#blind react to Dracula

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. I dreamt of a pale man with a smirk on his face, whispering “I’ll suck you dry, in more ways than one,” while licking his lips. This bizarre vision was probably the paprika, for I am unaccustomed to such spicy dreams.

I then had more paprika for breakfast.

[unwavering-devotion]

It goes well!!! As well as it can!! How goes- how-… haha!! How goes it for you?? Good, yes??

Helloooo!! Hiiii!! Hello, all the way from England! Hi again!

Renfield! My most loyal follower!

thank god someone who doesn’t harass me to get them babies or new suits

How goes it?

[sloshed-cinema]

Le Vourdalak (2023)

Who would win in a fight, elderly Boris Karloff or a puppet? Adrien Beau’s take on the Aleksey Tolstoy novella follows the same path as the central chapter in the Mario Bava anthology film Black Sabbath, recounting the tale of a French nobleman encountering a family preyed upon by the ghastly vourdalak, their own father returned from the grave to drink their blood. But this French adaptation makes an interesting creative choice: this undead iteration of the patriarch Gorcha isn’t a man but rather a puppet. The gaunt, emaciated figure of this elderly man features skeletal fingers and a face ravaged by time, milky eyes and exposed teeth fluctuating between rage and a sort of extreme exhaustion. This gives an even more frightening presence to the creature, its movements stilted and frail, yet threatening nonetheless. Gorcha’s family all react differently to the return of their not-father, from Jegor’s drunken denial to Anja’s grief-stricken apathy to Sdenka and Piotr’s fear and mistrust. The visiting Marquis d’Urfé is out of sorts here, confused by both the landscape and local customs. As with the likes of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, vampirism is presented as a clash between the cultural sensibilities of Western and Eastern Europe. But here, d’Urfé is abroad, a Frenchman visiting Serbia. Wars and ethnic clashes haunt the periphery, from battles between the locals and invading Turks, to the perhaps unwanted presence of the Frenchman in this area. Where Dracula is presented as an Other invading British polite society, here the vourdalak’s proclivity for the blood of loved ones speaks to annihilation from within. This is borne out of trauma and a blind adherence to patriarchal structure even when it’s completely apparent that said patriarch is making terrible decisions.

D’Urfé himself is almost comically inept at dealing with any of the problems he encounters during his trials and tribulations confronting the vourdalak Gorcha. Powdered and polite, he doesn’t know how to navigate his strange surroundings. Attempting to help the young child Vlad who is being lured by the vampiric creature, the Frenchman just ends up getting bitch-slapped by a puppet and knocked unconscious. He manages, by some strange stroke of luck, to kill the vourdalak (only after engaging in some fucking and sucking), but unlike the novella, he succumbs to his wounds. Despite all of the experiences of the court, he’s ill equipped to face such evils.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says 'Gorcha'.

d'Urfé introduces himself to someone.

Someone makes the Sign of the Cross.

A type of family member is named (ie: father, mother, etc).

BIG DRINK

A dream sequence ends.

Chewing noises are heard.

[jedi-enthusiast]

Castlevania and Non-Attachment, Part One: Alucard and His Father

Ok, so Alucard having to kill his father is pretty much the main point of the first two seasons---obviously---and throughout those seasons, as well as the third and fourth seasons, we're shown that Alucard is incredibly pained by this fact and that it continues to hurt him long after his father is already dead...and yet, despite it causing him great pain, he still does it.

Why?

Well, because Alucard understands that his father is too far gone---he's hurting innocent people, he's taking things too far, and he's not willing to listen to reason. So he needs to be stopped.

Does this mean that Alucard doesn't care about or love his father?

Does this mean that killing him was Alucard's first choice?

Of course not.

We're shown throughout the show that Alucard loves his father and cares for him deeply, that he misses him and wishes that things could've been different---and we're shown very early on that Alucard tried reasoning with his father, but that his father refused to listen and only hurt him in response.

Alucard loved his father, but---in the end---he recognized that he couldn't let that love blind him from the fact that his father was committing atrocities and that he needed to stop him.

In a way, I think this story interestingly parallels Obi-Wan's reaction to Anakin turning to the Dark Side.

Alucard sees his father has done and is doing terrible things, and first tries to reason with him---telling him that it's time to end the bloodshed.

Obi-Wan sees the same from his former padawan, all the terrible things he's done, and tries to reason with him---asking him what he's done and telling him that Palpatine has lied to him, acting on the defensive throughout their duel rather than actually fighting him.

Dracula, in turn, reacts violently to Alucard's words---harming his own son, both at first and in their final battle, because he can't let go of his hatred.

Anakin, similarly, attacks Obi-Wan in the same way---constantly trying to kill him throughout their duel, despite Obi-Wan not doing the same.

Alucard then understands that there is no saving his father and the only way to stop him is to kill him, no matter how much it hurts to do so.

Obi-Wan, too, realizes that the only way to stop Anakin is to kill him, no matter how much it hurts to do so.

And so both Alucard and Obi-Wan make the killing blow*, putting their own feelings aside in order to save their worlds from monumental harm.

*Yes Obi-Wan doesn't actually end up killing Anakin, but he thought he did and the intent was there, so I'm counting it.

It's gut wrenching and painful, both emotionally and physically, but both Obi-Wan and Alucard both understand that protecting the lives of the innocent is more important than their love for one person.

Which is exactly what Star Wars is all about.

Post List <- TBA

[finniestoncrane]

since you said it was okay for us to send in multiple ones i worked up the nerve to send one in for a blind date I’ll try to be as concise as I can with describing myself so apologies if this is a little long im not super great at describing myself in generalities. i trust your judgement completely. anyways!

I’m 30, bisexual, usually get mistaken for someone younger due to my size and sound of my voice, I have a couple of different chronic pain conditions but not so bad I can’t function normally, I’m friendly and kind to most people I meet but I also don’t take people’s shit you’ll definitely know if I don’t like someone i don’t really hide it that well —I’m pretty emotionally reactive is what I’m saying. I enjoy reading, some of my favorite authors and books include Edgar Allan Poe, Dracula and Alice in Wonderland (my favorite book) just to name a few, I also really enjoy audio horror dramas despite being bad with horror visually, i really enjoy engaging my brain so I kinda also really enjoy riddles and puzzle games even though my track record isn’t that great at solving them 100% of the time, I also enjoy victorian things and the period very much and my favorite holiday is Halloween! I also tend to show someone I like them no matter if it’s platonic or romantic through physical touch as long as I know they are okay with it

please don’t feel obligated to do this if you don’t feel up to it I just wanted to send in another one since your framing device is extremely adorable and fascinating to me! plus i am very curious who you’d choose for me in this situation. congratulations again finnie you deserve this so much 💚!!

💜 blind date 💜 the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block) a/n: you stop being so sweet or i'll have to serve you on the dessert menu ;-; 💚

"Hello, welcome to the Vill-Inn! We'll uh... take your order from over here when you're ready. Just shout! There's a weird aura over there... bit of a strange vibe. It's giving us the heebiest of jeebies."

It's not as if there's a rain cloud above him or bats circling the table, but you get what they mean when you sit down across from your date.

"Jonathan Crane, my dear. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He's charming, completely so. But there's something under that exterior layer, something dark and brooding. Something poetic, almost.

There are several points at the beginning of your conversation with him where you can see him wincing, but trying to hide the expression of pain on his face. It turns out to be an excellent way to open up to each other, as he divulges his chronic pain issues, most of which are the result of injuries from a certain Dark Knight.

"The suffering adds to my will for destruction, though. But I admire others who can admit to needing help, as they should. If you ever need someone to... discuss this with... I can offer some psychological comfort."

The more you reveal of yourself, the more interested he is. You can see him, teasing apart sections of your brain, of your psyche, and lapping them up with intrigue. A kind person who can react emotionally and keep people's cruelty at a distance?

"Very interesting. Tell me more."

Everything he says is accompanied by a wide and curved grin that feels mischievous more than conniving or malevolent, and the only time it really falls to one of warmth and surprise is when you reveal more about yourself, things that he finds a lot in common with.

Your choice of literature is certainly on par with his. When he delves into fiction as opposed to his psychology textbooks and research works, he would definitely opt for a gothic, melancholic terror. In fact, he has his copy of Sleepy Hollow with him.

"If you haven't read it, I can lend it to you. Returning it would be a good reason for us to meet again, no?"

He's intellectual, and enjoys problem solving. And while you admit you might not be much help on the difficult ones he can't quite get as quickly as certain, green-donning colleagues, havinng some emotional support would be just as effective. A love of horror is yet again more common ground, and his sly smile widens, his eyes lighting up, when you mention your love of Halloween. And when you notice the excitement, you reach out to place your hand on top of his. It's cold, but you warm him up, and he is grateful for the connection.

You might have read Sleepy Hollow before, but you'll take it anyway. Anything to meet up with Jonathan again.

[the-news-you-use]

Reflection on the Life of Doctor Dieudonné: I

By Chloe Talbot

On Saturday, October 23, 2008, elder vampire and physician, Geneviève Dieudonne was found rendered into ash in her Tri-West apartment. 

Geneviève Dieudonné died sixteen years ago at the age of 592 in Las Angeles, California. As of now, the exact cause of death is still unknown. It could have been murder, it could have been suicide, she might have left the blinds open and gotten scorched by the sun. But, that leaves us with the facts. I, At the News You Use, will write a series of reflections on the life of Doctor Geneviève Dieudonné, using diaries and newly discovered letters not to paint a biography of a woman who shaped humanity but to give psychological and philosophical insight into her. Let’s start broadly at the beginning and end of her life. Dieudonné was born the daughter of a physician in 1416 and turned 16 years later by a vampire named Chandagnac. She describes the process of her vampirism as occurring very slowly with the bite happening first, followed by Chandagnac gradually feeding her his blood over a lengthy period. I believe that it’s this slow, almost deathless process that caused her to feel a distance between herself and others of her kind.  Her life between being turned and the time when Dracula brought vampirism into the proverbial light. Her diaries make mention of her having multiple careers as a doctor, soldier, sex worker, etc while name-dropping some famous figures like Joan of Arc and Mircalla Karnstein. There are also indications of her living in Asia at points in her lifetime with letters from 1899 indicating familiarity with the changing importance of feudal Japanese cities. Her diary entries spanning from 1888-2001 are where we have the strongest insights into her personality. They’re also the records we have that have survived so perhaps sitting in some cellar somewhere are fresh thoughts of a younger Dieudonné.  In 1888, she was one of the many vampires who found a home in Dracula’s England after the Prince Consort attempted to turn the empire into something of a Nosferatu homeland after she was forced out of her native France. She worked at a free clinic in Whitechapel during the time of the Ripper Murders, even attending to the vampire women who would become victims of the Ripper.  It’s around this time that we have a few diary entries that illustrate her thoughts on vampires of the Dracula bloodline in particular, “My blood of the pure bloodline of Chandagnac might have healed Lily, might have washed out the taint of Dracula’s grave mold, might have made her whole again…” This statement was written after a failed attempt to heal a vampire child who died after failing to shapeshift into a bat. It illustrates this paternalism that Dieudonné had in spades, but also this separation she feels from others of her kind. A sense of superiority.  In letters to a minor government worker named Charles Beauregard, she refers to many of the Dracula bloodline, including the man himself as having “Child brains” and having odd quirks or fixations that she finds herself lacking.  I want to use a philosopher that the doctor probably would have appreciated, a French woman named Julia Kristeva. When the philosopher speaks about the abject as something separate from or cast off from the self. In this Dieudonné is the “self” and most other vampires are cast off for her to react to. In her essay, Approaching Abjection, Powers of Horror, she states this, “The corpse (or cadaver: cadre to fall), that which has become irremediably come a cropper, is cesspool, and death; it upsets even more violently the one who confronts it as fragile and fallacious chance.”  So, this leads me to believe that this is how Dieudonné saw the world of vampires. She fell within Kristeva’s framework of seeing these stupid, walking corpses and she couldn’t help but to think of herself as separate from them because of the circumstances of her turning.

But in this way, she could keep more aspects that make herself a whole person. The three original brides of Dracula remain nameless to this day, their personalities gone and replaced by animalistic bloodlust with broadly human traits. The only brides anyone can ascribe names to are Queen Victoria and Wilhemina Murray, who died young like many of Dracula’s bloodline. So, perhaps Dieudonné was right to see the world in this stark contrast between herself and other nosferatu. But setting herself apart like this, meant that she could not conform to either warm or vampire society without being purposefully set apart. Christina Santos described a similar phenomenon in her book, Unbecoming Female Monsters where she uses a fictional vampire named “Isabel” created by Carmen Boullosa for the novella of the same title. “Isable’s monstrosity is not because of her vampirism but more so because of her newfound sexual freedom-as a vampire she still appears human but her abnormal sexual freedom inherently demonizes her because of its opposition to the norm of female chastity and submissiveness.” However, in the real Dieudonné, her separation from society is in a different sort of bucking against the norms. She was a doctor, for starters for centuries, coming back to the same role over and over. Doctor and a detective. In one of her letters describing her life just before Dracula’s rise, she describes being a member of “les goules,” a group of medical students at the University of France studying in the morgue and learning how to perform autopsies for criminal investigations, an occupation that was seen as morbid and unfeminine even before her nature as a vampire was revealed to the college and to her fellow students who would later go on to dissect a vampire huckster De Coulteray. The same vampire who would out her as a member of the living dead to her classmates and would-be colleagues. This is all a long-winded way to say that her sexual independence was quite secondary to other forms of independence and breaking from traditional femininity that bucks up against society no matter which group she ran with.

-More to Come 11/23/2024

[i-cant-sing]

I don’t see any Castlevania asks and that makes me sad as HELL

How would (Y/N) react to Lisa’s burning? How would Dracula’s war court react to her? And Hector and Isaac?

I'm gonna go down the platonic route and make reader Lisa and Dracula's daughter, biological or kidnapped/adopted.

Obviously, any normal human would not react well to anyone being burned at the stake- ALIVE. And maybe when the villagers caught Lisa, they caught you as well and thought you were a witch too. They burned your mother first and just when they had started to burn you, Dracula came and swooped you up and away, along with his now dead wife's remains and while you passed out due to inhaling all the smoke, sustaining some minor burn injuries and well- EXHAUSTION AND TRAUMA, your father returned to slay the entire village and later wreak havoc on all of humanity. Really, a justified reaction from a family man.

Anyways, he returns home with you in his arms and then nurses you back to health all while killing everyone outside. Now, he may still be soft to you but you are absolutely forbidden from leaving the castle. Like you cant even go outside even if Dracula accompanies you. No, he's lost his wife and if youre their bio kid who is more human than vampire unlike your older brother Alucard, then Dracula is way more protective of you. After all, he did see you almost die and really, you remind him far too much of his wife, of her humanity and her kind heart to help others that eventually got her killed.

Initially, right after Lisa's death, Dracula didn't even allow you to even leave your room, too paranoid about some unknown force killing you and him not being able to save you in time. Eventually though, with other vampires and monsters(under his control obv) in the castle, he let you out of your room, but still not out of the castle, and thats when you found out that he had thrown out Alucard and (sort of disowned him??) because your brother was not in favour of Dracula either killing the world or locking you up.

