#Vampyr hunter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 1 year

Text

Our Man Flint

TW: vampyrs, blood, various weapons (no firearms), Christianity, bugs, attempted murder, traditional methods of slaying a vampyr, brief manhandling, captivity, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

Note: The word vampyr is simply an archaic spelling of the modern vampire. This story utilizes traditional Slavic folklore, largely ignoring Hollywood inventions. Although I do throw in my own ideas as well.

Flint eagerly traversed the steep hillside road leading to an abandoned castle, where gossips swore up and down vampyrs resided. The recently concocted rumors, fuelled by illness and death in the small town bellow, itched to be proven.

To Flint, the idea of undead nocturnal creatures feasting on the life blood of humans seemed far more compelling than simple fever and hysteria.

Flint's bag hung heavy on his back, the leather strap digging into his left shoulder. Hawthorn stakes, cloves of garlic, silver blades, and bottles of holy water weighed him down far more than seemed possible.

Or perhaps the objects themselves simply combined with his second thoughts to slow his pace.

A lock of black hair fell over his face, jostled by his swift pace. He swept it behind his ear.

Grass had long since reclaimed large portions of the road. The late summer sun parched the earth and bleached the plants to sickly shades of yellow.

The incline grew, as did Flint's excitement. He was finally facing his first chance to win back the faded glory from his first slaying of a vampyr.

He had intended for it to be his only attempt at the gruesome sport, a simple bid of necessity in a dark time. But the glory had proven a potent drug to which he had quickly become addicted.

His fellow townsfolk had sung his praises like canaries saved from the cat. His family had bragged of his courage to all who would listen. Strangers had hung on every exaggerated word of his tale.

But time faded glory, as it did all things, and Flint needed to continue with his sport to stay under the spotlight.

He couldn't bear the horror of surviving a failure. Being slaughtered by a demon seemed a much better fate than admitting to folly or cowardice.

So, he told no one where he was going and took off at high noon, determined to come back with the head of a vampyr, or excuses for his absence and a few pleasant words on the walk he had taken.

The bright golden sun crept lower in the sky, far past noon, leaving few hours for Flint's quest.

He eventually came upon the front door, a monolithic thing of rotted wood and rusted iron hinges. It reeked of decay and the many bugs living within its heart wood.

Flint nearly threw out his back forcing it open, the hinges screeching from the pain of use.

Any vampyr would be fast asleep, and any other form of inhabitant seemed incredulous, so Flint made no effort to stay quiet as he set off exploring.

Webs stretched from wall to wall, playing host to spiders, swollen from feasting on flies and maggots. Bugs writhed in the webs serving as their death row prison cell, awaiting execution.

Dust coated the ground, jumping up with Flint's every footstep. He coughed and spluttered, trying to clear his lungs. He had never been a smoker, and the sensation of his lungs being filled with foreign elements proved unbearable.

Tattered moth eaten tapestries hung from the walls, or laid limply on the floor, long since fallen from their rusted nails. Their bleached colors betrayed no original design or intention.

Flint had no idea as to what conditions vampyr's prefered. This crumbling castle could very well be a perfect condition for the more civilized sort. He had exhumed his only prior traget from a graveyard, where it laid in a coffin buried six feet under. Rather shabby, when compared to a fortress of stone.

A door caught Flint's attention. The wood looked oddly smooth and glossy, kept free of decay. He twisted the gleaming doorknob. It slid open on its hinges with nary a creak.

The opened corridor was lit by torchlight. Unusual, for any nocturnal creature to want for light or fire. But Flint didn't question the suspicious blessing, instead scanning the corridor for any hints as to its upkeep.

Every door and closed window shutter was fashioned from polished rose wood. Rugs covered the ground, their dark black color concealing any stain of blood which could mar them.

Bugs camped out in corners and crevices, but the webs were far less prolific. They seemed to have been cleared out with the dust and grime.

