#vampiresque

[poeticruin]

i should be paid for this playlist (just saying)

[faggotkelpie]

Me? I know aaaaalllll about blood🩸 🩸😝

[tyresdeg]

mick schumacher | 2024

[wnjunhui]

✨ serving face ✨

[lexa-griffins]

I spent a good two hours yesterday on my Amor Mortis moodboard and i like it so much!!!!!! The story might end up sucking (no pun intended) but at least the moodboard is pretty!

[hauntedbythenarrative]

.

[cuccoway]

Can we talk about how revenge is the most vampiresque album BUT THEY DONT TALK ABOUT VAMPIRES ONCE?????? Not only are they not mentioned but ITS THE ONLY ALBUM THAT DOESNT MENTION THEM??????????

[mcroutfits]

he definitely didn't have to be that vampiresque what the fuck 11/10

[iloveuannerice]

A love that breaks through revulsion. The acting of loving that erodes shame and venerates compassion. A pure bonding that transcends the moral dichotomy between humanity/monster. A love that is free from his prejudices against his own identity. A love that reminds him that he is more than that.

A love that is messy, provocative but true and nurtured. A companionship of loyalty and eternity, beyond the passing of times and changing of ages. A love that is the brutal acceptance for someone who has find his redemption after years of suffering due to his unwanted vampiresque identity. A love that reminds him that he is perfect the way he is.

A love that is consistent and secure-- in control. A sense of belonging for the one that has endured thousands of lives as nothing but a possession, a slave, a flesh of pleasure. A love that holds to his systematic believe, as a creature who has to ensure his own safety. A love that reassures his survival instinct. A love that reminds him that he is enough.

A love that is unconditional, prideful and active. Young, wild and adventurous. The concrete beneath the feet, the push to confront reality, the engine to keep the hope and the currency to keep moving. A love that is raw and sacred. A love that is young and indomitable. A love that reminds her that she can be loved.

They're all pretty messy, but is funny to see the different shades in each character and how they seem to understand love during these two seasons.

[celestialtrolls-moved]

Aelynn is ready for the ball! The result of blood, sweat and tears (both mine and hers), and now I'm gonna go let my hand collapse and potentially fall off my body!

But that's not all, because I put my whole brain into this design, so click the read more to see ME EXPLAIN NEARLY EVERY SINGLE DESIGN DECISION I MADE AND WIPS

themes that were kept in mind

CARNEVALE CONFECTIONS: A BLOODSTAINED MASQUERADE

Sogno Dell’Arlecchino + Blood & Candy

inspiration focuses were chocolates, vampires (blood and gothic), carnevale (harlequins), decadence and detail, and Italy. just. in general.

DRAFT 1, sketch

writing, from top left to bottom right

makeup is carnevale inspired, maybe jade for vampire/rainbow drinker

ribbon-like chocolate gift decoration (in hair)

drips - blood? chocolate? (necklace)

wavy hair to invoke pouring chocolate

cream filling or icing (around the hem of bust)

rhinestones in hair and in tulle for decadence

tulle (bustle) -> make it lace, more common in carnevale costumes

caramel drizzle, small jewels as 'salt' (decorating the gloves)

corset VERY IMPORTANT for vampiresque vibe

subtle pattern (on the corset)

like little maltesers (on the bustle)

alternating black and white (skirt panels)

the dress shape itself was inspired by several looks from 'salon du chocolat' fashion shows, however this was abandoned

DRAFT 2, lines (attempt 1)

switched to a long skirt for a more classic silhouette, skirt drafts

based on various cake decoration methods, asked in servers which i should go with and then tried to merge the chocolate chips and the icing for maximum decadence, however

chocolate chips were abandoned due to looking somewhat messy

some rhinestones were placed to replace them much later

LINEWORK, attempt 2 (i redrew the entire thing with a thinner lineweight)

as well as the things written here, i switched out the hairpiece from chocolate squares to unturned fangs and roses

i also included the rest of the moodboard i was using in this image so you can see the other things i was inspired by

