#young dracula vampires and their eating habits
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Young Dracula Vampires and Their Eating Habits: an exploration
Throughout Series 1 and 2 we see Vlad and Ingrid eat breakfast before school; obviously there’s also the episode where Renfield packs Vlad a spinach sandwich that has a cockroach in it, and we know that Renfield is partial to eating a bug or two (or many). We could say that as they’re still under 16 and don’t drink blood yet, their dietary needs would be similar to a Breather’s - albeit that their cuisine is unusual by stereotypical western standards (because in quite a few cuisines it’s common to eat insects and the like, also the idea of food being made out of bugs is slowly becoming ever more popular) - and perhaps they don’t need to eat food once they’re vampires (and yes I know I mentioned Renfield but it’s kind of relevant, hold on). However. We do see the Count eat; in the episode where the Branagh’s stay over and Elizabeth cooks him that weird blood pudding thing, and even in the first episode there is mention of him having to eat black pudding at a service station BUT it’s only because he can’t otherwise get blood. When Magda first makes an appearance and the Count falls for her again, they have a dinner prepared for her. Now my question is - do vampires in this universe need to eat? Is it a necessity for survival or just a personal preference? And can they survive only on blood or vice versa?
I think I assume that no, they don’t need blood to survive, because if you look at Vlad and Talitha in Series 5, they’re both vegetarian vampires and so neither drink blood. And I mean also - there’s a whole BRAND for soy blood. Surely that means that there’s enough of a demand for it to have at least one brand right? However I’ve just realised that I am COMPLETELY FORGETTING !! that the VERY FIRST instance we see of a vegetarian vampire is Ivan! Before his incident with Van Helsing, he speaks of many vampires in America living a blood-free lifestyle, posing it as the only sustainable way forward. From this we can assume definitely that no - vampires in the Young Dracula universe do not need blood to survive and don’t even need to eat meat either. So, what do they need and why do they drink blood?
I think that the answer to the latter question is simply instinct and possibly tradition. There are many instances in which we see Vlad have sudden cravings for blood; ones that he fights down and doesn’t give in to but cravings nonetheless. Ivan is converted back to blood drinking from the smell of Slayer’s blood, again the fact that it is an instinctual need. As for what these vampires need to survive? I don’t know for certain. And we probably never will. The idea of vampires and the lore of the creatures has been changed and shaped to many different stories and renditions; I don’t know many of them but we can logically assume that Young Dracula takes inspiration from at least one or two more sources outside of the book that it is based off of (which takes its inspiration from the novel Dracula which I have yet to read). I can’t remember where I read it, I think it may have been in a My Sister’s a Vampire book hahaha EDIT it wasn’t it was in Carry On, thanks Baz, but there’s one idea that vampires need to eat food like humans do, but they can go for longer stretches of time without it. However, an opposing idea is present in Twilight; in this series vampires cannot eat human food and it actually makes them dreadfully ill. Although, in this example the Cullens don’t drink human blood either and drink animal blood instead, something that we can assume the vampires in YD probably don’t do as there is no suggestion of it anywhere. These two ideas and the evidence in YD are the only things I really have to go on as I haven’t read Dracula or watched anything based off it. Though I have read Carmilla - a vampire novel that predates Dracula - it again suggests the idea that vampires don’t eat and may be repulsed by food.
However, I am inclined to go with the idea that vampires (these ones at least) do actually need to eat to survive, and perhaps that their requirements for survival in terms of needing food are very similar to humans if not almost the same.
For one thing, the Dracula’s seem to keep pretty regular mealtimes. Throughout the entire program, they can often be found to at least be having dinner if not any other meal. In Series 3 in ‘Bad Vlad’, Vlad invites a Breather girl, Becky, up for lunch - though you could argue that this is to be in-keeping with Breather life. On this note, ‘lunch’ is intended to be her, which again does question whether they need food at all, however throughout Series 3 there are a number of things related to food that we can explore. Again with mealtimes, something that is actually used as a point to drive the narrative forward is when they’re all having lunch and Vlad is given the ocelots nose instead of the Count, who claims that he “always get[s] the ocelots nose”. There are also various other mentions of food throughout the later series in particular, so we know that these creatures do eat and perhaps they indeed do it out of necessity to survive, much like we do.
Contradicting this though, is the language that is often used when referring to blood and Breathers, and it is something that I also want to explore – how blood is consumed and what it is considered to be. Food or drink? In Series 3 in ‘The Blood Thief’, when Ingrid invites Bertrand to the blood cellar to taste one of the Count’s vintage bottles, she says “What a great evening – dinner and a show.”. With “dinner” being not even a full glass of blood we could just assume that this is a turn of phrase; with blood also being treated in a similar way to wine (vintage bottles, a dedicated cellar, drunken out of stemmed glasses) it does seem to therefore be considered to be like a drink. Additionally, in Series 5 where Warlock ‘puts in his order’ with Ingrid, he says “mines a _” which echoes that of a drinks preference (like a usual coffee order). However, there is also constant referral to Breathers being a “meal” or “playing with your food” so – perhaps vampires can survive without food, as long as they have a supply of blood. Hence the glass of blood being “dinner” for Ingrid. This seems very plausible, especially with the opening of the blood banks in Series 4 for the ‘strays’ or ‘ferals’. Vlad claims that they would go wild without them, and we do see evidence of that when the blood runs out at one point. These homeless vampires with nowhere else to go would probably not have access to food; most likely being led by their instincts alone, the only source of nutrition they crave is blood. Human when they can but animal when they can’t. It’s with this point that I retract my earlier statement that we see no evidence of vampires drinking animal blood instead of human like in Twilight, as in Vlad’s speech to the ferals he mentions the fact that they are/will be feeding off of stray cats if they do not follow him to Garside, as they cannot hunt because of the ceasefire. With this information, perhaps I am wrong in my assumption that vampires need to eat food. Maybe they can simply survive on blood alone. So, this begs the question – why do the Draculas have meals? Why are, according to Renfield, certain maggots a vampire delicacy?
If we forget for a minute that vegetarian vampires exist and focus on the majority, what exactly are the reasons for the Draculas and other vampires, like those at the Hunt Ball in Series 1, to be eating food? Is it still indeed a necessity thing and vampires like the ferals, though surviving, are perhaps malnourished without food as well as blood? Is it a culture thing, a tradition thing? A class thing? Up until the introduction of the ferals, we are not shown a way of vampire life other than that of the Draculas and their associates. The Draculas are therefore really our only source of information and so that is what I am basing these assumptions on. The mention of it possibly being a class thing is also because, assumedly, the Count is.. well, a Count. Whether his title is with or without the corresponding status is irrelevant though, because we know that the Draculas as a clan are still supposedly renowned as a name and have status in their own right because of that, and so may be expectant of certain things due to having money - like food being a part of their life. Another theory is that maybe, turned vampires don’t need to eat but born ones do? (With the assumption that most of the ferals are Half-Fangs?) It’s a possibility. My personal thoughts are that vampires in this universe can survive only on blood – as possibly evidenced by the ferals – but need some sort of food too if they don’t want to be constantly hungry and/or malnourished. In addition, those of a higher status may be more accustomed to eating food perhaps because of tradition, which is usually found to be kept more in higher status places, or because of culture. The cuisine in question is also definitely very odd by human standards, and so here we come back to one of the opening points. The fact that these vampires seemingly have a pretty vamp-specific cuisine even before being 16 is another indication to the possibility that vampires in this universe eat food for possibly more than just enjoyment, and their dietary requirements are the reasons for this. This being said, Renfield also seems to share a lot of the same food, although he isn’t exactly a regular breather and he is pretty disgusting in his taste (even by a vampire’s standards), so it does still raise the possibility of it just being culture/tradition.