Flint clutched the crucifix hanging from his throat. He knew it ought to grant him spiritual support, but all he felt was the cold kiss of metal against his palm.

He stopped, entranced by the grotesque classical paintings hanging from the walls.

Glorious battles, religious scenes, and disgusting murders hung side by side with no distinction between them made through positioning.

Some were near pornographic, showing beautiful nude bodies writhing in the flames of hell or brutalized men in ruined clothing revealing far too much flesh.

Flint tore his eyes away. His heart beat frantically, threatening to push through its cage and spill his crimson life blood onto the black wool carpet.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, his heart returned to its proper pace, keeping him well and truly alive.

On an impulse, Flint chose the third door from the entrance to search first. Very little light poured into the room from the open doorway, but after taking a moment for his eyes to adjust, he could just make out its interior.

His heart settled in his stomach, like the body of a child weighed down with stones drowning in a deep well.

On the lefthand side of the room, a pale casket laid, carved from birch or beechwood. Painted patterns of flowers and leaves adorned its tan sides.

On the righthand side of the room, a dark casket blended with the shadows, fashioned from ebony, unblemished by paint nor varnish.

Flint crossed himself.

Then, when no sense of protection nor blessing overcame him, he did it again.

If anything, he felt more chilled than before.

He sighed and dropped his bag on the floor. Jumping at the clatter, he quickly scanned the caskets, listening for any hint of movement from their occupants.

But, of course, there was no movement. It would take a noise much greater than his bag tumbling to the ground to wake the dead.

After assessing both caskets, he decided to open the one of pale wood, revealing a man laid to rest inside.

A thrill ran up Flint's spine as he took in the vampyr's appearance. So youthful, as though a corpse bloated on embalming fluids, kept young by the work of a mortician having no idea as to their unholiness of their work.

Long blonde hair laid smoothly over the vampyr's shoulders, well combed and perfectly clean. Tight leather clothing and strange piercings gave the body a look far too human for Flint's taste. From his limited experience, he prefered vampyrs dressed in burial shrouds fit for the dead.

He didn't bother looking in the ebony casket. Whatever was laid to rest inside could wait until its brethren had been dealt with.

The sharpened hawthorn stake and stone headed hammer fit well in Flint's hand.

Placing the point directly over the vampyr's heart and bracing the hammer over the spike came naturally to him.

This was in spite of the unnatural being of the vampyr, a demon formed of human flesh, feeding on human blood to retain its eternal, ethereal youth.

An unholy mockery to all things faithful.

The killing of a vampyr was a disgusting act. The horrid crack of breaking ribs, great spurts of crimson blood coating both the vampyr and its hunter, and the terrible screams all combined to create an act more gruesome than the murder of a human could be.

Flint hadn't expected screaming on his first hunt, and the sound had made his blood run rancid. The only comforting aspect of the following decapitation had been the noise ceasing.

Flint braced himself.

One heavy blow of the hammer sent the spike through the vampyr's rib cage.

Flint's grasp nearly slipped from the blood slicked stake and hammer, but he tightened his grip and continued.

Another blow drove it into the thing's slowly beating heart.

The shrieking proved worse than Flint's memories had forewarned him, perhaps due to the closed quarters. Nothing earthly could compare. Not the anguish of any battlefield, nor the screams forged by tortured prisoners.

One final blow nailed the vampyr to the earth of its casket, despite its agonized thrashing.

Flint swiftly riffled through his bag for his silver dagger, loudly cursing himself for forgetting to pull it out prior to the attempted slaying.

The lid of the ebony casket openen, its owner awakened by the sound of its companion's pain.

Flint dropped his bag and made his break for the door. Despite his overconfidence in matters of vampyr hunting, he wasn't owned by the folly necessary to face a conscious vampyr.

The awakened vampyr ignored its prey in favor of aiding its companion. Flint accepted this as miraculous and slammed the wood door closed behind him.