COLOUR DRAFTS

tried roughly placing colour in this phase, wanted to have a bright lilac main colour to balance out the dark details and hair, since carnevale costumes tend to be extremely bright and eye-catching, tried to avoid using completely desaturated colours

decided to put the gradient at the bottom of the dress because putting it at the top made it look like it wasn't one piece with the bust, wasn't really happen with the contrast between the leg ribbons and the lilac however

part way through colouring i decided i hated the lilac, tried to darken it a little, still didn't like it, turned it black

decided to hand-draw a tonne of embroidery for the corset because most carnevale dresses have heavy detail in texture and lace pattern

the front two panels are paisley/plant-inspired and then the panels on the back which is then echoed for the translucent torso piece are geometric patterns based off of commedia dell'arte costumes for the character trope 'harlequin'

the torso piece also has small unique embroidered flowers in each of the larger empty spaces because seriously these carnevale outfits go so heavy on patterns

more italian gothic architecture, this hatched pattern has a multiply layer depicting the Duomo of Siena onto the fan, which is a fascinating piece of architecture that spanned centuries to finish

[xwx404error]

Epitaph.

A wip?

Warning: dark, slightly violent, graphic description, bugs, arachnids, coffin, bl**d, cemetery

Kind of a Mihawk x reader? First time I write romance.

Note: fem! Reader. This was based on one of @onosodaisilarap stories. It isn't in their Tumblr acc though.

___________________

The old small black mirror reflects your image. You take your fingers to your eyeballs, pulling your bottom eyelid, your nail brushing against the white. Scratching...a painful feeling. There's no logical reason for you to do that, but you've been awake for days, and days, and days.

Red spots stain your eyesight, gradually blinding you. The pain is unbearable, itching and screaming as you dig your nails deeper, groaning tortuously, the agony ripping your lungs into a howling; a growl as you can swear to feel hell running through your veins.

"Cursed...am I cursed...? Cursed..."

You repeat to yourself, over and over again. Blood gushing towards the mirror's frame, a gothic cathedral, the glass stained in red. You see nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Laying your brain into an abysmal darkness, you feel the coldness devouring your entire being.

Eyes wide open. Your heart beats in a loud thump in resurrection. A forced awakening. The veil covering your face is thin, yet you struggle to adjust your eyesight, sitting up and looking around. A horrifying scream leaves your mouth, loud enough to echo through the long halls, spiralling in several echoes of deadly spirits roaming around your head.

Blood.

There's blood everywhere, including the ceiling. The mirror that stares at you from the other side of the room is drenched in a deep red. You hold your head as you scream, losing your breath. The scent of fresh flesh, human sins, putridity and a sacrifice of sanity, puts you in a paralyzed state, eyes glued to the mirror.

Knock knock. Someone comes in. You look at the figure, slowly...

—It doesn't seem pleasant.—Says Mihawk, the tall, vampiresque man. A fruit of the devil itself, his golden eyes piercing down at you. He's aware of the situation, yet, he asks:—Why do you scream?

You point to the wall before you. The gory scenario. He looks around, furrowing his eyebrows as nothing can be seen other than spiders and beetles.

—The insects? Didn't you like them?

—The blood!—You look around. The insects crawling around are the only things visible on the walls. The mirror is clean, the walls, the ceiling...

You were dreaming again? A grotesque hallucination...

—I see you're still disturbed.—You take the veil off as you hear his voice. Your eyeballs...they hurt...your head hurts. Taking deep breaths, you hold the edges of the coffin.

—I still feel the pain of my nightmare.

—How was it?

—I need to drink something first.—Sighing, you feel the tension being relieved, still somewhat anxious, afraid of the gore you could witness again if he left, so you thought of asking him to stay, but said nothing.

So confusing...this nightmare, it always repeats itself. Always. Always. Always. Always. It's like a cursed dimension. It starts with a deadly insomnia, as you pace around the room, disturbed by the silence, by the wind, by your thoughts. Sometimes opening the blackout window as you stare outside, sometimes walking in circles, not able to wake up to reality. You can only do this when piercing your eyes. It always hurts as bad as it would in the physical realm. It's an endless anguish.