In Series 1 the Dracula’s are found to be eating various gross-looking things, a lot that looks kind of mouldy; at the Hunt Ball, we are shown a vampire eating an eyeball skewer, and bugs seems to be a large part of their general diet as evidenced by the maggots for Magda in Series 1, and also Renfield’s “bug burgers” in Series 5 that George helps him make. In Series 2 we also see a large fox in a sort of pie thing among other mentions of badgers and birds that Renfield serves, which leads to Ivan telling the Count he’s vegetarian. There is far more mention of the food that they eat throughout the show, however we can generally deduct that they seem to eat pretty much anything and everything if it’s an animal that moves, particularly if it is gross by regular human (also western) standards. In Series 5 the Count even mentions how he hasn’t “had a toad in years” when one (weirdly CGI-ed) appears on his balcony. So they eat toads too. Maggots seem to be weirdly popular; Series 3 at the Carpathian Feast shows Renfield ‘teaching’ Wolfie how to eat maggots, these ones considered to be a delicacy of “fine dining” having been “fed on a diet of elephant dung”. Gross. These vampires’ diet seems to be quite broad; however, the existence of vegetarian vampires also proves that they don’t need to eat these things to survive or be healthy. Obviously it can just be argued that they eat these things because, well, they’re vampires and it’s a work of fiction, and the fact they eat these weird foods just helps to hold the suspension of belief of them being supernatural creatures. But that’s not how I am going about this, so we’ll forget about that argument. With the consideration of vegetarian vampires, I am inclined to go with the fact that vampires eat these foods in particular because of tradition, because of their culture. Or at least the Draculas do. This may just be that it’s because they’re from “the old country” (Transylvania), and like aforementioned, they’re of a higher status and more likely to keep old vampire traditions. So it isn’t to say that vampires of this universe don’t enjoy a burger or two, despite the Count not knowing what they are. (“What is that, a person from Hamburg?”) However, the vampires that we are shown are all from a similar status family/position as the Draculas, and so their food does seem to be kind of similar. Whatever background a vampire comes from though, their diet is most definitely carnivorous, whatever form that meat comes in. This comes back to my main point of their eating habits coming from their vampire instinct. The fact that the Draculas are accustomed to eating certain foods in certain ways is probably more indicative of their class than anything else. As with all people, I’m sure these vampires have preferences and different types of food across the vampire globe – raw meat is something that you would assume they would eat, yet it is only seen to be eaten twice throughout the show. Ivan in Series 2 after his run-in with Van Helsing, and Hack in Series 5 from the basket of meat that Ingrid sent him. But, they definitely don’t need to have this diet to survive, and we can assume that its reason is more of instinct and tradition.
So what do vampires in the Young Dracula universe need to consume to survive?
Like I said previously, we don’t and won’t know for sure. But this exploration has shown that their need for blood and for meat as food is most definitely instinctual than anything else. Those that are led more by their instincts like the ferals, and even Ivan, are more likely to be blood thirsty and want their hunger satiated that way, more so than through food. They also prove that vampires can survive only on blood if need be, without the need for food as well. However, without food they definitely seem to be wilder than your average vampire. Or perhaps are exactly what you imagine a vampire to be like and the Draculas, due to their class and status, are simply more controlled. I’m not sure. What I am sure about though, is that it is possible for a vampire to live without blood, and without meat. This is proven by both Vlad and Talitha, and Ivan before he was reverted. So, what vampires need to survive is still unclear, but is nothing to do with having a special dietary requirement that is unlike a human’s. In fact, they probably can survive on the same diet as a breather. But, the key thing is their instincts, which are hard to control, being the main reason why the majority of vampires are carnivorous blood suckers. Even Vlad, who has always refused to drink blood even before he was vegetarian, has instinctual cravings for it.
TL;DR - Food for vampires in the Young Dracula universe seems to be more a thing of culture, tradition, and class than anything else. These vampires can definitely survive without blood and without meat if they wanted, however for most their instinctual need takes over. They also seem to be able to survive only on blood, however this appears to make them more instinct dependant, driving them slightly mad. Essentially, food seems to be a preference, and either it or blood can be the sole thing a vampire survives on, irrelevant of the consequences. Also, vegetarian vampires are pretty happily surviving without blood.
I’m sure there is much more I could talk about, especially once I finally read Bram Stoker’s Dracula, but this is pretty much all I can think of to explore for the moment. I would be here forever otherwise, and will probably add quite a bit in the future as I come up with more ideas to do with this.
#did i just write over 2500 words on the eating habits of fictional creatures from a program that finished 6 years ago with no fandom? yes.#young dracula#young dracula vampires: an exploration#young dracula vampires and their eating habits#informal essay#analysis piece#my writing#she speaks#vampire eating habits#i still can't believe ive just basically written an entire essay on this#why am i like this ahahahah no one is even in thsi fandom but this is the entire purpose that i made this blog#so i have somewhere to put shit like this !#i hope that anyone who has actually read this enjoyed it and please share your thoughts if you have
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The #MonstrousMayChallenge 2021
Love monsters?
The #MonstrousMayChallenge is going to be a series of monster-centric prompts for every day of the month of May!
Draw, write, talk about, analyse, shitpost, critique, rec, discuss, create, consume, and otherwise have fun with each prompt.
Tell your friends, pick and choose the prompts that you like best: make art, make fiction, make rec lists, make jokes, make monsters!
May 1. What is a Monster?
May 2. How to Talk to Your Monster
May 3. The Vampire
May 4. Iconic Settings
May 5. Feeding Time
May 6. The Lycanthrope
May 7. Adverse Weather Conditions
May 8. The Monster in Love
May 9. The Undead
May 10. "... and add a monster."
May 11. A Baby Monster
May 12. The Alien
May 13. The Domesticated Monster
May 14. Clothing Your Monster
May 15. The Mermaid
May 16. The Gentle Kaiju
May 17. Monstrous Transformations
May 18. Angels & Demons
May 19. Monstrous Flora
May 20. The Monster in History
May 21. The Hybrid
May 22. Kept Captive
May 23. The Human is the Monster
May 24. The Dragon
May 25. The Monster Dies
May 26. The Hive-Mind
May 27. The Fae
May 28. The Monster Extinct
May 29. Cultural Differences
May 30. The Minotaur
May 31. Happily Ever After
The full write-up for the #MonstrousMayChallenge is below the cut — for every day of the month of May 2021, there’ll be a new prompt all to do with creating monsters and monster-centric stories!
You can either go directly off of the prompts themselves, or if you want a little more inspiration, you can come check this post for more in-depth exploration of the idea in question.
For each entry in response to the prompts, regardless of what platform you post to, make sure to tag the #MonstrousMayChallenge! In the meantime, just spread the word and tell your friends to get them ready for May!
Feel free to pick and mix the prompts you like best, to skip any prompts that don’t suit you, or to swap in prompts of your own if you like — every 3rd day is a specific category of “classic” monsters, and they’re not for everybody!
“Monsters are the patron saints of imperfection.” — Guillermo del Toro (x)
The emphasis on all of the prompts below are on monster-centric and monster-POV stories. Monstrous romances and monstrous erotica are both welcome and encouraged, just as much as platonic monstrosity is, and please feel free to join in regardless of your medium, whether you draw, write, animate, or create in another way entirely!
Just a note as to what expect — this challenge is intended for those who love monsters, who identify with monsters, who feel for the monsters, and all the prompts are written with that expectation in mind.
One small note: throughout these prompts there are references to folklore and ideas from different cultures and backgrounds. When exploring ideas from cultures that aren’t your own, remember that not every representation of spirits or monsters can be divorced from its original context, and take care to do your research to ensure you aren’t harming others by furthering harmful stereotypes or appropriating ideas of cultural importance.
We’re all here to have fun, which means that using a love of monsters as a vehicle for racism (whether that’s outright or by upholding colonial and imperial ideas, appropriating from other cultures, or fetishising other races and cultures) is not what we want to see in the course of this challenge, and isn’t welcome here.
Note the above especially in regards to the Alonquian W*nd*go.
Saturday 1st May 2021 — What is a monster?
Here’s a warm-up challenge to start the month off:
For you, what is a monster? What makes a monster monstrous? What delights you, excites you, scares you, horrifies you about a monster? What fills you with affection for monster?
When you first hear the word monster, what springs first to mind?
This is a free space — talk about, write about, draw, animate, sing about, the monster(s) you love best, and why you love them!
Sunday 2nd May 2021 — How To Talk To Your Monster
How does your monster communicate?
Do they have a mouth, lips, a tongue, like humans do? Do they communicate verbally at all? Do they communicate via telepathy, via their tentacles, or their limbs? Do they speak, but at a pitch or volume or speed inaudible or incomprehensible to human ears? How is this gap bridged?
Does your monster understand humans but struggle to make itself understood? Does your monster want to be understood?
Alternate: How does your monster communicate with other, different monsters?
Monday 3rd May 2021 — The Vampire
The vampire is a walking corpse that sustains itself by feeding off the the blood of the living.
There are a thousand variations on the myth — a corpse that rises from its grave at night only to mindlessly glut itself on the prey it can find becomes a reclusive gentleman who lives in isolation in a brooding, gothic castle overlooking a Transylvanian woodland (Dracula); a sparkly immortal Mormon who likes to climb into young women’s windows to watch them while they sleep (Twilight); a rich aristocrat so intent on preserving his properties and his privilege that he clings onto immortality at all costs (Interview with the Vampire); an extremely sexy vampire in sunglasses who’s devoted to killing other vampires (Blade), and so on and so forth.