Now, like I said before, Dracula is still soft for you but with Lisa's death he's become a little... emotionally crippled. He has too much pain and hatred inside him, and he's doing his very best that you dont end up on the receiving end of these very negative and very dangerous emotions. However, he sometimes... loses control. When you keep on persisting about how all of this is wrong, about how he shouldnt kill ALL humans, how he shouldnt lock you up or break what remains of this family, he lets his anger out on you. Only a little. He'd yell at you, tell you that you're far too stupid an naive and stubborn to understand what he's doing or why, ask if you're going to side with those murderers that you so desperately want to save over your own family? Are you that blind? He'd drag you back to your room, lock you in there because he wont have you questioning him like he's the bad guy here.

But soon after that, he'd be found sitting in front of one of Lisa's portraits, probably one where she's cradling baby you and he'd start talking to her, trying to explain himself, how he did not mean to blow up at you but you just wouldn't listen to him. The one sided conversation would always end with Dracula feeling guilty and he returns to your room with a heavy heart that just sinks more when he sees you asleep, tear streaks now drying on your cheeks. Sitting on your bed, he'd pet your hair, mumble something about how he loves you and cant afford to risk losing you, smiling softly when you shuffle closer to him.

Since Dracula knows Hector is loyal and sincere to him, he will allow you to have him as your friend. After all, you would need some company in the castle and vampire dad on murder spree is not exactly someone who is ideal for friendship at the moment. So, he permits and even encourages Hector to socialise with you and comfort you. And Hector has a bleeding heart too, so you're in luck because he will happily listen to you express your emotions and provide you with free therapy (he makes dead, one missing limb/eye puppies alive for you🥺) He just wanna protect u too, and while he doesnt agree with you being locked up in the castle, its better than the alternative. Also, has and will fight Isaac 1000% if he talks shit about you because youre human.

As for the court, they know that you are now the only thing dear to Dracula, and while one wouldnt say that you have the vampire king wrapped around your finger, he comes pretty close to it. But its no use really because they cant exactly use you to make Dracula listen to them... or can they?

Considering that you're pretty against the whole "Vampire uprising-kill all humans" plan, they cant persuade you to enslave or kill humans. What they can do is gain Dracula's favour by being... kind to you? Okay take Carmilla for example (because she's the only one I can remember from the court. Her and the brash, red haired vamp?) Now she's smart, she's manipulative and she knows exactly how to use this opportunity. She starts to befriend you by first agreeing that she understands why you're against your father's actions but also tells you that you must understand his decisions from his side. "Your mother was a kind woman, a brilliant doctor and from what I've heard, your father loved her very much. And if you've ever been in love, then you would understand why he's doing all of this." And of course Dracula overhears this because come on, nothing happens in his castle without his knowledge. So yes, he shows slight favouritism towards Carmilla among the court and he may allow her to hang around you a bit (only after Carmilla convinced him that you needed a female friend in your life, and its always better to be in her company than any of those perverted men of his court) but even then, Dracula doesn't completely trust her around you and so he wont allow you two be in contact often.

Dracula would also be way more conscious of your feelings with time, because he will realise eventually that he was far too caught up in his own pain and plan for vengeance that he forgot to see how you were coping with the loss of your mother. If any of the vampires are heard saying something even remotely mean to you, if he even hears Isaac even breathing in disgust at the sight of you because you were part human, they will be swiftly dealt with (girl, he murders them all).

You're his baby, his sweet human kid, his little princess and he wont have anyone or anything taking you away from him. (LET HIM PULL YOU IN HIS LAP AND WRAP HIS CLOAK AROUND YOU AND DRIFT OFF IN HIS ARMS BECAUSE YOU'RE THE ONLY WARMTH LEFT FOR HIS COLD DEAD HEART OMGGGG)

Ah i miss Castlevania asks too, platonic yandere castlevania asks especially. everyone send in ur asks.

(omg what about yandere brother Trevor Belmont?)

[anncanta]

Wing to wing

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Mature

Thanks to @khyruma​ – the beta of this work. You are beautiful and I am your fan.

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges

Read on AO3

Or read below

‘Was it necessary to tell them that Mr. Balaur was you?’

Agatha tried unsuccessfully to move and leaned back again on Dracula, to whom she was tied back to back. On the other hand, she thought, okay, he did a stupid thing, but who was making her talk? Why did she claim to be a vampire?

‘What should I say? Balaur is important to all of them. To some, he is a partner, to others – a patron, and they had nothing to accuse him of,’ Dracula responded angrily. ‘I wanted to calm them down. If you didn't meddle with your... lectures on linguistics, we would be free.’

‘You would be free,’ Agatha corrected. She jerked her hand awkwardly and groaned as pain pierced her wrists.

When taken by surprise in cabin number nine, Dracula presented the imaginary ‘killer’ to the frightened captain and passengers, Agatha was dragged to hang without any equivocation. Standing with a noose around her neck on a barrel and fighting weakness and nausea, she tried to appeal to their minds. Alas, in vain. They needed the culprit for the horror they experienced. Agatha was perfect for this.

She looked down at Dracula, as Olgaren and Sokolov were arguing, who was casting meaningful glances at her, and shouted the first thing that came to her mind.

And she made a mistake.

Whatever Agatha wanted to achieve, the word ‘vampire’ did not help her in this, sowing panic and anger among the passengers. She was helplessly watching the dispute, turning into a fight, when suddenly Olgaren, apparently deciding to end everything at once, jumped to the mast to which Agatha was tied, and pushed the barrel.

Peeling off the skin, a rope cut into Agatha's neck. Almost blinded by horror and pain, Agatha felt herself falling down... and landed in a tight embrace.

‘I still think, gentlemen,’ she heard through the noise in her ears, ‘that the situation should not be made... ugly.’ Lifting her eyes and rubbing her neck, Agatha looked at Dracula skeptically. ‘We'd better turn the criminal over to the authorities.’

‘Who are you to tell us what to do?’ Olgaren asked snootily.

Then Dracula said it. That he is Mr. Balaur.

The rest happened so quickly that neither Agatha nor Dracula had time to react. Surprisingly harmoniously for the people who had almost fought a minute earlier, the remnants of the crew and passengers of the Demeter pounced on them and, tying them to each other, dragged them to cabin number nine.

‘How I hate it,’ Agatha said, looking at the wooden ceiling. ‘This fatuous cabin. And you probably provoked them on purpose. Your games again!’ she flared up. ‘If you were so easy to tie, I would have –”

‘What?’ such a frank smile sounded in Dracula's voice that Agatha wanted to elbow him. Alas, she still couldn't even move her hand. ‘Would you tie me up? Immobilize me?’ he paused. ‘And then what, Agatha?’

‘I would kill you,’ Agatha replied casually.

‘Are you so sure?’

‘What else can I do with you?’

‘Judging by how cleverly you handle the knife,’ he grinned, ‘you yourself have a liking to… different games. Those bodily, hot, and passionate.’

In the silence that followed his words, Agatha heard her breathing and the distant rustle of waves coming from the porthole.

‘You think too… highly of yourself,’ she said quietly, looking down at her own bound hands. ‘And besides,’ she turned slightly, speaking louder, ‘you wouldn’t allow me anything like that anyway.’

‘Oh, why?’

‘Because you are arrogant, obsessed with power, and... and why are we talking about this at all?’

The broad back, on which Agatha was leaning, straightened.

‘You are wrong, Agatha,’ ignoring the question, said a low voice near the top of her head, ‘I would gladly put myself into your hands. And take whatever you’d give me.’

Agatha felt her cheeks begin to glow and knew that with the nape of his neck he felt the pulse beating on hers. She took a breath.

‘You have a false opinion of me,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘I know little about such pleasures. As you can see, I'm not pretty,’ Agatha added sharply. ‘Therefore, no one was particularly eager to…’

‘You are attractive, intelligent, and passionate,’ he smiled again, ‘an enchanting combination. And I don't care about those who were so blind as not to notice it. As for inexperience – it just means that before letting you deal with me, I should... well, let's say, put you in the know. Trust me, it's very fast.’

Saying this, he made a short movement, and the ropes that held them together disappeared. Agatha looked at the scraps on the floor and shook her head. Another performance, as she thought.

‘I don’t want to listen to your obscenities,’ she frowned. ‘Have your respect, Count Dracula. Remember you are talking to a nun.’

‘To the same nun who teased a naked man in the middle of the yard?’ clarified Dracula, getting up. Agatha said nothing. Now they stood looking at each other. ‘Exactly, a nun,’ said Dracula. ‘Aren't you interested in how it all works?’

‘That’s none of your business,’ snapped Agatha. She tried desperately not to look embarrassed, telling herself that he was just palavering to her, trying to fool her, like the passengers and the crew – with rope and captivity. She needs to find out what he really wants.

He looked around.

‘No, we need to get out of here.’

‘So you can possess me?’

‘So you know what you are giving up.’

Dracula went to the porthole and began to examine the lock.

‘To possess…’ he muttered annoyedly. ‘Where do such expressions come from? Were you raised in a monastery? Oh yes,’ turning to Agatha, who grunted, he held out his hand to her. ‘Come here.’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ Agatha said. ‘You are ill-mannered and socially dangerous.’

‘Well, you were definitely taught by a German governess with a three-foot ruler,’ Dracula sighed and went up to her. ‘Do you want guarantees?’

‘What guarantees?’ Agatha was surprised.

‘What do you suggest,’ Dracula threw up his hands. ‘How should I behave so that you condescend to my company?’

‘Stop drinking blood,’ Agatha said uncertainly. ‘Do not attack people –’

‘Die,’ continued Dracula happily.

‘Listen!..’

‘Quiet,’ he raised his hand and walked to the door. He stood for a while, listening, then returned to Agatha. ‘Here's what we’ll do,’ he said. ‘I'll taste animal blood. Let's say dogs or pigs. This will at least prevent me from starving to death. I’ll still need human blood, Agatha,’ seeing her eyes flashing, Dracula immediately said. ‘Blood is lives. Not just food, but stories. But I'm sure that I can think of something here too,’ he added. ‘And now – we are leaving.’

He went back to the porthole, tore off the iron lock with one hand, then grabbed the frame and tore it out by the roots. Agatha, amazed, watching his actions, approached and carefully touched the edges of the splintered boards sticking out in the place of the window.

‘Why did you do it?’ she asked. ‘You can turn into bats.’

‘For you,’ Dracula said shortly and pushed her towards the aperture. ‘Hurry.’

Taking a deep breath, Agatha climbed out the window.

***

‘They'll think they were right about us,’ Agatha said, leaning the back of her head against the side of the carriage.

‘Because the guilty are running?’

Agatha nodded.

Dracula shrugged.

‘The main thing is that there should be no chase. But I think they were happy to get rid of us.’

‘Oh yes,’ she smiled involuntarily. She closed her eyes. ‘I feel so dizzy... And the road is so... bumpy.’

‘Lie down.’ Looking at Dracula, Agatha saw him pointing to his lap. ‘There is nothing more I can do for you,’ he said in response to her indignant look.

‘I did not ask…’

‘We have a few more hours to go,’ Dracula interrupted her. ‘You will vomit. I have nothing against natural fluids,’ he said, ‘if you remember. But I don’t think you will enjoy traveling in a carriage full of…’

‘I get it,’ Agatha said wearily. ‘Thank you,’ she added very quietly, her head resting on his firm knees covered with a woolen cloak.

‘You are welcome!’ smiled Dracula, running his fingers through her hair.

Agatha quickly fell asleep from rhythmic swaying, fatigue, and weakness.

***

Agatha woke up feeling herself being carried somewhere. Opening her eyes, she breathed in the scent of fine wool mixed with the smell of the road, and at once, remembered everything.

‘We're almost there,’ Dracula's deep voice resonated in her chest and echoed throughout her body.

‘Put me down, I'll go myself,’ Agatha said in a voice hoarse from sleep.

‘Not worth it,’ Dracula turned, took a few more steps. The sound of the door being unlocked was heard, and, raising her head, Agatha saw that they had come into the bedroom.

‘Bed,’ Agatha moaned with relief.

‘And clean linen, and a bath, and breakfast,’ Dracula laughed cheerfully. ‘People need so much.’

‘You need that too,’ Agatha said, wrinkling her nose. ‘By the way, what about your… food…’ she began as Dracula threw back the covers and put her on the bed.

Dracula straightened, smiling, as she pulled the covers up to her chin.

‘Don't worry, Agatha,’ he said. ‘I will not stay hungry. Not far from here there is a barnyard with pigs in it. Not the most sumptuous breakfast, but…’

‘But better than killing innocents,’ Agatha yawned. Her eyes began to droop again.

‘If I start killing the guilty, I’ll get fat,’ Dracula chuckled. ‘I’ll leave you, dear. If you need anything, call the maid – her room is nearby.’

‘But what about your desire to show me... what is there... what I have lost...’ Agatha muttered sleepily, ‘when I left for the monastery?’

‘Not today,’ she opened her eyes when he was again very close. ‘Get some rest. We will talk about your lapses in life and your innocence later,’ Dracula finished in a very intimate whisper and left the room.

Agatha looked after him thoughtfully, turned over on her side, and fell asleep.

***

The next day, waking up fresh and rested, Agatha found at her disposal a wardrobe full of clothes, a helpful and efficient maid, and an excellent breakfast. Having dealt with the latter, she washed off the road dirt, and, asking the maid where she could find the Count, Agatha went down to the first floor.

The house was large, obviously old, and the previous owners seemed to have left it quite recently. Looking out of the living room window, Agatha saw the garden and the outbuildings peeping around the corner. Noticing the figure of Dracula passing next to one of them, she headed there.

Going around the perimeter of the house and heading into the backyard, Agatha passed the small stable and moved towards the barn – voices came from it.

‘...an exceptional sample. Landrace*,’ Agatha heard, pushing the door open. Stepping inside, she stopped at the threshold.

Dracula stood in the middle of the barn, dressed in a white shirt, exquisite vest, and trousers. In his hands was a large pink pig.

‘I can guarantee the quality,’ said a short man, standing with his back to Agatha, who looked like a merchant. ‘You can be certain of it.’

‘Fine,’ Dracula said, lowering the pig to the floor. It crawled into a corner and, it seemed, lay there on a heap of rags. ‘Excellent breed, I'm happy with everything. Get me four of them by the end of the week.’

‘As you command, sir,’ the merchant replied. ‘Noble pigs,’ he added proudly, looking back at the corner where the animal lay, grunting. ‘Rest assured. Everything will be at its best on Friday,’ he hurried, catching Dracula's impatient gaze. He repeated: ‘The pigs are excellent. If you want, maybe a litter.’

‘I don’t need the litter,’ the Count responded coldly. ‘On Friday you will bring the pigs, then you will receive the money. I am not delaying you any longer.’

The merchant nodded respectfully, bowed, confusedly said goodbye to Dracula, and, without looking at Agatha, left.

‘What is it?’ When the door slammed shut behind the merchant, Agatha asked, after a short pause.