The screaming suddenly cut off as the vampyr freed the stake and its companion.

Flint sprinted down the corridor, desperately trying to remember the path to the front door. He turned sharply at a fork, choked by a cloud of dust kicked up by his frantic pace.

The daylight outside would be his salvation, if he could only make it through the front door.

A cold hand gripped the back of his neck, as though a mother cat seizing her kit.

"And where do you think you're going?" a low voice hissed in his ear.

"Let go of me," Flint ordered shrilly.

He kicked backward at the vampyr, twisting to escape its grasp.

When this proved fruitless, he pulled his legs up in an attempt to force the vampyr to drop him, thrashing wildly.

His efforts were met with harsh laughter and sharp nails gripping his throat.

He put his feet firmly back on the ground, as not to seem so pathetic.

"What do you want?" Flint asked, knowing damn well what the answer would be.

"Depends what Ambrose thinks of your little stunt when he awakens tonight. He's recovering now, hence why I was the one to catch you."

"I've killed your kind before. I'm not fucking afraid of you." Flint's voice in its terrible high pitch betrayed his lie.

The vampyr laughed again, out of some sadistic sense of amusement.

Inspiration struck Flint. He pulled the crucifix from under his shirt collar in a desperate attempt to ward off the demon intent on preying on his life blood.

The vampyr swiftly took ahold of the silver chain, yanking it from Flint's neck with a snap of metal.

It hissed at the burns blooming on its hand, and cast the weapon aside, where it hit the wall and feel limply to the ground.

"I really don't appreciate that," the vampyr said, in a mocking tone meant to conceal its pain.

It dragged Flint down the hall, its claws digging into his neck.

A warm trickle of blood ran under Flint's collar.

Flint tried to support his own weight as he was pulled down a stone staircase, but stumbled trying to match the vampyr's pace.

The vampyr gave its prey's struggling no heed, other than a few sighs of annoyance, which were perhaps invented by Flint's own mind.

"Where are you taking me?" Flint demanded.

His captor ignored his useless questioning, instead yanking a door open. It shoved Flint inside, knocking him the ground with remarkable ease.

"We will deal with you when Ambrose has recovered," it said. "Try to escape, and see where it gets you."

It stormed out and slammed the door, before locking it with a key kept in the pocket of its cloak.

Flint rose to his feet, seething. How could he have been so stupid?

Of course that was the point of the screaming, to attract any vampyric allies. There simply hadn't been anyone to answer the call of the first vampyr he had slain, and he had a folly riddled habit of not questioning things which did not pique his interest.

He was trapped in a vampyr's stronghold, destined to meet some gorey fate at the hands of his would-be victims.

Faced with the actual possibility of it occurring, Flint no longer found the prospect of an honorable heroic death at the clawed hands of a vampyr anywhere near as desirable.

Heroism always seemed that way. Perfectly beautiful from an outside perspective, but bloody and impractical from the inside.

Flint leaned against the wall, trying not to breathe in any dust. The filthy rats and creeping bugs were hard to ignore, but Flint wasn't going to show his squeamishness. Not when his captor could be listening.

If he could make it through tonight, he would escape come the following dawn. He had nothing to do but wait.

@elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @mx-arsenic @anomalys-taxonomy @devourerofcheesecake

If anyone want to be added or removed from the tag list, tell me. ♡♡♡

92 notes · View notes

53v3nfrn5 · 2 months

Text

Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust (2000)

1K notes · View notes

goryhorroor · 7 days

Text

horror sub-genres: vampire

795 notes · View notes

ibrithir-was-here · 4 months

Text

Tada! A little something for @see-arcane cuz this whole concept is doing things to my brain

(I tried to give it sort of an old school anime feel as well as capture something of your own arts original color palette as I really liked it! Hope you enjoy and good luck on this and all your future projects!)

