#unvampire

[dailynakaharachuuya]

Get your weird dog away!! Why he sound like that??

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Dave: why do they sell garlic in fishnets why is it so sensual?

Kanaya: Have You Tasted Garlic?

[leontheluxuriousone]

what if we swapped kids for a day

that would be funny

-- @ninjas-greatest-weapon

it would be hilarious >:)

wait- since when do you have fun ideas???

[kyouka-supremacy]

[yymiya]

shoutout to the vampire!diluc fic i started in march and never finished because of exams & uni... this was the first scene LMAO

This is the third letter in five days.

There are likely a number of others, led astray by the blizzard, beaten down by the fall of snow, but precisely three have reached his hand. The terrain here is beautiful, if fatally unpredictable and volatile. Lines of correspondence are often clipped by the conditions much sooner than intended—this, Diluc is acquainted with.

Yet, once more, his falcon drifts along the howling wind and dives down to perch on her master’s raised arm, and he knows the parchment fastened to her leg is not the biweekly report of the Dawn Winery’s affairs that he awaits but something else entirely.

Ordo Favonius has been unusually, frustratingly persistent as of late.

How typical, intercepting his commercial communications to deliver a message—several, rather—of their own without a care for the routine they disrupt. They must have forgotten that he intends to complete this journey alone. He doesn’t need their aid, or their ingratiating, sickly words and void oaths. 

Diluc halts. His boots kick up a gust of powdery snow. It settles between his boot buckles and the creases in his trousers. 

He should read the letter. For what reason would they write him, if not one of great importance?

The others had been scorched, set aflame before the parchment was unravelled to reveal more than the Favonius Coat of Arms. He typically finds a vestige of satisfaction in allowing the stamped ink to smoulder and fall away but...

It isn’t there.

Instead, the letter bears the emblem of his family name.

His falcon is dismissed. She glides through the dull evening and seeks refuge atop a high branch. Only once she begins preening does Diluc’s attention return to the parchment clutched in his fist.

He gouges the Ragnvindr crest with a blade, bending one knee to smear the ink in the snow. It isn’t necessary. Each letter he keeps is then stitched into his jacket lining, but this needless routine of self-preservation is familiar, tried and true.

He stands. Narrowed eyes flick across the page. His sight is obscured by the snowflakes mired in his lashes but he blinks them away, each word bolstering something within him that he wishes not to address.

The anger that festers is white-hot, spiking at the edges until each facet of his being stings.

Only Kaeya is this bold. Hiding behind a crest to which he no longer belongs. Using that horribly sapid handwriting that they had been taught together in their youth. Pretending that he is owed a favour, as though a decade of those weren’t enough.

Diluc presses the back of his hand to his mouth, eyes tightly closed. That isn’t it. Much of his anger directed towards Kaeya faltered with the searing of rain-soaked flesh. Mere vestiges remain.

It seems time away has done little to assuage his distaste for the Knights.

Onyx flames teeter between the ridge of his index and the parchment, but the strange light dissipates with the tremble of his hand. For now, he tucks it into his inner pocket and takes shelter beneath a tall pine.

His falcon keeps watch from above. If a commotion emerges nearby, she will notify him, but Diluc must think for the time being.

The letter is simple, devoid of Kaeya’s flowery, placating language and double entendres, and the message simpler: Inspector Eroch has been purged from the Knights of Favonius and Diluc is permitted to return at last.

The fulfilment of a promise should be gratifying—one more senseless bastard driven out of Mondstadt—but Kaeya’s warning to proceed with caution should not be taken lightly. Eroch’s allies have not yet exposed themselves to the investigation, but they are there, and several of their covert workings presently cause instability within Ordo Favonius.

Despite their differences, Kaeya's judgement is trusted. After all, they were reared by the same hand, the same goal. Their minds are intrinsically tethered together.

Still. Diluc is nothing if not saddled by duty. A legacy sits beneath his skin, bitter and empty and surrounded by stagnant, aged blood. It is Mondstadt that earned his devotion; his family and friends, however few remain. He has a duty as a child of the wind.

He sighs, working his jaw. What choice does he have? They—

They will rescind his exile. They will forgive his transgressions.

This existence is a lonely one, but whether the warm winds of the city will thread him together, he isn’t certain. The community would shun him if they became privy to the truth. Each patrolling knight, complicit or otherwise, would serve as a heavy reminder.