‘Breakfast,’ Dracula shrugged. They turned and looked at the pig for a while in silence. The animal seemed absolutely content with life. ‘They surprised me, you know,’ he said.

‘Tasty?’ Agatha asked carefully.

‘Smart,’ Dracula threw up his hands.

‘Wow,’ turning around, Agatha moved to the exit. ‘Well,’ she said, breathing in the fresh morning air, ‘one less problem. Agree – ’

‘How are you feeling?’ he was next to her so quickly that Agatha almost recoiled. Straightening her back and not wanting to show that she was scared, she ceremoniously replied:

‘Good, thank you.’

Dracula smiled.

‘Shall we take a walk?’

Agatha frowned. After a moment's hesitation, she accepted the hand extended to her.

They walked towards the garden.

While they wandered among the yew hedges and fruit trees, Agatha learned from Dracula that the house he had brought her to was not the one that Harker's firm had bought for him. Not wanting to shake for another hour in a fiacre through London, Dracula asked the coachman where a decent housing could be rented nearby and found out that the Duke of Wilmore's mansion in the West End was vacant. The owners left there just the other day and put the house up for sale.

‘Do you like it here better?’ Agatha asked with interest. ‘You only know Carfax from stories, though,’ she recalled.

‘I like it here,’ Dracula said slowly. ‘What about you?’

‘I... well, I…’ Agatha stopped. Suddenly, she realized that she was not at all thinking about herself, about where she was – and about the future. Rather, from the moment she offered Dracula to eat her instead of Mina in the monastery, Agatha was sure that she had no future. Now, when it turned out that Dracula intended to eat Landraces, his question puzzled her.

What is she going to do next? What status is she in here? And how is she going to deal with all this?

She looked at Dracula. He was joking, wasn't he – when he said that he was taking her with him in order to...

‘Do you have friends in London?’ her thoughts were interrupted by Dracula.

Agatha shook her head.

‘Nobody.’

They walked a few more alleys and turned towards the path that led to the main entrance of the house.

‘You could be my attorney,’ Dracula said after a few minutes of silence. ‘After Jonathan’s death, I don’t want to deal with his law firm again,’ he explained in response to her surprised look. ‘And you are smart, educated, and will do an excellent job with this.’

‘I'm not a lawyer,’ Agatha said. ‘If you need…’

‘I need a person who can manage my affairs,’ Dracula did not let her finish. ‘This does not require a lawyer's license. And I will pay you handsomely.’

Agatha stopped and turned to face him.

‘Are you trying to buy me, Count Dracula?’

‘I'm trying to give you what you deserve.’ He looked like he was holding back a laugh. You don't have to agree. But I think it's better –’

‘What about your plans?’ burst out from Agatha.

Dracula stared at her in silence.

‘You said you'd be glad to put yourself in my hands,’ she said smoothly. ‘Have you forgotten?’

The pause did not last long.

‘No, I haven't forgotten.’ Dracula tilted his head and moved closer to her. ‘But I also remember that we figured out that before that happens, you need…’ he smiled briefly ‘some overview lessons. I do not want to suffer from clumsy hands.’

It's all nerves, travel and blood loss, Agatha thought indifferently. Otherwise, it would never have occurred to her to answer:

‘I am at your service, Count Dracula.’

Dracula's eyes sparkled. For a moment he looked at her – her hair loose over her shoulders, a simple brown-gray dress. He smiled anticipatingly.

‘I will come to you tonight. Don't lock yourself up.’

They walked the rest of the way home in complete silence. Once inside, Dracula moved down the corridor towards the living room.

‘Still, think about being an attorney,’ he said, hiding behind the door.

***

He came after midnight, when Agatha, who had been wandering around the house and the garden all day, had already changed her clothes for bed and even thought that in the end, she would just sleep. He opened the door and entered without bothering with questions and permissions. This is his home, Agatha reminded herself, as she watched Dracula approaching her.

There was no need to talk. She did not even want to be ironic and did not want to argue. With amazing clarity, Agatha suddenly realized that the fact that he was here was not only – and not so much – his decision, and this is obvious. It was always obvious.

Dracula raised his hand and carefully touched her shoulder.

It reminded her so sharply of what was in the monastery that she recoiled.

‘Agatha?’

When she came to, she realized that she was sitting on the bed, silently looking at Dracula and as if she was numb.

‘Agatha, if it's that scary…’ Dracula began.

‘No. No... it's okay,’ Agatha said slowly.

Dracula looked at her hand, with which she unconsciously grabbed her left shoulder, and understood everything.

He sat down beside her and leaned over to her.

‘Give it here.’

Obediently opening her fingers, Agatha exposed her shoulder. The scar was not the same as Jonathan's – not a laceration, a thin cut. Dracula leaned forward, touched it with his lips, gently sucked in her heated skin, and let go.

‘That's better?’

‘I think so,’ Agatha whispered, feeling the tips of her fingers begin to tingle.

She let him lay her back into bed and unbutton her nightgown to her waist. Seeing him lower his head to touch her breast, Agatha closed her eyes. The needles in her fingertips turned into flames and slowly crawled up her arms.

When he pulled away from her, she opened her eyes.

‘Agatha, how could you consider yourself unwanted?’ Dracula asked in a hoarse voice. ‘My blood boils for you.’

Agatha smiled, embarrassed.

‘Just don’t burn me,’ she said softly.

‘No way,’ Dracula whispered, burying his face in her neck, starting to caress her again.

He was impatient and unhurried at the same time, and Agatha did not understand how this was possible. He touched her as if he knew exactly where and how she wanted, forcing her to moan, bend, sob and beg.

And then it was tender. Deep. It hurt a lot, but when he stopped to let her catch her breath, Agatha shook her head in protest. With her arms and legs wrapped around him, she did something she had never done before – let go of control entirely.

The pleasure wiped away the remnants of pain, scattered doubts, it appeared as crystals of salt on her skin. She seemed to be whispering his name. Or maybe she just swore from the heart – also for the first time in many years.

Very slowly, Dracula slid off of her and pulled Agatha after him, not releasing her from his embrace.

‘My name is Vlad,’ he muttered somewhere in her hair; the low voice mixed with laughter and happy weariness. ‘I wanted you to know – just in case.’

Unable to move, Agatha only groaned something unintelligible and made herself comfortable, letting languor and drowsiness take possession of her.

Tomorrow. All the rest is tomorrow.

***

Opening her eyes, Agatha saw that outside the window was a cloudy misty morning, and she was alone in bed. Getting up and throwing on the lace peignoir that lay in the chair, she went to the window and flung open the high sashes.

It smelled of moist spring air and the feeling of close summer. Agatha sneezed and looked down.

In the courtyard in front of the house, Dracula stood and, apparently, was arguing with a tall, large man. In one hand the man had a big knife, in the other – known to Agatha – yesterday's Landrace. The pig jerked its legs and struggled desperately.

Vaguely, Agatha remembered that Dracula, upon arrival, could find only a maid and a butler for the house. The rest of the servants, including the entire staff for the kitchen, he was going to recruit later, and at first, the maid could handle the preparation of the simplest food.

Well, Dracula probably decided to start home improvement seriously and hired a cook, Agatha thought distantly, looking at a tall reddish fellow who cheerfully brandished a knife. Either he accidentally hit the Landrace, or simply frightened it with loud screams, but it squealed, broke free, and rushed across the yard at a gallop.

Dracula and the red-headed giant simultaneously rushed after the boar. But Dracula, of course, was the first to do it. Picking up the pig in his arms, he gently scratched it behind the ear and turned to the cook. Agatha did not hear what he said, but, apparently, something very stern. Agatha could have sworn that there was a triumphant expression on the Landrace's muzzle. The chef's face turned to stone.

Holding back her laughter, Agatha put her palms on the windowsill and leaned out of the window.

‘Vlad,’ she said clearly and loudly. Dracula turned around and grabbed the Landrace more comfortably.

‘What?’ he asked with a smile, causing a wildish fire to crawl along Agatha's spine again, like the night before.

She lifted the corners of her lips slightly.

‘Don't play with food,’ she said sternly.

‘Or what?’ The pig in his hands twitched an ear, and Dracula soothingly ran his fingers along the top of its head.

Agatha felt her cheeks go red.

‘I’ll be very angry,’ she said and closed the window.

Just five minutes later, footsteps were heard outside the door, and Dracula entered the room. He was without a Landrace – instead of a pig, he held in his right hand a long silk curtain cord. Agatha glanced briefly at the rope – at Dracula's fingers caressing the ribbed surface, at the heavy tassels hanging from the ends.

‘I didn't have time to sin very much... today,’ he said quietly. He walked over and handed her the rope. ‘But you have to start somewhere.’

As if in a dream, Agatha nodded.

* Landrace is the first specialized bacon-type pig breed.

[graffitibible]

can you explain how a draculoid becomes a deaculoid (if that makes sense)

sure! we do get a handy explanation for how it works in the comics’ external materials but it leaves a lot up in the air as well. i use that as my baseline though since things that are actually Fucking Explained in this canon are a rarity so i take what i can get. 

im gonna stick this beneath a cut cause fuck it got Longe

transcript of the image above:

DRACULOIDIZATION (The act of becoming a Draculoid)

Dracula is scary. Draculoids are scarier.

Draculoid masks are used when a prisoner or detainee is deemed suitable to serve as a BLI employee. A suitable candidate consists of a physically fit body with no previous ailments or damage to said body. Mental ailments, beliefs, or morals need not be taken into consideration while evaluating the candidate, since the mask will wipe all personality away. Draculoid masks can also be used to downgrade a higher-ranking BLI official, such as a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/, if the situation is appropriate. They can be used on the living or the recently deceased that have died with minimal bodily harm.

INSTRUCTIONS ARE AS FOLLOWS:

-After assessing the candidate and determining that it is deemed suitable for BLI employment, place a Draculoid mask on its head.

*Warning. Placing a Draculoid mask on a candidate’s head will remove the soul of the candidate, wiping the body clean. You might experience a slight shock or be temporarily blinded for a moment while the life is being extracted. This is completely harmless to you and should cause no need for alarm.

*FAQ: No, we are not sure where the soul goes, nor is that any concern of yours or ours.

So in short, anyone can be turned into a drac (or “dracked” as my version of canon calls it). We see it happen in the comics once, and we get an insight into what the person who has been dracked actually sees - they envision former friends and allies as murderous, insectoid creatures, nightmares out to get them, and react accordingly. it also appears to be a pretty immediate process. the mask goes on, there’s a bright flash of light, and the candidate is now a freshly turned draculoid.

so what do we know about people who have been dracked, based on the information we see in the comics and music videos?

dracs are capable of basic cognition. they can talk, they exchange information with each other and with draculoids-to-be, and they can take orders. their personalities are fairly homogeneous however, and they seem to miss the subtleties of humor or rhetorical questions.

dracs are capable of emotion. the initial concept art describes them as flashy, arrogant, and mentions that they “love to party.” we see them emote on occasion, such as issuing cartoonish laughter when they capture the girl in the “na na na” mv.

dracs are obedient. related to point one, they follow orders and bli ordinances unquestioningly. since you don’t need to be ALIVE to be dracked, it stands to reason that being a drac doesn’t require a great deal of critical thinking. you’re meat. you follow orders. you do what’s required of you. you are, in essence, cannon fodder.

dracs are soulless. this is explicitly mentioned in both the external materials and in the comics themselves. cherri cola discusses this with the girl.

The text above: “Draculoid masks are a different story. The souls these masks take are lost. But I still have to try. There’s MORE than electricity coursing through Bat City. It’s littered with innocent souls, trapped in the city’s electricity. Souls that cannot find their way home.”

cola sends drac masks to the phoenix witch via mailboxes, the same way one would killjoys, based on the premise that anything “close to the soul” (direct quote) would help guide the soul “home” to her.

now i think a VERY important distinction to make here is that cola is incorrect. the souls the masks take aren’t lost, not fully. we see an explicit example of this when, after we learn that the girl’s mom was turned into a draculoid and we get a good look of what she looks like, we see that her soul has been returned to her by the comics’ end - she’s the draculoid that approaches the girl. i think it's reasonable to assume based on the context - the fact that the girl recalls this specific quote about there being more than electricity in the city, the fact that her mother is returned to her after being deemed soulless, the fact that bli does not know or care where the souls of dracked victims go but that they’re noted to flash brightly when they exit the body - that battery city is teeming with the souls of those who were turned into dracs. i think it’s reasonable to deduce that battery city is to an extent literally powered by lost souls. this raises a lot of questions about what exactly is in those masks, and how they manage to siphon souls straight into bat city regardless of distance.

now the girl is pretty special. she had the power to reverse that and return dracked souls to their owners. but when the girl meets the phoenix witch, we do see the witch putting drac masks (left by cola) into her shopping cart that she uses to carry souls away. this suggests to me that those souls aren’t lost permanently.

based on all that canon info we get, here is my read on how the draculoidization process works:

candidate is chosen. maybe they’re a prisoner, or maybe they’re a corpse. for the purposes of this, it doesn’t really matter. the end result is the same.

draculoid mask is put on. this zaps the soul out of the body, whether alive or dead. the witch shepherds souls to the afterlife, so they don’t necessarily move on without her interference. maybe the soul just kind of coasts around by default, but the draculoid mask siphons it into bat city where it’s used to power shit.

draculoid is now an active footsoldier. it walks it talks it shoots it does everything it’s supposed to do. all dracs come with a sort of preprogrammed understanding of what they’re supposed to do, a handy framework that defines everything for it. those things in the desert are scary insect-creatures, and they are bad. your fellow draculoids and bli are good. and so on.

draculoid operates until death. if the draculoid is killed, then the soul that its body once contained has no guaranteed route to whatever lies past that. in this universe the body is a tether, a physical construct, but it’s the mask that truly houses the soul. if the mask is gone the body is the only real imprint of that soul’s life that it still has, and once the body’s gone...well, tough fuckin titties i guess. if the draculoid isn’t killed but one seeks to reverse the process....wellllll that’s where things get trickier and you might need some potentially next-level interference if you want to actually cram a soul back into a dracked body. it’s not as simple as just taking the mask off. that poor bastard’s soul is floating out there somewhere but it’s being used to power bat city at that point and what’s left behind after you rip off that mask but a husk?

hopefully this covers what you wanted to know! i’m leaving some stuff out because /handwaves i’m still hashing some of this shit out and some of it is future fic spoilers but i tried to include as much as i could

as always this is just my read on things so take it all worth several mines of salt

[kkeidawrites]

Her.

Part 5! Enjoy!

The next day, that afternoon, Alucard made his way to the planned meeting spot by the tree with the large red streak in the middle.

An oak tree that has been here for the last five hundred years but, where it obtained the streak was a mystery. His father told him that during his younger days as he traveled the world, he would often pass that tree to see how long it would hold up.

And fun fact, this was where he and Alia had first met so, this would be the perfect time to tell her about who he really was. After putting it off for the past couple weeks it finally weighed in his mind that he should tell her right away instead of suffering with the idea of Alia turning away in fear from who he is.

He had to take that chance. She deserved to know, from how close they had become, he needed to be completely honest with her as she has done with him.