Embraced in solitude, beams of cold sunlight come into the room, touching your skin. You take a minute before standing up, getting off your casket and putting on the clothes for the day. The pain is insufferable. This time, you can swear it happened in real life. It's getting you stressed as you walk through the endless dark halls, heading to one secret passage. This one leads you to the kitchen without the need of the main stairs, saving some time.

Eyes on you.

You sit down, massaging your head, trying not to look that miserable. Your husband sits by your side and hands you the teacup placed above the small plate. The scent and taste of the herbs gets you more relaxed, easing the pain slowly. The presence of Dracule makes you feel safe, drawing a smile on your face.

—I'm sorry if I scared you.

—I'm used to it by now.—He says. You put your head on Mihawk's shoulder. He doesn't have an immediate reaction other than getting his eyes to look at your face.—You should stop sleeping in that coffin. Maybe that's the problem.

—It isn't. I have nightmares whether I'm sleeping on it or not.—Pauses. He sighs in subtlety, pondering his options of an attempt in relieving your constant paranoia and trauma. What is wrong with you? These nightmares kept haunting your head, year after year. You thought it couldn't get worse than that. The man seemed thoughtful.

—I was awake, I couldn't sleep for days. I couldn't do anything but pierce my own eyes. I'm starting to think it isn't just a nightmare.—You grab your head. Dracule gets up, extending a hand to grab yours. You go with him, walking towards the door, to see the sight of the cloudy sky and red and black roses on the garden.

—Let us go for a walk.—Your husband invites, accompanying you through the garden. He says nothing about your nightmare anymore, but he's pondering about it still. To protect your sanity from the crescent and continuous torture, Mihawk wonders...what else could be done? You had your own coffin to sleep in. According to you, it was better to preserve his sleep and you had a taste for the morbid, even more than him. He had an idea though when you both got to the local cemetery, your place to rest. Looking over the graves, you read each epitaph carefully. Dracule sees how you seem more relaxed now, thus far.

—You should start sleeping with me again. I am certain that it could be less stressful to wake up.

—Are you really suggesting it?—You sit down on a bench, feeding the crows with pieces of fruits you always carry when going out, in a small bag.

—Is that a problem?—He sits beside you, staring at one crow pecking on the food. Of course, his tone sounded monotone, yet, ironic. That pulled your lips down on a slight, stubborn pout.

—I am not dying yet.

—Solitude will only make things worse for you, draga mea.

A sigh leaves your lips as your eyes follow a crow flying to the tomb in front of you, landing on the epitaph.

"He would rather pierce his own eyes than to live this life twice." Ironic. You chuckle and turn to your lover, pointing at it. He obviously doesn't find it funny, but you somehow do.

—Look, cariño.—Snickers.—Piercing eyes, huh...

Silence.

—Do you think another person has the same nightmares as me?—The chuckle stops. He strokes your palm gently.

—Maybe. It must mean something.

Note: Part 2? Also, I'm sorry for the shortness of it. This is a one shot but I'm a lazy person that writes part by part...

[the-kr8tor]

Everyone cheers Katy's back!!

Hi Katy hru :3

I saw 🪦 anon talk about bat Hobie and- *screams* I think I got a new addiction.

ANYWAYS what if it was reversed? You're a vampire, the ability of shifting still fresh to you, it's hard to control such thin wings and get used to the bad sight. So you don't shift that much.

Let's say you two are friends, Hobie doesn't really know all about your vampiresque (created that word lol) past, just that you really like meat – and the barely fried ones.

So you often satisfy your thirst when he's not nearby, alone at your place, just enjoying a good lamb's beef. But Hobie has the keys to your apartment and he barges in, asking about something he forgot there.

OF COURSE you're scared out of your life, and like a instinctive response, you shift into your bat form, falling not so gracefully to the floor. Hobie wide eyes the scene, not really sure if he hit his head or forgot he was sleeping and it's all just a weird dream.

Head woozy, you lift yourself from the floor, things clicking when you see your bat claws instead of your human hands, panicked eyes looking at Hobie while you try to squeak reasonings to him.

