#Tw vampire
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CHAPPELL ROAN
photographed by Ryan Clemens
#chappell roan#ryan clemens#wlw#wlw romance#wlw love#sapphic#sapphic romance#sapphic love#sapphics#lesbian#lgbt#lgbtq#lgbtqia#lgbtqia+#dailywomen#dailymusicians#dailymusicqueens#dailyfemale#femalestunning#flawlessbeautyqueens#flawlesscelebs#wonderfulwomendaily#breathtakingqueens#thequeensofbeauty#userladiesblr#dailygingerheads#photography#spooky vibes#halloween#tw vampire
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Duke: Concept: reverse vampires.
Duke: They survive by eating garlic and drinking holy water. The sun is healing to them. If you stake them through the heart, they become immortal. But most importantly...
Duke: Every single human on Earth is trying to hunt them down and drink their blood.
Jason: Italians.
Duke: W-what timeline are you from?
#source: tumblr#duke thomas#signal#jason todd#red hood#batman#batfamily#batfam#batboys#batbros#batkids#batsiblings#batman family#incorrect batfamily quotes#incorrect quotes#incorrect dc quotes#dc comics#tw vampire#halloween
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Parental yandere vampire!!
TW: Implied neglect, implied abuse, yandere, parental yandere, forced age regression, death of family (not main characters), light violence, kidnapping
If there's any more trigger warnings I should add, let me know!
...
The cold gnawed at your bones, breath visible in front of you as you made your way through the thick snowfall. The chill bit into your skin, but you pressed on.
"Monster!" "Witch!" "Cursed!"
Their words echoed in your mind. The entire village thought you were some kind of monster, all because you were different from your peers. You were used to the kind of horrible treatment you received at their hands, and had long since learned not to fight it; no matter what you said, they never listened.
It got lonely never having friends, though. Even the people who weren't scared of you were ridiculed for being seen with you, sometimes even being called a witch just because they associated with you.
Your own family became embarrassed and ashamed by your reputation, to the point where they would go days ignoring your existence.
Sure, you had thought of running away before, but given you had nowhere to go, that'd just be a dumb idea.
Only when you overheard the church speaking of burning you at the stake did you realize just how little you actually had to live for there.
Either way, it seemed like your chances of death were high, so either way, fuck it, right?
You could barely feel your feet beneath you, wading through the snow.
How long have you been walking now? Hours? Days?
It feels like years. You felt tears burn at the edges of your eyes as you tripped over a root, collapsing into the soft cushioning of the snow.
A snarling noise behind you causes you to get back up and run, stumbling blindly and weakly through the snow.
You could barely tell what was going on behind you, but all you knew was that a vicious growl from some sort of animal was definitely not something you should just stand around for.
In the distance, you see a structure, probably the first one you've seen in days.
With some sudden rush of adrenaline, you sprint towards it, almost rolling down the hill leading up to the old building.
The steel gate in front of it makes you curse in frustration, looking up to assess how likely it is you can climb it. Your hands curl into fists around the bars, shaking violently as you pull. Not a chance.
"Help!" you scream, hoping whoever is inside can hear you. "Please!"
When there's no response, you turn back, seeing glowing yellow eyes approaching you. Fear courses through your veins, paralyzing you as you look on in horror. The shadowy beast prowls closer, standing tall on its four paws and staring you down hungrily.
Just as it stalks forward, ready to jump, it pauses. You squeeze your eyes shut and prepare for the inevitable. When the sharp fangs never come sinking into your flesh, you hesitantly crack an eye open. The beast whines and scampers off.
Only when the sound of its footsteps disappear completely does a breathy laugh escape your lips. What a weird twist of fate.
"My goodness! Are you okay?!"
You whip around to see a tall figure with piercing green eyes and long dark brown hair. He's wearing some kind of old-fashioned clothing that looks like it hasn't been touched in centuries.
Before you can say anything, you promptly pass out from exhaustion.
...
"You poor thing. I wonder where you came from..." A hand reaches down to caress your face, the gloved fingers ice cold against your flushed skin. "Seems as if you were meant to find me."
When you finally stir awake, your brain feels like it's rattling in your skull. Blinking slowly, you bring your hand up to rub at your temple, sighing and looking around. You're lying in a large canopy bed, soft red velvet sheets encompassing you.
Sitting up, you take note of the grandiose bedroom, decorated in similar deep shades of red, gold, and black.
There's antique furniture lining the room, with a large painting above the mantlepiece directly across from the foot of the bed. An embroidered carpet is spread on the floor, its design weaving into the same complex, golden filigree that is the headboard of the mattress.
Your gaze drops, noting that you aren't wearing the same clothes you were before.
Now you're wearing some kind of tunic, reminiscent of pajamas but far too fancy and extravagant to be called something so simple. The silk hugs your frame, falling delicately across your lap as you cross your legs and take a look around.
Then you meet his gaze.
He looks surprised that you woke up already, pulling his hand back quickly from where it was about to rest on your shoulder.
He had been watching you sleep, it seems.
The man clears his throat and smiles down at you. "Oh good. I thought for sure you'd sleep through dinner." His voice is deeper than you'd expected, but still gentle. He gestures to himself. "I am Octavian. What's your name, precious?"
"Uh–" You hesitate, caught off guard by the nickname. "I'm (Y/n)."
"A sweet name," he says simply, the corner of his mouth quirking up even more. Octavian reaches down to brush a strand of hair out of your face before straightening back up again.
You watch him cautiously, unsure why he's so comfortable touching a complete stranger.
Then again, you suppose most strangers don't magically appear outside of someone's home, either. Besides, he did just save your life; he deserves at least this much courtesy after helping you.
"It's been a very long time since I've seen anyone out here, let alone gotten any visitors. What on earth were you doing out here all alone? You certainly aren't a traveler, you barely were carrying anything with you." He looks almost ready to scold you.
"Well, uh..." You awkwardly tug at the sleeve of your nightgown, thinking how best to answer his question without opening the door for him to judge you or ask more questions. But he did save your life... "My village doesn't like me. Thinks I'm weird. And when they started talking about killing me, I figured it'd be better to get out sooner rather than later."
Octavian sucks in a sharp breath, concern written all over his features. "Killing you?" He puts a hand over his heart. "You poor thing. You must've been so scared," he coos.
"Yeah... I was," you admit. "I'm glad I ran into your place, at least."
The tall man gives you a soft smile, sitting down at the edge of the bed. It dips beneath him under his weight. "I am too. Stay right there, I'll go get you some dinner."