However, something about today made him feel odd. This weird feeling in his gut was telling him that something was wrong. Particularly Alia.

‘It’s probably nothing. Perhaps I am just nervous.’ He thought.

Once he made it to the old oak tree, he leaned against the side of the tree and waited patiently for the other attendee of the meet.

He was a bit nervous and his rushing thoughts of the different scenarios of how she would react wasn’t helping either.

The night before he was practicing on how he would bring it up and each one ended up with him turning down the idea and ultimately making the motion that she would freak out anyway when she found out he was a vampire.

Sighing, Alucard leaned his head against the bark of the tree and stared into the wilting leaves.

‘God, she’s going to hate me.’ He thought.

The hand that was sitting on the hilt of his sword clenched the handle.

‘No.’ He thought.

Suddenly straighting his back, Alucard frowned, he was not going to be a coward this time.

‘I won’t back down this time. Not when we are so close.’

No way was he going to back out during this opportunity and if she didn’t like what he had to tell her then all he can do is take it like a man.

‘When she gets here, I’ll tell it to her straight.’ He affirmed and continued to wait.

Four hours later

Alright, something was wrong here. The sun was setting over the horizon and still no fairy in sight. Alia, albeit, was always late whenever they met somewhere; she says that the way he gives her directions to where they are supposed to meet is to blame for why she is constantly late.

‘Where could she be? I hope she hasn’t become lost again.’ He thought.

Alucard chuckled at the thought of her maybe being lost once again. He would go out and find her probably two miles away from where they were supposed to meet and the two would return to their spot to hang out for the day.

But, this time something felt really wrong. The weird feeling returned and this time they were telling him that it was very bad.

The sound of bushes being rattled made the golden haired man turn in the direction of the noise and what came running out was two children who were familiar to Alucard.

It was Samuel and Desiana, Alia’s niece and nephew. Their clothes were ripped and they had dirt all over their bodies. Desiana was riding on her brother’s back as she had both her arms and legs wrapped around his waist. Her head was shoved so deep in his back you would think his back would open up and swallow her.

“Alucard!” Samuel cries out in relief.

The dhampir approaches them quickly and knelt down in front of Samuel. Placing his hands on the panting boy’s shoulders, Alucard gave him his undivided attention.

“Samuel, what’s happened? Where is Alia?” Alucard questions.

“Strange men -pant- -pant- came to the house -pant- -pant-destroyed everything! They took Auntie -pant- she told us to run! -pant- -pant- you gotta help her!” He wheezed out to the older man.

Alucard’s worst fears came to play and he looked towards where they had come from then turns back to Samuel.

“I will find your aunt, but, you must get to safety first.” He tells Samuel who finally caught his breath and looked confused by his words.

“But, the only place I knew in these woods are Auntie’s house. Where would we go?” He asked.

“I will take you to my home. You will be safe there until, I return with your aunt.” Alucard couldn’t take them to the village, they would only turn a blind eye to them.

“But-”

“Big brother.” Desiana’s little voice made the older two look back to see Desiana peaking one eye open from her brother’s back to stare dazed at the forest.

Her eyes were hollowed with any emotion and Alucard thought he would never see Desiana or any child of that matter do such a thing like that.

“I wanna go to the prince’s castle. Can we big brother? Please?” She begs and Samuel sighs as she turns to answer Alucard’s questionable gaze.

“Those men...they tried to kill her, but Auntie stopped them in time and let them take what they came for.” Samuel said solemnly.

“What were they after?” Alucard asks.

Samuel gulps and bows his head.

“They were after Auntie.” Samuel confesses and Alucard frowned.

“Come, we must head to my home and there I will head out to find your aunt.” He told Samuel who nods.

Guiding to his home, Alucard’s mind was raving on how he was going to find Alia. Whomever these people are, they were too smart and quick with how they kidnapped her.

As they approached the castle, Samuel suddenly stopped to look at the castle in awe and fear. The place was literally looming in darkness and it was not even night time yet.

This new place sent chills down his back and Samuel looked to Alucard who was already walking up the stairs.

The golden haired man noticed that the boy had stopped following him and turned to see that he was hesitant to even make one step on the stairwell.

Walking back down, Alucard stood next to the trembling boy and placed a hand on his shoulder to calm himself.

“No need to be afraid of this place. I promise that no harm will come to you or your sister.” He promises.

“You sure?” Samuel asked still unconvinced.

Alucard nods.

“I swear it.” He tells the boy and Samuel took a deep breath and readjusted his sister’s grip on his shoulders then assended the stairs. Alucard follows and the large doors open for the three.

As they entered the main hall, Lisa made her appearance with a book in her hand, no doubt a medical one and looked up to see her son.

She smiles at him and walks over to properly greet him.

“Welcome home, my son. Did you enjoy your time with...Alia...” Her words trailed off as she noticed two children standing behind the tall man, hiding behind his figure.

“Mother, this is Samuel and Desiana. They are Alia’s niece and nephew.” He tells her and Lisa moved to his side to get a better view of the two children.

Samuel pressed deeper in Alucard’s side to hide he and his sister from the woman whose resemblance to the older man was uncanny.

“Adrian, what’s going on?” She asked her son.

“Mother, I must know where Father is. I will explain everything once I have him join us. For now, is there a possibility that these two can stay in a guest room?” He asked her.

Lisa gives him a smile and nods.

“Yes, I will escort them to one of the guest rooms, your father is in his study although I told him that he needs to take it easy, working too much will even kill a vampire.” Her sudden confession made Alucard’s eyes widen and so did Samuel’s.

“Mother!” He hissed as Lisa put a hand over her mouth at her mistake.

“Y-You’re a vampire?!” Samuel asked and Alucard turns to him, his brain trying to come up with a lie to appease the boy.

“No! That is just an ongoing joke that my mother says-”

“That’s so cool!” Samuel’s outburst startled both older man and woman.

“You mean...you’re not afraid of the fact that I am a vampire, well half anyway?” Alucard asked astonished.

“What? Are you seriously half vampire! That’s even cooler and your dad is a vampire too?! Can we meet him?” Samuel was suddenly estatic about the news and Alucard felt his self confidence boost a bit more.

Lisa crouches down to Samuel’s level and the boy suddenly felt a little afraid again by the stranger being so close to him.

“Why don’t we set you both in a room for now, hm? I’m sure your sister would like a place to sleep.” Lisa butts in and Samuel was still a bit unsure about her.

He looks to Alucard for his approval and the dhampir nods to him.

“Go, my mother will take good care of you, while I’m away. Besides,” Alucard bends over to the boy with a smile.

“You still have to protect your little sister.” Alucard says and Samuel nods as he looks at Lisa who smiles again and stands to her feet once more.

“Right then, follow me, and I’ll show you where you can lay down your sister.” Lisa tells him and the Samuel follows close to her, jogging up to her side to keep up with her.

Alucard makes his way to his father’s study and the heavy brown door that led inside was closed. Raising a fist, he knocked twice and the sound of his father’s approval to come in rumbled from inside.

Alucard came in his father’s study with pep to his step and Dracula looked up at his son to see that he was distraught about something.

“Son, whatever is the matter?” The infamous Dracula asks. His black cloak was settled on the back of his chair as he looked to be deep in paperwork.

“Alia has been kidnapped.” Alucard says frowning.

“By whom?” Dracula questions.

“I don’t know but, whomever they are they were there for something at her house.” Alucard began to pace in front of the door.

“Could it have been the church?” Dracula’s tone was suddenly dark. Alucard’s frown deepens.

“I cannot tell as of yet but, perhaps they may have had a part in this.” Alucard says. His right hand gripped the handle of his sword in anger.

“Alia had the men take her instead of her niece, and now, both her niece and nephew are staying in one of the guest rooms.” Alucard says.

“Then you must go to her house and investigate what has happened. Perhaps you will find a clue.” Dracula suggests and Alucard’s fury turns to his father.

“I don’t have time to investigate! Alia could be hurt or worse! I don’t have time to sit around and play ‘who done it’!” He roars to his father.

“Charging in and attacking isn’t going to solve anything either! Adrian, whomever, took her had to think smart and be very precise about her next move and when the next time that she would be alone at home. You have to be rational about this.” Dracula tells his son.

Lisa had stepped into the study and moved to stand by her husband as the two watched their infuriated son.

Alucard then sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face in frustration. He felt his eyes begin to mist and he looked up at his parents, distraught and worry written all over his face.

“Don’t either of you see, I want to help her as quickly as I can because...” he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“It’s because I love her.” Alucard confessed to his parents who smiled sadly.

Dracula stood from his place behind his desk and walked over to his son and placed a hand on his shoulder, a determined look on his face.

“And we will find her, my son.”

“But, how?” Alucard asked, his whole demeanor sad.

“We will use a tool that I have not used since I was human. A distance mirror.” He tells his son.

End of Part 5

1// 2// 3// 4// 5// 6// 7// 8// Bonus!!

[thebeautyofdisorder]

Dangerous Game ~ BBC Dracula, Gate Scene AU

@festering-queen Requested a “what if” scenario if Agatha stepped over the line a bit during the convent gate sequence, and Dracula was able to get his hands on her. This could have gone MANY different ways, and the first couple days of thinking about this were literally just me debating the many options I had on my hands, but this is what I settled on - hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: blood, threat of death, vampirism, nudity, you know - everything that applies normally to Drac

Word Count: 3,118

It happened in an instant, far quicker than she could react. For all his snarling and threats, Agatha had the vampire keening like a starving pup - helpless, angry, feral with hunger as her hand outstretched in an offering of her blood to his seeking tongue. She observed him with sudden calm appreciation as his eyelids hung heavy, feeling a fleeting swell of power that she nearly got to appreciate, even. But just as her grip lessened on the handle of the knife, prepared to drop it and back away and cease to taunt the beast while she was ahead of the game, those blackened eyes shot open and met hers with such mocking clarity that it halted her in her tracks, the triumph in her eyes faltering into sudden, heart-stopping dread. 

It was too late, then. Agatha was too close, she’d known it, and had trusted that in his blind desperation for sustenance that the Count wouldn’t take note. She had been very wrong. Without so much as a growl, his hand shot out and grabbed for the knife and her hand all in one grip of his gigantic fist, yanking her over the ephemeral threshold, her feet barely skimming the ground with no chance of catching traction. 

The screams and gasps from her sisters rose up behind her in chorus of panic, but even in all that chaos for a fraction of a second Dracula didn’t even acknowledge that he’d gotten the nun into his clutches, too occupied in using her hand as a vehicle to better press the sharpened steel to his tongue, licking it clean. It was only when she stepped back towards the “safety” of the iron gate and tried to yank herself free did she feel more than hear him chuckle in dark, mocking glee, and a gasp was torn from her throat, her world spinning as he pulled her into his grasp. Her back might as well have hit stone for all his bloodied chest gave on the impact that she felt rattle her own bones, both her upper arms suddenly constrained in a bruising grip. The knife lying useless on the ground near her feet, Agatha found herself forced to watch her sisters cower in terror and worse - look on her in pity.

“It seems fortune doesn’t always favor the brave, does it Sister?” He leered from behind and above her, grinning down at her in a manner that might have passed for charming had his teeth not been forged into sharp, jagged points. His breath smelled coppery and disturbingly sweet, and cringe from it though she did, for a strange, mad moment she almost wanted to ask him about it, before remembering that there were definitely more important things to worry about at the moment than understanding the vampiric anatomy. Currently the fact that she was forced very snugly against said anatomy and was probably about to die a very painful death for the luxury. 

His focus left her quickly though, watching over her shoulder as the Mother Superior tried to force a brave face, her short frame standing in front of the gaggle of girls as though she could actually forge a barrier between them and danger. All but her.

“Well? What’re you waiting for, ladies? Your sister’s been captured, you’re all ‘armed and ready.’ You outnumber me, clearly.”

“Honestly, they’re nuns not idiots,” Agatha scoffed at him, before addressing them directly - just in case, seeing some of them start to stir antsily. “Stay back!” 

“Come now. Not even one of you? What righteous warriors you make,” he continued to mock with disappointed laughter, laying out his lure as Agatha watched helplessly as her anxious sisters looked more unsure by the moment. 

“Isn’t that what that god of yours is always going on about - self-sacrifice for the greater good, defending the helpless, blah blah...blah. You are knights, you have your swords, the frightened princess is seconds away from being eaten…”

“Oh please,” Agatha mocked, turning her head to glance between his self-satisfied smirk and the faces of her friends in frank disbelief.

“Who’s going to slay the dragon?” Dracula challenged in that melodious whisper, tightening his hold on her visibly, causing her to hiss as what could only be described as claws began to dig into her flesh through the thin fabric of her habit. 

“Do not rise to his bait - he’s only trying to lure you out,” their matron, having gathered her wits, echoed her earlier sentiments, but with the authority to actually enforce them, and despite the sinking feeling in her gut, Agatha looked at her with genuine thanks as the girls began to slink back. She would not be the reason for their deaths, and that at least she could make peace with.

“Give it up, dragon - I’m the only nun you’re getting out of there tonight, so just kill me and get it over with,” she exclaimed stubbornly, turning her head to look up at him where he still stood behind her, watching the sisters retract with an exaggerated pout.

He laughed, throaty and low, turning her in his grasp to look her in the eye.

“Oh no one likes a martyr, Agatha - isn’t it?” he purred, and her eyes widened a margin at hearing her name on his lips.

“So you heard,” she persisted, squaring her jaw, not falling for any more of his intimidation tactics. How much worse could her circumstances really get, anyway? 

She was armed, as well, to be fair. The wooden stake was in her pocket, and if he would just not grip her arms so tightly, she might have been able to put up some kind of fight - but as though he genuinely could read her mind, his grip on her left arm tightened to the point of bruising while his hold on her right turned feather light and faltered as he shifted his hold from her upper arm to her wrist, pulling her palm up to his mouth. 

She had entirely forgotten she was still bleeding, but clearly the vampire had not, and the split flesh gave a sudden throb at the reminder, just before she felt him drag his tongue over the seeping wound, a hum of pleasure that was nothing short of obscene reverberating against her hand. She hissed, her fingers flinching in fruitless effort against his hold, though the sensation wasn’t exactly pain, even if it wasn’t far from it. It was a bizarre tingling that made her squirm, though there wasn’t anywhere to go. She cursed him under her breath in her native tongue and she was surprised to hear him chuckle, drawing back from her hand though he still held it aloft, never far from his lips.

“Ooh. You’re really not very good at this nun thing, are you, Agatha?” He asked mockingly, before looking up at the stars thoughtfully and licking his lips, her eyes drawn to watch his throat work and swallow in the firelight.  

“Agatha Van Helsing where in the world did you come from?”

“You seem to know everything else, why don’t you tell me?” She shot back bitterly, fighting off the panic in her voice. So that’s all it took, a few drops of blood and her inner workings were laid bare to his prying eyes? Frightening, sure, but mostly infuriating. 

“Holland, right?”

She glanced sideways at her sisters for a fleeting moment, and gave a nod to Mother Superior, hoping she would take his pre-occupation as a sign to begin to bring the other girls to safety, but she didn’t dare let her focus stray from the vampire long enough to watch.