Diluc pulls his glove taut. This place is callous and unwelcoming, a dead-end that stretches for miles of barren desolation. He has scoured all corners while lying in wait.

Gods, has he waited.

His falcon sounds up ahead. There must be trouble nearby.

Hasn’t he done all he can?

[abyssalreds]

i do wonder what will happen when aya pulls the sword out of bram tho, like would everyone become unvampired or are they all just under his control instead of fukuchi’s?

[victorian-vampir]

Hey, D&D players?

If one of your party members or player characters has a disability of some kind, say they're partially or fully blind, have a mobility aid, are mentally ill, are deaf, anything at all, let's not try and "fix" them? This goes for fictional and fantasy stuff too, if one of your party members is a werewolf or a vampire or undead and they are comfortable and okay with being that way and do not want to change, unless you have explicit consent of that player to heal them for a dramatic moment of the story, don't fucking try.

Leave disabled pc and npcs alone. Making that man not blind anymore isn't heroic it's just ableist.

[alhavaradawnstar]

thinking about Nađis and Gelebor. They're silly

[probablybadrpgideas]

Fuck this. Fuck you.

*Unvampires your masquerade*

[squirreljc2]

Fuck it *unvampires your guillermo*

[cookinguptales]

(via @goofygooberton)

tbh the one detail I want to talk about most is Guillermo taking off the cardigan that his grandmother gave him before he let Derek bite him.

Like -- him taking off his clothing before letting Derek bite him lends itself well to the sex/virginity metaphor I already talked about, but the fact that Guillermo specifically said that his grandmother got it for him... That opens up such a can of worms.

I want to come at this detail from a couple different angles, actually. That's how important I think it was. I think that the cardigan represents Guillermo's humanity, his family, and his slayer lineage. He wants to take it off -- but he also wants to protect it.

To start with, his humanity. Guillermo's sweaters have always kind of been a symbol of how... unvampiric he is. They're soft, they're cozy, they're not exactly fashionable. He stopped wearing them as often as he started delving into his slayer side and when he started being on more even footing with his vampiric family, but he's gone back to wearing them more often again.

I feel like Guillermo is often trying to Make A Point with his clothing, tbh. He wore smart, effective, professional (and attractive) clothing as a slayer. He wore flashy, expensive clothing to try and show off his power, money, and influence once he started embezzling from the club. But sweaters are his comfort clothes, and as he stops feeling the need to prove himself, he seems to revert back to what makes him most comfortable.

So him insisting on removing his sweater first, again, feels like Guillermo getting out of his comfort zone. It's him purposefully divorcing himself from his humanity before allowing Derek to turn him.

But... he still wants to keep those clothes safe. He still hasn't left humanity behind him all together.

Which brings me to the second point. Family. Guillermo very specifically brings up that this cardigan was given to him by his grandmother, the de facto head of the family. She loves him dearly, and, lbr, has been known to make not-so-subtle statements via her cardigans.

(Remember the rainbow cardigan at the family dinner? I sure do.)

Guillermo has really struggled with balancing his relationships with his family and his relationships with the vampires. He's in a very fragile place right now where he knows that his family is a danger to the vampires he loves (and vice-versa) and that they would not accept his choice to be a vampire. He literally told them what he wanted and saw it go to absolute shit. But they don't remember that now, so he's been able to maintain this tenuous peace between his two families.

But... has he really thought all this through? He's made the decision to become a vampire, and how will that affect his relationship with his family? The transformation doesn't seem to be working correctly, possibly because of his bloodline, but he's not quite human anymore, either. Is he far enough gone to set off their killing instinct? Hard to say, but I bet we'll find out.

So when Guillermo takes off a cardigan that his grandmother gave him to prevent it from getting stained with blood, it feels like he has chosen to distance himself from his family, but still desperately wants to hold onto what little relationship they might have left. He doesn't want their relationship to be permanently stained.

But I can only assume that his sweater, like every other inch of that room, probably got very bloody indeed.

So... is it a losing battle, trying to keep his relationship with his family safe and blood-free? Is it, like that sweater, doomed to destruction despite his best efforts?

Hard to say!