Before you can say anything else, Octavian slips out of the room.
You think back to when he found you. That animal chasing you acted scared when it saw him. Why? Sure, he's pretty tall, but the guy clearly wouldn't stand a chance against the teeth and claws of that thing. So why was it so spooked by him?
He reenters with a golden tray in hand. On top of it sits a bowl of soup and some bread.
"I'm afraid that's the only thing I have available at the moment," Octavian sighs, setting it down next to you and handing you a spoon. "It should warm you up though." He watches you eat with an adoring smile, one you miss, too busy ravaging into the food. "My Gods, you must've been starving. When was the last time you ate, sweetheart?"
You scarf down a piece of bread. "I haven't been keeping track of time. Maybe three days ago?"
Octavian almost appears on the verge of tears. "You poor little angel..." He hesitantly reaches his gloved hand over to wipe away a stray droplet of broth dribbling down your chin. "You won't ever go hungry again, I swear it."
"What do you mean?" you mumble while chewing on another piece of bread.
He gently wipes at your cheek. "You got some on your face. Messy thing," he tuts. His green eyes glow brighter. Unnaturally so. "I'll go refill your bowl. More bread?" He watches you nod, then takes the tray from you.
It was weird how he avoided your question, but you shrug it off. Seems like he's a little weird too.
...
After having four bowls of soup and God-knows-how-much bread, you finally start to feel full for the first time in ages. Octavian watches with pride as you polish off each meal, praising you for cleaning your plate every single time.
In the middle of him gushing over you, you interrupt him.
"So... Do you think I could use your horse tomorrow morning to head back into town?" you ask shyly. "Assuming you have one."
Octavian freezes, brows furrowing as if in confusion. "(Y/n)... surely you don't think I'm just going to send you back to the people that are trying to kill you?"
"Well, not mine... just a town nearby," you shrug. "Anywhere with people, really."
He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "There is no other civilization for miles. No. That'd just be a death wish."
You try not to raise your voice, reminding yourself it's thanks to him you're even alive. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
He opens his mouth to argue, but snaps it shut before taking a deep breath. "You need some rest. Let's discuss this later." You frown in frustration, knowing he's avoiding talking about it. Though he has a point. Sleepiness settles within you, a yawn bubbling past your lips. He bends down to kiss your forehead. "Sweet dreams, little love."
He's so weird.
...
The next day, you venture from the room he put you in, looking around. As to be expected, everything is beautifully furnished, from the wallpaper to the ceilings to the marble columns holding it all up.
In your searching, you stumble upon a portrait.
There's a tall man holding two children, with a woman standing next to him. It takes you a minute before you realize the man is Octavian.
He looks exactly the same in the portrait, except now his hair is slightly longer and he's wearing different clothes. Something in his appearance also seems happier.
You squint at the picture, wondering what's up with it.
"That's my family."
You jump, turning to see Octavian standing beside you, eyes glazed over as he gazes at the painting.
"Oh. They're beautiful," you whisper. You can hear him suck in a shaky breath. "Are they here?"
A melancholy smile pulls at his lips, though it doesn't meet his eyes. "No. My wife and my son and daughter... they're no longer here." His voice is far quieter than before.
Your chest grows heavy when you realize what he means. "I-I'm so sorry..."
The last thing you were expecting was for this to be so sad. Here you thought the picture was taken recently. Guilt pools in your belly for thinking that, especially now that you know the truth. Poor guy.
Octavian places a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Don't apologize. I think my loneliness streak is nearing its end." He guides you away from the painting and to the stairs. "Let's go eat. Breakfast should be ready by now." You're silent, not sure how to respond.
Walking down the ornate staircase, Octavian keeps his hand placed firmly on the small of your back.
Once you both reach the ground level, he removes it, walking ahead into the kitchen area. Following, you sit down across from him, watching as he places food in front of you both.
"It feels nice to cook for someone else again," he hums, beginning to dig into his own plate of food.
It smells really good, which you suppose you shouldn't be surprised by given the fact that everything else in this house seems to be perfect in its presentation.
"Thank you," you mutter, picking up the silverware and eating.
The two of you talk idly throughout the meal, Octavian being mindful of what you like and don't like to eat for future reference.
He asks you about yourself, appearing invested in every little tidbit you drop. Eventually, you're finally satiated, leaning back against your chair with a pleased sigh.
You watch him do the dishes and leave into what you presume is the living room. Curiously, you follow after him.
He's holding an open book, reading glasses perched on his nose.
The fire flickers and crackles, providing heat to the otherwise chilly space.
Sitting down next to him, you catch his eye. Octavian smiles at you and scoots closer, putting one arm around you and shifting his eyes back to his book.
Unsure of how else to react, you lean into the embrace. He's very cold compared to most people, you find.
The gesture is welcome though, regardless of the cool chill of his skin. Even through his gloves, you can tell his body temperature isn't normal.
If he came from your village, the villagers would definitely think he's some paranormal beast too.
Maybe that's why he lives so secluded from society.
...
A few more days pass. He gets a little more odd, but it just makes you more comfortable to show your own quirks too.
One morning, you wake up next to a teddy bear placed between your arms. He must've put it there last night.
It's almost like he senses you're awake, because he strides into the room not even a minute later.
"There's my sweet little angel," Octavian coos. "Did you sleep well?" You yawn and rub at your eye with a closed fist. He gives you a bright smile at that and sits on the edge of the bed. "Do you like your toy? I figured it might keep you company while I'm gone. Does it help?"
"Yeah, but..." You frown. "How'd you get it? There's no nearby shops, right?"
Octavian nods. "It belonged to my son." At that, you stare wide eyed down at the stuffed animal, moving to give it back to him.
"I-I can't take this from you–"
He grabs your hands and holds them in place around the toy, shaking his head. "Nonsense, I want you to have it." His eyes burn with such intense emotion, so much so that you're unable to resist the pull to listen to his request. "Keep it, please. When this winter is over, I'll go get you some of your own stuffies and clothing. Do you have any clothing preferences? Any favorite animals?"
"When winter is over, I'll be leaving," you correct him.
He stiffens. "Right. Of course. Silly me." His emerald irises flash with something unreadable.
The rest of the day, he becomes even more overbearing.
He pulls you into his lap whenever he has the chance, insisting you rest your head against his chest while he reads to you (all of which are children's books). He constantly is giving you random little hugs, or complimenting you for whatever little mundane things you do.