Explore your own take on the vampire:
Is your vampire actually dead? Do they just appear dead, or sleep in coffins?
What makes a vampire? A curse? A ritual? Transmission of vampiric disease — via the exchange of blood or via sex? Are they born that way? Do dhampirs (half-vampires) exist? Do vampires become vampires by choice? Is there a contract or an agreement?
Does your vampire drink blood? Cerebral fluid? Consume human flesh? Do they sap energy from others in non-literal ways — for example, do they feed off of emotions or energy, or seek to devour a soul?
If they survive off of the above, do they also eat or drink other things? Are they capable of doing so without becoming ill?
Is your vampire sensitive to sunlight? Bright light in general? Do they physically react to it? Do they burn, or crumble to dust? How do they cope with this — do they only come out at night, do they wear leathers and carry a parasol, do they use a medicated suncream?
Can vampires become ill? Sick? What weakens a vampire? What kills them?
Does your vampire have any other powers? Can they fly, hypnotise people, transform into gas or another animal?
What happens if a non-human becomes a vampire?
Alternate: A non-vampire monster becomes absolutely obsessed with vampires. They love them to pieces! Why? How do they get their vampire fix?
Some inspiration, if you want it:
Article: An 18th-century guide to hunting vampires from National Geographic
Article: The Great New England Vampire Panic from the Smithsonian Magazine
Video Essay: The Sexy Vampire Trope, Explained, from The Take
Tuesday 4th May 2021 — Iconic Settings
Imagine an iconic setting within the horror genre or without — your Transylvanian castles, your unending deserts of shifting sands, your haunted houses and their infinitely winding corridors, your unholy spires atop distant peaks, your deep and dismal caves, your roiling seas…
What monsters lurk within these settings? How do they feel about their environs? What happens if you transplant a monster from one such setting into its opposite, or combine a few of them together?
What happens if these settings are invaded, lost, destroyed, expanded, changed?
Alternate: Imagine any iconic setting you like, but instead of the monster lurking within, the setting is the monster.
The seas themselves are sentient; the caves are toothy maws of impossible beasts; the mountains themselves have eyes; the castles and houses and ancient tombs and temples are, themselves, imbued with a spirit… Is it hungry? Angry? Lonely?
Wednesday 5th May 2021 — Feeding Time
What does your monster eat?
Is it predator or prey? To a human understanding, does it look like what it is? If it eats meat, does it prefer to eat it dead or alive? If it’s not from this planet or dimension, does it struggle to find new things to eat? What does it look like when your monster eats? Is it private about eating? Does it look scary when it feeds?
Does it eat at all? Does your monster get its energy from the sun, from electricity, from magic, from something else entirely?
Alternate: From a monstrous POV, a human’s dietary habits seem monstrous and strange. Why?
Thursday 6th May 2021 — The Lycanthrope
The werewolf is a person who turns into a wolf, typically at the time of the full moon. Lycanthropy is the name of the condition of being a werewolf, or someone who turns into some other animal.
The variations on the werewolf are infinite — the core is often people bitten by strange beasts and left forever cursed with their regular transformation (for example, in The Wolf Man); but a curse is also possible, such as when kings are turned into wolves as punishment for their hubris (as with King Lycaon in Metamorphoses); or of course, a curse inherited, such as when young men who come into their inherited lycanthropy and suddenly have a whole host of new puberty concerns (Teen Wolf).
And it needn’t be a wolf at all — there are all manner of shapeshifters between one myth and the next, and as much as there are werewolves there might be werelions, werebears, werebats, et cetera, et cetera.
For your lycanthrope, why not explore:
What animal or creature does your lycanthrope turn into? A wolf, a bear, a lion, a snake, a bird? Something magical — a phoenix, a unicorn, a griffin, a dragon?
Once transformed, can your lycanthrope be distinguished from the normal edition of the beast? What are the differences, for example, between a werewolf and a wolf?
Can your lycanthrope transform at will? Is it influenced by their emotion? Is it kept to a regular schedule? Can that schedule be interrupted? For example, if it’s a monthly cycle like someone’s menstruation, can they go for periods without transforming or with “spotty” transformations? If it’s with the phases of the moon, does hiding from the moon help? What happens if you send them to another planet?
Is the transformation painful? Physically or mentally taxing?Are there any health problems associated with lycanthropy?
When transformed, how conscious and aware of themselves is you lycanthrope? Do they know they’re transformed? Do they remember what they were?
Alternate: Sometimes, another monster turns into a human.
Friday 7th May 2021 — Adverse Weather Conditions
What weather is your monster happiest in? What weather is your monster least happy in?
Is your monster native to an area that’s extremely hot and humid? Very cold and dry? Is your monster used to heavy rains, droughts and little water, sandstorms, electrical storms, blizzards? If your monster lives in space or underwater, how are they affected by solar flares or tropical storms, shifts in tides and gravitational flows?
How has your monster evolved or developed to handle these weather conditions — or, is there anything your monster hasn’t evolved for, and struggles with?
Alternate: Your monster is a house-monster, and will not be going outside. They would like a blanket and a cup of hot cocoa and a nice comfortable bed, please and thank you.
Saturday 8th May 2021 — The Monster In Love
Your monster’s in love — what do they do about it?
Does your monster have any particular mating rituals or ways in which they show their affection? Does your monster mate for life, does your monster date, does your monster romance singular or multiple partners? Does your monster yearn, do they pine? Do they bring gifts, do they do special dances, do say particular words or have mating calls?
Is their love reciprocated — is it even understood?
When one monster loves another monster, what does it look like? What does it look like when a monster is in love with a human? When a human falls in love with a monster?
Alternate: Your monster has never been in love, and is baffled — perhaps even disgusted — by the prospect. Do they do research? Demand an explanation?
Sunday 9th May 2021 — The Undead
The undead covers a lot of things under a similar umbrella, and it’s up to you whether they count as monsters or not — ghosts, ghouls, poltergeists, spirits, revenants, draugr, reanimated corpses like zombies, arguably vampires… To infinity, and beyond.
We can be talking spirits without bodies or with new bodies, corpses with new spirits in them, corpses controlled by necromancers or the like, and so on.
So, for this prompt:
For your undead monster, are they conscious, sentient? Do they control their own body? Do they remember when they were alive, if they were dead and then reanimated?
If they have a physical form, can someone tell they’re undead? Are they rotting, corpse-like, desiccated, all bones, all flesh, all muscle? Are they missing parts? Do they have any extra ones? Do they look the same way they used to? If they don’t have a physical form, can you see them at all? Can you see them only sometimes?
What sustains this undead monster? Do they feed off of anything, or are they just sustained by the air itself, by magic, by some sort of magical object or curse?
Was your undead monster once a human? Once a werewolf? Once a faerie, once a dragon, once some other creature entirely?
Alternate: Your monster is a necromancer, and they are not undead, but control and raise, in some way or another, the undead.
Monday 10th May 2021 — “… and add a monster.”
Take absolutely any iconic work you like, whether it’s a classic piece of literature, a poem, a piece of mythology or folklore, a fairy tale, a fable, a shanty or a campfire song — anything that’s in the public domain and might be well-recognised — and add a monster.
Have Sherlock Holmes meeting a vampire, reimagine Jean Valjean as a minotaur, give Mr Darcy a deep and affectionate longing for his local werewolf.
You don’t have to keep to the same characters or plots — rewrite an existing plot with monsters (Rapunzel or Cinderella, for example), have two plots crossover (what happens when the monsters in two myths team up to defeat the hero out to kill them?), add monsters or change the monsters in the narrative, or if it already has a monster, add another.
Alternate: Take a public domain domain monster and give them a break. Send Dracula on holiday, give the poor result of Frankenstein’s experiments a spa day, etc.
Tuesday 11th May 2021 — A Baby Monster
How do the monsters breed?
Do they lay eggs? Give birth to live young? Do something else entirely? Are monsters active parents? What happens when monsters interbreed, or breed with humans?
Is the breeding… fun? 😉
I know not everyone likes writing babies or kids, and equally that some people have come into this challenge specifically for the monsterfucking, so there’ll be two streams of main prompts — one focusing on the breeding for you child-free monsterfuckers, and another focusing more on monstrous baby development once an egg is laid or a baby is born, etc.
Feel free to do both if you want to do both, as one does lead into the other!
Questions about breeding and monstrous pregnancy:
Does your monster fertilise eggs for the purposes of a live pregnancy, do they lay eggs, do they clone themselves, do they breed in some other way?
