#dhampyr

[crownedinmarigolds]

Nobuo and Hailin for @porcelainseashore - two dhampyrs in love before fate has other plans for them. :3 Thank you so much for commissioning them from me! Porcelain has written an amazing write up for Prompts of Darkness for them! Please read it, it's great!!

[porcelainseashore]

Acceptance - Prompts of Darkness

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Written for Prompts of Darkness, hosted by myself and @vampemoqueen! Prompt - Acceptance. AO3 Link

Forced as Dhampyrs to work together, Hailin and Nobuo have never seen eye to eye. An altercation with a gang lord makes them reflect on old prejudices.

Content Warnings: Blood and violence, injury, cannibalism, racist language, hurt/comfort, references to Mage.

Author’s Note: I’m finally writing for Wynter’s mom! It’s fun exploring her younger days before she became the austere figure her daughter knew. For context: Hailin, Nobuo, Soon-hee, and Wai Mun are a group of Dhampyrs who are under elusive orders from their respective Courts to work together.

They had planned for it, meticulously, leaving little to no room for error. That had to count for something under Nobuo’s lead. He wasn’t one to throw caution to the wind, nor did he suffer fools gladly. Priding himself on precision and perfectionism, he controlled the motley crew of dhampyrs, himself included, with an iron hand, and she hated that.

When Hailin thought of Fujiwara Nobuo, she pictured a bone white room, sharp clean lines, and glass so clear that a single ray of light could pierce through it undistorted. It was as if he had cut out the soul from his shell to stay impeccable and pristine, constantly placing himself on a pedestal above them. She hated him all the more for it, and swore that one day she would cause his ruin. It would be her greatest joy to see the back of him, she believed.

For now, she had to keep her head down and obey, like she always did with her family, the mandarins at Court, and every single being in the impossible order of hierarchies she reported to. Hailin let out a despondent sigh, earning her an irritated scowl from Nobuo, and a raised eyebrow in concern from Soon-hee. Wai Mun was already ahead of them, scouting out the place.

A group of dhampyrs walk into the lion’s den—Bao’s den, to be exact—now what could go wrong? Anyone, and that was everyone, who knew Bao spoke of his name in fear and revered whispers in the seedy underbelly of Hong Kong. These nights, he ran a tight ship, the gang he led were ferocious and brutal, unflinching in the face of death. What made them loyal to a fault? Many wondered, but never found the answer.

Just as they approached, a volley of bullets ripped through the air, and in a flurry of movement, each of them narrowly dodged to avoid them. Taking cover, they returned fire at their assailants.

“How the fuck did they expect us? There wasn’t supposed to be anyone along this passage!” Wai Mun yelled in between shots.

“Wasn’t the surveillance cut?” Soon-hee added.

Nobuo remained stoic, but his lip curled in disdain as he replied, “Someone must have tipped them off.”

From the other end, they heard the thundering of footsteps, men shouting and clamoring as they brandished machetes wildly above their heads. They were being surrounded and ambushed. All routes of entrances and exits that they had so laboriously mapped out were rendered useless in a couple of seconds. It was almost as if the gang had predicted their every move. 

Who would have sold them out? Hailin struggled to visualize a name or a face of one of their adversaries. There were plenty, but none of them could have figured it out. They had been careful, hadn’t they?

A thug rushed toward her, but she countered him easily, her combat prowess honed from her years of training since young. Grabbing his machete, she sliced the blade into another man's chest, watching him crumple to the floor as blood sprayed across her blouse.

“Cannon fodder,” she remarked without batting an eyelid, and Nobuo nodded curtly in response. These gangsters had been sent over to harass them and detract the group from their real goal.

Wised up, Wai Mun gestured at a small clearing in the path ahead. “Nab the bastard, Fujiwara. I’ll flush these guys out.”

“I’ll stay and cover you,” Soon-hee declared.

“Hailin, with me!” Nobou barked, as he anticipated a break in the gunfire before dashing across at full pelt.

Finding herself once again stuck with her nemesis, she suppressed a grumble of displeasure as her legs carried her in time with his, following closely behind. The two of them made their way past the horde miraculously unscathed, fighting off any stragglers as they ventured deeper into the nest.