You only allow it because you feel pity for him.
Each time you even try to pull away slightly, he looks so heartbroken and hurt, as if you stabbed him in the chest.
And it's not like you dislike it. You're so starved for attention and touch that it actually feels kind of good, having someone hug you and hold your hand and read to you.
It makes up for all the times you've been neglected.
Each day, he gets even more coddling and babying with you. You wonder why he's like this.
Then it hits you.
His kids are gone. He's never going to have another chance to hold his babies again.
This behavior... is this just him projecting his loss onto you? Trying to relive the feeling of caring for a child?
It breaks your heart for him, making you feel more guilty for wanting to leave.
...
As the snow begins to melt, Octavian gets more antsy. He constantly holds you in his arms now, rambling about anything and everything, bouncing and swaying side to side.
It reminds you of how mothers soothe their babies.
One day, he stops to give you a serious look, gripping your face in his hands and kissing your cheekbone.
"Please," Octavian whispers, desperation seeping into his tone, "please please please stay." Tears drip down his pale skin. "You have no idea what these past few weeks have meant to me." The grip on your jaw tightens and he shakes his head with a dry laugh. "God, I can't imagine living without you anymore! Don't make me go through that agony again! Don't abandon me! You're happy here!"
Your hands hesitantly grab his wrists, not pulling him away but letting him know your boundaries. "These past few weeks meant a lot to me too. But I don't want to live alone out here, forever."
He sniffles and glares down at you. "What do you mean? You wouldn't be alone. I'm here. You'd have me!"
"But I want more people than that!" you cry out. "And in the end, you're still basically a stranger..."
That last sentence was the wrong thing to say.
All color drains from his face, shock freezing him in place.
"A-A stranger...?" Octavian scoffs, betrayal seeping into his broken voice. "After all this time together?! After all the things I've done for you, all the things we've talked about?!" You tremble and try to move away. "Why can't you love me back?! Your parents don't want you, but I do!"
You shake your head. "You're freaking me out..." Never before had you been so scared of this man. Never did you think he'd act this way, even with how affectionate and caring he could be. This is on a whole new level. "I'm not a kid. Just because you lost yours doesn't mean you can make me yours instead!"
Octavian doesn't say anything.
The silence that hangs thick in the air between you is deafening. It makes you want to scream, break it somehow, just so you don't have to endure how tense this is.
Tears pool in his eyes. He hesitates, then yanks off both of his gloves and drops them to the ground.
You notice his fingernails are long and sharp. Like claws. Not human.
"What...?"
"I've never been normal either." Octavian lets out a choked sob. "My wife died trying to protect our children from vampire hunters." He bares his teeth, revealing pointed fangs. "She couldn't. They all died before I could save them."
Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.
A mix of fear and sympathy swirls in your gut, making you feel nauseous and disoriented all at once. You step backwards, putting distance between you and him.
His eyes grow dull. "I couldn't save them. But I could save you." Octavian reaches out with those strange hands and cups the sides of your neck with a featherlight touch, holding your gaze despite your attempts at averting it. "You may think of yourself as big, but to me? You're just a baby."
A pitiful whine leaves your lips as your eyes begin to water.
"They said the same things about me. Aberration. Monster. I know how you feel; how lonely and awful it is. That's why you need to stay with me," he insists. "We understand each other. We're the same."
"No! You're crazy!" you exclaim, backing up further until your back hits a wall behind you. His form looms over yours ominously, casting a shadow across the floor beneath him. "Stop fucking touching me!"
"Maybe I am crazy," Octavian humorlessly chuckles. "But anyone would become unhinged from losing everything dear to them." Without warning, he moves quicker than lightning, picking you up and holding you close to his chest. He curls himself over you, shielding you from nothing as if to protect you. His body completely engulfs yours, swallowing you in his presence. It's unnerving. "Everything will be okay now. Papa will keep you safe. No one will ever hurt you again," he promises softly. "You won't be like them."
"No, no, stop," you beg pathetically. "Let me go."
"Shhh... this will hurt a tiny bit, but only for a moment. It's necessary for us to always be together," he hushes you. "I was going to save this for when you've settled in more, but I can't have you run away."
Octavian kisses the top of your head before pulling the collar of your shirt down just enough for his mouth to hover above your bare shoulder.
"Nonono, please, don't!" you cry. "I don't wanna be a vampire!"
"I know, sweetheart," he laments. "I hate seeing you in pain, too."
Before you can say anything else, Octavian sinks his teeth deep into the flesh of your exposed shoulder blade.
You shriek in pain as you feel fangs digging into muscle tissue and sinew alike. Tears stream freely down your cheeks now, uncontrollable sobs wracking your frame as blood runs freely down your back and stains your clothes crimson red.
"Shhhh..." he hushes again, caressing your hair even while he drinks away your humanity. "I love you, I love you, I love you..."
By the time he's finished drinking, you feel woozy from blood loss and adrenaline. Octavian lifts you up, grip looser now that you're too tired to struggle, and dampens a cloth under the faucet, using it to clean up the excess blood.
Then he takes you back to the bedroom, tucking you underneath layers upon layers of warm bedding.
You try to speak, but your throat hurts so badly and you can barely move. Everything feels heavy, including your eyelids which threaten to shut due to exhaustion.
"Get some sleep. It's bedtime for little ones," he murmurs giddily. He adjusts the blankets covering you. "Oh, I knew I was missing something." You hear him shuffle around the room before returning. Suddenly the familiar feeling of the teddy bear is pressed against your torso, its fur tickling your nose.
"Papa..." you croak deliriously, thinking of your own father.
"Yes," he says. His face splits into a manic smile. "That's right." Octavian crawls under the covers next to you, dragging you towards his cold figure. He combs through your hair and cuddles you tightly, as though if he lets go, he might lose you. "Say it again. Say 'Papa.'"
You don't reply, far too exhausted to even care anymore. All you do is slump against him and close your eyes.
Octavian squeezes you tighter.
He buries his nose into the top of your head and breathes deeply.
"My baby..." His words sound distant as slumber overtakes your mind and drags you into darkness. "You're back home where you belong."
