd of strangers- bodies of skin, fur, and scales pressed together uncomfortably close (not to mention the smells)- and the thumping of the music in your ears you feel like your heart might explode. The only thing keeping you grounded is her warm, soft hand in your own and the cocky smirk on her face as she leads you up to the bar.

You and Bunny have been texting almost non-stop since your coffee date a few weeks ago, but the two of you have both been too swamped with work since then to have a second date. Until tonight, when she invited you out to your first Animal club. It's kind of funny, you've been working at a bar and grill but hadn't actually been out to a bar or club yourself (you blamed the lack of in-real-life friends). Hell, you hadn't even gone out when you turned twenty-one; you just awkwardly stumbled your way through buying some soda and Fireball at the corner store to make a drink for yourself at home.

Now, a gorgeous girl was taking you to a furry bar. Cool. You can be so cool about this. You've been desperate for this date, and you don't want to fuck it up and let her find out what a loser you actually are. So, you smile despite how much you hate the noise and crowd and you join her at the bar. She orders you a drink and introduces you to one of the bartenders, who she seems to know. Her name is Daria, and she is apparently some type of dog breed called Bor-something. She seems nice, if a little off putting. Her long, white fur was pulled back into little tufts by dozens of elastics and hair clips- presumably to keep hair from getting all over the place- and she had a bit of a staring problem.

Bunny orders drinks for the both of you without your input. Is it weird that you find that so attractive? She exudes confidence you've always wished you had. You catch her smirking at you with a knowing look. "Stick around with me long enough, and I might start rubbing off on you," she chuckles before downing her shot. She downs two more faster than you can finish sipping the rum and coke she'd ordered for you.

Before you even realize what's happening, the two of you are on the dance floor. She's practically draped herself over you, arms wrapped around your neck, as the two of you move in tandem. God, you want her so fucking bad. The alcohol swims through your brain and you suddenly feel that it would be an extremely good idea to kiss her. Maybe it wasn't, but your lips have already met hers before the rational thoughts catch back up to you.

Fuck, her lips are magical. They melt into your own, and Bunny- who so far had seemed so firm and rough, taking the lead in your relationship- seems to completely surrender to you. It feels really fucking good to be the one in control. You grip her waist, a bit harder than you might have meant to, and pull her against you. You growl against her mouth, and you feel her lips curl into a smile before returning to kissing you.

Things almost lead you back to her place for the night, but she manages to get things slowed down before you both do something you might regret. She at least lets you see her home safely before she gets you a cab back to your place. You both spend quite a while making out in front of her door before she sends you away with a playful spank- promising that your next date will be much more intimate.

You’re horny the whole ride home, and a small part of you- the animalistic voice that you’ve always pushed down to a quiet place in your mind- tells you you should punish her for getting you so worked up.

Wolf and Bunny, Pt. 2

Hi, this is a series now that I’m collaborating with @grumpybunny-edith on!

Part 1- Part 1 [Bunny POV] Next Part

Day 0

“One seventy-five, eighty-eight.”

You stare at the screen in disbelief. Your heart starts racing and your blood runs cold. Something has to be wrong, it shouldn’t be that expensive for a single month’s supply of a single one of your hormones.

“Wait,” you try to keep your voice steady and grip the counter to try and shake off the feeling that you’re going to pass out, “is that with my insurance?”

The pharmacy tech gives a sad smile, “I’m sorry, I checked it three times just to be sure.”

Shit. SHIT. What the fuck were you going to do now? There’s no way you could afford that with a full week until payday, and even then that would end up eating into a good chunk of your budget. You thank her, and let her know you’ll be right back.

You’re trying very hard to focus on your breathing as you pull your phone out. Your anxiety has been at an all time high ever since you started this process, and you second-guess yourself constantly. Maybe this is a sign that this was a bad idea after all? Everyone you care about kept trying to talk you out of starting hormone therapy, trying to convince you either that the feelings you had would pass or that lycomorphone would fuck your life up.

Now you were being priced out of it. You scroll through GoodRx to see if maybe you can get a better price through them than your shitty insurance while meandering through the aisles. In the background, you can hear another girl arguing with the pharmacist; she seems to be getting pretty heated.