If your monster has genitalia, what do they look like? Are they analogous to human genitalia? Are they particularly big or particularly small compared to the analogous human parts, if so? How compatible is your monster’s genitalia with a human’s genitalia — or another monster’s?
If there is a size difference between monster and partner, what comes of this? Are there any chemical differences between monster and partner — for example, does the monster’s touch impart a high or some kind of contact aphrodisiac?
Are any attempts at breeding viable? If the monster’s partner is filled with eggs, what happens the longer they carry them? If the partner does carry the eggs or the babies to the point of birth and laying, what happens? Is it a painful process? Will they survive it? Does the partner know they’re pregnant at all?
And the pregnancy/egg-carrying questions: how does the partner’s biology change to accommodate the pregnancy? Do they have any strange or unexpected cravings? Does their biology change in any unexpected questions?
Questions about monstrous child development:
How is the monstrous baby first conceived? Is it an egg laid, is it an egg fertilised, an egg fertilised and then carried, as the result of a live pregnancy, something else entirely? If they’re laid eggs, do they go through a larval stage or other similar development?
Are monstrous babies born alone, or in groups? Do they have a high viability rate? Do the monstrous babies eat one another? Do they eat their egg casing or their placenta, if applicable? If not, what do they eat — do they drink milk or blood, do they need their food pre-chewed by their parents, can they look for food themselves?
Are monstrous parents very active in caring for their offspring? Are monstrous babies born able to take care of themselves, able to have a sort of independence, or do they need to be cared for for a period first?
How fast or slow is a monster’s development? How long does it take for them to become fully grown? How much do they grow, and how does their body develop and change as they run through their lifecycle? Do they shed their skin or any body parts, do they change a lot materially?
Alternate: What does monstrous contraception look like? Do they have a concept of it? If they don’t, how do they feel about it being explained to them?
Wednesday 12th May 2021 — The Alien
What makes an alien?
Are they from another planet, another dimension? How similar are they to anything found on Earth? How did they get here?
Are they intelligent, sentient? Do they know they’re on a foreign planet or in a foreign dimension? How fit are they to survive on Earth? How do they respond to the animals, the new sounds, the new world, around them? What technology do they have? Do they appear to be aliens as people imagine them? Do they pilot aircraft as people think they do?
Alternate: A human (or another species from Earth) is the alien on another planet or another dimension populated with “monsters”.
Thursday 13th May 2021 — The Domesticated Monster
Let’s look at the monster domesticated.
The likes of Pokémon, fantastical creatures as beasts of burden or as steeds — unicorns and pegasi and giant spiders and dragons, for example — or other tamed monsters that have learned to live with humans, and live side-by-side with them.
Are monsters actively bred for a result, or do they domesticate themselves as cats and dogs did? Do they perform tasks or assist humans? Do they give milk or eggs or honey or silk or meat? At what point in their domestication are they? Are they happy? Are they well-treated?
Alternate: A monster gets a pet of their own — is it a fantastical species, or is it a dog, cat, bird, etc? Is it even a human?
Friday 14th May 2021 — Clothing Your Monster
Does your monster wear clothes or armour?
What sort of clothes or armour do they wear? Is it grown, made, bought, traded for? Do they wear any other kind of jewelry or decoration? Do they always wear it, or only for some occasion? What do they think of human clothes? Do they want to try wearing any themselves, or taking human fabrics for monstrous clothes?
Alternate: If your monster does not wear clothes, what do they think of human clothes? How do they feel about the fact that humans wear them? Do they have a full understanding of the separation between clothes and flesh?
Saturday 15th May 2021 — The Mermaid
A mermaid is a half-human, half-fish.
You can take this very literally, as in The Little Mermaid, with someone who has a human upper half and fishy bottom half (or the other way around…😏), you can think more along the lines of the fish-person we see in Abe Sapien from Hellboy or (also) in Guillermo Del Toro’s The Shape of Water, or you can look at different variations on mermaids — the seal-like selkie who can remove their pelt to walk on land; the siren that calls to sailors so they dash themselves upon the rocks; naiads and other spirits of the water; the rusalke of the water, and so on.
Questions for your merfolk:
Do they belong in freshwater, saltwater, brackish water? Do they stay in the seas, in deep lakes, in ponds?
Do they regularly come to the surface, or do they live very deep below? What sort of temperatures are they used to, and how much sunlight? If they live in cold water or deep below the surface, are they very large and blubbery to ensure they can cope with the pressure and the cold?
Are your merfolk bioluminscent? Fish-like, cetacean-like, cephalapod-esque? If they do look similar to humans, with a human face or human body parts, do they look or feel like human flesh underneath the skin, or is it just for appearance?
What and how do your merfolk eat? Do they eat fish, meat, seaweed, plankton?
How do your merfolk feel about humans? About fish and other marine life? About animals on land? Other monsters?
Can your merfolk step onto land? Do they want to? Are they curious about what they find there? Do the humans nearby know about them, care about them?
Do merfolk live alone, in groups or as families? Are they migratory? How far do they travel, and for what reasons? Do they build towns and cities? How do they feel humans compare to them?
Alternate: A completely different non-merfolk-esque monster lives at the very bottom of the sea. What is it? How do humans come upon it? How big is it?
Sunday 16th May 2021 — The Gentle Kaiju
Kaiju is a Japanese genre of films— your Godzilla, your Mothra, your Rodan, all of these are kaiju: strange, gigantic beasts.
This prompt is centred around any monsters of superlative size that are trying their absolute best not to harm any of the little people scurrying them about them.
You can take this literally — think kaiju tip-toeing their ways through great cities and trying not to step on anything important, huge space beasts careful not to disturb planetary orbits in case they hurt anyone, or even the likes of the human trying not to step on any ants — or you can think of other monsters trying not to harm others despite some aspect of their biology making it difficult for them — Lovecraftian beasts doing their best not to do anyone any psionic damage, for example, or Medusa-like beings desperate to avoid people’s gazes in case they do any harm.
Alternate: An extremely tiny monster or another monster very easily harmed by human activities needs to kept safe.
Monday 17th May 2021 — Monstrous Transformations
How does a monster transform?
Does in transition between one form or another, like a werewolf, or between forms for land versus water? Does it regularly transform or transition through different physical presentations? Does it shed its skin, leave its old body behind? Does it grow new teeth or claws or body parts? Does it transform in response to disease or ailment?
Does a human transform slowly into a monster? Does a monster transform into another? Is this transformation willing, conscious — is it against all desperate attempts to prevent it? Is it painful? Is it agony?
Alternate: A monster expresses deep curiosity about human transformations — perhaps the differences between a child and an adult and their scale of growth, perhaps the apparent transformation when a human changes clothes, or puts on a mask, or even make-up.
Tuesday 18th May 2021 — Angels & Demons
A demon is typically an evil spirit or devil, and are sometimes thought to be fallen angels; angels are typically benevolent spirits, often thought of as celestial messengers.
Being as they’re often thought to be celestial or infernal, do you think of them as being from another dimension? How well do they mesh with Earth, from their own perspectives and human ones? How do they look or appear? Do they have to present themselves in a strange or unusual form? How do they communicate with humans — and why? Are they evil, benevolent, or simply neutral?
Are angels and demons separate things? How many kinds of angels and demons are there respectively? If they’re separate, do they communicate with one another, balance with one another?
Alternate: A monster that is not a demon or angel decides to present itself as one or the other. What is it? Why does it present itself this way?
Wednesday 19th May 2021 — Monstrous Flora
Your monster is plant- or mushroom-based!
(Or lichen-based, or algae-based, or moss-based, or coral-based, or…)
What does it look like? What makes it different from a mammalian or scaly monster? Where does it come from? How does it move, how does it breathe, how does it eat? Does it sleep? Does it 😏… you know? Is it good at it?
Alternate: Your monster lives codependently with, or lives inside, some sort of plant. What does that co-evolved relationship look like? How big is the plant? What does it look like?
Thursday 20th May 2021 — The Monster in History
Throughout history, the perception of your monster has changed over time.
Is your monster immortal? Over the progression of recorded history, has it been this same monster recorded in one sighting after another, in art or in story? Or, is your monster the latest generation of a species or line of inheritance that has gone on for a long while?
How much has your monster’s culture changed and developed in that time — has it changed in reaction to or alongside human cultures? How accurate has human perception of your monster been as the centuries have rolled by? How has art or stories about your monster changed in their telling?
How has the monster reacted to changes in human history, or different events as they have happened?
Does your monster even notice the passage of time? Are they in some way insensible to it, or do they experience it in a way humans don’t?
Alternate: The monster is a time-traveler! How do they do this? Why?