#yandere#parental yandere#platonic yandere#familial yandere#yandere vampire#yandere oc#forced agere#forced age regression#yandere age regression#yandere agere#tw death#tw vampire#tw blood#tw parental abuse#tw neglect
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THINK ABOUT IT
vampire Raphael
HE ALREADY HAS THE SHARP TEETH
anyways thank you for coming to my ted talk 😌
also eat a descent meal, brush your teeth, AND DRINK WATER

"Just a small bite.. just a little bit, I promise..."
i passed out several times drawing this. Thank you for bringing me to your very lovely Ted talk <33 I think I went a little ham on this one, but I swear he's just asking for a teeny bit of blood. Just a eeny meeny bit :))
Taglist: @dynaspamm@faetaiity@fried-milkfish@milks-thoughts@hearteyedracoon@crystallinecryogenics@m0nster-fluffer@syrinxmeadow@zxphy@mellytumbles@nekonekoastume@sockidox@temmerlover@ramblehour@redak-ted
#yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#yandere#yandere tmnt#yanteetles tellings#yandere rottmnt#obsessive yanderes#rise tmnt#rottmnt x reader#yanteetles art#male yandere x reader#yandere art#tw yandere#yandere raphael#yandere raph#yandere tmnt 2018#yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles#yandere tmnt x reader#yandere rise of the tmnt#yan rottmnt#tw vampire#vampire art
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here me out… astarion feeding on the reader WHILE they climax… (preferably fem!reader, but it’s up to you).
JFDkFSJLK EHEHEHEHEHEH
Triggers for blood drinking
"C'mon then. Don't hold back. There's my pup. So good," he moaned as her walls tightened around him. He bit his lip, groaning as he watched her back arch, hearing the rush in her veins. "Fuck, I want to taste you. Please. I want...If you're okay with it--"
"Yes," She whimpered, cheeks flushing as he smirked. "Stop teasing me already."
"You're just so fun to mess with," He hummed before kissing her. "My love...thank you."
Y/N let out a louder moan as his fangs sunk in, grateful he'd found an isolated spot away from the group. She couldn't help as she toppled over the edge, nails digging into his back to feel scars along his flesh.
"Fuck, Astarion!" She moaned, making him grunt as he gripped her hips tight, thrusting harder.
He whined when he pulled away, her blood trickling down his chin as he pumped her full. He knew he should've pulled away, pulled out, not filled her to the brim, but gods above.
Her taste.
her clenching walls.
He was a greedy bastard through and through as he continued to drive into her, pushing aside the load he just spilled into her to ready her for another.
"Can't stop," He mumbled into her ear. "Sorry, pup. I can't stop. You feel too damn amazing."
He was surprised when her lips pressed to his as tears trickled down her face. He snarled happily as he held her, careful not to grip too tightly as he slammed himself into her.
#ask request#ask me stuff#drabble#astarion smut#astarion x fem!reader#bg3 astarion#bg3 smut#bg3#tw blood drinking#tw vampire
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Death's Bride
Interview with the Vampire: Santiago x fem!reader
Companion Piece of "To Be Loved by Death"
Rating: Mature
WC: 1.0 k
Prompt: Temporary Death for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)
Warnings: Vampirism: lots and lots of blood, feeding, turning
A/n: This old white man has me in a chokehold, what can I say? Ben Daniel did wonders with Santiago. Also there’s a little easter egg in the fic for all those who are fans of the original film ;)
Summary: Santiago turns you

The coven had unanimously voted to let you join, though Armand seemed reluctant in his response. You learned he had never created a vampire in his five hundred years. There was something about him that you didn’t trust, but Santiago led the coven now, and his sights fell upon you, so no one dared argue with him. You half expected Eglee to rip your throat out, but you had no qualms about sharing Santiago with her. You even allowed her to feed on you from time to time.
Finally, the night of your translation arrived in the true fashion of the coven; it would be a spectacle for the public to behold at a premium price.
“My love, are you prepared to confront death’s beckoning this very night?” Santiago inquired, enveloping your hands in his own before guiding you in a slow dance across the stage.
“Yes,” you whispered.
“Louder, ma chérie. The audience needs to hear your answer,” he smirked, his glowing cerulean eyes locked on yours.
“Y..yes!” your voice quivered, the unease palpable in the air. You spoke louder this time, feeling uneasy as the audience laughed at your reaction. His hands were cold against yours, but you didn’t mind it. You had grown used to his cold embrace, the sharpness of his bite, and the nonexistent beating heart. It was hollow when you rested your head on his chest. You had believed you would fall in love with a man of warm flesh and blood, but instead, you found a cold demon had taken hold of your heart.
“Are you ready to be our bride?”
The coven moved into position, clad in white, reminding you of ghosts. They moved in spectral synchronization, swirling around the stage as Santiago danced you around. The fresh bite marks on your neck throbbed. Ruby droplets oozed from the puncture wounds, stirring the base desires in the ghostly vampires surrounding you. You kept your eyes trained on Santiago. He had offered you the dark gift, and you were willing to accept it and live by his side for eternity.
Eglee moved behind you, her fangs ghosting over your neck as her glass nails dug into the threadbare fabric of your black dress. The tattered garment had been a relic of old, worn by how many before you, you had no idea. It was a funeral dress with a high neck and frayed lace, but it portrayed you as death’s bride. The coven performers circled you, their greedy hands clenching at the hem. You twisted in the grasp until, finally, the gown was torn from your body, leaving you bare before the unfamiliar eyes of the audience and the salacious ones of the coven. Santiago beckoned you closer, drawing you into his arms.
“I am ready,” you whispered to him, then repeated your words louder for the captive audience to hear.
“Then it is time,” Santiago announced before sinking his fangs into your neck—a sweet burn, followed by a pulse of pain before it all became dull.
You grew limp as he drained you, as he lifted your weak body and passed you into the arms of the other members before they advanced on you. The curtains fell as thunderous applause and cheers filled the theater. Santiago ordered the others away, his voice muffled in your ears as you descended into darkness, unable to keep your eyes open. Life slowly drained from your body as your blood filled their insatiable mouths. You teetered into the darkness, letting it swallow you whole.
They suddenly pulled away from you, blood dripping from their greedy lips as Santiago loomed over top of you. His glistening nail sliced through his wrist before he knelt and pressed it to your mouth. You groaned as the ruby droplets filled you. Slowly, you gained your strength and consciousness as he brought you back to life. You grasped his wrist tightly as a voracious hunger surged through you.
“Ah, ah, chérie, that is enough,” Santiago scolded, patting your cheek before pulling his wrist away.
You sat up, your hair, longer and thicker, cascading down your naked body as blood clung to your mouth. Your tongue traced around your fangs, and you watched with fascination as your nails lengthed and hardened.