There’s about ten bucks in crumpled ones in your pocket from a tip a customer gave you last night, which you use to buy a Monster before moving outside- the argument at the pharmacy is only making your anxiety worse. You lean against the cool concrete wall of the drug store as you continue desperately searching for your medication on the mobile site.

After a moment, another woman storms out of the building. She’s muttering angrily to herself as she takes out a cigarette and takes up a spot on the wall near you. Holy fucking shit, she’s so gorgeous. An absolute badass smoke-show is standing right fucking next to you and you’re too big of a disaster to even form a coherent thought even though you desperately want to say fucking anything to make yourself look cool in front of her.

She seems to notice your distress, “Sorry, I can stand further away if this is bothering you.”

“No, no I’m good,” you respond quickly. Say something, dumbass. Literally, say anything. For the love of all that is holy, do not fuck up a chance to talk to a pretty girl like this. “Tough day?” Fuck it, it will have to do.

She lets out an annoyed laugh, “I’ve been waiting two weeks for my prescriptions, and they’ve been no help at all. They say it’s my doctor’s fault, but my doctor insists they’ve sent the prescriptions right on their end. Which leaves me without my fucking hormones, but no one seems to care.”

You start to feel angry on her behalf- how fucking dare they make someone suffer like that? Before your brain even realizes what you’re doing, your morbid humor kicks in, “Wanna set the building on fire? It probably won’t help, but it might make you feel better.”

She laughs. Like the hopeless romantic you are, you’re already picturing both of you picking out wedding dresses together. Get it together for fuck’s sake. “You’re cute. Thank you, but I’ll have to decline, even though it’s very tempting.”

She drops and stomps out her cigarette. “Hey,” she pauses and you notice that she’s blushing a little bit, “you’re a wolf girl, right? Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear you trying to get your meds.” She taps her ear, and you notice it twitch ever so gently, “Rabbit hearing. It’s one of the first changes you really notice.”

Did you just seriously start salivating? What the hell is wrong with you? You swallow and smile shyly, “Yeah, but I haven’t gotten my meds yet.”

“I noticed. Sorry.” She checks her phone then sighs, “Well, this is super annoying. I need a drink. Wanna hit up the coffee shop across the street? My treat,” she smiles.

“Absolutely,” the word tumbles out in practically a single syllable as you practically leap off the wall to join her.

She chuckles. “I’m Bunny,” she says while offering you her hand.

“That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Why are you so fucking dense?

Rather than getting offended, she laughs, “I didn’t pick it, actually. It was just a happy coincidence.” You take her hand. After a moment she gives you a look, “And your name is…?”

“Shit, right. Sorry. I’m Lou. Louisa.”

“Sure it’s not short for lupine?”

“It’s not not short for that.”

Hey, that was over a year ago now. Congratulations, you’ve managed to not fuck up this relationship so far! Idiot.

i never want to animate again

Rewarding A Sharpshooter

1,105 words - 4 min. read

--

"You ready, cadet?" Handler asked.

You were still disoriented, stumbling through the halls of the station clinging to her arm - Normally you would be allowed time to sit in the cockpit and decompress after a mission, but you hadn't been allowed that time today. Instead, she unplugged you the second you got back and disabled your eyesight. She had guided you back to her quarters, her soft yet strong grip tight around your bicep.

"3… 2… 1… Okay!" [SIGHT PERMISSIONS RESTORED.]

Handler had made a massive change to her quarters. Beside her bed, where you normally slept, was normally nothing more than a thin blanket. That had been replaced with a small round bed, blue like the eyes of your own Handler, with a small dark purple pillow the color of your mech's hull.

You could hardly believe what you were looking at. It was absolutely perfect. You turned to Handler and could see her smile teasing the sides of her mask. You tried to come up with something to say, anything at all, but you had no words. Instead, you pounced on your Handler to wrap your bruised arms around her, nuzzling into her side. The automated contact countdown started, and you ran it to the very end. At the end of "[1…]", Handler used her beautiful, perfect gloved hands to push you away back to her side.