Yet for Hailin, there was something exhilarating about such nights, living life in the fast lane, not knowing if she would get to see another day. It was a feeling of freedom in the loud, bustling city of neon lights, jam-packed traffic, and cramped buildings, away from the stuffy Courts she had served at. She wished it could last forever.

Soon, they encountered what they were looking for. Long shadows danced around the walls as Bao gathered his belongings, while a bunch of his fiercest men stood watch, fingers poised around their cleavers and at the trigger. A severe glance from Nobuo cautioned her. He shook his head to emphasize his warning.

Right on cue, she heard that little voice in her head, the one that returned to her in these moments where she walked a tightrope, egging her on.

Forget him. Do it. You’re so close. Don’t you want to see Bao squirming at your feet like the worm he is? Come on. Do it!

Hailin’s penchant for taking high risks often drew the ire of not only Nobuo, but also her father, who had acknowledged her talent, but disapproved of her recklessness. She wondered where her defiance came from. Was it the luck that her kind possessed? The rush and thrill of gambling with it, as if it would never run out?

And so, she attuned herself to the vibrant scarlet energy in her body, bending it to her will as she focused on a cigarette that one of Bao’s cronies was puffing. The room became enshrouded in a thick cloud of smoke as the men scrambled around, baffled, and coughing violently. Seizing the opportunity, she leaped toward Bao, landing with a roundhouse kick to his neck.

Suddenly, she found herself back at her starting position, crouching next to Nobuo, going through the exact same motions as she had done a minute ago. It was as if her mind couldn’t catch up to the physical pull of her body, except this time, Bao was prepared and evaded her strike, causing her to lose her balance, and fall in a heap to the ground.

What the fuck!

Before Hailin could react, a pair of pallid arms, ice cold to the touch, snaked around her waist. She felt her breath punch out of her lungs as she was yanked flush against a chest, then blow after blow of heavy shotgun shells reverberated through her ribs, but there wasn’t any pain. Turning her head, she came face to face with Nobuo, his skin toughened and corpse-like, having called upon the dead, dark art to shield her. 

The surprise in his eyes was evident, as if he couldn’t believe that he had just jumped in, sacrificing himself for her. Time seemed to slow down as she peered at him in astonishment, similarly unable to comprehend what he had done. He could have left her to die, and she wouldn’t even have blamed him for it. It was an easy way to get rid of her, after all, and hadn’t that been what he always wanted?

A raucous blast interrupted her reverie, and they watched wide-eyed as Bao screamed and vanished into thin air, sucked into an invisible vortex. There was something uncanny and vulgar about it, like reality had been warped. Hailin heard tales of these strange, shamanistic folk, whose practices were more prevalent than others in the region. So, as it stood, Bao had actually been one of them? But where had he gone to?

By this point, Nobuo was doubled over, groaning in pain as he soaked up the damage. He didn’t have much more to spare. Through gritted teeth, he commanded, “Go! Take the stuff and get out of here! I’ll regroup with you later!”

“Fuji—”

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” he hissed.

Hailin bit her tongue to prevent herself from lashing out. Shoving her to the side, Nobuo opened fire on the remaining gang members with his uzi. The distraction he had caused bought her time to swipe the items of interest from a nearby counter and book it out of the room. If they couldn’t get Bao this time, at the very least, they would have his curiosities to tamper and trade with.

Halfway through the maze of corridors and hallways, she stopped. A sense of unease built up within her, as no matter how much she had previously convinced herself that she would be happier if he were dead, she couldn’t bring herself to leave her teammate behind. Spinning on her heel, she headed back in the direction from where she came.

Drawing near to the location, it was unusually silent, but as her ears pricked up, Hailin could make out the low sound of growling and snarling. Guardedly, she peeked into the room and the sight in front of her made her gasp. Blood and viscera stained Nobuo’s mouth, shirt, and hands, as he feasted on one of the men that he had put down next to him. His jagged teeth chewed into flesh, and spindly claws gripped his knife as he carved it into the victim’s bowels.