Finally... the whole slayer thing. The thing that's come between Guillermo, the vampires, and his family for all this time. Guillermo didn't want to be a slayer, but has come around to the realities of his bloodline. But he still doesn't want it to get in the way of his transformation. He removed the sweater that his vampire-slaying grandmother gave him before he was bitten, just like he's trying to remove his human bloodline altogether.

But... it's not so easy to get rid of your blood, is it? Even when you spray about 10 gallons of it all over the back room of a gas station. I think that blood is probably still interfering with the transformation, but I guess we'll get more information on that later.

The most interesting part of all this to me, though, is like... okay, so Guillermo's sweaters represent the parts of him that he wants to shed during this transformation, but that he simultaneously can't quite stand to let go of. But in the same episode, Nandor specifically asks Guillermo to wear a sweater.

Like sure, he calls it shitty -- but he doesn't want Guillermo to wear the flashy, expensive clothes that Guillermo wore to impress his family and boyfriend, or the neat lines of his professional slayer wear. He wants Guillermo at his most comfortable and his most himself. He wants Guillermo in a sweater, the nicest one he has. He wants Guillermo to be the nicest version of himself. He doesn't need Guillermo to take anything away from himself; he just wants to change him into the best version of what he already is.

The real question here for me now is... is this because Nandor is still uncomfortable thinking about Guillermo's transformation? Is that why he's still insisting on Guillermo wearing his sweaters? Or is it just that this is the version of Guillermo he likes best? The comfortable, sweet, soft version of him? The Guillermo that brushes his hair and pats his back and talks him down when he's scared?

Does he want Guillermo to keep wearing his sweaters because he, like Guillermo, associates them with his humanity? Or is it because he associates them with Guillermo's happiness? Does he want Guillermo to be the best version of himself while still being "shitty", aka human? Or does he want Guillermo to feel comfortable at his birthday dinner even if Nandor personally thinks the sweaters are ugly?

God. Nandor.

Ahhhh fuck, this all makes me feral. lmao. I am not emotionally prepared for this season.

[firbolgfriend]

Giving fluttershy bat wings is real as fuck cos i always wondered if she was still secretly flutterbat 😭

My redesign headcanon is that they didn’t fully unvampire bat her and she’s classic vampire immortal…. And lives forever and g5 discord never happens because they live happily ever after

[flamie-42]

I have a theory about Akutagawa's Coat

ive seen a few people saying "oh its him from another universe" blah blah i think yall are thinking about this too hard

this is his new fit (10/10)

i think that its just Brams coat.

My reasoning: he was just with bram

AND LOOK AT THE COAT, ITS THE SAME AS BRAMS.

i think after Bram (hopefully) unvampirized Aktugagwa he gave him Brams coat. And the knights helmet is Rashomon's armor form, its a knights armor since its a different coat. idk it makes sense in my head

[taxonomicons]

unvampire-ing

dedicating my first wwdits post here to @memosminifridge

[thepenultimateword]

Claws and Fangs Part 2

CW: Discrimination, essence of racism and hate speech (just with made-up terms because its supernatural creatures)

Part One

[Vampire!]

The little girl standing tiptoe in the doorframe sprang at the vampire's chest, nearly knocking them backwards down the long flight of stairs. Luckily, Fangs managed to catch her under the arms and swing her weight back toward the door just in time.

"Aggie!" they cried, matching her energy. They rubbed noses with the child as they shifted her to the crook of their free arm and reached behind them to find Claws’s arm again.

The child, Aggie, clung to their neck. "Daddy said you weren't coming!"

"Plans changed." They gave the little girl an extra squeeze before smoothly positioning Claws in front of her. "This is [Werewolf]. They're staying the weekend with us."

The little girl lit up for an instant but then froze, sniffing the air and wrinkling her nose. "Why do they smell like that?"

"Aggie!" a new feminine voice scolded, this one older, huskier. "That's no way to treat a guest."

A tall, raven-haired woman in a long red dress appeared in the doorway. Claws only needed a second to recognize her as another vampire. She carried the same red-eyed glint and predatory elegance as Fangs.

Her gaze roved up and down, taking in their utter unvampireness, but she still smiled as she met their eyes.

“Excuse my daughter. She hasn't had much exposure outside a clan.."

Aggie wriggled out of the Fangs’s arms and darted past her mother's legs and into the house.

"I'm [Vampire's] sister, Nerezza. You must be [Werewolf]."

"You know me?"