“As I’m sure you heard in my accent. I know detectives that could volunteer twice that information in half the time. Surely you can tell me something more interesting than that.”

“Are you challenging me, Sister Agatha?” He asked, though despite the hint of a growl that still lingered in his voice, he looked wholly entertained by her open defiance despite the fact he could have killed her already. “You do enjoy dangerous games - you must be bored to tears in this place.”

“As though you don’t enjoy showing off,” she challenged dryly, looking him over with clear accusation, though her eyes didn’t stray past his chest before retreating upwards once more. “Come on. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Agatha watched as he took a moment to process what she could only assume were her own memories, seeing multiple small reactions flit over his features. She should've rightly tried to use this distraction to her advantage, feeling his grip on her lessen a hair - but she knew deep down it would just end in a quicker death for her in the end. She still wasn't sure if that would be her best option. 

Surely it was the most Catholic choice she could make - but if she were going to sacrifice herself "for the greater good" as he had so quaintly put it, now was not the time. Not when she could learn more, and not when she was so sure to fail any attempt she could make to destroy him or even save herself. 

Count Dracula's mouth suddenly broke into a wicked grin, ripping her from her thoughts. Not a good sign. 

"And? Still waiting." She pressed, impatiently. 

"Well, if it makes you feel better Agatha, your "training" might do your sisters some good after all," he stated musingly, watching a few of them retreat back within the walls of the convent, clearly unconcerned now with slowly but surely losing his audience. 

"And why is that?'

His brows rose as he looked down at her almost fondly. 

"Well, you left undead Johnny in the same room as his bleeding fiance, of course. I can't imagine his appetite taking long to surface. If you think I'm a fright when I'm hungry…"

Agatha had to fight back the urge curse again, if only because it would entertain him too greatly. Stupid stupid stupid…

"Jonathan Harker would sooner stake himself than harm Mina, you know that. Apparently it's all that moralistic willpower that made you so fond of him in the first place," Agatha dismissed him stubbornly. 

The Count sighed, looking over her head towards the upper level of the nunnery. 

"Mm. Truer words never spoken, I'm afraid - it'll distract him for a little while I suppose."

"What do you mean? Surely dying twice is enough," She asked, no longer hiding her concern. 

"Curious little thing, aren't you?" He mused, almost inwardly, using his hold on her to drag her further back from the gate, so they were standing far out of earshot from the other nuns and they could see the flickering light in the window where Agatha had last abandoned his 'bride'. He held her fast against him with one long arm while he pointed up at the window. She might’ve seen a shadow pass just below her eyeline, but she couldn’t be sure.

"He tried. And failed. The undead cannot commit suicide. Call it a curse, if you will. He'll be out for a little while, definitely wish he were dead, but unless little Mina drives the stake in herself, he will wake up and when he does...he will be weak and he will be hungry. Now if you trained your troops well enough, maybe they'll be prepared…"

His head tilted, studying her face, which she was sure was full of many things for him to appraise, hating herself for it but far too distracted by her own thoughts to mask them. If she didn’t know better, his smirk almost retained a hint of pity.

“Or perhaps Johnny will surprise us both, he is a lively one. Now - “ he immediately led off from his passive attempt at comfort, turning her in his grasp so quickly, Agatha wondered if he was really so unaware of his own power or if he was still delighting in showing it off to her alone.

“I would ask you to invite me in, but we both know very well even if I promise not to slaughter your family that you won’t. Even if it means a rabid infantile vampire may tear a few of them limb from limb, you are far too stubborn to ever do anything that I ask of you, nor would you believe any promises I make,” the vampire began, sizing her up seemingly as he spoke with a chuckle as mocking as it was appreciative. 

“Who would?”

“And threatening your inevitable death will get me nowhere, you religious types are always far too keen to sacrifice yourselves.”

“Trust me, Count Dracula, in comparison to hearing you babble nonsense for another half hour, it would hardly be a sacrifice,” Agatha spat out before she could help it, fruitlessly trying to create some distance between them despite his grip on her - she about cursed herself once more, but apparently instead of angering him, all she’d done is amuse him again. 

He’d let out a surprised laugh, melodious and loud, so she was sure the others would’ve heard it from downwind. Wonderful, now if she ever did get back (unlikely) she’d have ‘consorting with the devil’ to deal with - more than usual.

“Agatha Van Helsing, what am I going to do with you?” He breathed, and she realized with mounting dread that he really didn’t even know himself. 

“Honestly, you didn’t even have a plan when you showed up here, did you?” She couldn’t help but ask, furrowing her brows. Why was he so calm?  

“I typically don’t need one, but it seems you wanted to make it difficult for me,” he stated softly, the accusation clear in his eyes, though it was almost playful in nature now. 

Without the growling, bestial thing that had met her at the gate, she was just being held by a bloody, naked aristocrat staring down at her with a fondness that was completely foreign, and she found herself more disturbed by his approval than his threats. Those she had expected, this...she wasn’t sure how to navigate. 

“Do you think your sisters would be so brave without you? Should I find out?”

Even seeing that he was baiting her, Agatha knew there was literally nothing stopping him. He could kill her now, just to get her out of the way. Probably preferable, because otherwise he could just disable her. Knock her unconscious, break her leg, rip out of her tongue - whatever would stop her from stopping him. And the sad truth was that she didn’t know. Most of those girls were young, helpless things, just there for intimidation in numbers. They would crumple in the face of genuine threat, no matter how strong their belief or their wills. 

“Leave them alone, and I will come with you willingly.”

“Who says I want you to?” He returned too quickly, his face a mask of indifference, though the curiosity twinkling in his eyes was a dead give away to his intention. He just wanted to see how she would respond. To see if she would show desperation, or weakness. He was toying with her, just like she had toyed with him. God help her, for her sisters’ sake, she was going to have to let him. For now. 

“You have a long way to travel, Count Dracula. And while I’m sure you can manipulate Jonathan into doing whatever you like, having a half-crazed ‘infantile vampire’ in your charge for a long voyage would only draw attention to you and fail to provide you any sustenance. Besides, no one in there would be any use to you. Most of them have spent their entire existence locked within those walls. Their lives are hymns and prayers and chores and guilt and nothing else whatsoever. Take me and you might actually learn something.”

“Perhaps. But you would also try to kill me the first chance you get,” he accused in a whisper, that hint of wicked amusement still never leaving his voice. Apparently attempted murder was a novelty to for him.

“Are you saying that actually frightens you?” She accused, quirking an eyebrow, turning his challenge back on him.

“Careful,” Dracula warned, eyes narrowing as his grip on her tightened a hair, apparently capping his amusement at being called a coward, though he didn't disagree directly - information she decided to retain for later. If she would see later. 

He was silent for a long moment, enough to begin to worry her that he'd refuse her entirely. But slowly his lips twisted up into a satisfied, if resigned smirk, taking one last look up into that window before returning his focus to her fully. 

"You drive a hard bargain, Van Helsing, but I suppose you do have a point. The devout do always leave a bit of an...aftertaste." 

He let loose one of her arms, at least, though immediately reached up and pulled at the ties of the white fabric that was serving its purpose, blocking her throat from his view, yanking it and her wimple from her head in one swift motion, that pulled at her hair and made her yelp slightly. His lips twitched, but he seemed to choose not to acknowledge it. 

“But you nuns tend to draw a lot of attention in your own right, especially while unconscious…”

“I’m sorry?” she clarified irritably, still narrowing her eyes as she used her free hand to push her hair from her face. She considered using it to slap him with instead, but considering she would likely just end up with a broken hand for her trouble, she resisted the urge.

“Oh, I’m not going to have you straggling along behind me out in the mountains, Agatha, that would be positively uncouth. You understand…” he drawled, his gaze having dropped from her eyes and now locked onto the column of her throat with that same heavy-lidded intensity she saw at the gates. Feeling his large hand tracing her collarbone, she swallowed, forcing herself to be still as he loomed over her, now even more so than before it seemed. 

“How kind of you,” she snarked, though her words were no longer registering to him at all, and she watched in the lantern light as his eyes clouded with red once more, and those long, cold fingers curled around the base of her neck, making her shiver.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to make you last,” he assured her with finality, that bestial snarl thickening his voice once again, and the last thing she felt before sinking into a hazy sleep was the sting of sharp teeth sinking into her flesh, followed by that same tingling she’d felt earlier, until she felt nothing at all. 

------

I’m just going to tag all the people I normally tag when I make Dracula stuff, or anyone I think MIGHT want to see it based on your interests, feel free to ignore me if you’re disinterested. 

@hoefordarkness @allis143 @punk-courtesan @dracula-s-bride @charlesdances @chrsitophwaltz @vlladtepes @bellamortislife @fuukonomiko @serindiyoza @alma37 @profiler-in-courage @lamourcommecesttoujour @hyacinth-meadow @guardianbelle @lets-talk-about-claes-baby @claesbang @undead-notunreasonable @bangtheking @vissidarte213 @mood-adlock @onyxthevampire @the-sign-of-tea @feralstare @leah-halliwell92 @break-free-killer-queen @mephdcosplay @girlonfireice @chelsfic @imagineandimagine @the-last-legs-last-leg @moonwalkerkari @river-soul @drsherlockmoffat @dwacuwa-is-baby @mysticaltimemachinewench @hopipollahorror @beyond-antares @bloodspatteredprincess @pullthedamnlever @ss9slb @gatissed  @mitsukatsu @le-fay-87 @flyingleapdisco @desperatefrenchwriter @crowley-needs-a-hug @crazytxgradstudent @garlicbreakfast @kandomeresbitch

Okay, if I didn’t tag you it’s just because I got tired of scrolling my notes before I reached you, haaa. My bad. Or tumblr won’t allow me to tag you for some reason.

[sol1056]

What are your overall thoughts on Castlevania season 3? So far the season, particularly the last two episodes (especially the 9th episode), have been controversial.

Well, that penultimate episode definitely put me in mind of the famous quote…

Obiwan: “I feel a great disturbance in the force…”

Half of which was probably screams into the void over this seeming betrayal, and the other half was shrieks in delight about confirmed OT3 potential.

On a more serious note, I’ve got a bunch of asks about S3, so I’m covering them all in this one response, because my thoughts come down to one thing.

This season was all about trust.

If we can consider this season (much like S1) to be setup, these episodes are for getting characters into the places and mindsets that the following act will require. So whatever we get in S4, it’ll require that Sypha be accustomed to Trevor’s life as an outcast demon-hunter, that Trevor accept his choices impact more than just him, that Alucard repell intrusions on his solitary guardianship, that Carmilla has a bound forgemaster and solid plans to grow an army, and that Issac has a full-sized army of his own. 

A pedestrian approach would have been all plot: a whole lot of running from one place to the next while shouting exposition. It could’ve ended up a truly jarring tonal shift between what’s basically four separate storylines: Alucard and Cho’s former prisoners, Sypha and Trevor and Saint Germain, Isaac’s journey to find Hector, and finally Carmilla and Hector. Though given they hardly interact after the first episode, we could treat this as two parallel storylines: Carmilla and her sisters, and Hector and Lenore.

(Spoilers behind the cut.)

Instead, Ellis uses these four (or five) storylines to explore different issues with trust, betrayal, and isolation. Sypha and Trevor recognize that St Germain’s unexpected willingness to trust wasn’t born of seeing them as trustworthy, so much as a symptom of St Germain’s overwhelming isolation and loneliness – and they even remark on the similarity to someone else, implied to be Alucard. Who – after his highly guarded and distanced interactions with Sypha and Trevor in S2, followed by a month (or a year, Alucard’s lost track) of total isolation – has come to the same place as St Germain. 

In both cases, those finales pivots on whether this third, isolated person can be trusted, as well as whether that person can trust the pair that claims to be helping. St Germain isn’t a fighter, and goes into the finale clearly terrified as to whether Sypha and Trevor can even keep him safe, while Sypha and Trevor have to take it on faith that St Germain’s intentions are good. (If you take Alucard’s animation to indicate that he has no experience as a lover, then the parallels are even more stark.)

Meanwhile, Isaac – as the captain so insightfully points out – remains fixated on the offenses done him, easily dismissing the kindness of an unexpected gift from a stranger. Hector’s issue, on the other hand, is too much trust, given too easily, with no questions ever asked (as Lenore drives home, first through interrogation and second through manipulation). Isaac’s determination not to trust anyone makes his way more difficult, while Hector’s determination not to question his immediate trust in the latest authority figure is what eventually traps him. 

Even the four vampire sisters (an element I really loved, almost making up for the first two seasons’ near-dearth) pivot around issues of trust, but in their case, it’s whether they can trust that Carmilla’s grand vision is feasible. They don’t distrust Carmilla, or her ideas – they distrust that they can fulfill her visionary plan to its fullest extent. But they’re also intrigued by the idea, and clearly competent enough to make it happen – and despite a few times where it seems there might be fractures (more of Lenore’s diplomatic manipulation, in hindsight), the four really do trust each other pretty firmly.

There’s a secondary theme threaded through the storylines, too, although we only hear it stated explicitly in the Isaac and Trevor/Sypha storylines. 

the captain: “If you don’t have your own story, you become part of someone else’s.”

The context here is whether one’s motivation comes from an external source, or is internal to the person. Isaac’s motivation (at least at the midpoint of this season) is clearly stated as revenge on Hector – that is, to rectify Hector’s wrongs that undid Dracula’s story. Alucard, too, is trapped in someone else’s story, as his motivation first is that he thinks helping two lost souls would please his mother, and later that training new demon hunters would please Trevor. 

Sypha’s motivation is simpler: action! adventure! excitement! And in not stopping to consider the source (or the results) of her motivation, she ends up being accessory to not one but three stories (with Trevor along for the ride). The Trevor/Sypha storyline could be seen, in this light, as one in which they’re tools in other peoples’ stories. They fail to warn/assert/react fast enough to prevent the mad priest’s actions, they learn of (and then tackle) the church problem due to the town mayor’s need, and they learn of (and then tackle) the thing in the basement due to St Germain’s need. 

In the end, St Germain (like Dracula) goes onto the next chapter of his story, with Sypha and Trevor left to handle the aftermath (like Isaac). They don’t even reclaim their story with the final discovery of the mayor’s depravity, as they end up (if understandably) destroying the evidence, as the mayor had requested. 

When Trevor echoes the captain’s words (which could be Ellis wanting to drive the point home, or could imply that at some point, Trevor also met the captain), Sypha deflects his point. She’s quite certain she’s been living her own story, and enjoying it immensely. In the aftermath, Trevor turns the point around, saying that for the past few months, they’ve been living Sypha’s life, all action and adventure. 

Trevor: “And now, we’re living my life.”

Trevor’s origins, after all, lie in the destruction of his family – but that destruction wasn’t at the hands of the demons they fought. Instead, it was at the hands of the church, its people, and the larger community. His storyline in S1-S2 was of someone who’d seen the worst of humanity, and ended up deciding to fight because he chose to, not because humanity deserves it.   