He behaved like a rabid dog in his bloodlust, and her P’o lurched forward both in fear and excitement, recognizing one of its own. Hailin covered her mouth in shock. Never in a million years had she thought that someone like Nobuo, who carried himself with such nobility and esteem, would debase himself to such a nature. Alerted to her presence, he finally looked up and met her eyes in a mixture of fury, terror, and defeat.

Having suffered grievous wounds from his altercation with Bao and his men, and running low on the life force he needed to mend them, Nobuo found himself in a precarious position. He was incapacitated with the final bullet in his chamber emptied. Consuming other humans for their Chi was a quick and dirty solution he reserved for situations like these. It was something that filled him with shame, but as long as no one knew, he could tuck it away in a box and never speak of it.

Instead, his crimes had finally caught up to him. The deities were enraged, sending that girl he detested over to mock and brand him as a demon worshipper. Such as his luck would have it. Nobuo let out a bitter laugh as he leaned his head against a pillar.

Who was the ‘dirty savage’ now? he questioned ruefully, recalling the insult he had hurled at her, as well as the ones she spat back during their first meeting. All because they were born on the opposing sides of history.

However, Hailin stood rooted to the ground, staring at him, unblinking. He couldn’t read her thoughts and it made him furious. 

“What are you waiting for? Now’s your chance,” Nobuo challenged. He would accept whatever fate was to befall him head-on, honorably and without a shadow of a doubt.

At this, she twisted her mouth and strode toward him. Stooping to his level, she draped his arm over her shoulders, lifting him to his feet and escorting him out. From a safe distance, Hailin set off a homemade explosive to get rid of the traces of evidence before escaping. Nobuo stumbled into her side, limping as she guided him through the passageways. Brows furrowed in a haze of confusion, he blabbered on in protest.

“Shut up!” she snapped, dragging him along more forcefully.

He relented, his constitution still frail and weakened from the fight. By the time Hailin reached Soon-hee and Wai Mun, Nobuo had slipped into unconsciousness. She felt for his pulse, and it was faint, but still present.

“What the hell happened?” Soon-hee exclaimed, assisting Hailin by propping Nobuo up on the other side. Her gaze darted from his grisly, ensanguined face to the gaping holes that riddled his body. Wai Mun was looking on similarly.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Hailin replied tersely, burying his secret with her. “Bao’s disappeared. Some sort of shaman, I think, but we have his trinkets.”

“Right.” Wai Mun nodded, hurrying them toward a getaway van before hopping into the driver’s seat. “We need to beat it. The police will be here any second.”

They shuffled in and tore off the road at breakneck speed, leaving the wails of sirens and their flashing lights behind.

Back at the safehouse, Nobuo drifted in and out of wakefulness over the next few days, gradually recovering as he felt his vitality return to him. Now and then, he heard the murmur of voices of whom he assumed were his associates, caught a blurry glimpse of someone by his side, and picked up the subtle scent of the sea and jasmine.

He dreamed of home and longed for it. The serenity he found in its harsh landscape, rural and unspoiled. The crashing of waves, the white blanket of snow, and the chill in the air that gripped his bones, offering him solace and clarity. Not like the noisy and pungent smells of a city he didn’t belong to, in which he felt so foreign and alone, despite its dense crowds. He had been sent to prove himself, needing to be strong, and never showing an ounce of weakness. Because he was perfect. He always was.

Eventually, when Nobuo roused, he saw the last person he expected in the room with him. For a while, Hailin noticed as he observed her in confoundment and curiosity, but paid him no mind, continuing to busy herself with dressing his wounds, which had mostly healed. She could sense his mistrust in the way he stilled and shrank away from her, as if this were a trap that she had laid out for him.

After a bout of silence, Nobuo sat himself upright. Clearing his throat, he suggested, “You want something in exchange. Is that it?”

He was smart, Hailin had to admit that at least. It wasn’t too far out from what she might have done, had it been under different circumstances. He knew how she played her games, toyed with her subjects like chess pieces, infiltrating them one by one, without them realizing that they had been deceived.

“Sometimes, you do what you have to do, Fujiwara. I’m sure we both know that very well…” she began. Rising from his bedside, she went over to the sink and let the faucet run. Cold water splashed onto her hands, washing them clean. She waited until she had turned the tap off before continuing. 