#my art #other people's ocs #sort I know they’re reimaginings but I think that still counts #the vampyres #the vampyre #Dracula #vampires #other people’s awesome writing #anime #(vampire hunter D was one of the style influences xD)#tw violence #tw blood #also your tag line is still soooooo coooool

98 notes · View notes

vampyrcigs · 3 months

Text

🦇 ‧₊˚⊹ ABOUT! Mor || he / him 18+

🦇 ‧₊˚⊹ A black fanfic writer. I write male reader and gn reader fanfics, usually for animes set with gothic themes.

🦇‧₊˚⊹ materialist…in progress || request status…open ||.

🦇‧₊˚⊹ introduction || about me

"The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

41 notes · View notes

geoffreymccullum · 29 days

Text

I'm so deep in McReid...

I needed to make them parallel

#if only I could give Geoff stubble....#hear me out: I know there's the one scar choice that would have given Geoff his forehead scar but as a hunter for 30 years I like the idea #of him being mucked up a lil more and this scar option puts a big gash across the throat and heehee twirls my hair #if only I could mirror it tho bc it has the lil eyebrow gash but on the wrong side </3 #geoffrey mccullum #jonathan reid #mcreid #vampyr #vampyr 2018 #Percy.mp3

25 notes · View notes

horusmenhosetix · 1 year

Photo

Thinking about him 🩸

#ts3 #sims 3 #johnathan reid my beloved #vampyr sim #this is from the game Vampyr and you can kiss your vampire hunter 😳#who is a rugged irish man with a tragic backstory 😳

96 notes · View notes

vampirecommunity-confessions · 7 months

Note

Does anyone else have an irrational fear of vampire hunters? I know it's unlikely but I don't share that I'm a vampire with everyone because I genuinely think that there has to be someone out there willing to hurt us.

#christabelthevamp #sanguinarian #donor #vampir #vampire #vampire community #vampyre #psychic #vampirekin #hybrid #vampire hunters

18 notes · View notes

ellenchain · 6 months

Note

Lafzghgtdgfdhgfghgv

Your Mcreid pic!

The red eyes, the bitemarks and the blush on Geoffrey!

Of course he could never admit to liking it, so Reid must make sure not to let him get too far

THANK YOU ❤

The two of them are the perfect example of "only with you":

Jonathan: Only with you do I let myself go and allow to bite and drink from a human because I know you can take it and like it when I let out the beast inside me that I usually try so meticulously to hide.

Geoffrey: I hate vampires, but only with you can I live out my little kink that these creatures of the night actually fascinate me a lot because you don't judge me for that and are different from the other leeches.

Jonathan: Aww, my dear hunter, I didn't know you could be so sweet.

Geoffrey: I still hate that you're wealthy and posh and act like you're above everyone.

Jonathan: :(

Geoffrey: … but you're a good doctor and I respect that we have the same goal. .......... and I love how you fuck me

Jonathan: :)

Elisabeth: 🙄

#vampyr asks #sorry for this dumb interaction #but they have this really nice dynamic #and I'm starting to get Elisabeth into the picture as well (after all she is an important character)#but she probably judges jonathan HARD #for his liaison with the vampire hunter #McReid

15 notes · View notes

srorgana1 · 8 months

Text

Invocation

Paring: Vampire Kylo/Hunter Rey

Warnings: Dark Themes (apporaching Dead Dove, you have been warned), Supernatural/Paranormal, Blood, Violence, Gore, Death, NSFW 18+, Sexual Content, Psychological and Physical Torture, Kidnapping, Hatred towards organized religion, Pain, Major/Minor character death/injury, Demonic Possession

Chapter Nine

His breath is ragged as he wipes the blood from his eyes. His wound on his face burns as he can drops his sword to the ground. He can feel the Devil’s dark influence fade as his body disintegrates into ash before all their eyes. He cannot rest though, as he hears her sniffles and moans of pain. He turns and joins the small group surrounding her. Luke is holding her, running his singed hand through her mussed hair. He is whispering to her in an angelic language as she shook in his arms.