“I want more,” you growled.
“Then I would say a hunt is in order,” Santiago smirked, extending a hand to help you to your feet. The coven bristled in their agreement, and preparations were made. You dressed in leather jodhpurs, riding boots, and a red blouse, ready to tackle the City of Paris. The women of the coven decorated your fingers with ornate silver rings, and Santiago pressed his cigarette against your lips. You inhaled deeply, the smoke wafting around you as you tasted ash. The leather scent of his jacket was thick against your nostrils. Everything felt heightened. Enhanced.
“Come, ma chérie, the night awaits!” Santiago announced with a flourish.
The night became alive through your new eyes, vivid and bustling. You could smell everything: the hot blood pumping through veins, the sweet wine poured into glasses, the pungent smell of sweat, and you wanted to taste it all. Your vision was enhanced, making out the small details of clothing worn by the blurred bodies you passed and counting the cracks in the pavement. As his motorbike zoomed through the brightly lit city, your nails dug into Santiago's arm before letting out a whoop of delight. Santiago’s laugh bounced through the air at your enthusiasm. The coven descended upon a tavern on the outskirts, and the feeding began.
Your fangs sliced through flesh like butter, reveling in the warm spurt of blood that poured into your flushed mouth. You tore the throats of three men, draining them to the brink of death before releasing them. You wondered if you would ever feel full enough.
“You are a true creature of the night, chérie,” Santiago praised as his thumb traced around your crimson-stained lips, swiping the droplets away. He pressed the digit to his mouth and suckled it clean.
“I have never felt more alive,” you breathed, lifting your head to press your blood-stained lips to his, savoring in the intensity of his kiss.
His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you into the air as the slaughter continued beneath your dangling feet. It was finally in death that you felt the most alive.
#fic: iwtv#sweetspicyhc#iwtv santiago#santiago x reader#santiago iwtv#iwtv fanfiction#santiago#santiago fanfic#tw blood#tw vampire
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I’m sorry it’s all I can think about when I see him


[image id: a picture of count orlock from the 2024 remake of Nosferatu next to a picture of dr robotnik from the live action sonic movie]
#count orlok#nosferatu#tw vampire#tw horror#bill skarsgård#sonic movie#sonic the hedgehog#dr robotnik#vampire aesthetic#vampires#horror media#gothic#lily rose depp#tw creepy#movies
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disappeared off of the face of the planet but … been thinking about vampire!midoriya and how unbelievably hungry he’d be.
warnings. vampires, stalkingish, mind control, loss of autonomy(?), blood(he bites you at the end but it’s not descriptive) GN!reader, reader is called ‘pretty’ but everyone’s pretty so no gender attached to it, let me know if i’m missing tags please !!! minors DO NOT interact
he’s the kind of vampire who’d starve himself cuz he hates the idea of hurting people, of ripping through flesh to reach the one thing his body can’t live without.
but he can’t—won’t.
he’s not a monster, not at heart, at least. he doesn’t want to be a monster. he’s nice, he cares about humans—people, he has to remind himself.
they’re people, and i’m not a monster.
so he doesn’t eat.
but all things must eat to survive, even a creature like him.
and in comes you, unsuspecting little human that you are, walking down the dark, dark streets, aware of your surroundings, yet none the wiser of the real monsters lurking through the night.
izuku watches you from the rooftops, hears the way your heart beats a little faster with the way you’re speed walking, knowing how desperate you are to get home.
you’re so unbelievably human.
and he’s so unbelievably hungry.
he doesn’t remember jumping. one second you were out reach, and the next, well…he’s in front of you now.
your expression morphs into terror and your heart is beating out of your chest. it’s a good look on you, he thinks. you look so human.
you reach to grab something while your eyes are trained on him, watching his every move. smart, he thinks, too bad he’s not human. and with the little energy he has, he wills you to stop.
“it’s okay,” swims through your mind, sticking like honey. “you’re alright.” and with those few words, you’re at ease, and izuku thinks you look even prettier like this—under his thumb.
for a while, all he does is stare at you.
how long has it been since he’s been this close to a human before?
how long… has he been starving—denying himself of the one thing he needs to survive.
your hand twitches and izuku catches it.
oh right, he’s not that strong. if he waits any longer, you’ll break free in no time.
he takes the small window he has to get closer to you, thankful that you’re still under, and rests his head on your shoulder.
“i know this is a little strange.” his voice is soft as he speaks, but he knows his voice is echoing loudly in your empty little head. “and that deep down you’re scared out of your mind.” his hands are itching to wrap around you.
“i’m sorry. so sorry that i cant—that im not strong enough to make this painless,” his breathing quickens, unable to hold back. “i just want—i really need you.”
his hand wraps around your neck and the chill that runs through you drives him crazy. if you manage to slip through the cracks, he thinks he won’t mind it. “i promise i won’t take too much,” he breathes into your neck. “i just want a taste. you’ll let me have this, right, pretty?”
and with the last of his will keeping you trapped, you nod your head just enough for him to sink his fangs in.
a/n: i haven’t written in 2 years :O wow i’ve been lurking on tumblr dot com but writing became so difficult. i’ve been rewatching tvd and every time i see stefan i think of deku and how he’d be the same (especially in terms of ripper!stefan) yeaupp hope u enjoyed!!! likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated <3
#(・ε・) — my corner#deku x reader#bnha x reader#izuku midoriya x reader#bnha imagines#deku imagine#tw vampire#vampire#monster#<-just in case#tw blood#just in case#everyone’s been talking about vampires so i joined the club#my annual rewatch of tvd inspired this bee t dubs
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@deadonmayn Bonus day! Danny heals the pit rage | Fangs | Danny starts a fan blog featuring Red Hood. | "Oh, it's probably a terrible idea. But it would be so funny."
I came across a list of 'fanart memes' a while back and one was the pose from Magnet and I realised I've never drawn it and then I read Lost Between Our Needs And Wants by @murrcurial and I felt the need to do a second entry for the fangs prompt.
So here's a very fangy Dead On Main Magnet to close my series of entries for dead on mayn week!
It's been a blast!
#dead on main#dead on main ship#deadonmain#deadonmayn24#dpxdc#drawings from the fen#tw blood#tw vampire
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Lesbian Vampire Night
#this would cure me#wlw#wlw romance#wlw love#wlw history#wlw aesthetic#sapphic#sapphic romance#sapphic love#sapphic history#sapphic aesthetic#sapphics#lesbian#lgbt#lgbt history#lgbt aesthetic#lgbtq#lgbtqia#lgbtqia+#photography#bw#bwphotography#b&w#b&w photography#aesthetic#a e s t h e t i c#history#herstory#tw vampire#source: pinterest
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NCould you write a short sequel if a reader who has recently been turned into a vampire tries to escape from Octavian?