He knows it's you, your eyes are almost the same, the shine it's identical though. He mumbles some cuss to himself, closing the door and walking closer to you, crouching down and just trying to take this situation in.

He gently scoops you up after you promised to not bite him, staring at you while trying to hold his laughs of disbelief. You were kinda cute like this. He notices the way your heart is beating wildly, choosing to scratch your ears and head, the purring starting almost instantly.

His brilliant idea seemed to work, after a moment of squeaky talking to a bat (he swore to himself to never smoke weed again), you shifted back after falling asleep on him.

Yayy!! Im back! I'm fine, bleak how are you? My friends visited me today and I showed them my wall of Hobie fanart HAHHAHHAHA also I showed them your bdas book binding project and said that it was cool and that you made it look so amazing!

OMGGGGG VAMPIRE! READER?!!!!! GENIUS!

BAHHAHAHHAHAHA " He swore to himself to never smoke weed again" poor Hobie 😂 he thought he was having a bad trip 😂

I visualised the whole thing and it made me giggle at how R is so clumsy for a vampire 🤣 Cuddles 🥺🥺🥺 I bet Hobie has new ideas for your powers and I know most of them is him sneaking you into concerts and you're in his bag or inside his jacket 🤣

[ekman]

Hier, j’ai parcouru Paris en voiture. Quelle catastrophe. Travaux innombrables, trous béants, chicanes étroites, caméras fliqueuses, vélos anarchiques, trotinettes sans freins, bus seuls au monde, bobos vindicatifs, livreurs azimutés, coursiers suicidaires, SDF en grappes, campements erratiques, engeances répugnantes... D’arrondissements en quartiers, le Paris qui fut n’est plus. Un esprit avisé me dira : “vous auriez pu dire la même chose au XIXème siècle, lorsque Haussmann... etc.” Mais non ! Bien sûr que non ! Il ne s’agit pas d’évolution, ni même de révolution, mais de destruction totale, d’annihilation identitaire. Ce qui faisait Paris, sa vie, son quotidien et sa renommée – n’est plus. Sa beauté est fanée, sa langue n’est plus parlée, ses jurons sont muets, jusqu’à ses odeurs, même mauvaises, qui se sont évaporées. Sa population a été auschwitzée par la marée africaine, exilée, effacée, supprimée. Plus de sperme fécond ni d’ovules gouailleurs. Plus de Parisiens le mégot collé à la lèvre, de Parisienne élégante, de gamins rieurs, de landaus insouciants, de jardins publics tranquilles et parfumés, L’enfantement de Paris pour Paris a cessé. Paris, c’est le portrait de Dorian Gray de la France, cette France qui s’enlaidit et s’envulgarise à chaque minute qui passe. Cette France dépossédée d’elle-même, cette France qui ne sait plus, qui n’en puis mais, condamnée à l’impuissance par une république corrompue, complice d’une oligarchie chemsexée, déjantée, vampiresque. Baisée et rebaisée par des sauvages et des barbares. Une France confetti, une France Netflix, la France “Emily in Paris” made in USA, la France-province made in Ursula. Tout se rejoint, se recoupe, se complète. Bientôt les crétin.e.s assexué.e.s commanderont leur bouffe en wolof et négocieront une autorisation de découvert en berbère. Le méchant tour sera joué. Et Paris sera Alger, Yamoussoukro, Islamabad et Davos enfin réunies.

J.-M. M.

[nearly-headless-max]

Dracule Mihawk

he lives in my brain rent free with other fixations

there are no words that could describe how much i dig his spanish vampiresque swagger,

bloody hell...