Kylo feels a pang of guilt as he looks at her broken body. At the two gaping bloody wounds where her wings once were. He wipes his long hair out of his face again as Vicrul and the others join him, all covered in the evidence of battle. They had done it. They had turned their backs on the Devil and staged a coup along with Luke and the other Ethereals. But it didn’t go exactly to plan, as evidence of the scene before him. If he had only…

“Kylo” she voice pulls him out of the memory. He opens his eyes and finally meets hers. She looks about the same; same ageless beautiful face surrounded by long auburn hair. Her emerald eyes deep and full of the knowledge of the universe. She smiles softly at him as she waves a hand at him, sending the a wave a calmness his way. “Mara” he grits out, his shame and guilt alighting anew.

“It was not your fault Kylo. It never was. It was mine and Luke’s.” she says. His face crumples, his chin quivering at her mention of that night. “We were overconfident in our plan and didn’t expect him to have as much power as he did. I paid the price for our hubris, but we learned something and that’s all that matters”. She shuts her eyes and send him another calming wave. “You saved me Kylo. Luke and I will never forget that”.

He clinches his jaw tightly, his fangs pricking at his gums. “Drop the glamour. You are safe here. Plus it will be easier for me to read the signature” she says softly but forcefully. He sighs, pulling himself together. He drops the glamour, his eyes glowing red as his magick roars free.

“There you are” she says softly as others behind him let out sounds of surprise at the volume of his power. He feels his magical bonds loosen as he sits up, stretching and popping his neck. “The mighty Kylo Ren, the great defender of the balance” she says slowly, her voice growing more otherworldly. His red eyes meet her whited out ones as she allows the magick to take over.

His mind is suddenly brought somewhere else. He looks around at the dark barren landscape, his bare feet meeting the rough course sand as the dark starry sky above swirls and twinkles. He hears Mara say his name as he turns to face her. She is whole here; her wide majestic dove gray wings fold gracefully over her shoulders and white dress as she hovers just above the ground.

Flashes of that night pass by his eyes again. “You have suffered so” she says calmly “you and the others didn’t deserve that. I am sorry.” He shakes his head, willing those memories away. “It doesn’t matter now. I have accepted my fate. I just want to find out what is happening” he says, taking a step forward towards her. She nods, looking away from him. “Shall we begin?”

Kylo nods, preparing himself for pain. The Devil routinely rummaged through his mind as a torture tactic, making sure his warriors remained loyal. It would feel like a hot knife ripping through. He squeezed his eyes shut at the first prod into his mind.

“Calm yourself Kylo” she says softly as she extracts the victim’s signature from his mind. Mara was gentle with him, her magick soft and light. She doesn’t linger, leaving quickly not to cause him discomfort. She mumbles something as he opens his eyes. She is looking at him sympathetically as she flicks her hand, allowing the signature to become visual.

It hovers over the black sand in a hazy orb, the edges sparking and swirling. The front clears to show the young Witch and her day to day activities and thoughts. They hear her worries about her lack of control with her powers, how her ex had cheated on her. They watch her walk into the same pub Kylo had that night to wallow in her sorrow. They watch her silently cry into her pint glass as she struggles to keep items from levitating around her.

His jaw tightens as he watches her pay for her over priced drink and walk out the familiar back door. She cries into her hands as she started walking back to the tube station. The snow swirled around her as she suddenly looked back at the two large men who appeared out of thin air. Her fear spikes as she raises her hands, her magic sparking purple around her fingertips.

One of the men smiles maliciously, his fangs and claws lengthening as he walks towards her. She is so focused on the one man she doesn’t see the one behind her grab her, injecting some substance into her neck. She screams as her veins start to turn black around the puncture sight. The demon holding her nods to the one in front of him as his finger hits her pressure point, causing her to go unconscious.