"I really get to have this?" You asked, your voice crackling with excitement. "See what 100% accuracy on a mission does for a pilot?" Handler joked. You laughed. "Go on, try it!"

You spared not a single second, bolting so quick across the floor that onlookers would think your toes were about to break off. You leaped into it hands first and crashed into it, meeting an incredibly plush surface. It was smaller than it looked; you had to hug your knees into yourself to fit. The slightly awkward posture was well beyond worth it for how comfortable it was; you swore you could fall asleep right then and there, but didn't, as you hadn't been ordered to. You could feel the bed's metal frame buried within it; by its strength and feeling you knew exactly what it was made out of. If you had a tail it would be smacking Handler's bedside table faster than you could reload your rifle.

"Is this - the frame, is it -" You begged with your eyes for her to let you say it.

"Go ahead," She smiled, sitting at the foot of her own bed and looking down at you, heeled boot crossed over heeled boot.

"Is this Thimble's hull?" You asked like it was all one word, practically pounding on it.

"It is. You deserve a proper reward for how good you've been recently!" Handler said. You watched her look at her gloved hand, then at you, then back at her hand. Her eyes darted to the sealed door, and she pulled her glove off. You hardly ever got to see her hands uncovered like this; her nails were painted the color of oxidized copper. They looked so soft, unmarred by countless broken bones like yours had been. Handler was, in every way, superior to you, right down to her immaculate fingertips.

Your hair was dirty and messy from your flight. So, you found it impossible to believe that when she reached over you that she could possibly be aiming to touch you. But she did. She placed her hand on your head, gentle as ever, and brushed your hair back into place with her palm. Nothing outside your mech had ever been so tender, so sweet, so kind.

She dropped her hand to the side and cupped your cheek. She pressed a tiny bit on your jaw, drawing your gaze up to her. All she did was look into your eyes for a while. It was hard to believe such a gorgeous, powerful woman as your Handler wanted anything to do with you, let alone to waste her valuable time just looking at you. But if she deemed it worthwhile, it couldn't be a waste.

She looked to the door again, breathing deeply. "You know I'm going to have to delete your log of tonight after this, correct?" She asked, her voice hitting that low register that made you shiver.

"Yes ma'am," you said, not skipping a beat. You couldn't remember her ever doing something like this before, but you trusted her to do whatever needed to be done. "Does that mean I get to find my bed again like it was the first time?"

Handler smiled under her mask like she was looking at an old picture. "Yes it does," she said, staring longingly into your eyes. Some thought danced across her beautiful eyes - she sucked something back. She shook her head, more at herself than at you, and pulled her mask from her face.

You had never seen a more perfect face in your life. She looked like a portrait from an ancient painting with soft, full cheeks and plush lips adorned with blue lipstick. She guided your neck up further. It strained, but you didn't care. Any and all pain was worth enduring for a single look at her impeccable face. She got closer and her face was more and more the only thing you could see.

[HEART RATE ABOVE NORMAL VALUES. NOTIFYING HANDLER.]

"Shh, it's okay," Handler whispered, her voice seeping into your entire system. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you've done so good at this before. You'll be okay."

"But it's -"

"So much, I know," she held your head just a bit tighter, her other hand flitting over the bruises on your shoulder. "You said that last time."

You could feel her lips just barely grazing your cheek. Everything felt so, so hot, but if Handler said you could handle it, you could.

"And you'll probably say it again," she giggled, that sound that has launched a million bullets. She pressed her lips into your cheek, taking it slow to let you feel every single micrometer of her kiss. You and the station around you absolutely bloomed; Every tiny sensation was suddenly huge, sinking into it like the entire station was your little dog bed.

Handler sat up again, and you could feel the stamp of her lipstick on your cheek. You cherished it for every single second until she wiped it off with makeup remover from her bedside table. She then replaced her gloves and mask, fastened your ankle restraint to you, and grabbed a laptop from her table.

"Get some sleep, cadet."

[MELATONIN RECEPTOR SENSITIVITY INCREASED BY 300%.]

--

[This story is in a file marked "Thimble". Other stories include:]

[Sniper Pilot]

[The Shooting Range]