TW: Blood-drinking (vampires), escape attempt, forced age regression/infantilization, injuries, restraints (mittens), platonic/parental yandere
...
Ever since you've been turned, Octavian treats you even more like a child.
Well, his baby, to be exact.
It's annoying, because it does seem like you're going through childhood again, because of your recent changes. Your canines fell out and began coming back in as pointed fangs, plus your nails grew much faster, sharper, and stronger than before.
And it hurt.
Constant headaches and random crying fits from growing pains made you needy. Octavian was always more than willing to pick you up, shushing you gently and rocking you as if you were a baby having a tantrum.
Even now, he cradles you on his hip in the middle of dinner.
Octavian keeps taking breaks to cut up your meat, wiping at your mouth, and occasionally spoon-feeding you despite the fact you insisted you can handle eating yourself.
The amount of doting attention he gives you is overwhelming, and you're only more irritated with the throbbing pain coursing through you.
Noticing your discomfort, he puts down the silverware and wipes away tears with a tender touch.
"Don't cry, my sweet," he coos. "Papa knows. Teething is hard. It'll be over soon." Octavian kisses your forehead before lifting you fully onto his lap, placing you sideways on top of him.
One gloved hand smooths back strands of sweaty hair as you bury your face into his crisp white dress shirt.
Not because you want to, but because you need the comfort. Even though your pride wants you to fight back, the rest of your mind needs this too much to care.
Gnawing lightly on his cravat, you sigh contentedly when he continues threading his fingers through your scalp in slow circles.
"Now, say, 'ahhhh.'" He holds a bloody piece of meat to your lips with a fork.
"I'm not eating that," you tell him. Frankly, you can't eat with the pain, even if you wanted to. The idea of swallowing anything right now makes you feel like hurling.
Octavian frowns. "Don't be fussy." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek. "You have to finish all of your food. I know you're going through a lot of pain, but it'll be so much worse if you don't eat. Would you like a tummy ache on top of the growing pains?"
For a moment, you plan to blindly agree, but then you realize something. He won't hurt you. He sees you as a child. Children sometimes refuse to listen.
What's going to happen if you deny his demand?
"No," you assert. "It hurts too much."
Octavian goes silent. His face falls before contorting into a mask of barely-restrained frustration.
He closes his eyes and exhales heavily through his nose. "(Y/n)..." He sets the fork down again and grips your shoulders with both hands. Opening them, he levels you with a stern glare. "You are going to eat your dinner, and you aren't getting up until every bite is finished. I will wait here all night if need be. Do you understand?"
"Fine! Then we'll be waiting here forever!" you snap.
He stares at you intensely, seeming more upset than angry. "Fine. You know what? Then go upstairs, and when you're ready to stop acting out, come find me."
You huff and storm upstairs, slamming the door to his bedroom behind you.
It's been long enough that Octavian has your room decorated more... childishly. It still has the same Victorian-vibe about it, but there's toys scattered around the place, and a shelf full of storybooks that he's read to you hundreds of times during your stay so far.
He also got you plenty of new stuffed animals, filling up an entire wicker basket to the brim with them.
There's a mirror in the bathroom, and you briefly glance at it while passing by. Since turning into a vampire, you stopped having a reflection. Now looking at your image just shows the furniture behind where you stand.
You can't take this anymore. For so long, you've been putting off escaping, but no longer.
The window is locked and barred shut, but with your new strength, you should be able to pry them open without needing a key, especially with your newfound strength from turning.
There's some resistance as you first start yanking apart the iron rods.
With a grunt, you pull as hard as possible, gritting your teeth and snarling as they finally bend and pop from the wall, breaking the hinges on each side until falling backward. Panting from the excursion, you drop the pieces to the ground before pushing the window open.
It's sunny out, but you don't think twice about burning when stepping out the window, now on the rooftop.
From what you can see, you're on the second or third floor.
If you climb to the ground below, you should be free to escape.
There's a trellis next to the ledge of the building, thankfully. The vines wrapped around it don't provide much stability as you hold onto them, so you mostly rely on the wooden slats to make your way to the ground safely.
Once your feet hit soft grass, you book it to the forest, running faster than ever - quite literally, perhaps being a vampire has its strengths.
For a moment, you hesitate.
Where would you even go, now that you're a vampire? You were already considered odd before, but now? Even more so than ever. Now the people who called you a monster were technically correct, even if not at the time.
No. There's no going back now, not even as the sun feels like its sizzling your skin. You'd rather take your chances alone in this forest than spend one more second living with that man and his insanity.
...
"Sweetling, may I come in?" Octavian knocks gently.
No response.
"I understand you're frustrated with me, and I'm sorry." He speaks louder this time, just in case your voice can't be heard through the wood separating you both. "I know you're going through a lot of pain and discomfort lately, and I know that's why you've been moody. I'm not angry with you."
Still, no response.
He sighs. "I'm coming in." Turning the knob, Octavian pushes open the door and scans the room for you. At first he thinks maybe you're hiding somewhere. "My love, please come out. Papa said he isn't angry."
Something doesn't feel right.
That's when he notices the broken lock on the window, bent into an odd shape and laying on the floor uselessly. The bars previously bolted across are torn off their hinges and thrown aside. The glass panes are wide open.
Horror and dread instantly fill him to the brim.
You ran away.
"No!" Octavian sprints outside and scales the side of the building before gracefully jumping down onto the soil below.
Inhuman speed allows him to race across the grounds until reaching the end of the property, stopping once he reaches the iron fence encasing the area.
Beyond it, he can see faint imprints in the earth - footprints.
There's only one way you could've gone: the forest.
...
You can't believe you voluntarily put yourself in the same spot you were before meeting Octavian. Cautiously trekking through the thicket, you hold your arms in front of your face to block any branches that get in the way.
The wind howls eerily around you, echoing in your ears as you try not to trip over any rocks or roots in your path.
Just earlier that day you thought you couldn't be in any more pain or discomfort than you were. But now? Your insides feel like they're on fire. The heat radiating off your skin is unbearable.
If it weren't for adrenaline pumping through your veins, you'd collapse already.