Friday 21st May 2021 — The Hybrid
A few things are bred together to create a monster, whether that monster be sublime or an abomination before the universe!
Think about griffins, pegasi, basilisks, cockatrices, and of course the manticore — any sort of beast made by combining one creature with another.
What creatures have been combined to create this monster? Has a human been one of them? How has this combination been achieved — via actual interbreeding, magically assisted or otherwise, via alchemy, a curse, or some other magical process? Has this creature literally been stitched together and then reanimated? How have the different creatures contributing to the creature changed its behaviour or its abilities?
Alternate: An attempt is made to create a hybrid… and unfortunately this is not the result. What is?
Saturday 22nd May 2021 — Kept Captive
The monster is captured.
How big or small is your monster? How was it captured — was bait used to draw it in, such as a food stuff, a copied call? Was it herded into an ambush? Was it trapped under a cage, in drop trap, in a magic trap? How easy was it to capture — did it take a long time, were several attempts made? For what reason was the monster captured?
Now kept captive, how big is your monster’s enclosure? Is it a cage, a glass box, physical chains or bondage, something else entirely? How long has it been there? Is it alone — would it rather be alone than the alternative? Is it struggling with its captivity? Is it marking out the amount of time it has been kept trapped, screaming at its captors, harming itself in its desperation for escape?
Is it likely ever to be freed?
Alternative: A human is kept captive by a monster.
Sunday 23rd May 2021 — The Human Is The Monster
From the perspective of the narrator, the human is the monster.
Who or what is made to fear them? What makes the human so monstrous in their eyes? Is it to do with the human’s size, their appearance, their behaviour, the nature of humans as a collective?
Alternative: The human thinks they’re thought of as the monster — the real monster is behind them (figuratively or literally).
Monday 24th May 2021 — The Dragon
A dragon is a mythical creature, often large and scaly, with variations found the world over.
Is your dragon extremely big, or very small? Is it indeed scaly, or does it appear so? Is it some form of sea serpent, or does it fly? Does it have wings, fins, a tail, teeth? Does it have very powerful senses, or different ones entirely to what one might expect? Does it have a mouth, eyes, a tongue, ears? Does it breathe fire or ice, have gills? Does it have some other supernatural power — telepathy, telekinesis, affect the weather or the tide?
What does your dragon eat? Does it eat meat, vegetables? Does it feed off of magic?
Does your dragon hoard anything — gold, jewels, young people out for a wander? Livestock? Something else entirely?
Alternate: An ancient dungeon, temple, or some other monument, is marked by a huge statue of a dragon. Something else inhabits it.
Tuesday 25th May 2021 — The Monster Dies
It’s the end of the story — or perhaps the beginning.
The monster dies.
Alternate: The monster dies… but only for a while.
Wednesday 26th May 2021 — The Hive-Mind
The monsters in this one are multiple.
They share a hive-mind, whether that hive-mind is created by pheromones, by fungus or infection or disease, by magic, by telepathy, by technology, or something else entirely. How many beings are part of this collective? Do they exist in conjunction with one another, and move as a swarm or a hive? Do they synchronise their movements, and work together toward a common goal? Can they work independently, or only as a group?
Can others be inducted into this hive-mind, willingly or otherwise? Is this painful or uncomfortable? Does it wipe away what experiences came before?
If a member of the hive-mind travels far away, do they remain connected to the whole? How is this hive-mind used, when beings work independently? Can it be sensed or its effects be noticed by outsiders? What is its everyday function?
Alternative: A being once a member of a hive-mind or a collective is severed from it, and now alone. Are they grieving? Do they feel free? Are tasks suddenly more difficult or easy for them? How do they feel?
Thursday 27th May 2021 — The Fae
The fae are supernatural beings or spirits found in a variety of folklore.
The fae are often associated with woodland, bodies of water, bogland, or other particular areas, but there are variations on variations of different fae legend: elves, brownies, merfolk, y tylwyth teg, the bean sidhe, selkies, gnomes, kobolds, leprechauns, nymphs, pixies…
In a lot of modern fantasy, the fae are associated with rigidity around law and rules, certain contracts, and many superstitions are associated with fae or fae-like beings, where one offends them at one’s peril.
What makes the fae monstrous? What makes them frightening and an object of horror for others? What rules do they follow and expect others to follow? What superstitions are associated with them?
Alternate: The fae are introduced to pop culture depictions of fairies. What is their response?
Friday 28th May 2021 — The Monster Extinct
The monster has been extinct for thousands of years, if not hundreds of thousands, and based off of the evidence of them — stories, fossils, remains, old art, people are trying to back-engineer what they were like, what they looked like, how they communicated.
How accurate are they? How off?
Alternate: The monster doesn’t exist yet, or is a long way off, but has been told about in prophecy, or glimpsed in visions of the future. Are these glimpses accurate to the truth? Do they tell the whole story?
Saturday 29th May 2021 — Cultural Differences
What does cultural exchange look like between monster and human, or between two monstrous cultures?
How do these distinct cultures affect one another or interact? Are there large cultural differences between the monstrous cultures and the human ones? Are there any moral, ethical, aesthetic, economic, political, legal, or other cultural aspects that are very much at odds between some cultures and the others?
For example, do the human and monstrous cultures both have money? Do they treat money as of the same importance? Do they rank things in the same orders of importance? Do they have similar customs around politeness, greeting, language? Does each culture respect the others, or do they consider themselves superior or inferior?
Alternate: A human has never had much experience of the culture they were born of — they only know the monstrous culture they were raised by and into. What does that look like?
Sunday 30th 2021 — The Minotaur
It’s my birthday and the minotaur is my absolute favourite, so! Minotaurs!
The classical minotaur was the son of Pasiphaë and the unwilling stepson of King Minos of Knossos: born with the body of a man and the head and tail of a bull, he was declared monstrous and trapped within the labyrinthine maze beneath the great palaces of Knossos, until the hero Theseus came to slay him dead.
Today, the minotaur is the name for any half-bull half-human delight, tragic or otherwise.
Alternate: You needn’t limit yourself to a half-bull half-human if you feel the need to abandon literal perfection — go for the drider, perhaps, a half-human half-spider, return to the merfolk of several prompts above, and go half-human, half-fish, the satyr, half-goat half-human.
Whatever it is, make it half-human, half-something else, and then decide:
Is your monster cursed? Were they made this way, were they born this way? Are they happy? Are they the same as their family members, or are they different? If they are the latter, are they loved and accepted, or made an exile?
What are the benefits and negatives to their physical appearance and to their biology? Are there any aspects that might be unexpected?
Are they viewed by people in general as frightening, intimidating, unusual, strange, incredibly sexy? Are they treated as a monster?
Monday 31st May 2021 — Happily Ever After
The monster lives happily ever after…
What does that look like?
Alternate: Or, your monster has a tragic ending — because you’re the monster, apparently! 😒😭
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Thanks so much for considering taking part in the #MonstrousMayChallenge!
If you want to do any of the above prompts, or if you want to do them all, but you’re not a writer or an artist, or you are but you’re not always in the mood for art, here’s a list of alternate activities you can do to tick off the prompts!
Do some worldbuilding, analysis, meta, or discussion of common tropes within or related to the prompt
Shitpost or make jokes or memes about or related to the prompt
Do some aesthetic or graphic posts
Watch movies or TV episodes, read comics, or consume other media, related to the prompts
Make rec lists for other people of movies or TV episodes or books (or other media!) related to the prompts
Comment on and show some love for other prompt fills in the #MonsterMayChallenge tag! Share your favourite work and support fellow creators!
I’m on Twitter, and will be posting about the challenge throughout, but I also write other short stories and books!
Check out my Patreon, my stories on Medium, my books for sale, and my WorldAnvil — and if you would like to, feel free to leave a tip!
#as defined by dictionary#monstrousmaychallenge#monsters#writing prompt#writing challenge#rb to signal boost!
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Monster of the Week: A Writer’s Guide to Vampires!
The Basics: Vampires From Around the World
Almost every culture has its vampires, and they go way beyond Dracula and Nosferatu.
There are obviously too many to include in one post, so here are a few especially unique vamps to get you inspired and interested in learning more!
The Penanggalan, Malaysia - Literally meaning ‘to detach,’ the Penanggalan is an exclusively (apparently) female creature.
By day, she masquerades as a normal woman (and let’s be real, don’t we all.) But by night, her head detaches from her body and floats around, entrails hanging like tentacles -- which they nightmarishly use to entangle their victims -- and preys on pregnant woman and babies. Lovely.
Creepily, the Penanggalan gravitates towards day jobs such as midwifery, so she can get closer to her prospective prey.