"Of course, we've been trying to get them to invite you for a dog's age." She gasped, covering her mouth. "I am so sorry."

Fangs covered their face with one hand. "Nerezza."

Claws's face heated. Apparently, their identity was no mystery. "Er, it's fine. I didn't really notice."

"Until you made a big deal out of it," Fangs said.

"Excuse me, [Vampire] for being careful," Nerezza snapped. "I didn't want to offend them before they even got through the door, and I only just remembered that dog is a derogatory term!"

"You can say dog, just don't call them one."

Nerezza glanced at Claws for confirmation, as if she only trusted the explanation from the source's mouth. When they nodded, she noticeably relaxed.

"Well come on in before you catch a cold standing here. Just leave your bags by the door; the staff will take it up to your room. Now. Let's introduce you to everyone else."

Fangs squeezed their hand as they crossed the threshold. "Here we go."

The house was even more beautiful inside than out. Rich red rugs swathed pearly marble floors. The walls and banisters were dark chocolate wood decorated in tapestries and oil portraits of vampires that looked suspiciously similar to Fangs and Nerezza. At the end of the hall, Nerezza turned through an arched entryway into a great, round sitting room. The sofas and recliners were draped in white fur throws and a rose and silver-leaf garland hung over the hearth, the hearty, pine-scented fire within accenting the room with an orange glow.

"Evening everyone!" Fangs said

Several vampires twisted their heads around as they entered, one man on the end of one sofa with his dark silky hair pulled into a bun immediately began sniffing the air.

"What in burning silver is that smell?"

The man beside him, looking nearly identical except for his hair--pale blonde and plaited over his shoulder, promptly punched him in the ribs.

"Told you, told you, told you!" Aggie sang from the floor where she was very meticulously putting together a puzzle of a frog pond.

Fangs's hand slipped out of Claws's grip and settled more protectively around their waist, seeming to forget for a moment that their partner was over a head taller and a few palms bulkier than they were. Though they wouldn't deny that having that supernatural vampire strength wrapped firmly about them was comforting.

"This is [Werewolf]. You know about them. My...er...well, we're engaged. Sort of."

"Sort of?" Man Bun said condescendingly, this time blocking his brother's fist.

"I haven't actually asked yet, but we both already know--"

"You're going to," Claws helped. "It just hasn't officially..."

"No, not quite yet."

"Soon though?" Claws tipped their gaze meaningfully toward Fangs’s face. Standing in front of their family for the first time probably wasn't the time or place for hints, but they couldn't help it now that the topic was out in the open. They had been waiting for a while now.

"Oh, yes, yes, very soon!" Fangs said, and they both strained smiles at the room. Fangs clapped their hands together. "Anyway. Aggie and Nerezza greeted us at the door, this is my brother-in-law, Gabriel."

The vampire he gestured to was in fact the only one who had not bored holes into Claws upon entering. Mostly because he was reclined all the way back in the biggest armchair, snoring. Claws still committed his enormous frame and the pink elastics in his auburn beard and hairline to memory.

"My brother Renwick,” Fangs moved on, introducing the blonde man. “The especially rude one is Lauden." They pinched Man Bun's cheek and turned their tone babyish. "Our baby."

Lauden swatted them away. "Shut up, I'm grown! ...Unless the last blood custard is up for grabs, then I'll gladly be the baby."

"My mother and father, you can call them Jacqueline and Valerian.

Jacqueline strained a smile, but Valerian was as still and austere as one of the oil paintings in the hall. Claws could definitely tell who had the strongest genes. Jacqueline's blonde hair and storm gray eyes had passed to Renwick, but the rest of the siblings shared their father's raven hair, amber eyes, and delicate bone structure. They still needed to get used to vampire parents looking nearly as young as their children.

Fangs gestured to a regal, middle-aged man in the armchair closest to the fire, not a recliner for how stick straight he sat, pale hand planted firmly around the gold knob of his cane. His dark hair was a mane brushed straight back and streaked at the temples with silver.

"Grandfather Ambrose," they mumbled quickly and then immediately brighter, "And that’s everyone!”

Before Claws could reply so much as 'pleased to meet you,' Fangs's strong arms dragged them off balance, plopping them both on the floor beside Aggie, Claws in the center of Fangs's lap.

