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You know what? I'm about to say it. I don't care that you broke your elbow.

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❛ ✟       𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙍.          @vampyras​

the comment itself was offhanded.   never intended to be anything more than a passing remark. he never meant to rile vadya’s spirits, but it seemed that is what he had done. and so, as his friend and compatriot spoke, gabriel merely listened attentively, waiting for him to reach the final piece of his argument. as the man came to a grand pause, looking to him for a response, he merely bowed his head, and, softly, spoke once more: with a sense of surity that seemed even more concrete than before.    ❛ — i disagree. ❜

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❛  𝘿𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙐𝙇𝙔𝙍.    ╾    𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢          @vampyras​

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓  𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒  grip seized his own, he caught sight of the bronze glint lying in the center of his palm, and a dark and horrid look took over his expression. such a thing had been long forgotten, taken from him when the count himself had taken his ultimate fall. like a robber come to wrest the then-knight of his identity. 

claws were suddenly ripped away, coated with fresh blood that he did not dare bring to swallow down his tongue. instead they grasped that hand and took from it the ring, snatched and held precariously between two fingers      like a jewel to be inspected.    

“   a fragment from our sordid past, and a relic that spelled the shame of my family’s name.  gabriel, know you where this came from?  ”   he asked, twisting it in the light of the brazier as he climbed, already half-way up the stair to where he’d first began.   “   it was the ancestors of my father that upheld the holy word of God,  and learned from His last great king the ways of the divine.  to this effect it was one of our great and noble family that would always stand resolute against any and all invaders.  it was a dracula before me that sat as boyar in transylvania, and it was too a dracula before he who protected the banks of the danube and, as prince, claimed the whole of wallachia as his own.  those that knew the secrets of dragons and dared learn from their approach… yes, it was too a dracula who created the very order that consecrated your blade.  the blade of a murderer.   ”

at last at the wide landing, stood before the brazier, the count held up his hand and slipped on the band.  finally returned to its rightful owner, and from the one who’d stolen it from him no less.   a mighty sweep of his arm cast off the heavy, tall-collared cloak from his shoulders.  the swath of dark fabric fell instead across a wood, high-backed chair that was seated in the center of the dias.  it was there that he seated, distance great enough to obscure his cadaverous figure through the haze of smoke and flame, but not so far as to keep hidden the glint of white, sharp teeth.   

somewhere below that same roar came again, this time more urgently, and the walls shook so mightily that frozen stone and ice began to fall from the rafters.  still, the vampire remained nonplussed.  

“   foolish gabriel   ”,   hellish red mouth curved into a sickeningly sinister smile, and the count’s eyes filled suddenly with bitterness and scorn.   “   what was your sin,  indeed!  what but a traitorous fool would beg god to remove his worst deed?  who among your knowledge would be so cruel as to befriend who he would later betray?  …nay,  answer it not.  it matters little when i already know the answer.   were i able to speak when my head was removed, i might’ve asked the same:  et tu brute?  or perhaps:  how many pieces of silver?   ”

far too many times, he has seen his own blood drawn: enough that even the drops, as they spring forth from rent flesh, bring only a twinge of discomfort to his face   ( though the pain more severe than it would show ).   the hunter dare not take his eyes from the target, even as he moves now across the room with an impassioned pace, enough to set his nerves alight as he, too, mirrors each movement with his own careful steps: to keep their distance far enough that he may react before a strike. but, it is with finality, that the count seats himself, and with enough performance that he, too, felt that he was satisfied with the exchange. in his sick, twisted way: this was a victory in its own rite.

the floor beneath him trembled, and, it drew adrenaline through his veins, thick and hot. if not another of his devilish offspring, then perhaps another hellish servant, some abyssal monster, sent to defend its master. nostrils flared, inhaled the rot and stench of metal from the air, heavy with the evidence of their war. as ice began to crumble about him, his gaze tore furiously from the target: instead searching above, discerning any rubble or sharpened ice that may be sent for him. with a sweeping step to the side, his eyes returning to his target, to those gleaming fangs behind the curtain of fog, a fragment of ice no larger than his thigh shattered at his side. his voice would be buried beneath brick and frost crumbling down, in the wake of the monstrous sound beneath, but still he spoke. 