How did you survive this when you were human? The sun was harsh, but nothing like this. You'd do anything for winter to return.
You can't take this any longer, and almost collapse into a nearby bush, its thorns biting into your skin, but you no longer care. Taking in shaky breaths, you curl up, shivering despite the burns scorching every inch of your body.
Whimpers tear out of your raw throat, your body begging to just give out already.
Something moves to your left.
The noise startles you out of your misery, causing you to freeze immediately upon hearing it.
Rustling from the foliage. Crashing from leaves being crushed underfoot. Hushed breathing.
Then suddenly—
"(Y/N)! OH GOD–"
Arms snake around your waist and hoist you upwards into someone's arms. Octavian clutches you tightly against himself, his coldness being such a drastic relief to the flames searing your flesh.
"No," you weakly protest, too tired to fight him off.
You can feel his tears soaking into the top of your head. "What were you thinking?!" he cries. "This could've killed you!" Looking down, you see blisters forming along your exposed skin. With those sharp nails, Octavian quickly slashes his wrist, bringing it up to your lips. "Drink. Now."
If you didn't feel like death, you'd refuse, but your instincts kick in, driving you to latch onto the dripping wound and guzzle down his blood.
You feel less horrible physically, even if none of your injuries go away. He winces in pain, but looks more worried for you.
Octavian adjusts your weight in his grip and rushes back the way he came, faster than the human eye could process. You cling onto him and bury your face into the fabric of his clothing.
It feels good not having to deal with direct exposure to the light anymore.
In record time, he brings you inside, closing the door behind himself and hurrying upstairs.
The moment Octavian enters the master bath, he undresses you and puts you in the bathtub. You watch him frantically grab washcloths and bandages from the medicine cabinet.
His long brown hair frames his face, loose strands flying wildly thanks to him dashing through the wilderness earlier.
He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and gets to work cleaning your wounds with shaking hands.
"Why didn't you get hurt from the sun?" you quietly blurt.
Octavian sighs. "It affects all vampires differently. Some don't burn from it. Some only get moderately sun burnt, like me. And you..." His eyes narrow. "It could've killed you! Do you understand how dangerous this was? What if you were taken away from me?! I'd die!"
You avoid his gaze.
Octavian doesn't respond, simply continuing to wipe away bits of dried blood and dirt. After several minutes of silence, he finishes his work, wrapping your wounds, dressing you in pajamas and setting you down in bed.
As he tucks you in, you can see how absolutely heartbroken he seems. You wish you didn't feel guilty. You wish you hated him.
"I'm sorry," you grumble.
"I forgive you, but never do that again." He pulls something out of your wardrobe before sitting down on the edge of the mattress beside you. "Hold out your hands."
You hesitate, but obey.
Octavian gingerly loops the ribbons attached to mittens around your wrists, tying them securely shut so you won't be able to use your hands properly. The thick wool protects your fingers from being used, making it harder to pick things up and grip objects.
"These are staying on until I can fix that window and trust you again," he tells you matter-of-factly.
"Octavian..."
"You know that isn't how you address me, sweetheart."
"Papa," you murmur. Tears sting at the corner of your vision. "Why are you doing this to me?"
The bed creaks as he moves around to sit by your side.
He pulls you close, resting his chin atop your head. "I lost too much the first time. I refuse to let it happen again. Do you know how terrified I was at the idea of losing you?" A pause. "Never again. You're staying here with me. Safe. Always."
His hand takes hold of your palm within its mitten, squeezing affectionately.
"Now get some sleep, my precious. I'm not going anywhere."
#yandere#yandere vampire#yandere oc#platonic yandere#parental yandere#familial yandere#octavian oc#tw blood#tw vampire#tw injury
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Can we see a vampire donnie??
If you want to!

This is all we're getting in terms of vampire Donnie :)) I wanted to do a warmup sketch and this just came up!
Taglist: @dynaspamm @faetaiity @fried-milkfish @milks-thoughts @hearteyedracoon @crystallinecryogenics @m0nster-fluffer @syrinxmeadow @zxphy @mellytumbles @nekonekoastume @sockidox @temmerlover @ramblehour @redak-ted
#yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#yandere tmnt#yandere#yandere rottmnt#obsessive yanderes#rise tmnt#rottmnt x reader#yanteetles tellings#yanteetles art#tw vampire#rottmnt fanart
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I was cleaning out my drafts and found this tiny thing about vampires. For you, my beloved 💜 (ahem, middle-aged Val Kilmer).
Tomek Kazansky wakes from a dead sleep when a pair of hands close tightly around his ears, smothering the distant knell of a bell.
His blue eyes fly open to the sight of his ojciec chrzestny — his godfather — bent over him stiffly, stinking of nalewki, with an ax from the barn looped through his belt.
The old man’s eyes are cold, assessing, as he drinks in the sight of a five-year-old Tomek, the bastard son of a Polish nun who never named a father. His warm skin clings to its golden color, even when winter traps them in their homes and away from the sun. He is ruddy and strong, his little round face always upturned towards the sky and seeking out parts unknown. He is Polish and he holds their secrets in the clicking of his young bones, in the caul he was born with — just like his mother, his Mama.
“Come, Tomek.” His godfather, Piotr Czajkowski, says. “We must cut off her head by sunrise.”
His Mama’s grave is unquiet, that’s what his godfather says as they walk through the moonlit night and Tomek struggles beneath the weight of the heavy shovel handed to him. She has only been buried a day, dying before she could take The Sacrament.
“She is a vjesci now, lost to us.” His godfather growls — a vampire, as they unearth the pinewood box that houses her now.
Tomek has heard stories of becoming a vjesci for all his life. Babies born the way he was, the way his Mama was, born en caul — inside their sacs — are destined to wake from death as a vjesci. The only way to prevent the change is to eat the dried remains of the sac on the eve of the seventh year of life. His Mama never did. Tomek knows the rules, the way all the children in his village do, on how to prevent his vjesci mother from rising out of her unquiet grave and killing him. That is the first task of any vjesci, to slaughter their friends and family — ringing the church bell to signify their deaths and harbinging many others.
His Mama looks like she’s sleeping when they pry open her coffin, her cheeks still ruddy red and her hands flexible when his godfather lifts them: signs of life.
There are six holes in her white dress, as if she had been eating the fabric away.
That is the only proof his godfather needs before he — reaches a hand inside and lets her fingers coil around his.