“I’m not telling anyone and there’s no price attached.”

Nobuo uttered a scoff in disbelief as he shifted his gaze away, looking out the window. It was all tarmac, chipped paint, and concrete. Dull and gaudy collectively. “Why?” he whispered, more to himself than to her. “Why are you helping me?”

An audible sigh fell from her lips. Her shoulders slumped and she let her head loll before pulling herself together and regarding him. 

“I don’t know,” Hailin responded truthfully. “I should hate you for what your people did to mine, but who’s saying that? Do I really hate you or am I forced to because of somebody else’s hate? Does it make sense? I just… I don’t see why. When you saved me back there, what made you? What made you think of me as anything more than Chinese scum? Do you really believe in that? I called you a devil—”

“A Japanese devil,” Nobuo interjected, though the ghost of a wry smile appeared on his face.

Hailin huffed in exasperation. “Yes, that. I don’t even know what it means anymore. Do you? It’s just words I’m constantly repeating, and I don’t think I feel…” she broke off, holding her breath as she searched his eyes desperately for an answer. Weren’t they the same? Cut them both, and they would bleed.

Her face had gotten hot with embarrassment, a reaction she experienced every time she had an outburst like this. Like a reminder of her vulnerability that she had failed to rein in, to keep her emotions in check. On the one hand, she envied how calm and composed Nobuo seemed, yet on the other, he felt most human to her when she had witnessed him at his lowest.

“I don’t think I can hate you, Hailin,” he said softly. “And believe me, I’ve tried.”

She nodded, understanding the conflict that he had endured with a certain intimacy. Brushing aside the strands of hair from her face, Hailin gave a hint of a smile. Then, she bent her head, saying, “I’m sorry,” even though it came unnaturally to her.

In a similar fashion, Nobuo bowed slightly to acknowledge it, his deep brown eyes reflecting hers. “I apologize.” 

There was a hesitance and stiltedness to it, but it was a start.

Dividers by @pixopix

[suaisalivealivealive]

Vampires can show up in phone cameras!!!

The reasons why vampires didn’t show up in mirrors is because old mirrors used silver backing and pure metal, which was thought to repel evil. Vampires were thought to be inherently evil so they didn’t reflect them. Another reason why they didn’t show up in mirrors was because they were thought to have no soul, so it didn’t reflect anything because they were soulless.

[cythanadiel]

newest stinky baby girl,, smells as bad as he looks

+ a quick sketch of the party's puppet version that we once encountered randomly in a room

[taylaedraws]

A lovely commission I did for feministream 🌹

I love when you guys commission d&d stuff

[panksage]

New dnd character portrait I’ve done for my campaign. Alfie leads his friends into a den of vampires next week, wish them luck! I’m excited for the Drama👀

🎨Ko-fi | comms🎨

[hamartichi]

Late Night Encounters

The streets of Vallaki were drowned in shadow and storm, the kind of night that pressed close and whispered secrets to those brave, or foolish, enough to move within it.

The rain came down in relentless storms, hammering rooftops and slick cobblestones until every street shimmered like a broken mirror. Fog pooled thick at the edges of buildings, spreading around corners and doorways.

Eleanora waited beneath the eave of a crumbling storefront, her cloak, all soaked through, was clinging to her frame. Her hair, braided tightly to keep it from her eyes, dripped steadily. She shifted from foot to foot, not from cold, she was used to the cold, but from nerves.

He should have been here by now.

The only warning she got was the faint sound of hooves, distant and muffled by rain. A single rider approached the alley, slow, deliberate. The figure was cloaked in black, his silhouette cutting a sharp line through the mist. The horse moved with practiced grace, knowing the streets as well as its rider did.

She recognized him before he even dismounted. That luminous red hair that peaked out of the hood.

Alaric.

He slid from the saddle with a fluid motion, rain trailing down his shoulders as he tethered the beast in silence. His hood shadowed his face, but she could see the sharp gleam of gold in his eyes beneath it. That familiar quiet confidence. That dangerous calm.

And something else too, something taut in his posture. Heavy.