The Manananggal, Philippines - Much like the Penanggalan, the Manananggal has an unfortunate habit of detaching parts of her body to fly around. Described as an “ugly, hideous woman” (mood), the Manananggal can detatch her whole-ass torso to fly around like a bat.
Like the Penanggalan, she preys on pregnant woman and unborn babies, with, creepily, her incredibly long tongue. Some, however, prefer to seduce and prey on men -- preferable, to be honest -- in which case they appear young and beautiful.
The Upir, Eastern Europe - Ukrainian, Belarusian, Russian, Romanian, and Czech cultures all have mythos around this abnormally bloodthirsty vampire. Not only do upirs drink the blood of their victims, but they bath and sleep in it. They eat the flesh of their victims as well, and are especially partial to the heart. In a uniquely sadistic detail, the Upir is thought to consume the children of a family and then the parents.
The Alukah, Judaism - Literally meaning “horse-leach,” the Alukah is one of the earliest vampires, originating in the Bible.
A fixture of Jewish folklore, and sometimes described as a demon or witch, the Alukah is unique in the fact that she is not undead but a living, shapeshifting being (according to the description in Sefer Hasidim.)
She can fly by unfurling her long hair.
The Brahmaparusha, India - This nightmarishly extra vampire will drink the drained blood of its victims from a skull (which it carries around at all times), before noshing on their brains and wearing their intestines as necklaces and crowns. Worst of all, this vampire has an unusually ravenous appetite, and consumes several victims per night.
The Callicantzaros, Greece - In Greece, children born between Christmas and Twelfth Night were thought to be bad luck (?) and susceptible to vampirism. The Callicantzaros was considered to be egregiously unpleasant, equipped with devilish talons with which to tear victims to shreds. Their first victims, post-transformation, were supposed to be their own siblings.
Unfortunately, this led to a degree of mistreatment and hostility towards children born during this period, as parents watched for signs of their progeny’s prospective vampirism. In order to ensure that they didn’t become Callicantzaros, the children’s feet were dangled above a fire, like a reverse Achilles.
Vampire weaknesses:
Garlic - This one’s not just particular to Western mythos. Southeast and far Eastern vamps like the Manananggal are also vulnerable to garlic.
Salt - The Manananggal is vulnerable to salt, as are vampires from most cultures in which salt is considered holy or purifying.
Silver - A holy metal. The origin of the “vampires can’t see themselves in mirrors” myth is because it used to be a component in mirror-making.
Vinegar - Again with the Manananggal.
Daggers/stakes/sharp objects - Especially through the vampire’s heart. In many cultures, burning the heart is also advisable. Be careful, though: sometimes, staking an upir will only bring them back to life stronger.
Dismemberment and fire - Most vamps are susceptible to this, including the Penanggalan. The only sure way to kill an upir is to decapitate them and burn the remains.
Counting - Much like the Count of Sesame Street, vamps can’t resist counting things. If you scatter some small, countable objects on the ground, the vampire will have to stop and count each one.
The tails of stingrays - in the case of the Manananggal.
Sunlight - Obviously. Though not universal, this pops up in vampire mythology around the world, including the Manananggal.
Detachment - when the Penanggalan and Manananggal detach their heads and torsos, their discarded torsos and lower bodies are vulnerable. In the case of the Manananggal, sprinkling the discarded legs with garlic and salt. The Mananggal will not be able to return to its lower body, and will perish with the rising sun.
Starvation - The Alukah can be starved if she’s prevented from eating for long enough.
Stupidity - In the case of the Penanggalan. If you turn the Penanggalan’s body upside down, she’ll re-attach backwards. I’m not sure what the purpose of this is, except the exhilaration of punking a vampire and making them walk around on their hands all day like a jackass.
Protection:
Thorns around windows - Thorns will keep the Penanggalan from harassing you or your unborn children.
Strings of garlic - Just make sure SOME IDIOT doesn’t take them down (RIP Lucy from Dracula.)
Pots of uncooked rice, ash, or salt - Repellent to the Manananggal.
Running away and hiding - Basically the only method of recourse against the Brahmaparasha.
Eating bread infused with an upir’s blood - Sounds kinky, to be honest.
Stay on sacred ground - I.e. graveyards and churches. Just be sure you’re not trying to avoid the kind of vampire that dwells in graveyards if you go for the latter.
Holy water, crucifixes, silver, et cetera - Anything sacred or holy. Varies based on culture.
Imbibing the ash of a supposed vampire’s burnt heart - I’m not even going to joke about this one, since people actually did this during the vampire scare of New England (my homeland.) I learned about it from a book about local vampire encounters at the Newport Public Library at age twelve, and it scarred me.
Dangle your baby above a fire - Actually, no, PLEASE don’t do that. But that’s what seventeenth century Greeks did to prevent their kids from turning into Callicantzaros.
Age of consent laws - Specifically for Edward from Twilight.
Don’t get a welcoming mat - Counts as inviting them in. Duh.
Ways to Become A Vampire:*
*Ask your doctor if becoming a vampire is right for you.
Biting - Obviously. Though if you read Dracula and early accounts of vampirism, it was more of a slowly progressing illness than a sudden transformation.
Reject Christianity - In the case of upirs. More specifically, the church buried non-believers outside of graveyards, leading them to rise as servants of the Devil. Honestly, I feel like the church kind of brought that on themselves.
Be born between Christmas and Twelfth Night - At least if you’re in seventeenth century Greece.
Be influenced by the Devil while dying - Another version of the Upir origin.
Be a demon possessing a corpse - One prospective explanation for the Brahmaparusha.
Making a pact to obtain eternal youth and beauty that involves not eating meat for 40 days and then breaking it like some kind of an IDIOT - One version of the Penanggalan origin myth. I shouldn’t judge, my self-control isn’t great either.
Get startled by a man while meditating in a bath and jerk your head so hard that it flies off and at the interloper in fury - Another prospective version of the Pennangalan origin. Relatable, honestly.
Be so bitter and jealous of couples that you go on an insane killing spree of pregnant woman and get publicly executed by being ripped in two - The Pennangalan, again. She makes the Kardashians look tame.
Chanting an incantation, anointing yourself with oil, and purchasing a black chick - In the case of the Manananggal. The black chick reportedly lives inside the Manananggal, eating its innards while also acting as its life source. Honestly, after all the drama of the Penanggalan’s origins, this seems reasonable.
Other Sources
Video Essays:
The Power of the Vampire Myth - A superb sociological dive into the cultural significance of vampires. From the post WWI antisemitism of Nosferatu to their ability to subvert the Hays Code, vampires tend to reflect the shadows of every society.
Dracula: A Brief History of Eternity
CREEPIEST Vampire Legends from Around the World
Vampires: Folklore, Fantasy, and Fact
How did Dracula become the world’s most famous vampire?
Vlad the Impaler: The Real Life Dracula
Influential Vampire Fiction:*
*That I’ve read/seen so far.
Dracula - Duh. The greatest adaptation of which is, obviously, Dracula: Dead and Loving it.
Nosferatu - It’s good to be aware of its antisemetic overtones, but it’s still revolutionary at evoking dread.
Varney the Vampire - A penny dreadful series that helped popularize vampires in Victorian England. It gets bonus points for sounding like a children’s show.
Camilla - The ORIGINAL lesbian vampire, predating Dracula by decades. Became an adorable webseries and movie, which I recommend even more than the original novel.
‘Salem’s Lot - Serves as a study of what makes vampires scary in the modern era.
Underworld - Aside from serving as a badass alternative in the Twilight era, it merits inclusion exclusively for causing my Sapphic awakening at age twelve.
What We Do In the Shadows - Has a unique understanding of the cultural significance of vampires, and why they appeal to societal misfits. Also has vampire “children” who eat p*dophiles.
Vampires in the Lemon Grove - The titular story is one of the most unique interpretations of vampires that I’ve seen in the modern era. Beautiful language that evokes a powerful emotional response.
Twilight - Exclusively because it gave us Rosemary clocking shop in a wedding gown. And the baseball scene.
Nonfiction:
The Encyclopedia of Vampires, Werewolves, and Other Monsters
From Demons to Dracula: The Creation of the Modern Vampire Myth
Vampires and Vampirism: Legends from Around the World
New Orleans Vampires: History and Legend
Mummies, Cannibals, and Vampires: The History of Corpse Medicine
A History of Vampires in New England
Happy Halloween, and happy writing, everybody!
#creature feature#halloween#halloween 2020#vampires#mythology#writing resources#writing advice#legends#folklore#gifs for ts
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Gotham Monster!Verse AU’s?