With the possible exception of St Germain (which is more of an open question than a certainty), they trusted and discovered their trust wasn’t misplaced, so much as… that taking everything at face value meant they remained blind to what lay beneath. Their story halts with Trevor reminded of why he originally kept people at a distance (through snark and alcohol), and Sypha now enlightened as to how sometimes humans are far worst monsters. 

That blindness is also present in Alucard’s story, when he takes the two young prisoners-turned-hunters at face value. He opens his house (well, most of it) to them, trains them, and tells them secrets of how to hunt his father’s race. It’s a radical shift from his original reaction to the Belmont hold, as a museum dedicated to the extermination of his race.

Which brings me to Ellis’ choice to have the finales as parallel battles, but he manages to have them reflect each other, as well. For Isaac, Sypha, and Trevor, it’s an external battle against an overwhelming foe. Sypha ends with literal blood on her hands, and other than St Germain’s departure, the rest of their victory is literally pyrric.  

For Hector and Alucard, their storylines peak (ahem) at what should be a moment of trust and connection, which is why I can see the choice to have those storylines turn sexual. (Honestly, I thought the two young hunters were just going to cook Alucard dinner in return, or something – I had zero expectations that any story would ever go there.) 

First, five separate battles would’ve been just a lot of chaos, compared to the contrast of apparent happy-endings (or happy-middles). Second, it drives home that Alucard has defenses all over the place, but none to seduction, while Hector simply clings to whomever is willing to call the shots, and only thinks to question later. They’re in the stage of their story that the captain raises to Isaac: after you’ve achieved this goal, what next? What is left for you? 

Which is why I think their parallel endpoints – Isaac’s final battle, Alucard and the hunters, Hector and Lenore – all come to a head at being bound in some way. They’re still playing out someone else’s story, so they run headfirst into situations where that tunnel-vision can be used against them. Isaac may be the least trusting of the lot, but even he shows a remarkable tendency to take things at face value: to trust the gift from the seller, to listen to the captain, to sit and converse with the old witch who tells him about the possessed city. With as little foreknowledge as Alucard or Hector, Isaac rushes in, eyes too fixed on achieving someone else’s goal to see the trap ahead. 

None of the bindings are shown as simple, easy to break, or without lasting effect. At the same time, it’s striking that Isaac and Alucard do manage to force their way free, while Hector can only flail about in pain. To me – given the theme of trust – that implies that somehow, both Alucard and Isaac do have the potential for a balanced trust. That is (unlike Hector) knowing when to take it away, even if both struggle with learning to give it.

Oddly, that’s why I think the season managed to position things beautifully for a next season, because we’ve come full circle. 

It’s a curious thing about Alucard: when we first meet him in S1, he’s recovering from his father’s betrayal (of attacking humans); in S3, he’s recovering from the grief of loss (his parents, his only two friends) – and S4 ends with him shivering in pain/hurt over the betrayal of two people. Gotta wonder how much more Ellis will see fit to break this character down.

In S2, Hector was a valued lieutenant, if terribly blind to the implications of what Dracula wanted. Now those illusions are gone; he’s enslaved, wanted only for his skills (in the forge and in bed) – and the deal is quite explicit. Lenore has the grace to say that Hector should be getting something out of the deal, but that doesn’t change that Hector can’t pretend there’s no deal being made. 

Isaac begins cast out, grieving Dracula (not entirely as a mission, but more as a friend, I think) – and ends with the resources and experiences to go in a new direction. He doesn’t have to take out Hector, who could be seen as small fry, anyway. (Especially given Hector’s now just a shell of a controlled man.) If Isaac chooses to go after Carmilla in S4, that’ll be the first step towards making his story his own. Note also that although Isaac may seem alone, he’s accompanied by a host of creatures. He has allies.

It’s the trust in those allies that seems to determine who ends well, and who does not. Although Trevor and Sypha (especially Sypha) were dealt an emotional blow by the post-battle revelations, they always had each others’ backs – and they leave the town behind, relatively unscathed. Isaac ends victorious, with a few of his army intact and the material to make more. 

But the storyline that ends in the ascendant position is Carmilla’s. With her visionary ideas and her sisters’ abilities to make those visions real, Carmilla is positioned to go exactly where she wants. Which is why it’s also striking that (other than Lenore’s sex scene), neither Carmilla nor her sisters really have a ‘final’ battle. They’re effectively a season ahead of everyone else – the trust between the four is already established, solid, and reciprocated equally. 

So you could say that being foolhardy about trust will land you in hot water – which pretty much covers all the central protagonists. But the story’s not that bleak, despite its final scenes, because it’s also saying that sometimes, to get where you want to be, you do have to take that leap – as illustrated by Isaac and St Germain. Or even that you trust, and if betrayed, you deal with the consequences, learn the lesson, and move on, like Trevor and Sypha. 

Or you learn a different lesson, one preached by dear old dad: put the bodies of your conquests out front on stakes, and lock the doors, and trust no one. Which is a legitimate reaction to betrayal, don’t get me wrong, but one that S3 seems to be firmly saying will only end badly.  

[chelsfic]

Chapter 6 - Inherited - Dracula/OFC - Dracula (2020) fanfic

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Emilie makes her decision and has a steamy reunion with the Count.

A/N: Smut here! Come get your smut! There is also a significant amount of blood drinking. I want to say thank you so much to all who have read, commented, reblogged and recommended this fic! I’m overwhelmed by my kind and thoughtful readers!

As always, if you’d like to be tagged in updates just let me know!

***

Emilie tugged at the high collar of her Sunday dress and shifted self-consciously in the pew. Her younger sister, Anna, shot her a questioning look to which she merely shook her head in reply. Emilie usually took solace in the weekly sermon but this Sunday she was restless and incapable of attending to the Reverend’s words. 

Her nerves tingled and her senses were aflame. The light streaming through the stained glass window behind the pulpit was nearly blinding in its intensity. Emilie could taste the colors on her tongue, the sweet, tart reds and fresh, watery blues. The wood grain of the pew beneath her hands was distracting as well. She felt it vibrating with life and saw, in her mind’s eye, the rough bark and shuddering leaves of the tree from which it came. And there was the phantom taste of Vlad’s blood filling her mouth. She knew, without knowing how, that he’d given her this new power, these sharpened senses. Was this how he always experienced the world? It was overwhelming. Emilie closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the pew to ground herself.

It did little to help. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Lucy Steele’s bright eyes go dull with death, the shocking splash of blood painting the side of her neck. She heard the sharp, horrifying crunch of the girl’s vertebrae snapping. And she saw Vlad, her beloved Count, eyes red with menace and blood dripping from his razor sharp teeth. How could she love such a man, such a creature? For love him she did. She could admit that here, in the house of God where she must be true to herself. 

Maybe she was selfish but she found that she couldn’t forget his loving caress, the gentle brush of his fingers over her skin. She recalled his words, You have nothing to fear from me. How could she turn her heart against such a man? A man so magnificent, with powers beyond her imagining, who somehow–impossibly–wanted her? The answer came from within: a voice, perhaps her own or perhaps a guardian angel’s, which rang out in her mind, You will not turn away from him.

She did not know where this path would lead. Perhaps one day it would be she hanging limp in his arms and beaming up at his darling face, gratified to give her life to feed him. Or…or perhaps she’d stand by his side, no longer a servant but an equal with marvelous powers of her own. She did not know if such a thing were possible but she felt in her bones that she was fated to give herself over to him. The decision, once made, lifted a burden from her chest and she smiled up at the pulpit. Lit from within by the grace of her own certainty that God would not lead her to the Count if He did not wish for them to be together.

It never occurred to her to consider her love of the Count as a test from God. No god could be so cruel.

***

“Now, my sweet girl, tell me how things are going up at Carfax and don’t try to sugarcoat things. I’m your mother and I can tell when you’re lying. Are you alright up there by yourself with the Count?” Mrs. Andrews patted her eldest daughter’s hand across the dinner table and watched her with concern. Her poor health had kept her from ever personally serving Count Dracula, but she knew his nature as well as her mother had and she feared for Emilie.

“Mama,” Emilie soothed in a voice infused with false confidence, “you don’t need to worry about me. The Count is very solicitous for my comfort. I’m in no danger from him…really.”

Mrs. Andrews held her gaze for a long moment and Emilie sensed that her mother did not quite believe her, but she soon lowered her eyes and let the moment pass. After all–was there really a point in forcing the topic? Their family had served Count Dracula for a hundred years. They’d kept the secret of his long life and dark appetites in exchange for protection and financial security. None of them could rescind the deal now. And in truth, Emilie did look remarkably well. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy with a healthy glow. Mrs. Andrews set her worries aside and proceeded to catch her daughter up on all the village goings on of the previous week.

***

It was dark by the time the wagon rolled to a stop by the Abbey’s servants’ entrance. Emilie hopped off the back and thanked Mr. Thomas for the ride. He brought her back each Sunday along with the weekly grocery delivery. It was convenient for Emilie and Mr. Thomas had been shameless flirting with Mrs. Andrews for years, so he didn’t mind the extra weight in the wagon if it put him in the widow’s good graces.

“Have a good week, Miss Emilie!” he called as she dashed off to the servants’ door and disappeared inside. 

She was eager to see her Count. Her mind whirled with questions as she climbed the staircase to the Abbey’s first floor. How would he react when he saw her and knew of her decision to return to him? Would he kiss her again? Embrace her? Would he dip his head into the crook of her neck and bite her as he had Miss Lucy? 

She found him in his study, a massive room with vaulted ceilings and walls lined with books. He sat in a wing back chair before the fire. Emilie stood in the doorway watching him. She could see only the side of his pale face, his lovely, thick hair and his hand dangling over the armrest, holding a glass goblet filled with something rich, dark and red.

She strode forward, discarding the small drawstring bag she’d carried with her into town and whirling round the chair to present herself before him. She knelt between his knees, a supplicant before her god, and looked up at him with hope and affection glowing in her features. She longed for comfort, for a confirmation that she’d made the right decision. 

She reached out shyly and took one of his hands in her own, pressing it to her cheek and closing her eyes, reveling in the contact.

“My…Vlad,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek into his palm like a cat demanding affection. “I’ve come back to you.”

Dracula smiled down at her, setting the goblet on a small table beside the chair and reaching forward to stroke both hands through her hair, cupping her upturned face. 

“My Emilie,” he responded with a playful lilt to his voice, mirroring her word choice. “You’ve made me very happy.”

And then he was pushing her backward and onto the plush hearthrug. He followed her onto the floor caging her body with his arms and legs and bending down to press his lips to hers in a fevered kiss. His clawed hands strayed over the bodice of her conservative dress, pushing under the collar and stroking her delicate neck, the tops of her breasts. Emilie mewled in pleasure and arched her back, giving him the access he needed to reach around and begin popping open the buttons that ran down her spine holding the frock in place. 

When he’d reached the final button he sat back, kneeling between her wantonly spread legs and shoved the dress material down toward her waist. She wiggled to assist him and she was soon laying before him in nothing but her stockings and thin muslin petticoat. Her breasts were exposed, glowing in the orange light of the fire and she saw Vlad’s eyes focus on them as they heaved with her gasping breath. He reached out a hand and drew a wickedly sharp nail around her areola, flicking the nipple and eliciting a thrill of panicked pleasure from the debauched girl beneath him. Emilie reeled at the sensation even as she feared the sharp touch of his nails wounding her sensitive flesh.

“Be…” she gasped, trembling as he shifted his attention to her other breast, “…careful….please.”

Vlad smirked and let out an amused chuckle. He flattened his palm over her breast and dragged the calloused skin against her hardened nipple. Emilie shrieked in pleasure and arched into the touch. 

“Don’t worry, my darling creature.”

The Count made quick work of his own clothes, tossing them into a heap on the armchair before turning back to face her, naked and glorious in his ferocious lust. He grabbed the waist of her petticoat and ripped it from her body. Emilie gazed up at him in adoration. She’d never seen a naked man before and she was too shy to let her eyes stray downward at first. Instead she raked her gaze over his broad shoulders, his dark-haired chest and flat stomach. He took satisfaction in letting her look, pausing to let her complete her perusal. He quirked his lips as her gaze finally lowered to take in the impressive length of pulsing manhood that jutted from between his legs. A shadow of trepidation crossed her face and Dracula determined immediately to sooth it away. He crawled up her naked body and looked deep into her eyes.

“I will be so careful with you, Emilie. Do you trust me?” his voice was husky with lust but his words were sincere. 

Emilie reached up to cup her hand over his cheek and nodded shyly, “I trust you, Vlad.”

He touched her then, like he had days ago in his bedroom. His fingers slid over her sensitive core and Emilie ached with longing and pleasure. She buried her face in his neck and keened into his skin, begging and begging him though she couldn’t say for certain what she wanted.

Vlad smiled and licked his hot tongue along her neck from jaw to shoulder, “You’re a needy thing aren’t you, little one?”

He continued stroking her, savoring her little grunts and moans. She finally came with a thready cry and only then did he shift his hips between her legs and align himself with her opening. She felt the tantalizing pressure of his length pressing against her and then slowly, slowly entering. It hurt at first. Emilie’s muscles went rigid at the intrusion and her face scrunched up in pain. Dracula stilled his movement and looked down at her, laying soft kisses over her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids.

“Look at me, darling,” he whispered, waiting until she’d opened her eyes to continue. “Relax.”

The last word was said with the barest trace of suggestion and Emilie felt the tension immediately flow out of her muscles. Dracula started up again, thrusting his hips with masterful control and holding her face between his palms as he did so. He kept eye contact with her as the pain slowly faded and her belly began to heat with pleasure once more. He bit his lip and arched his back. His control slipped and he began rocking into her with more force, his tempo stuttering into ragged thrusts until he finally shouted his release and dove his face into the crook of her neck to bite down as his cock shuddered and jolted within her.

The sudden sting as his fangs pierced her skin was immediately followed by a rush of pleasure that pushed her over the edge again. Dracula licked, sucked and kissed her bloodied neck, drawing out more blood from her than he had before. She squirmed and moaned beneath him, riding waves of pleasure even as her head spun from the blood loss. Too soon he pulled away, his lips and chin were stained crimson. With a wicked grin he dipped his mouth to hers and pushed his tongue inside. Emilie tasted her own blood on his lips, his tongue. She twined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and held him there, wishing to prolong the kiss forever. Eventually he pulled away panting with passion and blood lust. 

“Now you know how sweet you taste, my darling girl,” he said, dipping his finger into the blood at her neck and smearing it over her mouth. Emilie stuck out her tongue and licked his finger as her eyes fluttered shut. “Oh, dear Emilie, you’re weak aren’t you?”

Without waiting for an answer he brought his finger to the base of his own neck and cut a two inch slit. Blood poured from the wound and he dipped down, baring his neck to her and pressing the cut against her lips. Emilie latched on immediately. She drank the blood he offered, reveling in the idea of her blood rushing through his veins even as she drank from him. She felt the dizziness of only a moment before pass and a wave of energy and strength coursed through her. Her Count was nourishing her with his essence, feeding her just as she had fed him. 

He pulled away before she could take too much, pinching the would closed and laying back on the floor beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close to his side, stroking her hair and whispering words of praise into her temple as he laid kisses along the top of her head. Emilie’s eyes grew heavier and heavier until she finally fell asleep, wrapped in her beloved’s arms and warmed by the snug fire in the hearth. They looked like a pair of pagan lovers: nude, covered in blood and skin aglow in the firelight. 