[eternitas]

Unseen Varia - Profiles

Nono Giuseppi

https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/2322721

Basic Info:

Full Name: Nono Giuseppi

Nickname: none, nobody dares

Age: 27 / 37 (TYL)

Birthday: REDACTED

Gender/Pronouns: cis male, he/him

Sexuality: undisclosed

Ethnicity: italian

Height: 178cm

Flametype: Sun, Lightning, minor Rain

Weapon of Choice: Scalpel

Affiliation: Varia, Medical Station

Position: Head of Medical Station, Medical supervisor, Special officer for medicine and healing

Strengths: vast knowledge of medicine and medicinal procedures, quick reactions and reflexes, precise, toxicology, poison resistance

Weaknesses: coleric, uncooperative, unhelpful unless he believes you have justifiable injury and illness

Character Summary:

Nono is his own menace and notorious for it in the Varia. While the officers are already fickle and strong to back it up and shut you down, Nono is all that and more. Despite his incredible skill as a medic, he is absolutely terrifying and has no bedside manners. He instills fear of himself to incentivise people to look out for their own health a bit more. He seems to always be in a foul mood, never seen smiling or other. He also never talks about his own past or life, living at the medical station and doing... something. People avoid going to see Nono unless it is absolutely necesarry and he will use the time you are in care to tell you how stupid you were for endangering yourself unnecesarily. People did die because of his refusal of care so he is not exactly taking his oath too serious.

Background:

Not much is known about Nonos background. He never talks about it, but there are many many rumors about it. So most of this section is Character specific spoilers.

Nono was born to a mother that was extremely poor and in need of money. The pregnancy had been unwanted and so she eventually sold him to some people who offered her a substantial amount of money. He was raised in a bunker where he was experimented on, his emotional development stunting and his body going through many different changes over the years. At age 8 the biggest change and transformation was brought upon him. His body was altered to become vampiresque. It was molded to sustain itself on poison, so that from then moving forward he was required to either intake it through drinking or injecting poison directly into himself every day. His body became completely immune to any form of poison, with minor sideeffects like heartburn or a headache. At age 12 the facility was raided and destroyed by tha Varia where Tyr and Zarria found him and took him with them. It was a bit difficult since they did not know of the poison he needed to take but the back then Medical officer Catlena quickly managed to find the source of his unwellness and saved his life.

Nono from then on grew up at the Varia, as Catlenas apprentice until she decided to leave when Tyr died. Since then she has not been seen anymore. Nono became the Varias new head of the medical station and had adopted a lot of his teachers personality quirks, while he continued to inject himself with poison every morning.

When Nono was 20 he met Shamal for the first time, having sought him out to get some form of tratment from him. While the survival chance was just 2.3% Nono wanted to still risk a treatment, but Shamal refused any and all help, which festered in Nono a deep hatred for the doctor that even today he still wants to kill him whenever he lays eyes on the man.

Fighting Style

Nono is not a fighter. When he can he will trick his opponent into drinking poison by offering two vials with liquid, one of which holds just water or syrup and the other a deadly poison. In truth both are filled with poison, because Nono would not die from drinking it. When he is forced into combat, Nono will use his scalpel and several injections of toxins.

Trivia

Unbeknownst to Nono the reason why Shamal refused him care was because his mentor Catlena had vowed him to never try a treatment on Nono. Despite his circumstances being dire he can still survive with it while a treatment is not just risky but might do his already altered body more harm than good

Nono only treats wounds and injuries he sees as legitimate, such as from ambushes or enemy attacks. If you got hurt during training or were stupid enough to pick a fight with someone stronger than you you were tough out of luck

It is only known that Nono is very resistant to poison. Not many know that he injects himself or that he can suck poison out like a vampire.

Since Nonos mental stability is ... not the best, it adds to people avoiding and outright being afraid of approaching him for anything.

Nono and Zarria both share the mutual melancholy and grief of having been in the Varia before Tyr died. it's why in general they are a lot more soft with each other

He eats most fruits with their skin.

It is a standart praxis to refer to the Vongola Ninth as Vongola Nono, to differentiate between him and their local Nono.

Nono has been asked repeatedly by "other members" to dismember passed members and sell or even store their organs and limbs, but Nono refuses each time. Whoever dies in his medical station is his property and he will do what he wants with it and if that is cremating them he will do just that

Nono lives at the Medical station. This also means that he sleeps in his office.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

the shift in my personal aesthetic from dying vampiresque romantic to perpetually sad loser is killing me