Kylo watches Mara’s eyes narrow as she freezes the vision, focusing on the poor girls neck. The poison has spread up her face and down to her chest. “Interesting” she murmurs as she lets the vision continue. The one demon scoops her up over his shoulder as the other taps his hidden earpiece. “#11 obtained” he growls. He lets go and touches the wall magicking a portal. The two men enter it as it disappears behind them leaving no trace except random footprints in the snow.

The orb pulses, the vision becoming more and more staticky. Mara focuses on it and the picture changes. Wherever the victim is dimly lit, made of dark stone. She huddled in a corner, dirty and bleeding. Her fingers claw at the stone. She’s crying from what looks like pain as she grabs at her legs. The poison continues to spread throughout her system.

She hears something and looks up. Her eyes widen in fear as she screams again. But this time he catches something. “Stop” he says. Mara freezes the vision. “Zoom into her eyes” Mara does so, focusing on the girl’s dark brown eyes and blown pupils.

He learned long ago you can see another’s magick in their eyes. It’s the basis of the human saying of “the eyes are windows to the soul”. He can tell her magick is weakening, the glow dampening. Almost like it was being sucked out of her.

Mara’s breath catches as she realizes it as well. “Those beasts” she hisses as she lets the vision play to the end, which concludes with her passing out again. Mara raises her hand placing the orb in stasis as she turns to Kylo. “This is worse than I imagined” she says as she floats to him. “His followers are attempting to resurrect him using other’s magick. Those monsters probably have his Grimoire as well.”

Kylo can feel his anger rising. “How is this possible? You and Luke both said he was gone after we banished him, and at great cost to you…” “I know” she says interrupting him “we didn’t know at the time how powerful him and his guards had become. I only realized it when I was captured. There are only so many ways to restore the banished and they are using the most profane way…”

He watches a tear roll down her flawless cheek. “Luke and I used the balance to disarm him so you could finish him off. If we can catch him before he becomes his fully corporal form we can do it again and this time finish the job for good” she says sternly. Kylo looks at her confused “but who has the power to…” “You and your match do. It has been foretold that two will become one and finish off the darkness and keep the balance…” she says as the environment fides away and they are sitting in their chairs again.

He blinks his eyes, sharpening his vision. The witches swarm Mara. “What did you see my mistress? Is it more then we feared?” the blonde one said. “Yes, Cassandra it is. We must prepare and find a way to find his followers so we can save these people. He will have to keep them alive for transference so we must act in hast. Selene, my seeing stones please…” Mara says, igniting a flurry of activity.

Kylo cracks his neck again as he stands. “Ah she’s here” Mara says lowly as candles and various objects are placed before her. Kylo looks at her “Who?” “Your match, your future” she says staring past him. He follows her line of sight and his breath hitches to see Rey standing there.

Her eyes are wide and sparkling, her soft mouth agape as she stares at the glowing gold pattern of lines going down her arm. Her power crackles causing a shiver to go down Kylo’s back. Her hazel eyes widen, full of questions. She’s afraid, he thinks as Mara waves a hand towards her. “Come Reyna” Mara says “it’s time for you to learn who you really are.”

#adam driver #knights of ren #kylo ren #kylo ren au #vampire kylo #vampire au #vampire #vampyr #hunter rey #reylo #reylo fanfic #kylo ren x rey #reylo au #rey nobody #adam douglas driver #adamdriver #star wars au #star wars #Spotify

18 notes · View notes

dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 1 year

Text

Our Man Flint part three

TW: blood, injury, Christianity, insects, referenced attempted murder, fprced feeding, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize, intimate whumper, vampyr whumper, human whumpee, whumper-turned-whumpee, whumpee-turned-whumper

Ambrose pinned Flint to the wall by his wrists, lapping at the blood pouring from his throat.

The thing's tongue explored Flint's artery, pushing through the walls of smooth muscle, tearing the wound open still further.

Flint choked on his own blood, desperately preventing it from filling his lungs.