❛ — are you satisfied with the return of that which was yours ?  or is it the sound of your own voice you have come to love ? ❜     not resorting to feigned calmness,   the great van helsing’s voice quavers with an endless frustration: if he had no mind to share with him what great betrayal had damned them both, if he had no intentions of sharing it, then let him die, once more, with those truths. let them fall to hell with his bitter, rotting carcass, and let it all burn once more. jaw set, teeth grit in a line, his blood thrummed and buzzed, as if begging him to go forth. form of the beast or not, press teeth into his jugular and pull it from that proud throat.

❛ you will gain no sympathy from me. i ask for the truth, as neither what friend you think i once was, nor the traitor you see me as.  you have only ever been to me   another monster to be slain. ❜

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okay, i had a reply almost finished and then developer tools killed it. i’m doing a starter for @vampyras, replying to our thread, and then doing starters. like this for a sleepy fucker.

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Hugh Jackman Giggling in the Van Helsing Bloopers - requested by @princesshumbug

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did anyone tell you that you look like hugh jackman

did anyone tell you that you look like a fried egg

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i am not wolverine

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i am formally requesting that you stop trying to kill me. again.

how bout i

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b r o

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dude

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❛ — 𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘞𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘉𝘌𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘞𝘏𝘐𝘊𝘏 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 𝙃𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙊 𝙋𝘼𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙇𝙔. 𝘔𝘈𝘠 𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘚 𝘉𝘌 𝙎𝙊 𝙋𝘼𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘐𝘙 𝘏𝘜𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘖𝘍 𝙔𝙊𝙐. ❜      ✟     gabriel van helsing of ‘van helsing (2004).’   headcanon and film based, with heavy influences from the novel, game, gothic literature and folklore.   does not recognize dracula = vlad the impaler content.  anna x dracula shippers dni.  21+ and sensitive content within, primarily religious blasphemy. read rules for more information.   as hunted by aster.

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❛  𝘿𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙐𝙇𝙔𝙍.    ╾    𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢

“   𝐁𝐔𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄   ”,   said the count, with such masterful ease that his good nature almost seemed genuine, and would have stuck were it not for the ivory barbs that clung to his lip.  he was smiling at the hunter, mirthless and bitter, promising an end so grisly and slow that it might as well have been considered one of the few artforms that MURDER could provide.   “  you cannot escape it, gabriel.  though you have tried.  begged even, i should say, to have the weight of your sins scrubbed from your memory, so that even my face could not shepherd those images forward to see the light of day.  ”

a baptism in unholy blood had left vladislav an absolute husk of his former self. gone were the qualities that once portrayed a cunning and loyal friend, cast aside in favor of filling that skeletal shell with anger, lust and hate.  

“  but where is it you wish that I should begin?  ”    the count’s question was followed by his narrow descent, two steps at a time, while cadaverous hands flexed and lifted to illustrate his verbal design, narrowly avoiding the dangerous bite of the bannister’s brazier.  

somewhere below, the castle’s foundation began to quake and shudder, and the most terrible wail began to echo off the walls.  the sound was unlike any other, and were any feint of heart to hear it, they would surely pass into an early grave.  the count knew the creature’s sob intimately, and knew of its gargantuan size, and of her terrifying fury.               stranger still, the vampire ignored it, instead dipping his proud, dark head and coming that much closer to the one who had ended his life for the second time in four hundred years.  but the count’s unspoken dare was as loud as the storm howling at the threshold.    “  do you wish to hear of your conquest on istabul?  or perhaps the battles fought against the empire as they blazed into the west?      nay, i get ahead of myself.  we must begin far earlier.  when you and i were much more aqcuainted.  when our sinners’ blood mixed upon our hands, and bound our souls together.   ”

lazarus indeed!  the fanged vampire leared and leaned down to grasp one of van helsing’s leather-garbed shoulders between his claws.  with a giant’s strength, he squeezed the flesh beneath until his monstrous talons could carve into the skin and drug him close enough to breath into his ear.  “  we two sinners, who have seen such glorious kingdoms rise and fall into inevtiable demise.  DO YOU REMEMBER NOW?  ”

the victor chose his spoils, and what he desired most was the knowledge the other bore: yet, he had mistaken, for he was not the victor. in this wide world, neither of the two would ever emerge beyond the bidding of their masters, what threads of fate dominated their very existence. two soldiers, locked in combat, attempting to writhe forth from their command as the beast took them both, only to find themselves still bound by ultimate rule.

stone floors began to howl, some otherworldly, beastly bellowing: it did not shake the fallen one, yet his senses sparked alight, an unasked question answered only by the other’s undisturbed stride. where men may shake, the monster did not flinch. the spurning at the door had become a bitter welcome.

as the hunter’s eyes fell upon that skeletal hand, he knew his folly now, knew it in the stinging of flesh being pierced by needly touch. here the count extended himself toward him, those greedy claws locking him to his spot, bait lying upon his tongue as he spoke. and those sharp teeth, those poisonous fangs, remained dripping across the maw, daring one to accept: here he stood with his throat against the hot breath of the monster, waiting for those jaws to finally snap.  to bite.  and yet to show this collection would be to only sweeten the trap, to drive that challenge, to cause this monstrous thing to thrash. gaze rises once more, investigating that pale cheek, ere it ascends past his towering shoulder.

❛ — nothing. ❜     seething past teeth as they braced that circle of talons upon him. with nails within his flesh, any moment and the beast could rend limb from him, and there was no doubt in the hunter’s mind that it would be his great delight to do so. trapped within the clasping of his shoulder, the wolf stirs. he surveys his cage, pacing at the bars. yet he does not bare his teeth. not yet.     

❛ i remember nothing. i do not think i could forget a face like yours. ❜     a death like yours.   and yet, when first he saw that living portrait, a face that had played lead in his dreams, reflected all this long-buried remorse: it had shaken him.     ❛ but i cannot deny that you know me.  i know you.  neither man nor beast would be proud to call you their once friend, i am certain, but there must be a reason why —  ❜     regret seizes his tongue, yet the gospel silences him. a beat passes ere he speaks once more.

❛ why we share the same punishment. ❜

gloved fingers flex and play until from one hand the clinging fabric, to share the sight beneath. bronze ring set against callused flesh, holding it before him so that he may bear witness. the insignia, the beating wings of a great beast frozen mid-flight. fingers wrap about the other’s wrist, the cool metal against even cooler flesh, as his grasp flexes, grips with an unspoken promise. the wolf shed its disguise. no longer did it play and pretend amongst the herd, but broke forth from its flesh; jaw setting to even the vampire’s icy stare.

❛ — your sins are known. i ask of mine. ❜

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         the devil is real.   and he used to be god’s favorite. 

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reminder that the vatican manipulates gabriel into remaining their puppet, and that my gabriel says fuck you to the order after the end of van helsing. he has been steadily growing in disobedience to them, and though this repeats so many times in his existence, this is finally him breaking away from a fruitless, torturous cycle to seek his own salvation outside of what the church promises him, time and time again, just to keep the truth from gabriel.

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❛  𝘿𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙐𝙇𝙔𝙍.    ╾    𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢

𝐍𝐎  𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄  𝐁𝐔𝐓  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓?  to go off into the frozen woods in search of werewolves, to contract the diseased bite when no other cure stood between hunter and the hunted?   or did he actually think he would make it to the door, no longer bolted shut but instead cast wide open to struggle against the chains that had previously bound it against the wind…   

all this and more was said in dracula’s infernal gaze, turned once more to rest on the body of an old friend.  two immortals cast like die against the world, though he would not remember it. 

❝  to be judge, jury and executioner– is this not what all men do?   do not you recall that too, before the fall of your memory, was your own call to arms?            my friend,  surely you cannot be so pious as to think yourself exempt.  after-all, it is armed with crucifix that you kill what man cannot stomach!   though as you have no doubt experienced, it is seldom an act of justice,  driven by fear and misplaced zealotry.  ❞    the count seemed possessed suddenly by wild fury, and he descended the staircase two steps at a time, careful of the braziers as not to burn his hand. 

he stopped four paces above the famous van helsing,  and his red mouth spread into a terrible and malignant grin.    ❝  you really don’t remember me, do you, gabriel?   or of our brothers in arms and the swords they crossed, or even of the king you helped to betray our order, who in turn had you murder me in the streets of budapest.  ❞

yet here did he stand trial before the other: this beast, the count, once wager of war, once man. he had whispered of memory beyond memory, a gospel so fervent it had shaken the great hunter to the core with its recollection: but still so distant, fleeting from his grasp, fingertips groping in the dark to find purchase upon the jagged truth. 

and so did it vex him. with each failure to cling to what little he knew, the memories which taunted him in his twisted dreams, he had lost himself further. they told him he was cursed: stripped of his memory as punishment for the sins he had made, his corruption being undone with each foul creature he took from this world, seeking a steadily-vanishing salvation. yet, for all his penance, nothing had returned: nothing, until those red, red lips had twisted, spat, and cursed that name.  gabriel.

❛ — i kill what man cannot defend against, ❜     heaves the reply, the man holding himself as the monster takes its ground toward him, seizing command of the space. the control is given willingly: he has slain him once, escaped him twice. fate stood in his favor, the god-given victor; or did it, now that he has chosen his path, creeping forth from the yoke of punishment, to drive his fist to his own reward?     ❛ and save what souls i may. not for my own righteousness, but that of the lord. ❜     

what other purpose could be served by the thing creeping within human flesh,  wearing its skin to deceive: a wolf amongst sheep, baring its teeth to chase the guideless back toward the holy shepherd. 

❛ something brought me here. something more than the valerious. whatever that may be, i cannot escape it. ❜     another step taken. the tattered hunter, fallen from grace, gazing up into the eyes of the beast, mounting frustration replaced with a searching, desperate gaze. caught upon the snag, an unspoken remorse, yet untouchable, but not too far gone from his heart.     ❛ you know it.  tell me.  ❜

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if  ever  there  existed  a  place  beyond  pain,  my  heart  has  dwelt  there.  not  for  summers  or  winters,  springs  or  autumns,  feeling  no  rains  nor  chilly  howling  winds.  it  was  forever.  and  it  still  has  not  returned.      |    ORIGINAL   CONTEMPORARY   FANTASY    CHARACTER.    ESTABLISHED   2017.   /   RE-ESTABLISHED 2020.    WRITTEN   BY   BÉLA.     ( psd )

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❛  𝙊𝙃𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙍.    ╾     𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘮.

The accent that the stranger spoke with was a curious one— if he wasn’t so easily riled in a drunken state he might have asked just where abouts the man came from. For he certainly wasn’t American and he held himself in the manner of a man who didn’t care much for attention. ( Giles could relate to that much at least when he had his head on his shoulders and not a bottle in his hands. ) “Here’s some advice— mind your own damn business ‘round these parts. It’ll save you a whole lotta trouble in the long run, partner.”

“Oh, I would know, huh?” Brows shot up briefly as his pointer curled back into his fist. His own gaze, blue and white with film, shifted about the room. Sweeping over the other sad bastards and bored fools that drank themselves into stupors. Again he chuckles, the sound a rumble in his chest, “As if I’d waste my iron on you or another damned fool in this saloon.”

more often than not, gabriel turned his cheek on men like him and their pissing matches. (not because he was any better, of course.) but tonight, more than other nights, he was weary of simply staring into the wood of his table, lost in thought. 

❛ — i thought we were not trading advice. ❜   he spoke like he wanted to feel like a big man: frustrating enough to get a rise out of the old hunter. eyes shifting back to him, exceedingly slow, an unimpressed sneer slowly splitting his lips. one raised, curled toward his nostrils, as he raised his glass once more, gesturing in miniscule motion toward the whole of the stranger.   ❛ partner. ❜