She blinks open eyes of sanguine red and her lips curl in a bloody smile as she looks right at Tomek, her mouthful of sharp fangs reflecting off the light of the moon.
“Hello, Tomek.” She coos, “It’s almost time, little one. You will come home to us.”
His godfather flashes a mouthful of similar fangs, and Tomek remembers — his godfather died last summer in the barn, his ax slipped while he was splitting wood.
Tomek’s eyes grow wide and terrified, backing up to nearly trip into an open grave.
Come home, Tomek…
—
Come home, Tomek…
On the final night of Tom Kazansky’s life — he’s tired. His body is older than it should be, ravaged by a disease more nefarious than any of the monsters that haunted his childhood. Nightmares, dreams long forgotten, half-truths buried by a child who moved to America and left Poland behind to rot — not realizing how the tendrils of that life are woven into his very being, holding him fast.
He dies in his sleep, a peaceful death, his tracheostomy grows clogged with secretions as he sleeps and he passes without a struggle.
The man he loves is miles away, protecting their child, as Tom Kazansky breathes his last.
He just never expected to wake up again — or to wake up hungry.
—
#top gun#top gun maverick#tom iceman kazansky#top gun 1986#Kit and mythology nerd moments#vampire Au#Kit writes stuff#I love folklore okay#😂#icemav#pete maverick mitchell#bradley rooster bradshaw#Not my images#Tw death#Tw vampire#Tw blood#tw body horror
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Stiles gets bitten by a vampire, so he can’t eat anything anymore. And to save him having to feed off of humans, Derek offers his blood. The only problem? Stiles is still craving burgers and curly fries. The solution? Stuff Derek with burgers and curly fries until his blood tastes like them. It’s…gonna take a lot of burgers.
Ooooof okay this just- gives me chubby!Stiles and massive Derek. Stiles doesn't want to attack humans and (Blood supply in hospitals is low, Derek! I can't just take that!) So the easy solution is- use Derek like his personal feed bag. Werewolves are hearty, Derek doesn't get light headed, and he probably feels a little guilty Stiles was bitten, so he's happy to offer himself up. But Stiles SWEARS his blood tastes boring. Like his diet is too healthy and if there was the unseasoned chicken version of vampire diet, Stiles is on it. Would it kill Derek to eat something a little more fatty? It's not like werewolves have to watch their cholesterol! So- Derek starts his diet of all burgers and curly fries. Stiles pushes food on him anytime he can. Jealously looks on as Derek is gorging on burger after burger. Tells him keep eating- he needs Derek to reek like burger grease and fryers, wants him to be nice and fatty and full for Stiles. And it works - until Stiles starts complaining it's so hard to get his fangs into Derek when he's got a tire of blubber around his neck and even his arms are so swollen and bloated with fat, it's an effort for Stiles to find a place to realllllly suck. ( I could also equally believe vampire!Stiles keeps a stock room of humans in his basement, wolves of the pack eating truckloads of different foods, getting positively round and gorged...so Stiles can drain from them until his own gut is swollen and bloated)
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Okay, so this theory is partially based on VEX1N's Whitepine theory.
I'm gonna start with the most normal part, and the part that can most easily be taken as kinda a mini theory. Basically Pyroscythe has tuberculosis. All the symptoms line up (coughing, vomiting, etc) and Whitepine's a period drama, TB is pretty common in those and adjacent genres, plus was an actual threat back then.
Now onto the more insane part. Okay so one of the things that VEX1N points out is how the wound on Mysti's neck resembles a bite mark. TB was also associated with vampires and vampire attacks in the past. When Mysti asks Pyro if he had a bad dream, another symptom of vampire attacks, he dodges the question. I'm saying that the killer in Whitepine is a vampire. This is out there I know that, but hear me out. (most of the evidence for this comes from both the New England Vampire Panic, and Dracula, also random bits of vampire lore I've heard)
First things first, there's pretty clearly something wrong with those woods. All the shots lingering on them, the ominous sound design, there's something off. When Pyro is staring out his window, we see that his room seems closer to the woods than other spaces in the house. This means that if something malicious were in those woods, he'd be the easiest person to get to. The camera is also always in some kind of corner when Pyro's alone, almost like its stalking him.
Mrs. Hemlock is pretty clearly dead. It's implied she's been dead for a while (or at least a few months) given no one mentions her and her piano is in the basement. While I can't prove she's a vampire, at least not from ep 1 alone, its plausible. If we do go with the "Pyro's TB is caused by a vampire" theory, then that does point to Mrs. Hemlock being the cause as it was thought that if one family member fell to vampirism, more would soon follow. She'd also circumvent the whole "needing to be invited" thing cause it was her house.
While this is the part I'm even less sold on, it could also tie back to Ivory. Her habits remind me of two bits of vampire lore. The first one is how if you spill poppy seeds in front of a vampire they'll stop and need to count them all. While its more specific than what she does, it fits how she follows things to the letter. Does this mean I think Ivory's a vampire? No, I think she might be a dhampir. Dhampirs are half vampires, they can live like normal people and don't get burned by sunlight. However, in some superstitions they have "a dark mark on the back like a tail." While Ivory's tail isn't particularly dark, it felt wrong to not call it out.
The second thing it reminds me of is how, in Dracula, vampires can control people through force-feeding them their blood. This could also explain Ivory's weird way of carrying out orders.
I'll admit the Ivory stuff is probably the weakest part of the theory, overall it relies a little too much on obscure lore, but when I heard there was a possibility it could be a monster, I couldn't not mention vampires. I'm almost 100% certain Pyro has TB though.
idk if we're allowed to sign off but in case we are -🌊 anon
(Yup! Sign offs are completely allowed!)
As a lover of vampires, I adore this theory so so much - Plus, I’ve become a bit fond of Pyro too over the past few days.
I don’t honestly have anything to add, this is great plus I love the explanation behind Pyro’s vomiting and that he’s the easiest to get to from the forest to absolute bits - Would love to hear more thoughts on this theory. Particularly on your theory of how she might’ve died after acquiring vampirism!
#mod mossii#🌊 anon#pyroscythe#ivorycello#mysticat#tw illness#tw tuberculosis#tw vampire#tw death#Whitepine#mrs hemlocke
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Alluring
pairing(s): yandere!vampire! harry potter various x reader
summary: (Y/N) discovers some dark things about the school she just transferred to, and about its students.
warnings for the fic: gore, blood, murder, possessive behavior, toxicity, manipulation, possible smut(idk yet), dark content, etc… more may be added.
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
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