Dracula looked down at her sleeping face and whispered, “You really are remarkable, Emilie. You’ll be my perfect bride.”

Note: in case you're wondering this exchange of blood won't be enough to turn Emilie. Drac is just looking to the future and he's establishing a blood bond with her as well as strengthening her for the eventual change.

Tags:

@charlesdances​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @just-mimii @haleyea @dracula-s-bride @irrelevantwriter @felicityofbakerstreet

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (10/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : Graphic descriptions of violence, Viewer discretion is advised (short paragraph)

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 10/? (2730 words)

Author’s notes : Beware ! A Dracula-less chapter (-ish) ! I promise, he’ll be back soon, he really wants to go to that Renaissance fair... (Also yay, part 10 !)

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Mary Van Helsing.

I asked Leah if she hadn't made a mistake. She almost took offense. I sat back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. What ? How ? Van Helsing ? I mean, that could just be a freaky, freaky coincidence. I laughed nervously to myself.

“Hah, you gotta admit that's funny the Van Helsing kid wants to study the Balkanic middle ages”, Leah laughed. Ditto.

Seeing as I didn't reply, she asked if I felt alright. I took a deep breath.

“Leah, there's something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah, of course, what's- Oh, fuck.”

She turned back to her laptop, and started frantically typing, cursing under her breath as she did.

“Someone got my position. Jeez, whoever those guys are, they really don't want anyone finding out they exist !”

“What do you mean ?”

“I mean there's a very good chance we will have an unpleasant visit pretty soon.”

She sounded nervous, which was a strange color on her. She activated an emergency shutdown, and closed her computer, taking a moment sitting still, eyes staring into the void. She then stood up decidedly.

“We don't know who it was, could be nothing”, I tried to reassure her.

“Yeah well, not to boast or anything, but if they got through my defenses, I really don't wanna know. Listen, let's just crash at my place, there's a chance they pinged on the VPN and actually here.”

She was so determined, I didn't even think to contradict her. She left her laptop there, only taking her bike helmet. I grabbed my bag, and followed her out of my office. Even though she was tiny, I had trouble keeping up with her fast paces. As we sped through the corridors, I caught a glimpse of dirty hazelnut hair, and grabbed Leah's arm to take a hard right into another hallway. Felt like running into Helder right now wouldn't be the best turn of events. Plus, I was supposed to give a class he was attending, so, that.

“Thinking back exit ?”

“What else ?”

We kept half-jogging to the end of the corridor, turning a few curious heads on the way, pushed on a service door, and slipped outside. The sun blinded me a second, as we made our way to the parking lot. Leah dug her keys out of her pockets, and unlocked the pad on her motorcycle, cursing a few more times every time she ripped around the keyhole. She turned to give me her helmet, and stopped halfway, wincing. Ah.

“Eris Cetero and Leah Fox. I'm going to need you to come with us.”

A very sharply dressed woman was standing a few paces away, icy stare and tightly pulled dark hair. She looked composed, unyielding, and was flanked on both sides by two men built like wardrobes, poorly dissimulating a handgun under their suit jackets. Not the kind of person to try to run away from, then.

“Listen, we didn't mean any harm. We could all just forget it.”

Sometimes, her bluntness had some perks. She had moved over in front of me, her hand grasping mine.

“You are not in trouble. At least not with us”, the woman continued. “We thought we would wait more, but you forced our hand.”

“We have no idea what you're talking about”, Leah kept going, still on the defensive.

I said nothing, trying to keep a straight face.

“My name is Mary Van Helsing. I work in the Murray Institute for the Neutralization of Abnormalities. We have a lot to discuss, especially with you, Miss Cetero.”

Ah shit. Let's think about this rationally. There was no way I could escape that situation. I also didn't want Leah to get in trouble, and I started to see she was about to keep on going if I didn't do anything. I took a deep breath, which had her stop.

“Alright. We have crossed a line digging into things we shouldn't have. You are entitled to some explanations, and if you feel like this can't be done in a parking lot, so be it. Lead the way”, I declared, trying to be as calm and composed as I could.

I was met by a look of disbelief on Leah's face, and an emotionless nod from Mary, who turned on her heels without a word. Can't believe my incredible charm hadn't worked on her yet. Leah's hand softened, and I took a hold of it as we walked to the intimidating sedan waiting for us.

~ ~ ~

The ride took a bit longer than I thought. From the moment Leah started going deeper in her search, and the moment they arrived, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, and yet, it took well over half an hour to get to our destination. Maybe they were already close, and we just got unlucky. Seemed about right.

We remained silent the whole car ride. You couldn't have hacked through the tension using a damn chainsaw, at this point. Leah and I held hands, so tight I saw her knuckles going white. She was shaking a little, and I hated myself for putting her through this. If only I weren't a nosy fucking idiot.

We arrived to a decrepit-looking building, most likely turn of the 19th century architecture. Above the entrance, the stone looked like it had been engraved, a while ago, but the script was almost completely worn out. Inside, the emptiness gave an echo to every step, the ground overrun with cables coming from other parts of the house. We kept on going straight forward, went down a slope, and arrived to a huge freight elevator. It made a shrieking noise as it went down for a while, so deep we might as well have gone straight down to hell. If you believe in that sort of thing.

The elevator shook as it stopped, opening on a surprisingly high-tech complex.

“Ladies, welcome to M.I.N.A.”, Mary told us as we stepped off.

The first room was a large hall, open on two more stories, visible through balconies, on which were plastered neon lights. In neatly aligned cubicles, employees worked on god knows what, piles of paper cluttering all desks, the intermittent sound of phones and the indistinct chatter of radio making the noise almost unbearable. Mary kept on walking, some people greeting her as she passed them, and giving Leah and I the strangest looks. Ooh, boy. That was about to be fun.

She opened large fire-breaking doors, and we went on a corridor, making a few turns. As I had learned by now, I memorized the turns. Right, left at the weird plant, another left at the water fountain. She opened a door for us, leaving us to enter before her. That looked awfully like an interrogation room, with one table at the center, and two uncomfortable chairs. The double sided-mirror occupying one of the walls was also a dead giveaway.

One of the guards stopped Leah as she went after me. As she protested, they told us they would explain the situation separately. If they actually knew anything, that might be the smarter option. I reassured her, smiling, and went into the interrogation room. One of the guards came with me, and closed the door, only to stand in a corner, silent. I dragged out a chair to sit, waiting for anything to happen.

“Not really talkative around here, huh ?”, I asked, knowing I wouldn't get an answer.

Moments later, Mary came back into the room, holding a few files, one distinctly bearing my name. It does something to your ego, to have your name on a secret society's secret case file, in their secret underground bunker. The woman sat on the other side of the table, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Miss Cetero, do you really have no idea why you're here ?”, she asked.

Of course I know why I'm here. You know I know. You saw me try to fly into the wind with my partner in crime as soon as we knew you found us. I just had to put my best performance on. Tremble, Hollywood.

“Well, we did hack into some pretty secure servers to get information that we weren't supposed to get”, I told her, and shrugged. “That seems pretty clear to me.”

“There's that, but I want to talk about something else.”

Her face was completely unfeeling, yet her voice was soft, a bit too maternal for my tastes. I had a little smile, encouraging her to talk. There was no risk if I wasn't talking.

“Do you believe at all in the, quote-unquote, supernatural ?”

If she kept talking to me like I was a particularly simple child, I'd show her something supernatural pretty damn soon. I worked to keep down the wave of righteous anger crashing against the insides of my chest.

“Do you mean... ghosts ?”, I ventured.

“Among others. I'm talking more specifically about vampires.”

Her eyes were gleaming behind the rectangles of her glasses. I didn't react, other than a little laugh. Alright, keep it up, play dumb.

“Vampires ? Come on, is this a joke ? Did Leah put you up to this ?”, I giggled.

Not that dumb, fuck's sake. Nobody was this stupid. I actually wanted to kill myself. I was so in character my voice went up an octave all on its own. Repressing a shiver, I kept on smiling like a brainless fish.

“I'm afraid I'm dead serious. As... Phantasmagorical as it may seem, such creatures exist, and we believe you, and your friend, may be in grave danger.”

Well, that seemed to actually work pretty well. Not really trying to think of the reasons why I had so little trouble passing as brain-dead, I had a nervous laughter, and kept going.

“Do I have to look around for a man in a black cape next time I leave my building, Mrs. Van Helsing ?”

“Doctor Van Helsing, actually. And rather, you should look around for the man you know as professor Vlad Balaur.”

Ah, direct, I see.

“I'm not sure I get your meaning.”

“We have good reasons to think Vlad Balaur is a vampire, trying to pass himself up as Vlad Dracula Tepes, a character you of all people know well.”

I didn't say anything, but my heart sank to my stomach.

“In what I will tell you, I want you to assume everything I say is true”, she started, leaning back. “In 1896, a team made up from Jonathan Harker, Quincey Morris, Mina Murray-Harker, and Abraham Van Helsing, put an end to the reign of terror of the vampire known as Dracula. It seemed he was no other than Vlad Tepes, the Impaler, who supposedly had, quote-unquote, “died” during the 15th century. At his return to London, he decided to create this institution, to be certain that should such a horrific event happen again, people would have the knowledge and resources to deal with it.”

She took a pause, gauging my reaction. I tried to keep my innocent façade, but has strictly no idea wether she could tell I was faking. The feeling of dread creeping its way into my mind didn't help either.

“Bram Stoker was an accomplice to the whole ordeal, and published his book, which was explicitly branded as fiction. You know the rest, concerning the sometimes questionable turn of the theme into popular culture. However, vampires, among other numerous creatures, are still a threat on humanity today. And a lot of them take inspiration from ancient figures, like Count Dracula. This would not be the first time one of them fashioned himself the Dark Prince Returned.”

“I'm sorry”, I interrupted, “But how can you expect me to believe any of that ? Do you even have any proof ?”

I tried to keep my panic out of my tone. I didn't want to believe it, but what if she was right ? She couldn't be, right ? He knew so much about everything, and... I tried to calm myself down. Just need to get through this, I'll talk this out with the man himself. All would be well.

“Even if you were right, even if professor Balaur was a vampire”, I began as she only kept staring at me. “He never tried to hurt me, or had any reprehensible behavior toward me or Leah. Why would I need to be worried ?”

She looked at me for what seemed like hours, and finally pulled a file from her pile, and slid it towards me. She then sat back, and lit a cigarette. She offered one, and I declined politely, asking what was in the file.

“All around the city, for the last month, we had a count of twenty-four murders”, she declared. “Look at the pictures, and you tell me what kind of person could have done this.”

Shaking a bit, I opened the file, and instantly had to put a hand over my mouth. You can watch hours and hours of horror movies, and never get used to anything like that. Everything was red. Seeping into the fabrics, clothing, mattresses, drapes. Splattered on the walls, dripping from the ceilings. Body parts, bent in impossible angles, flesh frayed, shredded in long clawing marks, leaving the internal organs and their contents spilling out of the deformed corpses. Throats. Open. So torn apart it just looked like a bundle of rubber tubes. On one of the victim's descriptive notes, I glimpsed the word “pregnant”. I closed my eyes, looking away. There were hundreds. Mary offered again, and I took the cigarette. I closed the case file, taking a long drag.

“What happened in Romania, Miss Cetero ?”, she asked, a bit more softly.

I raised my head to meet her gaze. “I... Nothing happened. I- I visited some museums, hiked a little, why do you ask ?”

My eyes welled up with tears, and keeping on a neutral smile was a physical effort at this point. I kept seeing flashes of teeth, the horse, inside out, bled dry.

“We believe he might come from there, which is why he would identify with Dracula. He could have taken a liking to you there, and followed you here.”

“I think I would remember an encounter with something that does... that does this on a daily basis”, I snapped, fighting through tears. That couldn't be right. It couldn't.

“Your memory could have been wiped. It's not uncommon, once again.”

I started to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the cigarette. I didn't smoke very often, so that was probably that, right ? I must have remained silent a while, because Mary leaned forward, putting back the file on the pile.

“Listen, I will make this as clear as possible”, she snapped. “If we are to stop this creature, we need your full support. For some reason, he trusts you more than most. You cannot tell him about your knowledge of this place.”

She slid a card across the table.

“If you are ever in danger, or need any information, call us. We will call you if necessary.”

She put out her cigarette on a portable ashtray, and I did the same, mechanically.

“What did you tell Leah ?”, I asked.

“Nothing more than she needs to know, which does not include anything about Vlad Balaur. We think the less people know, the safer it is.”

I nodded, and slipped the card into my pocket. Nothing about this felt safe, or right, or anything but confusing, and nauseating. They escorted me out, and I still felt engulfed in cotton, everything muted, even when Leah nearly jumped into my arms as I got out. I barely realized I walked, or the time spent in the car, until they dropped me off at home.

I dragged myself to my apartment, and went straight to bed, half expecting to see him there, on the balcony. Instead, I found a note. I opened the window, and took the folded sheet of paper. The same he used back in Romania, and the same fine, elegant handwriting. It was weighed down with a polished rock, which I noticed, upon further inspection, contained a multitude of little fossils.

I have heard historians like old things, here is one.

For another, I will be back soon.

All my love,

Vlad.

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Taglist : @carydorse​ @angelicdestieldemon​ @bloodhon3yx​ @thewondernanazombie​ @battocar​ @moony691​ @mjlock​ @thebeautyofdisorder​ @festering-queen​ @paracosmfantasy​ @my-fanfic-library

[choicesenthusiast]

Bloodbound 3, Ch. 5 AKA Return

What happened this week:

Rheya’s back, and everyone’s unsure what to think of her. Do we trust this all-powerful literal first of the vampire race who just crushed a dude’s heart in her perfectly manicured hand? Who knows?

Serafine and Dracula also return, now loyal followers of Rheya, even though Vlad betrayed us to the Order back in Book 2. Their blind obedience seems a little suspicious but if I were a vampire and met the First then I’d feel like that too, so they’re all on thin ice.

On the way to chat with Pembrooke and the NY mayor, Rheya’s presence attracts every vampire in the city on a little march to the parley. She also makes the human mayor trust her in, like, 2 seconds. Red flags?

She invites you out on a walk before the sun rises, and tells you about adjusting to the modern world. Oh, did I forget to mention that she can fucking fly?? Full on just “Superman”s us above the whole city. I don’t recall that in vampire lore, unless they turn into a bat...

Pay to do some damage control from Gaius’ attacks. This is something that I think should’ve been free. It should’ve been more important for everyone to see how other vampires are reacting to what happened, not just important characters and whatever the hell the Unchained were trying to be.

A fragment in which Adrian, Kamilah, Jax, and Lily mourn us because we were dead. Adrian pours a drink. Jax punches a wall. Kamilah is silent. And Lily, dammit, Lily’s full on sobbing and it broke my heart.

Rheya plans to abolish the Council and take charge by herself. Given that all the vampires in New York dropped what they were doing to march with her, it’ll be pretty easy, I bet. She probably means well, but we’ve learned to trust no one.