Having his artery ripped open should have been agonizing. But instead, a horrible sense of numbness settled into Flint's flesh, driving all pain from him.

His own blood coated him, absorbed by the cotton fibers of his garments. It quickly grew chill, exposed to the musty air of the room Lady Fate had chosen for his passing.

At long last, Ambrose pulled away, its dreaded mouth painted with Flint's blood.

The flesh of its heart regrew, twisting in on itself in disgusting shapes, until finally forming a whole and beating mockery of a human heart.

The flesh of its chest then sealed, erasing all evidence of Flint's stake having ever existed, yet alone having been put to use.

Ambrose stepped away, allowing Flint to run hysterically for the locked door, before collapsing in a heap.

Insects gathered around him, crawling over his flesh and gorging on his spilt blood.

His vision faded, twisting the shadows into warped faces, before he finally fell into unconsciousness.

Flint awakened hours later to Ambrose burning a fire mere inches from his face, where it laid on the crumbling stone ground.

He yanked his head back from the unbearable heat, forcing himself to sit up. He planted his calloused hands firmly to the ground to keep his body from collapsing.

Ambrose ran its fingers through Flint's hair, gently picking apart the tangles.

"Don't touch me you goddamn leech."

His words, meant to be rathful and venomous, came out slurred and exhausted.

"You should be grateful I didn't kill you."

Flint shifted closer to the fire, long needed warmth sinking into his bones.

"You've had your fun. Now let me go."

Ambrose cupped Flint's face in its clammy hands.

"And why should I do that, human?"

"I have a name."

"And what might that be?"

Delirious from blood loss, he recklessly spoke. "Flint."

Ambrose drew back, satisfied.

"Flint." The combination of F and L sat oddly on its unpracticed tongue. "I am Ambrose, and my companion August."

"I know that." Flint tightly gripped a crevice in the floor, ignoring the colony of writhing ants in favor of keeping himself upright. "I heard your names when you were bitching at each other."

Ambrose silently held out a bronze chalice, encrusted with pale blue gems.

"Drink. You must regain your strength."

"I'm not accepting anything from the likes of you."

"You are in no position to refuse."

"I couldn't take the cup even if I tried. If I moved my hands I would fall. Just fuck off already."

"I understand."

Ambrose climbed onto Flint, firmly gripping his jaw and forcing his mouth open, its fingers intruding into his mouth.

Flint's body, pinned by a vampyr with strength outmatching any man, could not move, even as his mind begged him to flee.

The broze chalice pressed to his lips, slowly tilting to pour out its contents.

The coppery taste of blood met Flint's tongue.

When the entirety of the chalice had been emptied, Ambrose moved the position of its hands, covering Flint's mouth and nose.

Flint thrashed, trying to get the blood out of his mouth, to breathe, to rip his body away from the vampyr.

Anything other than this.

An impossible length of time passed with all oxygen cut off from his lungs, increasing his dizziness by ten fold.

Frantic for air, Flint accidentally swallowed.

Upon viewing its success, Ambrose backed off and dropped its victim, uncaring as his head hit the stone ground with a sickening crack.

Flint turned over, coughing wildly, spitting the remaining blood onto the ground.

Gentle claws played with his hair until he recovered from his coughing fit, then dragged him to his feet.

"Get away from me!" Flint screamed, too dizzy to break away from Ambrose.

"I believe we have already established that I do not take orders from vampyr slayers," Ambrose said. "I will do with you what I please. It is folly on your part to believe you have a choice in the matter."

"Kill me."

A sense of finality draped over Flint's simple request.

Death was a vastly better alternative than becoming a monster, eternally divorced from the light of God.

"I already have," Ambrose replied. "Just give it time."