Alright, but now, you all know that I am obsessed with Gotham AU’s but what I haven’t talked about is my LOVE of the Classic Universal Monsters, and I want to get your opinions on some of these crazy ideas of mine!
Dracula/Vampires: I already have two AU’s lined up with vampires, my Underworld AU/re-write and my Master Vampire Jervis idea so, let’s just move on.
Frankenstein: Victor (do I really have to specify at this point? You all know which one I’m obsessed with) and Bridgit are Strange’s modern day Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein creations and he wants them to mate, but the two can’t seem to stand each other so he hopes co-habitation will force them to get along. One day, however, Bruce comes to get answers about his parents death (or he’s an investigative journalist that gets caught, whichever sounds better) and, instead of outright killing him, they throw him to ‘The Ice Freak and Fire Bride’. Everyone expects to see Bruce get ripped to shreds, frozen and smashed, or just burnt to a crisp, but instead, the pair are most curious about him and attack any who try to take him away from them.
The Mummy: This is one I’m not sure on, just because we’ve had numerous interpretations of the Mummy story (yes, the one with Tom Cruise was trash, but the story idea was still unique). So, let’s try this route; villain of your choice (I’m leaning towards Jerome, Jeremiah, or Jonathan myself) is an ancient Egyptian Prince/Princess who tries to invoke Kek, the Egyptian God of Darkness and Chaos, but is caught before the ritual can be completed and mummified alive. Transport to modern day and the Wayne’s are funding an excavation for the fabled Prince/Princess who Courted Chaos. When they find the tomb, Bruce accidentally gets blood on the sarcophagus and awakens the sleeping prince/princess who is very grateful and wants to make Bruce their consort to rule over the chaos Kek will bring when they successfully bring him about this time.
The Invisible Man: Jonathan (or Jerome just because I can see the crazy little shit enjoying this) invents a concoction that turns him invisible for a few hours which he uses to scare the daylights out of people. Then, one night, Bruce comes upon the scene where a young couple are being mugged and saves them, unaware of his invisible audience. Jonathan tails him to try and understand why he wasn’t afraid of getting hurt and why he would put himself in danger for strangers and tries to psyche him out, but Bruce is quick to realize he’s got an unwanted guest. He fights Jonathan, almost getting the upper hand but he forgot about Jonathan’s chemicals and is sadly knocked out. When he comes too, he is strapped to a bed and Jonathan wants to see just how brave Bruce can be in the face of the unknown.
The Wolfman: Poor, weak, little Jonathan is constantly picked on in high school, and often finds himself being protected from the bullies by his crush, Bruce Wayne. Sick of always needing to be rescued, he wants Bruce to see him as someone strong enough to stand beside him, not behind him. While asking his dad for advice, Gerald has to leave suddenly and leaves an untested serum out where it shouldn’t be. It’s meant to make people better by giving them certain attributes of wolves; their speed, strength, sense of smell and hearing, lightness of feet, everything Jonathan needs for Bruce to really see him. After he takes the serum, people are shocked by how different Jonathan becomes, including less fearful and more aggressive. Soon, however, there are news reports of the bullies of the school being attacked by some rabid dogs, alive but almost torn to pieces. Not to mention Jonathan has started asking Bruce on dates and can be a little... aggressive when kissing. After all, all wolves need a mate.
The Phantom of the Opera: Jervis is the Phantom who loves a stagehand, Jonathan Crane, who loves Theodora Galavan's (Galavan as a woman, *shudders*; I think I just gave myself a case of the heebie jeebies) understudy, Bryce Wayne, a beautiful singer and dancer who sadly has not had the chance to shine yet. Jervis strikes a deal with Jonathan; if he helps Bryce become the star, Jonathan will allow Jervis to have sex with him. Jonathan is so in love with Bryce, and more than a little intrigued by what the Phantom has in store to make Theodora (who’s a real bitch to everyone) leave, that he agrees. As Bryce rises, and Jonathan actually does start to fall in love with Jervis, Jervis himself falls for Bryce's charm and beauty too and decides, why not have his cake and eat it too? Jervis proposes the idea to Jonathan who loves it as he too would get the best of both worlds and wouldn’t have to worry about Bryce being chewed up and spat out by a fickle audience. Jonathan gives her a sleeping draft and they manage to transfer her to 'Underland' where Jervis and Jonathan set about convincing the young Opera Star she'll only get hurt up there, so why not stay with them?
Creature from the Black Lagoon: My personal favourite of the Classic Monsters, so who better than my favourite Rogue for this one? Bryce is part of an expedition to find remains of a fossil that could prove some sort of link between marine life and land life in the arctic region. While there, she is spotted by a creature that is half man/half octopus (our own Mr. Freeze), who decides she would make a very pretty mate and kidnaps her, taking her to his underground spot that has a dry spot where she can rest. Unable to hold her breath long enough to escape on her own, and knowing the search parties probably think she drowned, Bryce is very limited in options, particularly when Victor offers her a potion that will let her breathe under water where she won’t feel the cold as strongly. Bryce agrees to take it, hoping to get back to her party, but Victor was ready for any kind of tricks and manages to freeze her arms and legs, where he then proceeds to show her how... talented, his tentacles are.
I also have one or two for nature spirit Ivy and one featuring a plot similar to a movie from the early 2000s called Mermaid Chronicles: She Creature, but this is long enough.
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Let Alucard have nice things!
This doubles as both a headcanon description and a rant so here goes:
I just got done watching the 3rd season of Castlevania and I am not happy. I have two things two say about it. This contains spoilers for the series so you have been warned.
First complaint and observation:
Did anybody get the feeling that the show was supposed to end after the second season but didn't? That everything was wrapped up nicely, Dracula was dead, the big world destruction war was halted, we were shown what the trio would be doing after everything etc. Like it was meant to end there but then a conversation like this happened:
Castlevania team: And that’s a wrap everybody! The good guys took down Dracula in an epic fight, the world was saved, Job Done! Time to move on to new things.
Shareholders, producers, etc: Uhh, actually we already signed you up for a 3rd season. So you might want to get on that.
Castlevania Team: What! But we weren't prepared for a third season! The whole plot is wrapped up! What are we supposed to do?
Shareholders, producers, etc: Don’t know but you better get to figuring it out.
Castlevania: I guess we will just game of thrones it terribly then and hope we make it through.
Because that is what it felt like happened. There seemed to be no overarching plot, just four separate ones and only two of them is even remotely together. They take two side characters Issac and Hector and give them there own plotlines. Issac gets the Denarius treatment for no real reason other than to seemingly follow in Dracula’s footsteps and Hector gets dragged to Camilla’s realm because, she needs a forge master to grow an army so she can take over what has been fractured. They split up the trio, suddenly giving Serphia and Trevor a romantic relationship with little to nothing building up to it and throw them in a quest to keep Dracula from coming back after some crazy monks due some occult doctor who style shenanigans to open a portal to other worlds. And while that is going on, Alucard aka Adrian Tepes gets left alone guarding his fathers now broken castle and the Belmont’s treasure trove for months after everything has happened.
Which flows into my Second point:
Alucard got done dirty in the third season!
We watch as Alucard deals with the mental repercussions of what he did, alone. We watch as he deals with the loneliness of being out in the middle of nowhere alone for months with none to talk too. And we see the toll it is taking on him albeit comedically.
Then the siblings come in.
They come to him for help and education on fighting vampires back in their homeland, something that Alucard is more than happy to help with. One, because he has company again and Two, passing on the knowledge to the new generation seemed fitting.
During the time they stay he grows fond of them and they him. You see them training and horsing around, eating meals together and other wholesome shenanigans.
You get to see a conversation where the sibling talk about how they notice how lonely he has been and how they believe he stays out here to punish himself and maybe they should do something for him before they move on. And it’s all like “aww that is so sweet!”
Then you see Alucard trying to sleep and failing miserably in his bed. Even so far as wondering if he should get a coffin to sleep in. Then you see the siblings show up in the door way and begin walking towards him in the bed saying , in a very sultry voice, how alone he must have been, how he should deserve a reward, ectera. Followed by them getting all hot and steamy with him.
The scene makes a point to show how much Alucard is enjoying this attention, and how happy it is making him. Your watching it and it’s like “Maybe it's gonna be one of those fond memories he will be able to look back on after their gone.” or “Maybe they will become some Badass monster hunting thruple and Alucard wont be alone anymore.”
Nope! Not today in my Grim Dark Gothic Fantasy World!
They instead, after giving Alucard the night of his life, put these metal cuffs on him that shoot out a bunch of ropes that tie him in classic Jesus on a cross position and then proceed to try and kill him.
Why?
Because the were under the belief he was lying and holding things back from them, and in particular about the castle not being able to move. And they were tired of being lied to.