Thoughts:

A GIF that I posted accurately representing how we all felt this chapter. Don’t even try to deny it.

Again, not a big fan of PB paywalling those little “adventures” that I think should've been free, because it helps in defining the society. But then again, what did I expect from them?

What if Rheya senses the darkness within Adrian and MC, then uses them to turn them into blind, mindless, dark followers to do some evil things? I’ve always wanted a villain MC. Just a thought.

[fallinforaguyfelldownfromthesky]

Ficlet prompt: Black Hat and Aurelio roasting the living SHIT outta e/o

Ask and ye shall receive.

Took a few months, srry ‘bout that, but hey. Life, ya know?

This takes place somewhere in the Spring semester of college, after Flug and BH have gone and murdered some folks together more than once, and I call it, “Of Course.” It’s also a bit long for a ficlet but what, did you think I would sacrifice quality content for my sanity? HAH!

Honestly, I might insert this into a full on chapter at some point. It’s just such a fun interaction.

Aurelio walked into Cafe Triste. Because of course he did. And he just so happened to sit a table away from Black Hat. Because of course he would. Black Hat tried to just ignore him and continue reading from his newspaper, but it didn’t seem like that would be possible with the way the man insisted on making conversation.

“So, what are you reading?” Don’t react, you didn’t hear him. “Is it the local paper or…?” You didn’t even notice him come in. “I know you heard me. You know I’m talking to you.” You are Jon Snow, you know nothing. “Hey! Black Abe Lincoln!” Do not respond to that, do not respond to that, do not respond to that, do not respond to that, do not- “How’s Rocinante?”

Oh fuck. Of course he had to take it there. “He’s fine.” Black Hat sighed deeply and set down his newspaper neatly. Because he clearly wasn’t going to be able to read it in peace anymore. “Wonderful man. Much more resilient than he looks.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Well stop it. “He’s not much to look at, unless you know what to look for.”

“Look all you want, but no touching.” Black Hat grinned fiendishly. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Whoa, no need to get all defensive hermano,” Aurelio said mockingly. “I’m just saying. I meant nothing by it.”

“Sure, sure,” Black Hat sipped his coffee.

“Oh believe me, I have no interest in Flug beyond his brain. That’s the only thing that made him stand out from all the other little dolls.” Goddamn that is so twisted, why did you have to be such an asshole? “And I was here first.”

“What did you just say?”

“Hmmm? Whatever do you mean? I had assumed it was obvious.” Black Hat really didn’t like the look Aurelio was shooting him. He looked so damn condescending! “His face got as red as a tomato every time he saw me. He would duck his head down and try so hard not to look at me. He would sweat like crazy and he could barely speak. Even more so, I mean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you really going to try and play dumb? Or are you that blind to it?”

“I actually am blind, yes.” Black Hat removed his monocle and flashed Aurelio his eye. Ok, at least the bastard had the decency to look apologetic.

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” He mumbled. Black Hat put the lens back in its place and glanced back at his paper. He picked it back up and opened it back to where he’d left off. He hoped it was clear, he was done talking. He just wanted to read his paper, and wait for Flug to return. Wow, how long had he been in the bathroom? Is he ok in there? If he wasn’t back in the next five minutes Black Hat was going to go check on him, and let him know that they’d need to get their coffee to go. Flug certainly wouldn’t want to stick around with Aurelio here.

“So, why a monocle, exactly?” Ah no, here we go. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he? “Is it to go with the top hat? Or is it the other way around?”

“It’s none of your business is what it is.” He snapped.

“Touchy are we? I’m just asking about your year-round Halloween costume. A bit past your bedtime, isn’t it Dracula?”

Oh no the fuck he did not. Black Hat laughed one loud, barking laugh. He looked Aurelio up and down. “And what the fuck are you supposed to be? The poor man’s Enrique Iglesias?”

“Big talk from a creepypasta rip off.”

“Oh god, if I write you a check will you promise to buy some better insults? And not waste it on more botched lip injections?”

“You should be saving your money, in a few years they might be able to fix your face.”

“And just think, there might be hope for you! If science ever finds a way to pull your head out of your own ass.”

“I’ve never heard of that position, do you and Flug do that often?”

“Is this how you usually spend your afternoons? Asking people about their sex lives? Have you ever thought of getting one of your own?”

“This, coming from a guy who wouldn’t commit until he thought he had competition? Ballsy move.”

“Ok first off, ‘competition’?” Black Hat asked while doing sassy air quotes. “I wouldn’t refer to a one-sided altercation as a ‘competition’. And what the hell would you know about commitment? I’ve never seen you with the same chick more than twice.”

“Watching me are you? Do you like what you see?” Aurelio grinned cockily.

“If only. You’re like the Starbucks of human beings, I don’t really care for you but I see you everywhere I go.”

“Speaking of seeing everywhere I go, where is Rocinante? I was starting to think you two were conjoined.”

“I guess his jackass-radar started going off and he left me behind to distract you.” Black Hat said, holding his newspaper to the side. Because now he couldn’t leave it alone either. “Why are you here, anyway? Aren’t you running late for the Puppetmaster 12 auditions?”

Aurelio shrugged. “I like a cup of coffee every once in a while, and this place is just down the street. It’s convenient. I assume that’s why you’re always here, in between takes for the Tales from the Crypt reboot.”

“Oh, is that where you find your clothes? That actually explains a lot.” Oh ho ho ho ho ho it looked like Black Hat hit a nerve there.

“Do you find it difficult, deciding between the exact same outfit every morning?”

“Better to have one look that works than several that don’t.”

“Is the idea to look so dated that you’ll eventually be ahead of the times?”

“The idea is to set trends, not follow them.”

“As the only one of us with two functioning eyes, I don’t see anything here catching on.”

“Oh yes, the guy missed out on a man with a gun directly in front of him. Nothing gets past you.”

“I don’t like to live in the past.” Aurelio said, looking like he was just dying to run over and slam Black Hat’s face into the table. “It keeps me from living in the present.”

“I would’ve never guessed that, given what you put your hair through.”

Aurelio scoffed. “Excuse you, I keep my hair perfectly moisturized. It’s all natural oils that keep it healthy and give it such gloss.”

“With that much oil in it I’m surprised the United States hasn’t invaded.”

“At least I don’t have permanent hat-hair.”

“Um, excuse you,” Black Hat lifted the top hat up to expose his hair. “This hat does nothing to ruin my hair.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“As sure as I am that the Greaser look went out of style years ago.”

“You should talk, Charlie Chaplin.”

“Class is always fashionable.” Black Hat adjusted his monocle.

“Now if only you had some.”

This motherfucker is really testing me today.

“The 50’s called, they want their attitude back.” Black Hat snarled.

“At least I get a phone call. The 1800’s has to send you a telegram!”

“It’ll probably get here around the same time you build some actual muscle mass. Tell me, have you ever actually thrown a punch yourself?”

“I have, would you rather take my word for it or find out firsthand how hard I can hit?” Aurelio fixed him with a smug grin, leaning towards him in such a way that drew attention to his completely aesthetic muscles. Black Hat would admit, that muscle shirt did show off his arms rather nicely, but it was entirely obvious that they were for just that and nothing else; show.

Also, grey was so not his color. What on earth was he thinking?

Black Hat just rolled his eye at this pathetic display. “Is that really all you have to threaten me with? Physical violence? I was hoping for something a bit more sophisticated, but I guess that was a bit much to ask from you.”

“You know, it’s actually amazing,” Aurelio glared at him. “You still somehow manage to look down your nose at others, even though you don’t have one.”

“I’m getting real sick and tired of this fucking bullshit.” Black Hat muttered, rubbing his forehead to try and ward off his headache. Not that it would help much, the source of his irritation was sitting right there. He faced the pompous puppeteer again. “I think this is the…hold on, let me see…oh yes, that’s got to be at least the fiftieth time I’ve heard something like that. Are you sure you don’t want that check? You could put it towards at least an original insult.”

“To be fair, you aren’t giving me much to work with here. You want some original insults try coming up with an original outfit.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone dressed like five other people I’ve seen just from today.” Black Hat took another sip of his coffee and muttered, “Almost as rich as I am.”

“What was that?”

“Oh nothing. Just wondering if we’ll have time to finish this little battle of wits before your curfew. When’s your mother expecting you home?”

Aurelio’s face got rather serious. “You should mind your own business, hermano.”

“If you recall, I was. I was just innocently sitting here, reading my paper and waiting for my boyfriend, until you showed up and decided to start talking shit. Perhaps you should practice what you preach.”

“I was just trying to have a normal conversation with you, you’re the one who got all pissy.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize your kind said hello with snide remarks and petty insults.”

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“If we’re bringing ‘your kind’ into this, you could at least tell me what the hell you are.”

“Human, you ignorant fuck.”

“Are you though? Because I’ve never seen a human like you.”

“And I see you’ve set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public today. I’m honored to be present.”

“Well, it would be cruel to let you suffer alone.”

“Oh yes, it must be hard to watch others go through what you do everyday. How do you find it in yourself to go on?”

“I never let the words of others dictate my actions.”

“Ok now if you’re just going to make shit up at least try and come up with something somewhat believable.”

“When have I ever-”

“Do you remember that time Flug told you he wouldn’t help you test out the limits of your abilities?” Black Hat asked testily. “Because I do. I was there, in fact.”

“You were?”

“Yes, I was right there when you told him I didn’t need to know about what you two would be doing.” Check and mate, rat-bastard. “Just what did you have in mind for my boyfriend, anyway? Was it anything similar to what you would’ve done at your party?”

Aurelio looked away. Aha! Victory was near! “No one’s ever going to let me live that down, are they?” He didn’t even seem to be really talking to Black Hat anymore, maybe he was just thinking out loud. This could be his only chance at walking away, but…

“I suppose I can’t really hold it against you.” Black Hat said. “I can only assume that if it wasn’t for date rape, you’d never get laid.”

“Did…Did you just quote Sublime at me?”

“No. What is that?”

“Those are totally Sublime lyrics!”

“Never heard of them.”

“Oh no, you are not getting away with quoting song lyrics right now!”

“And you aren’t getting away with that ridiculous shirt!”

“What the hell is wrong with my shirt?!”

“It’s the absolute worst color for you.” Black Hat said in the most judgemental tone he could make. “Did you look at yourself so much as once before stepping outside?”

“You’re in no position to criticize my clothes when you’re over here rocking the Dark Roasted Mr. Peanut look!”

“Is that a chain on your wallet? What decade are you living in!?”

“One without the plague!”

“But not with any common sense, obviously.”

“You look like Voldemort was burned to a crisp and decided to become Jack the Ripper.”

“And you look like a washed up Disney child actor. I’m just waiting for your horrible Christmas album.”

“I’ll have you know I have the singing voice of an angel!”

“Angels are terrifying! Read the bible!”

“I’m not taking a religious lesson from a gay guy!”

“Jokes on you bitch I’m pansexual!”

“Wait…so…you fuck pan?”

“Ok you assoholic fuck-nugget I’m trying real hard not to murder you right here and now but you-” Black Hat stood up in his rage. “-ARE NOT MAKING IT EASY! Oh but don’t worry, I’ll be sure not to go easy on you.”

“That sounds like you’re trying to start something, hermano.” Aurelio said coolly. “You better not be all talk.”

As they exchanged more violent words, getting progressively louder and undoubtedly attracting the attention of the entire cafe, two certain people watched quietly from a relatively safe distance. Close enough to have been able to hear every word exchanged between the two men, but hidden enough away so as not to be noticed no matter how they reacted.

“How long have they been at this?” Flug asked, his face hidden behind his hands. He’d been coming back from the bathroom to find these two morons roasting each other, and had since relocated so as not to get involved. At all.

“Going on half an hour, uninterrupted.” Demetra whistled. “It’s actually kind of impressive.”

“They’re like fucking internet commentors.” He sighed.

“You are so right. Who do you think is gonna crack?”

“What?”

“Which of them is gonna run out of shit to talk and admit defeat?”

“…Oh Jesus we’re going to be here all day.” Flug moaned and tipped back his coffee mug. Neither of these men were ever going to admit to losing.

“So, you’re calling a stalemate?” She said, twirling a marker around. “A’ight. Should I put you down for 10 or 20?”

Oh, not this again. He hung his head. “20.”

“Got it. Just so you know, I have 50 against Aurelio.”

“If you’re going to be this irresponsible with your money, quit bitching that you can’t afford to move out of your dad’s house.”

“Ah c’mon, your boyfriend is way too petty to lose today.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Black Hat was far too petty to lose this. Petty and stubborn. But Aurelio wouldn’t ever back down either. Flug was afraid that they’d only stop if someone got between them. And that person would probably have to be him.

Which was why he sat his ass far away.

But, now that looked like they were both poised to get up and actually start fighting…he just couldn’t let that happen. Aurelio was going to be Flug’s kill, and not even Black Hat was going to stand in the way of it. He stood up and walked briskly over to keep his boss from starting things they couldn’t afford to finish at present.

“C’mon, it’s time to go,”

“Flug? Where have you been?! I’ve been waiting-”

“-And putting on a delightful show for the Cafe, yes, I noticed,” Flug said snarkily, grabbing Black Hat’s arm. “Now c’mon, we have to go,”

“Wait a minute, just let me-”

“This bastard is mine, let it go,” He whispered harshly.

“What? Oh Flug, you know I’d never even dream of-”

“You’re so cute together,” Aurelio remarked with a sneer. “Should we start picking out the bouquet?”

“Oh don’t you worry, you egotistical prick,” Flug called over his shoulder, dragging Black Hat along. “We wouldn’t bring anything but the best to your funeral.”

“Oh shit,” Black Hat chuckled. “C’mon, let’s double-team him.”

“Please never say that again.”

“Rocinante, keep your boyfriend on a leash until you’ve finished training him,” Aurelio called. “I realize he’s difficult, but I’m sure you can manage.”

“Motherfucker…” Flug said under his breath. “No. No, we are going.”

“And let this babaca have the last word?” Black Hat protested.

“We have things to do. We…have to feed Lil’ Jack.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes we do.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes we do.” He hissed. “Now…tell me what you feed her.”

“Pet food,” Black Hat replied with a small, thin smile that looked almost like someone had taken a marker and drawn it right on his face.

Flug dragged him out of the Cafe, trying not to think about what that might mean when speaking about a venomous snake over 2 meters long. She’d gotten bigger, and as far as Flug understood would need larger prey. “Isn’t it about time you thought about getting a bigger cage for her?”

“Will you help to set it up again?” Black Hat asked in the sweetest fake-voice Flug had ever heard.

“Of course,” he said with a heavy sigh. He was going to break his fucking arms trying to accomodate this mad man.

“That’s my darling Pet,” Black Hat gave him a quick peck on the cheek to accentuate the sentiment.

“Sh-shut up.” Flug stammered, feeling his cheeks bloom like roses. Black Hat knew how he felt about public displays of affection! Which was entirely manufactured, anyway! Just part of the plan! Which was the only reason why Flug didn’t pull away when Black Hat started holding his hand. He was only playing along! He swore!