Claws looked at the floor. It still wasn't the full moon, but the phantom sensation of a tucked tail and ears plagued their body. Maybe this hadn't been such a great idea. The air of awkwardness and disapproval was worse than being alone.

"So, [Werewolf]," Nerezza said, breaking the quiet. "How long have you and [Vampire] been together."

"W-we met a year and a half ago. So I guess officially...a year? How long have you known about me?"

"A year sounds right," Renwick said, leaning his elbows forward on his knees and resting his chin in his hands. His eyes seemed intent on dissecting Claws bit by bit. "You're name came up several times, but [Vampire] has always been a closed trap on the topic. Now I know why."

"Not that it matters, of course," Nerezza piped in quickly.

"Of course," Renwick agreed, though his tone was much less concerned. "How old are you?"

"Er, 27."

"Ah."

What was that supposed to mean?

"Ren," Fangs warned.

"What I'm just getting to know them. Isn't that what you want? Isn't that why you brought them?"

"This a probationary meeting. For if you ever get to see them or me again."

Claws melted closer to the floor, tracing the pattern of the rug with their eyes.

Aggie tugged on their sleeve. "Can you help me find the froggy eyes?"

She pointed to one of the background frogs on the box, his eyes only the corner of a mostly pond puzzle piece.

"Of course, let's see..." They sifted through several nearly identical, greenish-gray pieces. "Ah ha! One set of froggy eyes!"

Aggie's amber eyes lit like embers as she fit the piece into place. "And the dragonflies?"

Claws slowly slid off Fangs's lap and sprawled onto their stomach. "Pink or blue?"

"The pink."

"Ah, those ones are tricky, huh? Well, it looks like they're an edge piece, so can you help me find all the pieces with flat sides like this?"

She nodded adamantly, and together they made a small pile. Claws already saw the dragonflies, but instead of handing the piece to her they said, "See any pink ones?"

Aggie bit her lip mildly with one fang, flicking her eyes back and forth like a cat stalking a mouse. All at once, she pounced, finger landing on the center of the piece.

"Right there! Right there!"

"You found it!"

Aggie giggled. Claws was vaguely aware of a slight back and forth of their hips, habitual even with the absence of a tail.

"Look at them wriggle, just like a--"

"Why don't we all change for dinner," Jacqueline said, cutting Lauden off. She stood with a flourish, fluffing the skirts of her creamy vintage evening gown. “Lauden, dear, come with me, and I’ll help you with your tie.”

“What are you talking about?” the young man said, crinkling his pale brow. “I know how to tie—”

“Come.” Her eyes flashed like lightning in the violent storms of her irises, and Lauden quickly got up to follow her.

***

Claws threw themselves on the bed, giving a luxurious stretch as they stared up at the rich velvet canopy. They rolled on their side as Fangs closed the door.

“Alright, infamous outfit change #1. Help me, my love, what am I ever supposed to wear?” They tossed their head and pressed the back of their hand to their forehead.

Instead of playing along, Fangs sat on the edge of the bed and took their hand. “Do you want to go home? Because one word, and we’re out.”

"Hm?"

"We've only just arrived, and they're already being rude. It's going to get worse as they get more comfortable."

Claws crawled the couple of feet between them and flopped their head on their legs. "I’m not so much of a coward that a few mean words can chase me away. I’m from a wolf pack, you know. We deal with rough every day. Besides, I’ve been through worse.”

“Like what?”

“You.”

“Ow. What?”

“You were not pleasant when we first met. In fact, you called me the d-o-g word. Multiple times.”

“Because I was stupid! And I didn't know it was a slur! I didn't exactly talk to werewolves yet."

Claws reached up and smoothed the creases out of their face. "I know. The point is I can handle it. I'll let you know if can't."

Vampire wore a pout but nodded. They pointed at the suitcases. "It's the grey suitcoat with the red cravat. I'll help you tie it."

"You think I can't do it on my own?"

"Oh, I know you can't. Now stay there and sit still. I'll explain a bit about dinner."

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn

[imtiredmandontquestionit]

Chapter 110 real (I'm Asagiri!!)

Chuuya (unvampired): *Frantically trying to wake Dazai up*

Dazai: *Unresponsive*

Chuuya: "Come on... come on... wake up!"

Dazai: "Boo"

Chuuya: "WHAT THE FUCK?" *leaves*

Dazai: "Wait no come back I can't walk-"