Taglist: @elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @mx-arsenic @anomalys-taxonomy @devourerofcheesecake @whumpsday @echo-goes-aaa @itsmyworld98 @verysmallandverygay @kisaisacat @whumpycries @whumpshaped

#Whump #Our man flint #Vampire whump #Whump series #Whumper turned whumpee #Whumpee turned whumpee #Turn your vampyr hunters into vampyrs its good for their mental health

66 notes · View notes

priwenshallprevail · 4 months

Text

" 𝑊𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 C𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑒' 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑎' 𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤 ! "

Ꮖɴꭰꭼꮲꭼɴꭰꭼɴꭲ 𝐺𝜀𝜎𝑓𝑓𝑟𝜀𝜑 𝑀𝑐𝐶𝜇𝑙𝑙𝜇𝑚 from the video game Ꮩꭺꮇꮲꭹꭱ . Para / Multi | Mature Horror 21 + | OC Friendly Modern , pre game and Cross-over Verses highly encouraged. Multiverse and Multishipped. Alternate Universes | Lore linked to but never limited by : Ꮩꭺꮇꮲꭹꭱ , The Order : 1886 , Banishers : Ghosts of New Eden , and World of Darkness influence

#self promo ; I have no shame #My edits ; Please do not steal #vampyr rp #horror rp #vampyr game #vampyr 2018 #vampire hunter ;#vampire rp

10 notes · View notes

lootpuppy · 8 months

Text

The brazen hunger of the Vampyr, a red haze of blood bursting through the thinnest of veins in the eyes. Clouding thought and narrowing vision.

Insatiable Thirst gives way to inscrutable authority. She smiled, her fingers brushed across their cheek, thumb pressing their lip upward - exposing their deadly, insatiable need. A wickedly sharp fang, meant for her skin. They trembled then, as she exposed them. A shiver - of want? of need? Or perhaps just the instinctual acknowledgement of a animal cornered. She crouched before them, entering the shadow of the mausoleum. Any proper Vampyr would use that moment - when she entered their domain, the shadows - and take what they wanted. But not Them. They stilled, becoming lifeless devoid of even the motion of breathing.

"What irresponsible Sire had the notion to turn a creature such as you." Her voice was cold, stern. It wasn't a question. She knew they wouldn't know, but they flinched in shame, casting their eyes downward.

"I-" Motion, their chest rose again, and pale flesh shone in the moonlight just passed the edge of the mausoleums shadow. Cold, clammy.

"You don't know." She said, and they nodded, daring to raise their gaze towards her again. They dared the smallest of nods, their cheek rubbing against the gloved palm of her hand. She withdrew her thumb from their mouth. Ran it over their lips, taking hold of their chin and turning their face, examining them.

"What to do with you… what to do." She hummed. She saw their eyes flare with worry as she tapped the tip of the long, silver nail she carried against their exposed chest. Their nostrils flared, she felt their jaw tense. Did they have it in them? Would they lunge for her, for the hot blood coursing through her. Physically - even a fledgling is stronger, faster, than a human. But… she felt the smile widen across her face as they relaxed, their eyes dropping again as they surrendered to her no doubt sure she would drive the nail into their heart and return them to the veil.

"You poor thing… what a travesty." She clicked her tongue, releasing their chin. A hopeful look, pained with fear and primality in the red haze of their vision. She crooked a finger.

"Come, wretched little thing. We must return to the walls of my manor before the day claims you. We will address the matter of your irresponsible sire upon the morrow." They scrambled to obey, rising from the soft earth beside the mausoleum, from the bloodstained stones where they had died and fell in behind her as she turned, nail still clutched in her sleeve as she made her way back to the path.

#my writing #writing #short story #snippet #vampires #gay #subby vampire #Vampyr #dom vampire hunter lady #this is slightly unhinged and i dont care #look listen okay i can explain i-#queer story #but like sub vampire dom human makes sense when you think about it #like really think about it #the vampire needs the humans blood just begging to be fed #this is just hellsing isnt it?#ive never actually watched the proper hellsing only the abridged

12 notes · View notes