He approached, boots splashing through puddles until he was close enough to touch her. A bundle was hidden beneath his cloak: sealed letters, old and worn. Ink that still smelled faintly of that rare incense the Darklord (Strahd) favored.

They weren’t orders. Not statecraft or diplomacy.

These were personal.

He should never have taken them.

And yet, he had.

Because she had asked.

He crossed to her swiftly then, every step precise. The moment he reached her, he caught her by the arm, not roughly, not possessively, but firmly enough to pull her into the narrow mouth of the alley beside him. There, under the low overhang of stone, he pressed her back gently against the wall, shielding her with the angle of his body. To any passing eyes, they would be just two shadows too close together. Lovers, maybe. Nothing more. But his heart was a drum in his ribs. Water dripped from the tip of his nose as he looked down at her, her breath was rising in soft clouds, her face half-lit by the orange flicker of a distant torch. Close like this, she smelled of damp velvet and ash and that sweet, unfamiliar something that always disarmed him. He reached into the folds of his coat and drew the bundle from its hiding place.

“You are getting me in so much trouble,” he whispered, voice low. And then, he handed it to her. Effortlessly and without hesitation.

"Thank you," she murmured, the words slipping out softer than she had intended, there was barely a breath between them. "For this. For helping me."

Her eyes never left him. Not for a second.

Rain slid down the curve of his jaw, caught in the hollow of his throat, glimmering faintly in the shifting torchlight from the street. He stood so close, too close and yet not close enough. The alley seemed to shrink around them, stone and shadow pressing in as her heartbeat grew louder, faster, a thrum in her ears that matched the rhythm of falling rain.

She didn’t back away.

Didn’t want to.

“I’ll read them,” she continued, her voice steadier now, though her chest still rose and fell in rapid little catches. “Then I’ll hide them somewhere. Maybe… maybe I’ll bury them deep, where no one will ever find them. No one shall know it was you who brought them to me.”

With delicate care, she tucked the bundle of letters beneath the layers of her coat, securing it close to her body like something sacred. Her hands moved on instinct alone, her mind was still tangled in the feel of him so close to her, in the pull of golden eyes that seemed to see right through every practiced smile and sharpened edge she wore like armor.

He was danger. Complication.

She had told herself he was only an asset, something to be leveraged, manipulated, discarded when the time was right. And yet… she couldn’t stop looking at him. Couldn’t ignore the way he had helped her without hesitation.

And gods help her, it was starting to mean something.

More than it should.

More than she had meant it to.

He wasn’t supposed to matter. . .

“Just be careful” he murmured.

His hand lifted then, slowly, deliberately and brushed a soaked strand of hair from her cheek, knuckles grazing the side of her face. There was nothing rushed in the gesture. If anything, it was reverent. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch her at all, but did it anyway.

His eyes didn’t leave hers.

And for one brief, traitorous second, he leaned in.

The space between them narrowed, his breath brushing hers, his hand ghosting near the side of her neck. Too close. Close enough to feel it, whatever it was, blooming slow and dangerous between them.

Yet, just before the space collapsed, he moved to turn. To leave her behind, find himself a plausible enough alibi that did not align with hers, so they would not be in trouble anytime soon.

And she moved too.

Her fingers curled around his wrist and with a sudden pull, she dragged him down into a kiss, fierce and desperate.

He gasped against her mouth, stunned into stillness.

Only for a second.

Then he kissed her back, one hand braced against the wall beside her head, the other at her waist, holding her like he wasn’t sure if he meant to pull her closer or push her away.

Just as the heat flared between them, just as the moment threatened to become too much -

She pushed him back. Gently. Wordlessly.

And vanished into the alleyway, her cloak sweeping behind her like a parting spell.

Alaric lingered in the silence, his breath was steady but shallow, as if exhaling might shatter the moment still clinging to him.

He tilted his head back toward the dark sky, leaning against the cold wall behind him as rain was slipping down his face. Eyes closed, jaw tense, he drew in a long breath -

and let it out in a low, hushed whisper,

“…Fuuuuuck.”

- A little something written & drawn based on my last DnD CoS session

[luminescentpearl]

𝔗𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱.