#i can never think of dracula as just like. the generic vampire. no he's the original. the progenitor. he's the baddest bitch of them all
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reading Dracula has permanently altered my brain. i can never see count dracula as a generic character anymore. he isn't an ooky spooky horror monster he's the old bitch that imprisoned my boy johnny in his shitass castle and killed my beloved lucy and quincey. abraham van helsing isn't synonymous with badass monster hunters he's a 50-year-old dutch doctor who talks funny. i see things and think oh wow this is just like my favorite characters from my book that was written 126 years ago.
#count tagula#dracula#dracula daily#dracula spoilers#dracula daily spoilers#count dracula#lucy westenra#jonathan harker#quincey morris#abraham van helsing#classics#bram stoker#there is no dracula like *the* dracula and i can never go back#i can never think of dracula as just like. the generic vampire. no he's the original. the progenitor. he's the baddest bitch of them all#vulture chatter
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Til Death Do Us Part | Part 4
Series Masterlist
Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU
Word Count: 7.6k
(CW: general vampirism, very light descriptions of injury)
Summary:
Astarion’s cold hand reaches out to catch your own as you move to drop it back to your side and he presses your palm against his cheek. His skin is like silk and you can hardly stop yourself from softly running your thumb over his beautiful cheekbone.
He leans in closer, lips just a breath away from yours. You hope he will lean down and kiss you. That he will wrap you in his arms and never let you go. You close your eyes and tilt your head up in anticipation.
Instead, you feel him pull away, your hand dropping limply back to your side. It stings your heart.
“Sleep well, wife,” Astarion says, before he’s turning on his heel and walking swiftly down the hallway.
Read on ao3 here
“What are you reading?” Astarion asks, flopping himself onto the settee next to you.
You lift the book up so he can see the cover. Bram Stroker’s Dracula. “I’m doing research on vampires.”
“Very funny,” Astarion says with a sour face. It makes you giggle as you turn back to your book.
Astarion watches you for a moment before he lets out a frustrated huff that you know is meant to draw your attention back to him.
“Why are you spending all your time surrounded by dusty old books when you could ask me, a real vampire?” He does a self-important flourish with his hand that causes you to snort out another laugh.
It seems too harsh to say ‘because I still don’t know if I can trust a word that comes out of your mouth.’ And really, you do mostly trust him now. You just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something bigger going on around here.
You see Astarion whispering with Shadowheart and Gale in dark corners. You see the weird visitors- the giant, friendly woman, the stern looking warrior-woman, and the man with two different colored eyes- that Astarion always immediately rushes into his study. You had tried listening at the door the last time they came, but you still couldn’t hear anything.
Astarion couldn’t necessarily be called paranoid because, yeah, you were listening at the door. But to be fair, his actions were definitely suspicious. And what were you supposed to do- not try to solve this puzzle which had so wonderfully presented itself to you?
“Come, little flower, ask me anything. I promise there’s plenty of juicy details that are far too scandalous for your books to mention,” Astarion lightly pulls your attention back to him when he notices you chewing on your lip as you think.
He’s hooked you there and he knows it- you never could resist the opportunity to indulge your curiosity. You curl up your feet so Astarion can settle more comfortably next to you and he slings his arm over the back of the settee. Perhaps you imagined it, but you could swear you caught his eyes darting down to your bare calf when you shifted, before you could adjust your skirts to cover yourself.
“What happens if you come into contact with garlic?”
“Aside from bad breath?” Astarion wrinkles his nose. “It’s not deadly or anything, it just reeks. No sane vampire would ever go near the stuff.”
“What about silver?”
“A very pretty metal, though I’m partial to gold,” He answers, gesturing down to his waistcoat, which is made of a shimmery golden silk with swirling floral patterns. Your husband never was one for minimalism.
“What about running water?” You ask, practically having to rip your eyes away from his waistcoat. For under his waistcoat, lay his chest. And the idea of that lovely expanse of alabaster skin had quickly become an image which plagued you in the dark of night.
“Should I be growing concerned about this line of questioning? You seem to only want to know about things that can harm me. I thought your questions would be much more fun.”
You smirk at him. “Please. If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all, you feisty little devil,” Astarion says with a wicked grin. His red eyes flicker dangerously, like fire. “As for running water- I do love a bath. Though, it would be all the more delightful if you decided to join me. I could make it… very worth your while.”
His eyes rake over you and you struggle in vain to ignore the familiar flames of heat licking at your cheeks. You can’t decide if the cause is embarrassment or arousal, or both.
“Do you remember what color your eyes were?” You ask, figuring you’ve teased him enough with your initial questions..
Astarion looks genuinely shocked for a moment before his forehead creases a bit. “You know, I’m not sure I do. It’s been so long.”
“How long?” you ask cautiously, like you’re approaching a wild animal. You expect him to skitter away at this line of questioning. Astarion doesn’t like deeply personal questions. He likes wordplay and teasing and, occasionally, dropping the odd fact about himself if you listened closely enough.
“A couple hundred years,” he answers. It breaks your heart to hear that. To know he’s spent so long like this. He couldn’t have been older than his thirties when he was turned, which means he had been a vampire many lifetimes longer than he was alive. Does he even remember what it was like?
“I think they were gray. Or maybe green?” Astarion is still thinking, lost in his own little world. He sits for another moment. “Whatever. You have to admit that the red suits me, doesn’t it, darling?”
He shoots you a wink, said red eyes glinting playfully. You almost have whiplash from how quickly he was able to fall back into his flirtatious performance. By now, you have spent enough time with Astarion to know this act is what he reverts back to when he wants to reestablish control in a conversation, when he wants to stop himself from settling into uncomfortable emotions.
“Your eyes were blue,” you tell him and he looks at you warily. “I ran across the portrait of your family one day. You looked so much like your mother.”
You don’t tell him of all the hours you had spent studying the painting, turning the image over and over in your mind trying to figure out how this piece fit into the puzzle.
“Why would you tell me that?”
And to your surprise, he’s angry at your words. You note this reaction in your mind- that bringing up his past will warrant anger and leave you without any useful information.
“So you could reclaim a part of yourself that was either stolen from you or that you forgot,” you say softly. Astarion’s eyebrows bunch together and he looks deep in thought. It’s making the room too heavy, his thoughts seem too dark.
“How were you turned?” You ask, trying to distract him while also trying to get more of your questions answered.
When he speaks, his tone seems too measured, too rehearsed. “Someone is turned when a vampire drains them dry and buries their body. It’s a rite of passage to dig yourself out of your grave. Of course, the body has to be buried almost immediately or the ritual won’t work and the person will just be dead. It’s a… delicate balance.”
He technically did answer your question, but the story of his turning is noticeably missing.
“Have you ever turned someone?”
“No, I didn’t have that ability for a long time. And now, I don’t really care to.” He’s trying to feign nonchalance, but you see the way his fist is clenched so tightly in his lap that his nails are digging painfully into his palms. He’s hiding something.
“But you’re a vampire?” Your own brow furrows in confusion, because it doesn’t make sense that he would be a vampire but not be able to turn someone.
“Am I?” Astarion asks sarcastically, examining his skin. “I hadn’t noticed. Thank you for that astute observation.”
You nudge him with your foot. “You know what I meant.”
“Yes, but it’s just so fun to tease you, pet. I simply can’t resist.”
He’s trying to get himself out of this line of questioning by baiting you with teasing. But the way he’s still holding his shoulders so tightly, you know there’s still valuable information to be gained.
“So, you’re not a ‘real’ vampire?” you ask again, trying to coax him back on track.
“Now I am.” Astarion takes a deep breath in and out. “For a long time, I was just a vampire spawn.”
“How’s that any different?” You had read a bit about vampires and vampire spawn while doing your vampire research in the library, but the accounts were so varied that it was hard to discern what was true or false. From what you could gather, a vampire spawn serves a vampire lord. And it is rather strange that Astarion doesn’t seem to have any running around the manor.
Astarion is still quiet, so you rephrase the question. “What’s the story behind how you were turned, then?”
“I’m not going to answer that,” Astarion finally snaps, shooting you a glare.
“You said I could ask you anything.” You remind him, sure to keep your tone calm and measured.
“I said you could ask, I didn’t say that I would answer,” he says through gritted teeth. He’s so tense, jaw tight and shoulders nearly up to his ears.
You pout and he softens a bit, lowering his arm from the back of the settee to graze his fingertips gently over the back of your hand.
“There are some stories that only serve to harm when they are told, little flower,” he says quietly and the pained look on his face sends a twinge to your heart that makes you drop the subject entirely.
In moments like this, you must remind yourself that his beauty is a shield- a defense mechanism meant to amplify his pain and provoke a response from you. Even though you are aware of this, the way Astarion looks when he’s in pain has you nearly falling to your knees and begging forgiveness for ever daring to hurt him..
“What happens if you drink the blood of someone who’s drunk?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood after the heavy turn.
You know he’ll welcome a silly question like that. And the radiant smile that lights up Astarion’s face is worth dropping your real line of question. You could ask another time. Right now, you would do just about anything to keep him smiling like this in front of you.
“Darling, I thought you’d never ask! You can get drunk from them, but you have to drink a lot and the effects fade far too quickly. I much prefer wine for a quick buzz.”
“Makes sense with that cellar I found downstairs,” you tease. Though, cellar was a bit of an understatement. Grand network of caverns filled with more wine than you could ever conceive of existing was a more apt description.
“Darling, you should know by now that I collect and cherish the things I enjoy,” Astarion says in a deep, husky voice, eyes looking up at you sinfully from underneath his pale lashes.
The image of him cherishing you fills your mind and sets your face aflame. It would be so easy for his hand to reach out, to tilt your chin up and present your face to his. All he would have to do is lean over, just a little bit closer, and his pretty pink lips would press against yours. They would be soft and cool against your burning skin.
No. Stay focused. This was the time for getting some much needed answers out of Astarion, not the time for silly romantic fantasies.
“Do you like being a vampire?” you ask after clearing your throat. You take great care to keep your voice as calm as possible, afraid you might again be leading Astarion into tumultuous waters.
Astarion takes a moment before he speaks and you can watch his thoughts play out on his face. The slight frown when he first processes your question, the way his eyes dart around the room as if he will think up some witty response to distract you, the gentle furrow in his brow as he tries to think of a genuine response.
“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.” He’s trying hard to keep his own voice measured and controlled when he speaks. “It’s… complicated. I certainly don’t regret being turned. Not anymore, at least.”
Not anymore. So, he did regret being turned at some point. But why? What horrors has he witnessed that were so unspeakable? Was his turning really that traumatic?
Perhaps he had been in a war? You had read many stories that portrayed war as the worst of what humanity could do to one another. But no, that’s ridiculous. Astarion is nobility, he practiced law. And Astarion isn’t the type to involve himself in other’s petty squabbles, anyway.
But the faraway, pained look in Astarion’s eye has you thinking that whatever he had suffered must have been akin to the worst of war.
“Would you ever want to be a vampire?” He surprises you by turning the question back on you. You curl your arms around your knees, pulling them closer to your chest. Your reaction isn’t an immediate no, which surprises you a bit.
“I don’t know. Depends on the circumstances, I think,” you tell him.
What you really mean is that it depends on if eternity would look like this. If eternity would involve reading in the gardens or Astarion and you sitting next to each other on a settee and talking. Those might be terms you could agree to.
“I think I would really miss the sunlight,” you give Astarion a sad smile.
No sunlight means no gardens during the day, no talking strolls in the forest, no swimming in a river and sunbathing on a rock to dry yourself off. The life of a vampire is cold and dark and lonely. Only, maybe it wouldn’t be quite so lonely for you?
“A small price to pay for eternal life,” Astarion says with what you have come to understand is his hollow performance voice. Meant to dazzle an audience and distract people from the fact that his real feelings contradict what he is saying.
You watch him carefully as he settles deeper into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting to tamper whatever melancholy had been brewing inside him.
“Come on then, darling, read to me,” he says, giving you a wicked grin, “I can tell you what they got wrong in your little book.”
You read aloud and Astarion chimes in with little quips like ‘that’s not right,’ and ‘what do you think about me taking two more brides like this Dracula fellow, pet?’ and ‘good gods, just skip over the parts about Renfield, he’s a disgusting, pathetic character.’
But as you continue to read, Astarion slowly lets his head rest against the back of the couch and his eyes grow heavy before they eventually fall closed. The frequency of his interruptions slows until he’s just giving little hums of acknowledgement when you read something especially shocking or profound.
When you make it over two pages without a single interruption, you pause to look over at him. His deep, even breaths lead you to think he might have fallen asleep. With a smile, you turn back to the book and keep reading, perfectly content to never let this moment end, even if the number of remaining pages was starting to dwindle.
—---------
The longer you spent around Astarion, the more you realize that he did occasionally sprinkle the truth into his words- for even the best charlatans use truth to make their facades seem more real. Astarion wasn’t unique in that regard.
As such, you were determined to find the flakes of truth in Astarion’s story, determined to piece together the puzzle of the man you called your husband. It would be your most challenging and most rewarding prize yet.
So, you study him. You watch and you learn every tiny expression on his face. Astarion might be a masterful performer, but there were involuntary reactions even he could not control- a slight furrow of the brow, an inhale, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. And sometimes, there were flashes of something in his eyes- joy, wonder, terror, despair- so quick that a lesser trained eye might have missed them completely.
You notice these details because they are important to your cause. And yet, they stick around in your head for hours, repeating like some terribly wonderful time loop.
And you find yourself craving his company. You tell yourself that it’s not because you particularly enjoy his presence, but because every interaction gives you more information, gets you one step closer to discovering the truth beneath the mask. And yes, he was beautiful and wonderful to look at, but you only gazed upon him so often because you were collecting valuable data.
Though… it was remarkable how he seemingly had no bad angles. How the candlelight bent to his whim, following him around and dancing against his skin.
And gods damn him, Astarion can be funny, when he wants to be. He’s well-read and full of little tales and salacious secrets about the other nobles and their ancestors. In another life, you would have thought the gods crafted him especially for you- your perfect conversation partner.
Although Astarion will never love you, never desire you in the way that you secretly know you will always want him, you think he has come to find some enjoyment in your companionship, too. Some of his smiles seem a bit too real, some of his laughs a little too wild to be rehearsed. You imagine he regards you as a sort of… pet. Or, if you really dare to dream, perhaps a friend.
You must constantly remind yourself that his flirtations are empty, practiced phrases that are meant to disarm you. They do not show you he cares for you or that he wants you. You try to ignore that deep, viscous part of you that calls out to him, that wants him to think of you fondly, that hopes that you are driving him as mad with your presence as he drives you.
Over the past month, you’ve become semi-nocturnal. You find Astarion is much more active once the sun has gone down and the later you stay awake, the more time you get to spend with him. It’s unsettling how naturally your life seems to shift to accommodate him.
When you do make your way out to the garden in the late afternoons, Halsin happily congratulates you in his friendly, over-the-top way on the state of your marriage and how you and Astarion have managed to grow together despite your initial difficulties. You know he means it sincerely, but the words leave you a stuttering, embarrassed mess. You didn’t think you were being so obvious about your growing… affection for Astarion.
So, you start reading in the library more often than the garden, now that the air has started to turn crisp in the autumn nights.
Or at least, you’ve convinced yourself that’s the reason why and not because you secretly hope that Astarion will come join you.
And he does join you, some days. He’ll stride in with a book or some papers and take up residence on the couch across from you. On the really good days, he’ll sit on the couch beside you and ask you to read aloud and you get to lean against him while you read to him.
Tonight, he decided to accompany you to the library after dinner. He’s sitting in a chair across from your favorite settee and he’s only wearing a flowing white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You keep sneaking peeks up at him, mesmerized by the blue veins in his arms and how the lean muscles move when he turns a page. You’re trying really hard to be subtle- only letting yourself glance up for a moment every couple of minutes.
But, gods, it’s so difficult to focus on the words in front of you with that expanse of skin teasing you.
“You haven’t turned a page in a very long time, darling,” Astarion says without even looking up from his own book.
“And how attentive are you to your own reading if you’ve been listening for me to turn the page?” You shoot back.
“Oh, I’ve been finished for ages. I just couldn’t stand to leave you.” He gives you that devilish, tantalizing grin where one corner of his mouth curves up more than the other. It sends your heart fluttering like a hummingbird in your chest.
“Well,” you sigh, shutting your book and attempting to act casual, as if your formerly self-declared enemy hadn’t just caught you gawking at his forearms. “I suppose I’m not going to get any more of this finished tonight.”
“I apologize, I know my presence is entirely too distracting,” Astarion says, and the arrogant look on his face makes you roll your eyes. He’s not wrong, but he'd be entirely too pleased with himself the rest of the evening if you admitted it out loud.
“Yes, how does anyone get anything done with you around?” you say sarcastically instead.
“I haven’t the faintest idea how,” Astarion lets out a suffering sigh, as if his beauty is too much for the world to handle (it is). You can’t let yourself think about it too long or you’ll devolve in idle fantasies about what it might feel like to trace those beautiful veins in his arms all the way up to his chest.
You snap your book shut, “Want to join me on a walk around the gardens?”
You need to get out of here, where the stifling air and Astarion’s flowy white shirt are clouding your mind. But you don’t want this night to end yet. Not just yet. In truth, you gladly and greedily take as much time as Astarion’s willing to give you.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be in the world.”
He says it with that easy, flirtatious tone and you know he probably doesn’t really mean it. But that deep part of you that feeds on Astarion’s praise still preens.
The cool air is refreshing when you step outside and your head finally begins to clear. Astarion holds his arm out for you and you let your fingers brush against the skin of his forearm as you tuck yourself into his side.
When you turn to look at him, he’s practically luminescent. The moonlight was made for him, bouncing off his white curls and casting a gentle glow over his pale skin. As the moon reflected the sun’s light, Astarion seemed to reflect the moon’s. You were simply lucky to bask in his presence.
Arm in arm, you wander through the garden, pointing out your favorite flowers to Astarion and checking in on the blooms. It’s reached that part of autumn where some perennials have started to sleep, ready to reawaken in the spring. The sunflowers, always one of your favorites, are drooping for the night, waiting to chase after the sun again tomorrow, and you frown a bit when you see them.
“It’s a shame you never get to see the gardens during the day. The colors, the blooming flowers. It’s truly one of the most remarkable things I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say, as you and Astarion move into the rose garden. Everything new you find out about vampirism makes it sound like an isolating, dreary existence. You make a mental note that Astarion could use some cut flowers in his study every now and then, though it feels like a poor substitute for the splendor of the full gardens.
Because it is your mission to study Astarion, you don’t miss the fleeting, pained look that passes over his face, the look he always gets when you dig a bit too close to a truth he’d rather keep buried.
You used to push him on these, but you quickly found that got you nowhere. No, Astarion responded far better to a gentle touch rather than provocation and name calling. You were coming to realize that he would tell you in time, in his own way. And you had started to find that you didn’t mind waiting for answers if it kept you in his company that much longer.
And oh, how rewarding those answers were when he gifted them to you in the dark of the night, offering up little pieces of himself like Tara delivering you a dead mouse.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be prattling on- '' you try to backtrack, to apologize for the sadness that you have caused to enter his eyes.
You sometimes wonder what his eyes would look like if they were still blue- would they be pale blue like soft ocean waves or rich and deep like the blue flowers in the garden?
With his red eyes in front of you, his sadness is akin to pain, all blood and gore and unspoken horrors. No, you decide, if Astarion had blue eyes they must look like dark rain clouds when he is sad. For if Astarion weeped, would the heavens themselves not cry for him?
“Nonsense,” Astarion cuts you off and you’re acutely aware of how your husband has been studying you just as intently as you were watching him. Admittedly, the two of you were remarkably similar underneath it all. All sharp teeth and claws masking scared and fragile hearts.
He gives your hand a little squeeze where it rests on his forearm. “It’s wonderful to see the world through your eyes.”
He says it so casually, like he hasn’t caused your knees to buckle and your soul to leave your body. Occasionally, he slips in sentiments like that, with no regard for your poor heart. You’re dangerously close to having hope that he actually means them.
But no, you remind yourself. There was no way Astarion’s words could be trusted. He said things, he did things to get a reaction out of you because he grew bored and because he knew how badly you wanted him, how badly everyone wanted him. There was no reason to hope. He had entertained you at the ball because he was hungry, he had married you to tie up loose ends, and he spent time with you now because he had very little other company up here in his lonely manor.
You do not mean as much to him as he does to you.
You distract yourself from that thought spiral by talking, amazed at how easy and willing you are to offer up information to him now, “I used to have a book with flowers drawn in it as a little girl that I would stare at all day. There were so many that I’d never thought I’d get to see in real life, until I came here. And there were some flowers that I didn’t even know existed until I saw them here for the first time. These gardens are everything I could have ever dreamed of.”
Astarion gives you a smile that lights up his whole face and he seems so proud, like the whole purpose of his life is to make you happy. Your heart sings again and you shush her immediately.
Astarion’s beauty was not something you would ever grow used to. And in the lighting tonight, his profile sent a cold shock through your body. You had never felt so alive. You had never yearned for death more.
“My mother used to love the gardens here. She used to always try to get me to help her plant things. I wish…” He trails off, reaching out to stroke a delicate rose petal with his fingers. “Well, I wish I would have appreciated that more when I was younger. You never realize as a child how precious those memories will one day become.”
“And I wish you could have seen it then,” he says, letting out a wistful sigh. “You would have loved it. The gardens were even grander and more vast than what they are now. When I returned, they were in such disrepair that it pained me to look at them for ages. I hired Halsin to help restore them and he did a wonderful job, of course, but it’s just…”
He continues to stare at the flower he holds in his hand, unable to find the words to finish his sentence.
“Not the same?” you complete the thought for him and he nods.
And although his words fill you with a deep sadness, you rejoice for a moment. Astarion offers up information about himself so rarely that his words tonight are practically a feast. You tuck away that little piece of his backstory in your mind to analyze later. Though, as usual, he leaves you with more questions than answers.
Where had he returned from? Where was it that he had spent most of his vampiric life? And you still don’t know the circumstances of how he was turned into a vampire or how that plays into creating the man standing before you.
You let your fingers rub in circles against his forearm as you think.
Astarion’s rests his hand over yours. “Your hands are cold, little flower. And we both know a pretty thing like you blooms better in the daytime. I think it’s time to get you back inside.”
You try to protest but a yawn escapes you and Astarion gives you a knowing look that forces you to roll your eyes and allow him to start guiding you back toward the manor. His footsteps are slow, as if he’s trying to prolong your time together.
“Thank you, Astarion,” you say quietly, when you reach your room.
Facing him, the low, flowing neckline on his shirt has the lines of his collarbone perfectly in your sight and you’re scared you won’t be able to resist reaching out and touching them if you have to look at that for much longer.
Astarion seems unable to resist touching you, either, and his hand reaches out to tug on the chain of your necklace which holds your wedding ring. It must have snaked its way out from under the collar of your dress at some point during the night. He rolls the gold band between his fingers, his expression unreadable.
“You’re wearing your ring,” Astarion states the obvious, his voice low and husky with some emotion you can’t decipher.
“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not embarrassing, per say, but it does feel a bit like Astarion has broken his way past your ribcage and is staring directly at your beating heart.
“When did you start doing that?”
He tilts his head and one, single white curl dislodges itself from his meticulously styled hair. You watch it fall gently, like a feather floating through the air.
“About a week after…” you trail off. It was still weird to admit it out loud. About a week after you were married. It had been a couple months since that day and everything after has felt like a feverish dream.
You can’t focus when Astarion is looking at you like this- eyes all warm and rich and red like the fading embers of a fire. And the loose curl that caresses the skin of his ear is just taunting you so sweetly. Your hand moves almost of its own accord, reaching out to brush it back into place and ghosting over the shell of Astarion’s ear. You catch his slight shiver.
Astarion’s cold hand reaches out to catch your own as you move to drop it back to your side and he presses your palm against his cheek. His skin is like silk and you can hardly stop yourself from softly running your thumb over his beautiful cheekbone.
He leans in closer, lips just a breath away from yours. You hope he will lean down and kiss you. That he will wrap you in his arms and never let you go. You close your eyes and tilt your head up in anticipation.
Instead, you feel him pull away, your hand dropping limply back to your side. It stings your heart.
“Sleep well, wife,” Astarion says, before he’s turning on his heel and walking swiftly down the hallway.
Wife.
He called you that so rarely and combined with the rosemary and bergamot lingering in the air after him, you feel a bit dizzy.
Oh, it’s the first time he’s called you that without a hint of teasing or sarcasm. No, tonight he said it almost with reverence- as if you were a gift to him. He had said it like a true husband might. That silly sense of hope thrums again in your veins.
But hope for what? That this marriage built on deception and hatred might turn itself around into something based in love? You chastise yourself for feeding into girlish fantasies. You needed to stop reading so many romance books.
No, you were just relieved that Astarion and you had managed to grow into something that could be considered a friendship. That he respected you enough to give you back the control that so many husbands wielded viciously over their wives. You were content since you were safe, and never pressured into uncomfortable circumstances, and spent your days doing whatever you wished.
You did not really want Astarion to kiss you.
It is the baser, lonely part of you that wants him to kiss you, that wants to hold him, that cries out for his touch. You would want to kiss anyone after taking a midnight stroll in a romantic garden. Astarion just happened to make it especially confusing by being the most beautiful man in the world.
And yet, you still yearn for his attention, you long for his smiles like a flower chases after the sun. And was his smile not capable of rivaling the sun? The pure joy, the pure energy surging beneath the surface.
No, when Astarion smiled, the sun itself bowed her head in surrender to his beauty.
—------------------
Gale might have been right, though you were loath to admit it.
You really did have a hard time sitting still for your portrait. It was only a couple hours each day in the afternoon, but all the sitting and doing nothing felt like torture. You could have done it if you had been allowed a book, but the stupid artist needed to be able to see your stupid face.
On the second afternoon, Astarion wanders in, inspecting the painting critically, eyes narrowed and a hand held up to his chin as he scrutinizes it.
“The shade of her eyes is all wrong,” he finally says with a displeased frown.
“I’m sorry, my lord, the painting isn’t finished yet.” The artist attempts to defend himself but you can tell he quickly sets to work correcting the ‘mistake.’
Astarion comes in the next day, and the next, and the next and just watches over the artist’s shoulder. The poor man is sweating so bad he’s creating a small puddle on the floor. It’s rather amusing. You have to refrain from laughing the whole time.
The man can’t seem to be able to paint a single detail without Astarion critiquing his choices and giving corrections. It’s a flurry of ‘see how her mouth moves up in the corner when she smiles,’ and ‘no, look again at how the candlelight moves against her skin,’ and ‘her hair doesn’t curl around her face like that, you’ve made her look like a poodle.’
You’ve come to think that Gale was wrong and perhaps Astarion is the worst kind of fine art snob who believes they could do everything better than the actual artists. And granted, he probably could- Astarion was also the annoying type of person who was preternaturally gifted at everything they tried.
When Astarion finally deigns the painting satisfactory after many, many days of nit-picking, you’re allowed to see the final product. It truly is a marvelous piece. You are sure you have never looked more beautiful- not even at the ball where you met Astarion or on your wedding night. No, in this painting, you can only be described as ethereal, a small scrap of the heavens that created Astarion.
It feels as if you are seeing yourself anew, through the eyes of someone who loves you.
“I expect nothing less than perfection when it comes to you, my love,” Astarion says, a gentle hand on your waist as he stands behind you and keenly observes your reaction.
But the painting is not what has pulled the air from your lungs.
My Love.
That's new. In your time as a married woman, you had grown accustomed to the endearments that Astarion loved to dole out and had deciphered his uses for each. He seemed to have a personal vendetta against calling you by your name.
Darling was for emphasis and dramatic effect. Dearest was a bit sarcastic and typically saved for use around others. Pet was for when he really wanted to be a condescending asshole or a teasing little shit.
Little flower was perhaps the closest thing to a real endearment that Astarion had in his vocabulary, saved for the soft moments when the mood between the two of you could perhaps be considered friendly.
But my love was unprecedented, uncharted territory.
And with the way Astarion is looking at you, with eyes so open that his soul is practically bleeding out of them, you wonder if for the first time he actually means what he is saying. That maybe some part of his heart does hold affection for you. It seems impossible.
He spends the rest of the evening peppering darlings and my dears in nearly every sentence, like he’s overcompensating for the slip up earlier.
Your portrait is hung next to his in the gallery. And you do have to admit that the two of you look wonderful together.
—----------------------
You don’t like when Astarion leaves on trips. Especially since he never wants to take you with him. Apparently, you had annoyed Astarion so much about the issue that he now resorted to not even telling you when he was going to leave.
Instead, you awoke one afternoon to Shadowheart informing you that he was away on business for the next few days. You’re fairly certain he’s lying- that whatever he’s out doing involved those maps and papers you found on his desk when you had broken into his study.
You’re a bit peeved that he didn’t even bother to leave you a goodbye note but mostly, you want him to come back.
You know he will arrive home with a flourish and an extravagant gift. His last trips had awarded you with a lovely new silk dress, a newly released book, and a tiara, of all things. Out of the three, the book was the only item that was really useful and you had spent a few nights reading it to Astarion while his head rested in your lap. Though, you did wear the dress and tiara to dinner after you had received each and the pleased mood it put Astarion in was worth dressing up for no reason.
This time, Astarion has been gone for two days and you feel as if you are going to lose your mind with how desperately you need him to come back.
You’re pacing the length of the drawing room, working your lip between your teeth and focusing on how you want Astarion back so you can yell at him for leaving without telling you and not because you miss the little grins he gives you when you see him in the hallway. Or the way he’s started tracing patterns on the inside of your palm when you sit together after you read. Or how he sometimes stares at you with such awe you feel as though he is looking at your very soul.
You do not miss Astarion. It just… feels wrong when he isn’t around.
You’re still pacing and deeply rationalizing how much you definitely do not miss him when you hear the front door open. Your body begins moving before your brain could even register what you were doing.
The sight before you is a nightmare. Astarion’s arm is wrapped around a woman’s shoulder and she’s supporting most of his weight as she drags him through the door. You recognize her instantly due to her imposing frame. You had seen her around the manor from time to time when she would visit for those secret meetings that she, and the mean-looking woman, and two-color eyed man had with Astarion.
She had always been kind to you when you had seen her around, always quick to offer up a smile. But not now. Her forehead is creased deeply with worry and you faintly register her yelling for help over the ringing in your ears.
Astarion looks bad, which is a word you never thought could be used to describe him. His skin is already so pale, but now, he looks nearly white and there’s blood splattered across his face. His free hand is clutching at his side in a way that implies he’s been badly wounded.
You’re frozen in fear. What could you possibly do to help?
Shadowheart, who must have been on her way to bring you tea as you paced, immediately shoves the tray onto the first surface she can find.
“What happened?” Her voice is grim and she’s rushing forward, helping to support Astarion’s weight on the other side. He lets out a pitiful groan of pain as they settle him on a couch.
“Got ambushed on the way back. Too many of them, we couldn’t fight them off,” the tall woman answers.
But her explanation seems… off. Astarion’s carriage is grand, sure, and robbers like to target the wealthy, especially in the dead of night. But you had a hard time believing this woman would be incapable of fighting off a couple street thugs. An attack that would warrant this level of injury seems much more organized.
No. Something else is going on. What sort of business was Astarion tangled up in?
Shadowheart is a blur as she bustles around, collecting herbs, cloth bandages, and a needle and thread. You never knew she was a healer. Was everyone around here keeping secrets from you?
And you’re just standing there, uselessly, incapable of doing anything other than watch as your own heart bleeds out in front of you.
Your feet do manage to carry you to Astarion’s side and you try to stay out of Shadowheart’s way as she works, but all you want right now is to pull him into your arms and soothe the pain on his face.
“Astarion?” you call his name, your shaky hand reaching out to move a stray curl away from his face. It looks all wrong- his white hair drenched with red blood. His eyes crack open and a dreamy smile spreads across his face when he sees you.
“Come to grace your dying husband with a kiss, sweet wife?” Astarion’s eyes are hazy, but you can still detect a teasing sparkle in them. You’re relieved for a moment, because his condition surely can’t be that bad if he’s still managing to tease you.
You let out a laugh. “Leave it to you to be flirting on your deathbed.”
Shadowheart’s worried voice breaks you out of your momentary comfort. “He needs blood, desperately.”
“We need to get someone from the village,” you say, making a motion to get up and go call for someone, but Astarion’s hand is wrapping gently around your wrist. His grip is worryingly loose and you can tell it’s all the strength he’s able to muster right now.
“Not enough time,” Shadowheart shakes her head. Her voice is fraught with anxiety and it sends a needle of ice through you. Shadowheart didn’t scare easily. “He needs blood now.”
“Can you?” you ask and she shakes her head again.
“My blood’s no good and neither is Karlach’s,” Shadowheart nods her chin up at the tall woman.
“Is there anyone here who can give him blood?” You cry out. Someone had to be able to help- Gale, Halsin, another servant.
“Just you.”
When you look down at Astarion, there’s a cold hand squeezing at your heart and you realize that you don’t have a choice. You grab the dagger that’s strapped to Astarion’s belt- which, why did he have a dagger if he was going on a normal business trip? You glide the sharp edge along your palm, ignoring the sting of pain as you cut it open.
His eyes are closed as you squeeze your palm shut to help the blood pool and drip onto his lips. Almost immediately, his eyes are shooting open and he’s dragging your palm to his mouth.
It’s obscene to watch him- he lets out a groan as his soft tongue swirls and sucks against your skin. In another time, in another circumstance, there would be that familiar desire pooling deep within you as you watched him.
Suddenly, the idea of Astarion drinking anyone else’s blood ever again fills you with a jealousy so deep that you’re scared of what you might do if you get your hands on that unlucky soul.
A bit of color returns to his face and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist, seemingly as thanks. Later that night, as you sit at his bedside as he recovers, you’ll be pressing your own lips to the same spot, as if that silly act could imitate the feel of his lips against your own.
Astarion’s eyes are still hazy and unfocused as he purrs, “Delicious, of course. I can only think of one other way I could devour you that would be better than that.”
The fact that he loses consciousness immediately after saying that probably has the opposite effect than he intended. You’ll have to tease him about that after he wakes up. And he will wake up. Because you can’t bear with the thought of a life without him.
---------------
Notes:
Okay, I fully recognize that Dracula didn't come out until 1897 and I did say this was a regency AU, but we are simply ignoring inconvenient facts for the sake of a bad joke. Sorry, I get make to the rules around here!
This chapter was so much fun to write because I'm a slut for yearning but I can't even describe how excited I am to share chapter 5 next week!!!!!! It's a doozy! We finally get a peak into Astarion's smooth little brain and well… I did promise eventual smut. I hope you all know how much I appreciate everyone who reads this little story and I hope everyone is having as much fun with this as I am!
As always, thanks to AliensNSuch on ao3 for beta-reading! She is my live studio audience cheering in the comments of the absurdly long google doc where I keep this fic and, for that, I love her.
Taglist: @idkbrodontaskme @ayselluna @maruichio @fanfic-share
Just let me know in the comments or by shooting me a message if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist!
#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#bg3#bg3 fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#astarion bg3#astarion ancunin#x reader#baldurs gate 3 fanfiction#baldurs gate 3#til death do us part
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You answered Patrick Trougton's Second Doctor and I 100% agree he's probably the best shot, but do you think there are any incarnations of the Doctor who wouldn't survive Castle Dracula?
The First Doctor is the most likely, and would probably have his heart give out a la Tenth Planet during the escape attempt (being the least equipped for free climbing and general stress), and I think being forced to regenerate counts as 'not surviving' even if he'd then be able to get away.
The Fourth Doctor did well when he faced Vampires, but I also think he has the particular best ability to get on Dracula's nerves which probably isn't helping him; the Seventh Doctor definitely came on overcomplicated manipulative scheme that experiences a serious backfire/complication halfway through, which might make the lack of a companion an issue; the Eighth Doctor is the most likely to get hypnotized (and probably some amnesia lbr) although he's ; but I don't know if any of these would be enough to get over their general Doctor-iness winning the day.
Also to take into account is the fact that Faction Paradox implies the Doctor is in fact a Great Vampire (I promise this is a theory that makes sense but I admit recognizing the words 'Faction Paradox' is already a sign you're in too deep) but I do not think this actually changes anything re: ability to survive or be killed by Dracula.
The Faction Paradox does WHAT
Nope never mind never mind nope don't wanna know Faction Paradox can stay over in their oxbow reality. I used up my capacity for unhinged on Moby Dick. (hashtag: just Balazar things)
See the First Doctor brings combines the youthful energy of a wide eyed solicitor with the insane grandpa approach of a corn-addled dutch polymath. I think he'd be okay so long as he hadn't been Time Destructed earlier that week. He would say things like "you're not Count Dracula, look at that ridiculous mustache!" (Recall he did meet Count Dracula inside the human psyche that one time). He'd make him so mad. Old Man Violence aaaaaaand loving it (hoo hoo hee hee ha ha!)
I want to say the Doctor will have the hardest time while he's in his celery phase, but what I might actually mean is that he's got so much practice at exactly this. The Fifth Doctor is so good at being imprisoned places. Clinging to the sides of things while missing a third of his blood is practically his speciality. And he does have that "You're not gonna STOP ME NOW" drive that served our baby lawyer so we'll.
By the time he graduates up to spoons he's objectively scarier than Dracula. He might not survive, but if he doesn't it's a part of some massive Thanatos Gambit he's pulling that doesn't end well for anyone.
I don't have a good read on the cooler Baker Doctor about this question, but I think Dracula would want him dead so badly. SO badly. He makes everyone so mad. Would he be able to pull it off? I think... I think he gets drinked if he's Davison (who wouldn't take a little sippy sip out of golden retriever guy) and partially turned if he's Baker (and anyone can see immediately that that was a mistake).
Mmmmmmmmm oh the McGann Doctor. I think that might be our winner. If we stick to the TV continuity all he knows how to do is die. My understanding of the audios is that that only gets worse somehow. But I still feel strongly that if you stick your teeth into Paul McGann you're going to bite off more than you can chew.
Ah lets put it to a vote. It's Doctor Who, I am sure people have OPINIONS. We only get twelve options so I am going to exclude Patrick Troughton as answered here and Tom Baker as answered by canon. Oh and I guess I'll drop McCoy as an outlier who should not have been counted.
#doctor who#Michael Jayston and Jo Martin ommitted for space and narrative distinction#aliens#tricksters and weirdos#spacemen
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So it’s easy to fill in what Agatha refuses to tell Mina about Jonathan’s ramblings as just general vampire stuff, but I think we get a lot of clues about what secret she’s keeping, and it’s not that.
For one, she doesn’t tiptoe around saying it included talk of “blood and demons.” Mentioning vampires is no worse than mentioning demons, so if that was the Big Secret between him and God then she’s already betrayed that trust. Also, the villagers at the beginning of the book whispered of vampires and witches and the like, so it’s not some unspeakable word Agatha won’t repeat.
And then there’s this:
Sister Agatha . . . tells me that he raved of dreadful things whilst he was off his head. I wanted her to tell me what they were; but she would only cross herself, and say she would never tell; that the ravings of the sick were the secrets of God, and that if a nurse through her vocation should hear them, she should respect her trust. . . . She opened up the subject again, and after saying that she could never mention what my poor dear raved about, added: 'I can tell you this much, my dear: that it was not about anything which he has done wrong himself.”
At first this may seem like a non sequiter, but if you take it in the context as a response to what Jonathan was raving about, it feels very pointed. I feel that this is brought up because she said it to Jonathan himself. That his ramblings were of guilt and despair over what happened to him, that now he’s unclean—just like Mina will weep over later after she falls into Dracula’s power.
Put the pieces together, and you have Sister Agatha saying that what she heard during Jonathan’s fevers are secrets she can’t betray his confidence for, even to his wife; that it’s likely something he felt guilt over and had to be told is not his fault; and that it’s of a topic so dark that Sister Agatha hesitates to repeat it.
It all adds up to Jonathan’s ramblings being about being violated by Dracula: metaphorically for certain through the blood drinking, possibly also sexually. It makes Agatha’s insistence that it wasn’t his fault make much more sense, but also makes her care that much more powerful. Even today it’s rare to get a narrative sympathetic to survivors of assault, let alone male survivors.
(Others have also spoken of how Saint Agatha is the patron saint of rape survivors: who they could pray to for support and intercession when they’re suffering. If purposeful, that would be a VERY heavy-handed allegory in her care for Jonathan. But even if not, all the other context is there.)
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Personal Head cannons for the chain!
(this is part 1)
Time.
My guy is TALL, like 6’4 tall I'd say. Sometimes the smaller members of the chain complain when they have to look up at him.
DAD. JOKES. He may not admit it but he does it. Especially around Twilight and Wind since they are his known successors. Wind hates it.
Always, and I mean ALWAYS, keeps multiple fairies and potions on hand. Especially after what happened to Twilight.
Only gets a solid 5 hours of sleep each night, it's why he's always up at the crack of dawn. Sky was heavily concerned by this at first.
A funny one, but I personally think he’s lactose intolerant. Malon kept teasing him about it when they were younger.
Twilight.
His height would be around 6’1-6’2. Not as tall as Time but still tall enough. Warriors says it's good for the ladies. Which gets him a glare from Twilight.
Accidentally called Time “dad” once. Since then he's never lived it down, Time using it to his advantage to tease him. Even brought it up to Malon too.
VERY perceptive. Can tell if someone is hiding an injury. Can often snuff out poison too. Saved a couple of the boy's lives that way.
Snores. Not like an old man snore but it's still somewhat loud. Legend asked to never be put in a room with him again when sleeping. Twilight has been hit in the face with a pillow multiple times because of this.
I like to think he's also lactose intolerant. But it's more so because of Wolfie, rather than genetics. Wild sometimes teases him about it.
Sky.
5’10. And I will die on that hill. Once lied and said he was 6’0 and got immediately humbled. He was asked to stand next to Twilight for comparison and was called out. I'd like to think the Hylians of Sky’s era are taller than others due to being in the sky. Since the gravity would be different.
Regularly plays a song Sun (his Zelda) taught him on the harp. Sometimes the other members will pitch in with their instruments. Wind called him a sap because of it.
I’d like to think he's aware of the curse, and he blames himself for it. He hasn't told anyone about it though. Rather he opts for feeling guilty in silence. (my poor boy :( )
Talks in his sleep. Most of the time it's just mumbling, but he once scared Hyrule by yelling one night. He often has one-sided conversations with Fi when asleep. Wild picked up on it a couple of times.
When he first got to the surface, he would eat any berries he saw. Even if it made him sick. He did it a couple of times while with the chain and got heavily scolded by Wild.
Warriors.
5’11. Like Sky, he also tried to say he was 6’0, except he was more successful. Which probably means the chain isn't that good at measurements. Or math in general.
He once forgot to wash his scarf for like two months and it was an absolute nightmare. So now he triple makes sure he washes it from now on.
I reckon he sleeps like a vampire. Like full-on dead Dracula style. Legend thought he was dead once and smacked the shit out of him to wake him up. That was an eventful night for sure.
If he was modern he would definitely listen to Ice Spice. I will not elaborate.
He is suuuuccccchhhhh a softie for old ladies. He once went out of his way to help an old lady with her shopping and it was the sweetest thing ever. The other members teased him for it but he isn't ashamed of it. Mentioned something about respecting elders.
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#first post#I slayed this hopefully#time#twilight#sky#warriors#tloz#LU
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The Forgemasters x Dracula’s Daughter
A/N: So this is like if Dracula had a vampire daughter that was twins with Adrian, but she was on her fathers side about humans
Hector:
Tries so hard to stop simping, he doesn’t want to piss his master off and have him think he took advantage of your or something. He’s a bit more secretive and isolated, wanting to not socialize as much as he could avoid it and spend time with the undead, rather. But you wanted to get to know these humans your father trusted so much, so after visiting Isaac, you came to find Hector working in his quarters, a pile of dead humans in one corner while undead animals scurried about the room. A cat with half its muscles showing rubbed up against your leg and meowed up at you, earning Hectors attention. He was shy and tried not to look you in the eye, but he answered your questions and allowed you to watch him work
NO YOU SMILING AT HIM AND DRACULA GETS SUSPICIOUS IMMEDIATELY. He raises an eyebrow at you and you’re all “What? You picked a cute human general” “Y/N, don’t even think about it.” And you just laugh at him as he groans like the grumpy old man he is. You definitely like to flirt with Hector in front of him to make him blush 10x harder, and also annoy your father at the same time, which was always a bonus for you (you’re the only one who can get away with it-)
You liked to help Hector with all his pets, playing with Cezar and petting the cat, and letting the bird land on your arm to chirp and squawk at you. He always asks if they’re bothering you, and they never do, you enjoy keeping them all company while their owner works. Sometimes you’ll wander outside of the castle at night and find a dead or half dead animal on the ground, and you rush it to Hector asking if he could save it. You liked animals better than humans just like he did, animals would let you pet them and love them, human would point swords to your throat and calls you vile names
Isaac:
Isaac is arguably Dracula’s favorite of his court, so you probably got curious as to what was so special about this human in particular. So one day you wandered down to his quarters, hearing the screeches of night creatures behind recently brought to life by him. You stood in the door way to watch him, and when he noticed you, asked if he could help you with anything. You asked if you could just watch him do his work, curious about it, and he nodded before getting back to work
HE CALLS YOU MISTRESS Y/N, and gives you the same respect he gives Dracula. You ask him to just simply call you Y/N, and he bows his head before saying just your name as you requested
He doesn’t smile often in the show at all, but he can’t help but smile for you. Sometimes you ask to see his smile and he grants you that wish, sometimes your presence just brings a small smile on your face while he works. Even in front of the rest of the court, he’ll smile if you yell at Godbrand or sass back at Carmilla, and Hector just raises an eyebrow at him cause since when does Isaac know how to smile?
If you ever get into a fight with your father about what direction to go with this war and he overhears or witnessed it, he will talk down his master before following you to wherever you were storming off to. He allows you to rant to him, and you only stop when you hear a quiet chuckle
“Oh, you think this is funny?”
“It is amusing.” He smiles, before setting a hand on your shoulder. “I like seeing you passionate about things, is all.”
He has a hard time saying he loves you, the last time he said it he was beat harshly for it. You say it often, enough for the both of you, and you understand why he doesn’t repeat it. But when he does for the first time, neither of you realize it at first, but you stare at each other when you do. He doesn’t know how you will react, but when you smile and hug him, he relaxes into your gentle touch and reciprocates it
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If you can do you think you can do the Papas (separate of course) with a reader who bites as a form of affection?
Yes yes YES I absolutely can!! I personally would prefer to bite than be bitten (unless you're a vampire. You hear that, secret vampires living on tumblr? Come and bite me!! I'd be a great little vampire servant I swear!!) I also headcanon that the Papas all have some sort of vampire or demonic heritage so this will be a very fun set of headcanons. Hope you enjoy! There's very light suggestive content so minors DNI
𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨
It takes him by surprise when you do it the first time
He's had many lovers in his time, and none of them have ever bitten him. He's always been the biter rather than the bitten
Primo think it's very cute once he gets used to it
Comes to expect it after you've been together for a while
If you ever stop biting him or you decrease the frequency of your bites he'll start getting concerned
He loves admiring the little bites you give him before his stupidly fast healing factor kicks in
Sometimes he'll bite you back playfully
It turns into a little play fight where you both bite each other and end up crying with laughter
"So you bite Papa? Jail! Jail for a thousand years!" (Said playfully of course)
When you're relaxing together or laying in bed, he will offer you his sleeve to bite or chew on
Calls you his junior vampire as a loving nickname
Generally loves that you show your affection in a way that's so different to other lovers he's had. He honestly prefers it to being showered with gifts
𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨
Admittedly misinterprets it at first
Secondo thinks that it's your way of trying to get him in the mood and be rough with him
You'll have to explain to him that it's your way of being affectionate
Once you do explain it he immediately gets it and considers it an honour to be bitten by his beloved
Might tease you sometimes by covering your mouth with his hand when he senses you're getting ready to bite him, chuckling before kissing your forehead
Bite his palm while he's covering you mouth. He loves it
Does his best not to pin you beneath him and have his way with you if you bite him in certain places
Takes the time to explain to you that he loves when you bite him but where you shouldn't bite if you don't want to work him up
"Are you sure you're not the vampire in our relationship, tesore? Should I expect you to turn into a little bat and fly out of the window?" is his favourite little joke to make
Will immediately become concerned if you stop biting him all together
Anyone who gives you looks or says anything rude/unkind about you biting Secondo and he will give them the scariest, most intimidating glare he can muster
Will nip at your fingers and give you very light affectionate bites once he's comfortable enough with bites being your shared method of showing affection
𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐨
He's into it IMMEDIATELY
Thinks it's sweet that this is how you show your affection and encourages it
If he's in one of his funny moods, he'll make an exaggerated moan and dramatically fall into your arms or onto the floor pretending that he's been bitten by a vampire
He doesn't bite back because his teeth are particularly sharp and he doesn't want to hurt you
However, he will very gently nibble on your finger tips or earlobe when you're cuddling, offering you his own hand for you to bite or nip at in return
He never requires any explanation as to why you bite to show your affection
If you do explain it to him though he'll listen intently the whole time and reassure you that he's completely okay with it and wants you to show your affection however you like
For Terzo, it's just another way of bonding and showing him how comfortable you are around him
Because of how sharp his teeth are, if you ever do want him to bite you harder when you bite each other he'll get some gum shields to wear so that there's extra protection and he won't hurt you
"My very own little Dracula. How lucky I am to receive and wear every one of your precious bites, cuore mie."
Don't even try biting him less or stopping your biting. He will sulk
He jokes one day that if you bite him particularly hard he'll get it tattooed
Or at least you think it's a joke until one night he's getting undressed and you see a tattoo of the outline of one of your bites near his collarbone
𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚
Copia may be a bit oblivious, but he knows you well enough that he figures out pretty quick that you're being affectionate
It's as natural to him as a kiss on the cheek or holding hands
Anyone stares or gives you both a look when you bite him in public and he will stare right back at them until they get uncomfortable and apologise for being intrusive
Feeling you bite or nibble on him makes him smile
It's also a great comfort to him to feel your teeth on his skin when he's feeling anxious or insecure
Like Primo, he will offer you his sleeve to chew or bite on while you relax together
He doesn't bite back often simply because he prefers being bitten to doing the biting (Terzo and Secondo make fun of him for this. Primo tells them to shut up)
Jokes that love will never be dead so long as you keep biting him
"Between you and my rats, I couldn't say who bites me more!"
Will get upset if you stop biting him completely
Genuinely thinks he's done something wrong and will try to make it up to you, even though he's done nothing bad whatsoever
You'll probably have to make it up to him with a snuggle and bite session
𝐍𝐢𝐡𝐢𝐥
He's in denial about liking it at first
Will be a little snappy about it
Tells you to stop and pushes you away if you try to do it in front of others or in a place where you could be seen
Secretly, however, he loves it. He just isn't ready to admit it to himself straight away
It actually takes you stopping completely and him being grumpy as a result of that for him to actually realise and admit to himself that he loves being bitten by you
When he apologises to you, he makes it clear that he wants it to be kept in private at first while he gets used to the idea of you biting or nibbling on him outside of your shared space
His favourite place for you to bite him is his wrist. It's a place that he can look at whenever he likes but is also easy to cover with his Papal robes in public
As time goes on, he'll encourage your biting more and more until he's finally okay with being bitten out in public and not just the privacy of your room
"Were I not an immortal demon of the night, I would think you were the vampire here and not me"
Is more than happy to bite you back, though he gets a little too enthusiastic with it
On more than one occasion, you've needed to be checked out at the infirmary when his fangs have gone deeper than intended. Just to make sure he's not accidentally started the transformation process
If at any point he thinks you're biting him less or that you're going to stop, be prepared to be berated by him. Now that he's used to it, he never wants you to stop
#a little spicy#primo#papa emeritus i#secondo#papa emeritus ii#terzo#papa emeritus iii#cardinal copia#papa emeritus iv#papa emeritus nihil#papa nihil#primo x reader#papa emeritus i x reader#secondo x reader#papa emeritus ii x reader#terzo x reader#papa emeritus iii x reader#cardinal copia x reader#papa emeritus iv x reader#papa emeritus nihil x reader#papa nihil x reader#the band ghost#headcanons#headcanon requests
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Kitty can I please request the Mysterious Benedict Society squad (all of them, not just the main four) as to ''who will survive castle dracula''?
(......I initially meant ''the Benedict twins and Rhonda and Number Two and Milligan and SQ'' when I said ''all of them,'' but ngl a hilarious bonus question is ''if the ten men got trapped there too what chaos would ensue'' so I'm gonna add that on as well XD)
sigh, here we go. @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula, tell me if you want me to stop tagging you.
Overall, I don't think many of the characters in the Mysterious Benedict Society series have a really huge belief in the supernatural regarding vampires and things that go bump in the night.... but then again, a lot of the plot revolves around a machine that influences everybody with subliminal psychic messages, and also there's a toddler who's inexplicably naturally psychic. And everyone pretty much takes all of this as 'a bit strange! But okay, I'll believe it!' So in general let's assume a baseline of, 'sure, vampires, why not' from the entire cast.
okay, let's go kids first. That's right, we're subjecting children to the horrors of Castle Dracula.
Reynie Muldoon - is very much a Jonathan Harker-like kid to start with, actually. May accept the crucifix out of politeness. Most likely to be able to hold Dracula's attention in conversation. I feel like Dracula is like Mr Curtain in a lot of respects, and the vibes between Reynie and him would be similar. Many tense, charged games of chess may occur. I believe in his ability to survive the psychological torment, because he's got a hell of a strong will, but I don't believe in his physical ability to escape. Either the GFs get him or Dracula himself does.
Kate Wetherall - would accept the crucifix, not out of any particular politeness or religious belief, but just because you never know when you might need a handy cross-shaped trinket! Into the bucket it goes! Least likely to hold Dracula's attention, she's way too ADHD and not really the sort of person who'd interest him apart from being an adrenaline-filled bloodbag. MOST likely to stage a daring escape using the contents of her bucket, which Dracula will not be able to steal or throw out the window because of the crucifix handily concealed within. Most likely of all the kids to survive this.
Sticky Washington - oh boy, Sticky. His encyclopedic knowledge of vampire lore will probably give him a bit of an edge... but not much. Sticky on-his-own isn't brave enough to go exploring/sneaking around extensively unless things get really dire. And Dracula himself would scare the shit out of Sticky to the point of near-nonresponsiveness, to the point where I don't think Sticky would seem that interesting to Drac after a while. Would a photographic memory and lots of vampire trivia help him survive? Probably, for a while. Would it help him escape? Probably not. Sticky's only sticking around in Castle Dracula for a little bit. Also Dracula would smash his glasses 'by accident' as a power play.
Constance Contraire - grumpy toddler showing up to Castle Dracula?Cool, it's basically vampire DoorDash! ...would be Dracula's first thought - before he realizes that she's psychic. Constance doesn't have a lot going for her, all things told. She's not particularly physically able, she's obstinate and stubborn and not a great conversationalist, I doubt she'd take the crucifix out of that same stubbornness, and also she'd compose some really unflattering slam poetry about Dracula, Dracula's castle, Dracula's girlfriends, etc etc etc. Escape isn't really an option here. It would all come down to a battle of wills between Dracula and Constance.... which I'm not sure Constance would win, on her own. Sorry, the baby's dying here without help.
To nobody's surprise, the Society would be able to survive Castle Dracula if they were all trapped in it together, and in fact that's an incredible fic idea that I don't have time or energy to write. However, on their own... they're just a bunch of kids. They're not going to do so great.
What about the others?
Mr Benedict - is most certainly accepting the crucifix, but his good luck ends there. Everything about Castle Dracula is designed to heighten anxiety and make your emotions go into overdrive. And it's definitely not a good place to go around falling asleep in random places because you get upset or overwhelmed. The moment Dracula twigs to the narcolepsy situation, Mr Benedict's pretty much fully screwed. The one thing that might save him is the fact that he's an incredibly intelligent and brilliant man, and Dracula might want to pick his brain a bit.
Mr Curtain - would most certainly NOT accept the crucifix, he's too proud for that. Assuming he somehow manages to get his wheelchair up the mountain - or going by TV!Curtain, where he doesn't have a wheelchair at all - he's immediately going to set about trying to strike up a business deal with Dracula to expand his global reach. Either the Count kills Curtain, or they make each other worse and everybody else is going to have a bad time. It's kind of up in the air on that one.
Number Two - has an incredible advantage over literally everyone else here in almost never needing to sleep. I don't think she's going to be especially happy about it, but having the full run of the castle during the daytime despite Dracula's best efforts (and, if we go by the TV show, being a completely unhinged force of destructive chaos) is going to mean that she'll probably manage to sneak out using an inventive and clever strategy.
Rhonda Kazembe - I can't think of anything that gives Rhonda more or less of an advantage than your average person - would probably take a similar approach to Number Two in escaping, with a bit more social skills re: talking to Dracula.
Milligan - doesn't need a crucifix. Beats up Dracula singlehandedly and throws him out a window because he left Kate down in the town and promised he'd be back for her. Does the same for the vampire GFs, no problem, not even a moment of hesitation. Rips up his own clothes to fashion a rope to climb down out of the castle, treks by foot all the way down the mountain. Rocks up to town several weeks later, heavily injured and looking awful but still alive.
SQ - there's no easy way to say this: SQ doesn't have anything at all going for him in this situation. He is, unfortunately, not particularly smart and not particularly agile. He's a great artist, but that's not helpful here. I think he's just a handy snack to Drac unless someone shows up to help him.
#dracula#canyourfavesurvivecastledracula#the mysterious benedict society#couldn't come up with anything neat for the Ten Men. maybe someone else can take that.
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Where his vampire lineage is concerned, I feel like Alucard led a pretty sheltered life before Lisa died. He certainly knows how to use his vampire abilities, but I don’t think he knows very much about his father’s people.
When Sumi and Taka mention Cho, Alucard apparently did not recognize her even though he and Sypha are the ones who killed her. So he never met Cho, even though she was one of Dracula’s generals. Sure, this can probably be explained by distance. Wallachia and Japan are thousands of miles away from each other, but this still doesn’t explain why Alucard didn’t even know/recognize her name.
Also, in Season 2, he never once tells Sypha or Trevor anything about the vampires who fight for his father, which would have been extremely useful information.
Based on all of this, Dracula probably never told him anything about his Generals.
Isaac straight up refers to Alucard as a spoiled child and doesn’t even regard him as a threat. There’s a history here we didn’t get to see, but clearly Isaac didn’t think too much of him.
Then there’s this scene. He’s pretty bitter and hostile toward the Belmonts. But if we look at it from the context to Lament of Innocence, Alucard conveniently leaves out how Dracula orchestrated the kidnapping and murder of Leon’s fianceé. So either he doesn’t care, which is out of character, or he was never told this part of the story.
Even if we don’t take the video games into consideration though, there’s still what Dracula did to the merchants at Kronstadt. We don’t know what his issue was with them, but what is the worst a group of humans can do to seriously offend a vampire? (Lisa’s death excluded.) Did the punishment really fit the crime? Plus, this can’t be the only horrible thing the vampire has done throughout his career, and I imagine even Dracula isn’t one to sit his son down and tell him all about the lives he’s taken. This makes sense if he dedicated his final years to his human wife and his child.
I’ve mentioned in a previous post how the skull Alucard is looking at in this scene is the skull of a vampire infant, so I really think this scene is a subtle nod to ‘atrocities are committed by all sides in war.’
In Alucard’s mind, Trevor is a useless drunk, but Trevor might’ve viewed him as just a brat who only knows one side of the story and that’s the side that puts his father in a favorable light.
#castlevania netflix#castlevania#alucard castlevania#trevor belmont#character analysis#vampires#alucard childhood#castlevania dracula#dracula and lisa#sypha belnades#alucard analysis#castlevania isaac#sumi and taka#cho#japanese vampire#dracula's generals#netflix#lament of innocence#leon belmont
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GOD!!! is this My Very Favorite Moment In All Of Dracula? it might be, friends. it might be. let's consider:
as always i love bram's concern for the practical logistics. mina has no reason to expect that dr. seward is talking to himself to record his diary, so she thinks he has company and then enters all, "uhhh...."
techbro seward finally able to show off his gadget to someone who gives a shit
MINA HARKER DOCUMENTATION NERD SUPREME dorking out about the incredible coolness of the phonograph ("why, this beats even shorthand!" just absolutely kills me
they have known each other for five minutes and are brought together because of wildly unrelated circumstances but they immediately fall into being dweebs together which is so awesome because it's so true to both of them and also a wonderfully bittersweet belated confirmation that lucy knows her friends and was right when she said they would get along great
seward is so excited about playing his little high-tech phonograph diary for someone that for a moment he lives in a world where it's not him rambling on about his his favorite homicidal maniac's spiders buffet occasionally punctuated by expressions of depression and heartbreak before turning into an accounting of the horrific death undeath and redeath of mina's best friend with whom he was in love
i think i actually missed last year the detail that when he first says he can't find a particular spot he's just trying to lie and doing it so badly he both is totally transparent to mina and accidentally says something true
and, also, HE REALIZES JUST NOW THAT HE HAS SPENT FOUR MONTHS KEEPING A DIARY OSTENSIBLY FOR SEMI-PROFESSIONAL PURPOSES AND HAS NEVER EVEN CONSIDERED THE QUESTION OF HOW TO FIND A PARTICULAR SPOT!!!!
bram your MIND
jack is such a loser i love him so much
"with the naivete of a child" kills me like he got so distracted by his own dumbassery that he forgot that he's trying to play the serious and impressive doctor
mina can't help but laugh at what a loser he is and he gives her a little :[ about it
but then it's like once the jig is up he can't find it in himself to bother anymore
in general after months of mr. serious doctor muttering darkly into his phonograph this is i believe the first description we've had of seward's behavior from another character's perspective since may, and it sure does match with the guy playing with a knife to try to seem chill and accidentally sitting on his hat!
before she got there seward was like "gotta keep things chill for the Lady" and mina is like "oh lucy died by vampire got it i gotta get my hands on those the vampire details"
she is DETERMINED she is RESOLUTE she is PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER which can only mean one thing: TIME FOR THE TYPEWRITER!!!!!!
scene of all time book of all time characters of all time everything about this brings me so much screaming joy it makes me wanna punch the sky
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I’m wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about it since I’m not incredibly interested in debating it, but it’s bothering me and it’s my blog so
I saw a lot of posts in the dracula daily tag that was like ‘all of that feminist analysis that said Lucy was supposed to be bad as a vampire because she turned sexual is WRONG, the horror is that she’s turned into a different person’ and even calling that feminist critique shallow or less nuanced or connecting it to second wave feminsm (and for some reason citing Kate Beaton who is 1. a cartoonist giving quick takes on several books in a funny way and 2. not from the second wave lmao please learn your history guys)
and look, I get wanting to look at Dracula through different lenses, especially since you like it now, but it’s not some be a wacky coincidence that Lucy’s human personality is ‘innocent ingenue who is the apple of every man’s eye yet would never act so seductively’ and her ‘monstrous vampire’ personality is seductive and sexual and it would be dangerous to kiss her, you’ll die. It would be incredibly unlikely in the Victorian era (or even today!) that it would ever be written the other way around, the good woman the flirtatious one and the bad personality innocent of sexuality. Whether Stoker was doing it consciously or subconsciously, societal feelings about women and sexuality are all over that.
It’s also not a wacky coincidence that the three vampire ladies menacing Jonathan are very sexual and seductive and scary and up for a four way,or that Dracula's own monstrousness is sexually coded, and part of it is his implied three lovers he doesn’t love but probably fucks (even if I love them and prefer to interpret them as weird roommates, I can acknowledge that likely wasn’t the intended interpretation).
Sure, Lucy can think about how cool it would be to marry three guys, but she’s willing to follow society’s rules. It’s when she’s a monster that she isn’t. And there’s a lot of of analysis to be had in how the scary sexually-coded predation of Dracula as a man and a ‘foreigner’ is handled vs the female vampires of the story, because it is presented very differently!
Just as there’s pretty disturbing racism and antisemitism all over Dracula, there’s gender and sex stuff too. It is, in fact, all over vampires in general, and analyzing how they’re wrapped up in anxiety about sexuality, especially anxieties about what were considered ‘fringe sexualities’ (whether internalized or externalized) and how that was wrestled with and played with through the years, is pretty fascinating! And you’re doing yourself as disservice if you ignore it. It’s often very interesting, it’s not all bad, we love our monsters, it’s part of a proud tradition, but there was a society that created it that you shouldn’t dismiss. These are very basic takes, but apparently they’re still important to talk about it, since you guys are now actively dismissing them as soon as you start liking the characters.
Just because you want to look at things from a character motivation perspective doesn’t mean the social perspective and social mores aren’t at play. It can simultaneously be true that “the horror is the Lucy is a different person” and “the horror is Lucy’s sexual forwardness”. It can be true that “there’s more to Lucy than trepidation about sexuality’ and ‘that’s almost certainly meant to be a part of her tragedy for sure’. Multiple things can coexist. If you want nuance to exist you can’t just say interpretations that conflict with you having an entirely fun time are somehow more shallow. We can love the monsters, and love the characters, but realize the way we love them now doesn’t always reflect how it would have come across to many of those who first read about it, or even most people who read it today.
#dracula daily#like i said i'm not down for an intense conversation but needed to get this off my chest
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You know, it's really funny how execution can make or break a concept.
In the Francis Ford Coppola film Bram Stoker's Dracula and Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, Dracula had a wife before he became a vampire, and said wife's death drives him to villainy. Centuries later, he meets the reincarnation of his dead wife, who he has a doomed romance with.
Yet because Bram Stoker's Dracula derailed a lot of characters not named Dracula and tried to make him out to be a tragic hero while he was still doing terrible things, I disliked the film, while the Castlevania games never pulled such a thing. It used his tragic backstory as a reason why he is the way he is, without excusing his behavior. As a result, it adds dimension to Dracula's character without feeling out-of-character.
Oh yeah, IGA clearly liked the movie and introduced elements of it with his own spin, such as Dracula descending into villainy because he returned home after an expedition only to find his wife Elisabetha dead, or him having the chance to live again with a girl named Mina (although Dracula needs to be reincarnated into a good person first lol)
Something I like about CV is that it has tragic villains, but it has a good balance between showing them in a sympathetic light and still reminding you that they're bastards. Dracula is a grieving man stuck in a cycle of rebirth, but he's also a petty monster who wants to make everyone pay for the sins of a few. Isaac lost everything he held dear through no fault of his own and fell prey to his own master's curse which lead him to a pointless death, but he's also a cruel, bitter man who unfairly caused the death of an innocent woman out of jealousy spite. Brauner lost his dear daughters in the war, but he also took two daughters from another man to turn them into vampires, and he gets called on his delusion by Jonathan. The story never tells you "look at these sad meows meows 🥺 they're not so bad after all 🥺", but they're not generic baddies either, and you come to see at least where they're coming from.
The show takes the "sad meow meow" approach when it comes to Dracula, Isaac and Lenore, and that's why I'm less than impressed. Dracula is a poor man too bereft with grief to think logically and who deserves to live again with his wife. Isaac is actually a gentle man who deserves peace after killing innocents to grow an army because he wanted to continue Dracula's slaughter. Lenore is actually a good, pacifist vampire who only wanted to protect Hector after resorting to deceit, manipulation, gaslighting and rape. You can feel the narrative holding your hand to push you to think a certain way.
Carmilla is a weird case because you'd expect her to be meowified, but she's just a generic badass #girlboss who gets no sympathy for her offscreen trauma. Still, not an elegant approach.
#castlevania#akumajou dracula#anti netflixvania#haven't watched the dracula movie so i can't say#but from what i know they did my man jonathan dirty to push dracumina#bro cmon that's lame lol#(harkula is the superior ship lmao)
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I am super busy this week so didn't really have time to make any posts yesterday, but I still wanted to share a few reactions. First, just general/voice acting notes:
Jonathan's relief and reassurance in the sunlight was so heartwarming. Very sad as well - I can't help but dwell on how he has been forced into a largely nocturnal lifestyle - but overall, it just makes me happy anytime he is able to feel comforted by something (which doesn't immediately come back to bite him).
"Yes... there is a way," gave me ACTUAL CHILLS. I can hear so clearly the stakes at hand (life and death and more). Jonathan sounds cunning, resigned, he's flipping the script and it's creepy and it's very brave and it's very very cool!
His goodbyes....! I am sure everyone is saying it, but him starting and ending his farewells with Mina does brutal things to my heart. He loves her so much, so much. And the lighter music for just that bit, and the way he chokes up a little, I just -
"I looked down once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of the awful depth would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes away from it." That's so weirdly cute. Jonathan is very deliberately avoiding the classic 'don't look down (slips, looks down, freaks out)' moment by taking one intentional look and then just going, okay, that's done, moving on. It's a weird but seemingly effective way to handle it and kind of incredibly lovable.
"It was barely furnished with odd things, which seemed to have never been used;" - okay, but what were the 'odd things'? Is that just referring to the gold? Because the furniture he says is like other rooms so that doesn't feel odd, unless maybe it isn't typical bedroom furniture and that in itself was the oddity? ...maybe he has a weird statement piece couch or something?
The way Jonathan lingers when describing how Dracula's "lips were as red as ever." So creepy, so fascinated, feeling that same kind of draw that was in the vampire ladies scene. Love the voice acting so much.
Dracula sleeping with his eyes open is so so so creepy. God.
Second: gushing over Jonathan section
"I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me." - Jonathan is so brave. He is so scared, he is terrified... but he doesn't want to be ruled by his fear anymore. Ever since the encounter on May 16, he's been having more and more difficulty acting. He stopped exploring, gave up manipulating Dracula, and only waited for an opportunity to seek help when others came. And to an extent, that was all he could do, and being quiet and playing along is what's kept him alive until now, but last night he had to watch a grieving mother blame him for the death of her child right after he had to listen to her child dying and right before he heard her die (and all this after nearly being hypnotized again), and he wasn't able to do anything at all. He tried, he would have entirely given up on protecting himself for the sake of that child, but the locked door stopped him. And Jonathan is so determined today to take advantage of the rare sense of energy the sunlight has given him, he wants to get out of here and is willing to go to extreme measures to do so. He shoves away his gloomy fearful thoughts when they begin to resurface, and acts.
The way he acts, though. Sure, it's a wildly risky move - but I love how his brain works. Even now he reasons it out. Dracula bothers me at night -> maybe he sleeps during the day -> I can search for the key while he sleeps. Every time an objection would normally stop him he just refuses to accept it and thinks of some way past it. The door is locked -> well, the windows aren't. Even in his reckless state, willing to risk death, he still thinks things out.
(How good must it feel to be able to finally do something. But still he doesn't let himself get too carried away, tries to stay alert and on task.)
Case in point: in the room, he takes his time to look at all the coins. He looks at the dates on them too; great attention to detail. He is primarily searching for a key but whenever he sees a possible significant item or clue he devotes proper attention to it. So diligent.
Same thing in the chapel! "Then I went over every inch of the ground, so as not to lose a chance." Jonathan is always so thorough, I love it. He would have searched all the vaults despite his fear if it weren't for stumbling across Dracula. As it was, he was still pretty darn thorough! He even counted every single box Dracula'd had delivered - fifty in all.
And even after his super creepy encounter with the Count... when Jonathan goes back to his room he first "tried to think." Tried to think! Sure, to an extent that may be code for 'tried to stave off a panic attack' but even then it still speaks to his priorities and goals. Yes, that was extremely traumatic and he is terrified and has just completed his second death-defying freestyle wall climb of the day, but Jonathan has clues now and so he's gonna try to think! He's gonna focus on details! Literally, since he starts his entry with: "I must put down every detail in order." It's just what he does, but for the first time in a long time he has new data to work with.
But not long left to do so.
#dracula daily#re: dracula#jonathan harker#pst i have THOUGHTS about some asks i've gotten. it's merely a matter of finding time to write out my replies#very busy week is still continuing so who knows when that'll be but i look forward to it
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ok i am caught up on dracula and i am Thinking many Thoughts
i recently did an assignment for my jews in modern europe class abt the confluence of jews and homosexuals in the late 19th century european imagination - how they are seen as dangerous because they are able to pass unseen in "civilized" society, but there is always something slightly off, slightly wrong, that keeps them from being able to fully integrate
i think that dracula (and vampires in general) is overall a metaphor for the fear of foreigners, but there's also something there that more specifically applies to the implicit danger of people, like jews and homosexuals, who can pass unseen and unnoticed in polite society. dracula, of course, reveres england and english culture, but although he speaks perfect english he is aware that despite knowing "the grammar and the words", he "know(s) not how to speak them". despite any attempts to assimilate, he will always be a dangerous and subversive element who is assumed to hold more loyalty to his own kind than he ever could to england, simply because of his blood (and homosexuals were often seen as a "race" at that time).
vampires appear mostly as human, with just enough differences to give the slight sense of wrongness - just like physiognomists trying to index biological traits of jews and homosexuals to establish their "inherent" differences as something that can be catalogued and understood. vampirism, in this context, is something that allows dangerous outsiders to enter unseen, while at the same time being evidence of their inherent wrongness. it's the mark of the "other", of a people who don't and will never belong wherever they go, the eternal outsider to civilization.
anyway all vampire stories are abt jews and gay people
#dracula#dracula daily#and ofc theres the connection between vampires and sexuality and seduction which loops back around to the fear of homosexuality#as something that can be spread and transmitted#ive read bits and pieces of dracula before for an english class but i dont think ive ever read the whole thing all the way through
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Shanoa’s Real Identity and Richter’s Fate
Could Each Lingering Mystery Answer The Other?
Okay this is completely crazy but the more I stare at it, the more sense it makes, and as much as this is highly unlikely, I just have to share it with other fans!
Please bear with my Pepe Silvia-esque ramblings.
Can we talk about Order of Ecclesia, Mac? I’ve been dying to talk about Ecclesia.
So there’s two burning questions that have been bothering me for a long time.
What happened to Richter Belmont?
Who is Shanoa, really?
And the other day I had a revelation that might be able to answer both. However, it’s completely crazy and I was scared to share it in case people hated it. But I just have to talk about it with someone, so here goes, I guess.
Let’s start with question 1.
What happened to Richter?
Missing: Have you seen this man? Responds to “miserable little pile of secrets”.
According to canon, Richter disappeared shortly after SOTN, taking the Belmont bloodline with him. Vampire Killer was instead passed on to the Morris family and another Belmont would not be seen again until Julius Belmont in the 1990s.
Fans have long speculated the reasons why Richter and the Belmont line would simply disappear. There are two prominent fan explanations:
A. He was too ashamed after being possessed and gave up on vampire hunting as penance.
B. He was too afraid for his loved ones after being possessed and nearly losing Annette and decided to retire his family from the job.
He already told her twice! You turn into a vampire, you get the pyre. Turn into a succubus, you get thrown under the bus.
Trouble is, neither is particularly convincing, is it? Belmonts have been dealing with this sort of thing for generations and it hasn’t slowed them down before. Richter is one of the most powerful of all the Belmonts, as well as one of the most confident. It seems unlikely he would be discouraged by standard occupational hazards in the family business.
But what if there was a far more concrete explanation? One that Iga simply never got to elaborate on because his last game was Order of Ecclesia.
Which brings us to…
Who is Shanoa?
Shanoa has amnesia. It’s a significant plot point that she doesn’t know who she really is or where she came from. The true ending implies she gets her memories back, but it’s never revealed to the audience.
She looks awfully happy to have her memories back! Surely Konami will show the audience after we worked so hard to get them for her. Right? Riiiiight? Not like they have something to hide for a sequel they’ll never make!
So what can we determine? Let’s look at what we know.
Shanoa was created to fight Dracula and vampires because the Belmonts disappeared (allegedly. In reality she was being used to revive Dracula).
Shanoa has an adoptive brother named Albus who was supposedly experimenting with Belmont blood taken from distant descendants in Wygol village.
Shanoa works for an older man named Barlowe (who is later revealed to actually be trying to revive Dracula and was planning to sacrifice Shanoa).
Her game takes place sometime in the early 1800s.
Her English voice is Michelle Ruff.
So what can we glean from all this?
Here is my insane crack theory.
Shanoa is Maria Renard
I know, I know, it’s crazy. Hear me out!
How it All Connects
Oh sure. Alucard becomes “Genya Arikado” and no one bats an eye. Maria becomes Shanoa and everyone loses their minds!
It first started with the simple curiosity that Michelle Ruff voiced both Maria and Shanoa in English. Now this isn’t evidence of anything because voice actors play multiple roles all the time. But it did get me thinking.
The Order of Ecclesia was only created because Richter Belmont disappeared. So where did he go? And where did Barlowe come from?
Here’s my speculation: Barlowe either is a successor to, or actually is a new identity for, Shaft himself! I’m going with “successor” since Shaft had all those creepy cultist priests that served him.
“Always two, there are; A master and an apprentice!”
Look at the similarities:
—Wants to revive Dracula through a dark ritual.
—Plans to sacrifice a girl to do it by unlocking her magical potential.
—Has the exact same attacks as Shaft: Fire orbs, ricochet orbs, lightning orbs, that bouncy ball attack, etc.
And who did Shaft want to sacrifice this way last time he got up to these shenanigans? Maria Renard.
Last time this unlocked her magical potential. It’s no surprise that Shanoa is similarly enhanced. What’s interesting though is that Shanoa is a uniquely qualified candidate, as Barlowe believes that Albus isn’t as suited for the role as Shanoa despite Albus volunteering to take her place. What’s so special about Shanoa anyway?
Could it be because she’s already had part of the ritual performed on her before?
Her name is also interesting. Shanoa is a corruption of the French “Chat Noire” meaning “black cat”. Maria is associated with animals already and her last name is French for “Fox”. Maria is also canonically considered a witch. What do some witches turn into in SOTN when they’re low on health? Black cats.
The Salome Witch’s sprites in SOTN. They turn into cute black kitties when you fight back. Dastardly!
Could it be that Barlowe kidnapped Maria Renard with the intent to finish the job Shaft started? Is this the real purpose behind wiping her memories, and the stated cause of her amnesia merely an excuse?
But let’s put a pin in Shanoa for a moment and look at another suspicious character: Albus.
Albus is the Key
Shanoa about to steal Albus’ sweet vest because that open back dress looks COLD to be standing on misty magical castle steps in the middle of the night.
Maria about to put flowers on Richter’s grave if he keeps flexing on Dracula.
Albus is Shanoa’s adoptive brother.
Not her biological brother.
Not her best friend.
He is specifically her adoptive brother. Why? There’s no mention of either of their families. Why this specific categorization?
Albus cares very deeply for Shanoa. Despite being wrongfully demonized and having Shanoa sent after him, Albus to the end self sacrifices in an attempt to save her. Why does he care about her so much?
Unless of course, we have it backwards. He doesn’t call her his adoptive sister because he wants to save her. He wants to save her because she’s his adoptive sister.
Who has an adoptive brother (or brother-in-law in one weird translation) relationship with Maria?
Richter Belmont.
What is it with you people thinking hair dye makes you unrecognizable?
How does Albus so easily find descendants with Belmont blood when no one can even find Richter?
It’s easy if you are a Belmont and know your family history. (Simon probably left a lot of bastards in Wygol. Gigachad that he was.)
Closer inspection reveals Albus has those Richter Belmont stunning-blue eyes!
Why does having all the villagers saved allow Albus to sacrifice himself to save Shanoa? It’s as if the Belmont blood of the villagers resonated with him at the end. But why would it? Unless he is a Belmont himself.
Could Albus be Richter going undercover to find out what happened to Maria? Only to discover the situation was too dire to easily leave until he stopped Barlowe’s plans? Is this why Albus offers to take Shanoa’s place in the ritual? Was it planned sabotage? And did Barlowe send Albus on a wild goose chase because he was catching on?
Seriously, even their “evil” looks share a resemblance. Too much smudgy eye-liner, for one.
So why did Richter Belmont disappear?
Because Albus died to save Shanoa.
Presumably, he left Annette behind with child and this is the line Julius is descended from. Annette simply went into hiding after Richter didn’t return.
Order of Ecclesia takes place in the early 1800s so it’s well within their lifespans.
If true, I wonder if Maria/Shanoa returned to Alucard after. Perhaps her altered hair inspired Alucard to change his own color to black as well for his Genya alias.
It’s not just a phase, and no you can’t sit with us!
Thank you for reading!
#castlevania#symphony of the night#order of ecclesia#shanoa#richter belmont#maria renard#alucard#genya arikado#albus#shaft#barlowe
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For the sake of being in the Halloween spirit, and also inspiration from your name-
Vampire!Bam x gn reader where Bam and reader are already together, and reader thinks it’s funny to make Bam dress up as Dracula for a Halloween party. 🤭 I could literally come up with more Bampire scenarios lmaoo I just feel like younger skater boy vamp Bam would be so cute 😭
Bite Me!
Bam agrees to go along with Y/N’s costume idea- on one particular condition.
Bam Margera X Gn!Reader
(Fluff)
2.7k Words
Warnings: Suggestive content, alcohol, drug mention, biting, hickies,
An: Aaa happy early Halloween!! I’m not sure if you can tell from how I write this but I don’t go to too many Halloween parties XD I really liked writing for Bam early on in his Jackass career in this one, but yet again I like writing for Bam in general. I’ve never been super into the whole vampire romance type thing but I think writing this changed my mind! ;)
“Come on, Bam! One couple’s costume isn’t gonna kill you.” Rolling your eyes at the sound of your boyfriend groaning, you smeared on white face paint in the bathroom mirror, the sink below you crowded with containers of various products. “Its fuckin’ stupid! I mean,” He reluctantly peeled himself off of his spot on your bed, walking to the bathroom to squint over your shoulder at your reflection, “A ‘Bampire’? Really?”
You turned to him, your faces so close you swore you got makeup on him, “Yes. It was either that or Lamb Margera, and I didn’t feel like being Little Bo Peep. So there.” Not to mention, you thought he’d look adorable in the whole cape and puffy shirt getup. Planting a peck on his cheek, you went back to your makeup before you felt his hands snake around your waist as Bam leaned in towards you, mumbling against your neck, “Fine…but on one condition.” God, it was so easy to get to him. You nearly giggled as he continued, his teeth grazing your skin, “I get’t bite you tonight.” Oh, there was no way you could say no to that. “Alright…” You feigned annoyance, “Just not too hard?”
A Halloween party the two of you went to would be a good way for you to meet some of your boyfriend's new friends, you thought, gazing out the window as you drove along dim streets. As of one month prior he was a tv star, which you still hadn’t gotten over yet, but all you knew about what he did was the new and progressively grosser injuries he came home with. When you imagined his co-stars, you pictured a room full of cool extreme dudes that wear lots of baggy jeans and listen to edgy music.
So when you opened the door, you were kinda surprised. “Hey, sexy!” A man who could have been the real life Tarzan clad in the tightest patent leather playboy bunny costume, complete with satin bunny ears and black high heels, grinned at your boyfriend, leaning against the doorframe. Woah. You couldn’t deny, this guy pulled it off. Turning to lead you in, he shook his genuinely impressive ass a little, showing off the fluffy white tail he had on, “Bam has been telling us all about you!” Your boyfriend played it off like it was nothing but you nodded, trying not to make it obvious what you were staring at as you filtered through the crowd towards the kitchen. He chuckled this charming stoner laugh, leaning against a countertop cluttered with half empty liquor bottles, “I'm Chris, by the way.” You smiled when he shivered a little as his skin felt cold marble, giggling.
Talking over the loud music, you chatted with him and Bam for a while about the show and how well everything was going with the show- they might even be getting renewed another season in a few months! Oh, you were so excited to hear you leaned over and planted one on your boyfriend’s cheek. He rolled his eyes childishly, keeping up his tough guy exterior as you giggled. Suddenly, with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye- a rainbow blur followed by a fireball from the far side of the marble counter that lit up the dim, crowded room in a hot orange glow before, just as quickly, flickering out. You could hear Bam, and everyone else at the party, cheering for the guy in the multicolored clown costume as he landed with exaggerated bravado. One the applause died down, he made his way over to you and Bam, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge. Your boyfriend grinned, taking one from him, “That wath, like- theriously gnarly dude.” As much as he tried to downplay the lisp, you really found it kind of cute, but he’d kill you if you said that in front of his buddies. Bam threw his arm around you, “Thith ith Y/N. ” His huge pupils almost looked like a part of his clown makeup as he fist bumped you, speaking with a voice that sounded like he gargled tacks, “Hey, dude! Wanna beer?” Before you could answer, one was already in your hands, but it’s not like you would deny a beer from a clown. Bam chuckled as the clown left as soon as he arrived, “And that wath Theve…”
The party buzzed hotly around you, just so many people doing so many substances- a hotbed of sweaty activity. Not really listening to whatever you were saying to him at this point, Bam glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening as he gestured to someone just out of your line of sight to come over. A few moments later, you felt a broad shoulder brush against your arm and you turned. God, he looked straight out of one of those old westerns, especially with the way he tipped that black cowboy hat as he smirked, leaning down to you and drawling sweetly, “Howdy.” God, why does your boyfriend have so many hot friends? You chuckled as Bam took to introducing him, “Thith ith Johnny, n’heth probably the cooleth dude here bethideth mythelf.” Johnny chuckled, cracking a crooked smile, “Aww, you flatter me.” Thinking of something, he turned to look towards the living room, “Hey, me’n the fellas are settin’ up ‘Pin The Dick On The Jackass’ over there. Wanna join?”
That’s how you ended up holding a brass tack with a giant red construction paper penis dangling from your hand. You nervously stared at the bubble butt in front of you, not wanting to stick Chris and probably give him tetanus. “C’mon, c’mon- just do it!” He giggled, looking back at you with an unexpected level of giddiness. The people around you laughed and cheered as you squeezed your eyes shut, your hands shaky as you slowly moved them closer, until…
You felt Chris jump, his little bunny tail bobbing as he patted his chest, giggling, “Ooh!!” The room went wild at the sight of the paper dick swinging as he bounced on his toes as he chuckled, still managing to smile despite the tack in his ass, “Usually that feels pretty good, but that stung a little! Somebody get me a beer!” You couldn’t help yourself but to smile a little- these guys know how to have a good time.
“Really? A couple’s costume? Cute.” Ryan stood with his arms folded, leaning against one wall on the sidelines of the action. Bam rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah? N’whatre you thuppothed to be? Evel Kinevil?” Propping his helmet up on his hip, Ryan turned to him, grinning, “First off, I’m a motocross dude. Second of all,” He pointed to you in the center of the circle of people, “Y/N’s hand’s gettin’ pretty damn close to asses that aren’t yours. ‘You gonna do anything about that?” Ryan knew to play on Bam’s jealous streak concerning you, bored and wanting to see something happen.
Johnny gazed into the water of the big tin bucket, “Jesus…if you’re that bad with your mouth, I’d worry for Y/N…” Yanking his head up, water dripped down Bam’s forehead as he shot a glare at the cowboy, “Yeah, tho I’m gettin’ the damn apple!” It had been five minutes. Dunn chuckled, his teasing from earlier seeming to have done its job in making the party more interesting. You found it kind of cute to watch him frantically searching around for an apple, the fangs stuck to his teeth in no way helping him bite one. After what felt like forever, he whipped his head up, water spraying everywhere as he emerged victorious with the crisp apple wedged firmly in his teeth. “Alright dude!” Steve came up all smiles, patting him on the back with a gloved hand, leaning in, “By the way, I totally pissed in that water.”
“Are- are you theriouth?” Bam received a nod. Laughing, Steve got punched in the arm by your reasonably pissed off boyfriend (no pun intended), leading you to imagine this sort of thing was pretty routine for them. Gross. You could only wonder what other bodily fluids have been on him. As he stormed off to the bathroom, you felt a familiar hand grasp yours, leading you away from the hot crowd. Oh. Oh? Ducking down a dark hallway, you trailed behind Bam, not even thinking about how wet his hand was as the liquid dripped down your fingers.
Closing the door behind you, it was like you had just stepped into your own little world away from the chaos of the party. Music thumped through the walls softly, making your whole body vibrate as you leaned against the wall. You watched your boyfriend rinse his hair off in the sink under half burnt out vanity lights. Bam ran a hand through his soaked, dark curls, now half plastered to his forehead as he looked at you from the porcelain with those piercing blue eyes.
“Tho…” He stood up and took a step closer to you, his hands finding their place on your waist. Your noses nearly touched as he leaned in close to you, his breath warm on your skin as he raised an eyebrow, whispering against your ear with a fanged grin, “How ‘bout that bite now?” Heat rose from your toes all the way up to your cheeks as you blushed, flustered. He turned his head to the side, spitting the fangs out in the sink before dipping his head and closing in on your neck. You held your breath, but he seemed to hesitate for a second, watching your tense reaction with a smirk. He was playing with his food. Finally, after what felt like forever, you felt his teeth sink into your flesh.
You let out a whimper, not even noticing when the unlocked door to your side creaked open. Hell, you didn’t even pick up on it once the snickers started pouring in, too consumed by the purple, throbbing hickey Bam was presently biting into your neck. It took Chris leaning in, asking, “Hey, can I get one next?” To shake you out or your trance, whipping your head around at the crowd as they childishly giggled and gaged in mock disgust. Your face somehow turned redder than before, but Bam didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest, chuckling, “How much’a that did you guys catch?” Johnny grinned, leaning against the door jamb, “Just enough.”
#jackass#bam margera#johnny knoxville#ryan dunn#chris pontius#steve o#jackass fanfiction#jackass fanfic#fluff#jackass x reader#bam margera x reader
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