Luckily for Alucard they didn't realize his sword could move on its own and they weren’t alive for much longer because of it but...Really?
Why? Why do this to him?
He lost his mother to a witch hunt, he had to kill his own father and now this? All in little over a year? What the Hell man!?
Let the Dhampire have nice things! He deserves better than this!
So, I made a headcannon to soothe me angry brain.
I took a fantasy race of mine that was inspired by the Crusnics of Trinity Blood and added them in to Castlevania. In Particular one specific one.
Name: Floki
Age: Around Adrian’s age give or take a few months.
Hair: Black
Eyes: Mismatched blue/green
Height: About the same as Adrien’s perhaps a little taller.
Personality: Mischevious, HArdworking, Loves deeply, Fiercly but wisely protective, loves to work with his hands, loves to learn more about the world and how it works. Deeply fond of Adrian even though he hasn’t seen him in a few years. Also, a smidge psychotic, but just a smidge.
Floki is part of a race of beings referred to as “The Old Ones”. They are a race similar in habit to the Vampire but they feed off vampires, night creatures and other supernatural beings over humans. They are immensely powerful, even at young ages and have been rumored to be the source of some of the gods of Ancient Mythology.
Floki’s father (Yet named) was Dracula’s mentor and where he got much of his scientific knowledge from in his early years. They became friends during his teaching and even after parting ways, would still occasionally see each other every few half centuries or so to trade information and chat.
During this time, Floki’s father was desperately trying to have children of his own and failing. At one point believing that he was sterile and unable to father children. Something Dracula knew as well and so hid Lisa’s pregnancy from him for fear of making his sadness worse.
However, a few months later, It was revealed that his current love was with child and Floki was born accompanied by much drunken Norse revelry.
When the two men met again a few years later, Floki was brought with his father to show to Dracula that he finally had a child. A moment where Dracula also revealed his son and Where Floki met Adrian.
Floki showed Adrian what it was like to play and horse around. They would play pretend out in the woods, get dirty, skin thier knees, the works. And where one was, you would find the other close by.
The visits between the two powerful men became more frequent due to the boys wish to see each other, not that the parents minded all that much.
Over time Floki’s affection for Adrian would change and deepen. His longing to stay by his friends side would get stronger and one fateful afternoon when Adrian got hurt, FLoki would realize how he had fallen in love with him.
Adrian would never know this however, due to Floki’s unstable powers at the time, his sub par control of his hunger and the fear of hurting him.
As they got older, and partly to the above, their visits to see each other would lessen and by the time they were full grown, had stopped entirely.
That is until Floki Heard of Lisa’s death at the hands of the church.
Even with his incredible power to teleport far distances it took him several months to reach Wallachia. He didn’t seek out Adrian immediately though, too curious to see the truth of what happened.
Each of “The Old Ones” Has a unique skill that is developed and evolved over time, according to personality, interest, skill and homeland. Due to Floki’s curiosity, his love for history and his desire to see how it all works together, he developed what he liked to call, memory recall.
His skill allowed him to see memories of the past through people, objects or locations where something that evoked strong emotional or magical reactions in the area happened. And if there was no such thing, if the event was more recent, if he had access to people that were there and stood on the location, he could see and feel the event as if he lived it.
Lisa’s death held him up in an inn for several days trying to chase the feeling of flames on his skin. Dracula’s anger and grief laid him up for even longer as he cried himself sick.
Gregit was better though, seeing the man who did the deed getting called out by a demon and then eaten gave him a bit of satisfaction.
Briela was fascinating though. He had to meet whomever managed to capture the ever moving castle.
By the Time Floki would arrive at the now defunk castle and underground hold, the siblings bodies are already outside on pikes.
This doesn't scare him away of course, and to find out why they were there he uses his memory recall. Where he sees through there eyes what they did to Adrian, albeit a little fuzzy. But is able to hear what the twins were thinking in that moment and see, just for a short time, Adrian tied to the bed afraid and hurt.
This causes him to snap his fingers and cause the corpses to burst into flames.
An action that draws Adrian’s attention causing a little bit of a fight before they recognize each other.
Over the next while Adrian allows Floki to stay and fix the castle as well as the Belmont estate and work towards getting the transportation engine online again. Eventually.
Overtime, all of Floki’s feelings come back with a vengeance and he gives as much attention and TLC to Adrian as he allows. Eventually getting Adrian to allow him close enough to see though his memory what the siblings had done to him
A scene that will either start a few revelations with both Adrian and FLoki or lead to a very steamy situation. Possibly both.
But it all ends in Adrian getting all the Love and TLC that man deserves after the hell he was put through.
I just hope they aren’t trying to set him up to become an antagonist later...
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Summary: “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”
((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))
Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula
Rating: M
Read on FFN and AO3
A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! It means the world! Quick shout out to @rheabalaur! She is incredibly knowledgeable about the history of Dracula and Vlad Tepes and though I ended up not exploring human!Drac in this chapter, I wanted to thank her! She’s got some neat posts on the history and I learned a lot! Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Here is the next chapter!
Chapter Ten (Part Two)
Psychosomatic heart palpitations. The only diagnoses one can give to someone whose heart has stopped so long ago. Settled deep behind his rib cage, Count Dracula could almost swear he felt the dead organ pound against his ancient bones. Its rapid beating battering against his ear drums. Agatha Van Helsing was gone. Vanished without a trace except for a final message scribbled hastily on a scrap of paper. And it was all his fault.
"Fuck, Agatha!" He cursed, feeling the draft from the air outside. She'd neglected to close the doors properly, though that was beside the point. The cold temperature didn't bother him. No, he was immune. But she wasn't. "Dammit!"
Transformation. On foot. But there was the issue of his missing boots. The vampire's mind reeled a million miles a second. Usually he was so good thinking on his feet. Decisions coming easily to his mind. Yet there he was, standing hopelessly like a fool, trying to devise a plan. A way to find her. Agatha. His Agatha. In all of his centuries of life, never had he made such a fatal mistake.
He stared down at the corpse of the young man whose lifeless brown eyes gazed back at him. His skin was so pale, almost lily white after being completely drained of blood. Dracula let out a grunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sloppy. Careless. His new existence as a vampire had yet to come easy to him. Despite being a learned man, he was well on his way of opening Pandora's box if he wasn't careful.
"Oh don't look so stoic." The vampire exhaled, glancing up to the dark sky. "You were far from valuable to begin with. Now what to do with you…"
Thunder rumbled overhead and small raindrops began to fall from above. Dracula frowned and glanced towards the direction of his castle. Experimentation. Understanding what he was didn't just fall on his shoulders. No. There was something interesting he witnessed with each new kill. From cradle to grave and from grave to coffin. Dying from one life into the next. A small smirk crossed his features as lightning crackled from above.
"Perhaps you will prove more use to me after all." He stated, lifting the body with ease. "So we shall see…"
By some stroke of sheer luck, Dracula managed to come across a pair of old boots tucked away in an old closet. Dusty, they gave off an unpleasant smell that even he found rather foul. But his own comfort was far from his concern. Slipping them forcefully on, he hurried out through the front doors and into the winter elements. Going bravely forth into the bitter snowstorm that had begun to stir from its sleep again.
His pace was brisk, each long stride with purpose as he walked away from the castle. Much to his misfortune, the fresh snow had completely covered the ground, burying with it any sign of Agatha's tracks. Not even transforming into a wolf would help at this stage. No. He couldn't sense her and that alone terrified him. If she was...no, no he couldn't think like that. So he pressed on, faster now.
Lovech Province, Bulgaria. At least, that's what he had learned from her blood. A pretty little thing, traveling alone to meet relatives in a nearby village. She'd been an easy target and quite an interesting one at that. Someone he had deemed worthy enough to keep.
"Please!" Dracula heard her wail from her box. "Please let me go! I'm so thirsty!"
"No." The vampire replied simply, so casually as if he was merely telling her the time of day. "No, I think it's best you stay put for now. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I always do with my brides."
Brides. He scoffed at his own term. It had been something he had come up with after holding captive several of his victims. Dracula needed to, after all, have some sort of name for them. In a sense, it seemed fitting. They were his after all. Property. Like cattle. Valuable, unusual stock that any bidder would desire and yet not know the horrors they were getting into.
"Let me go!" The woman pleaded. "Please, I promise I won't tell anyone! Just free me!"
"I shall return later." Dracula sighed as he ignored her screams of protest. "Perhaps with something to eat if I feel willing." He paused before looking over his shoulder. "And do try to keep the wailing to a minimum. I hate how it echoes throughout the halls."
Brides. Cattle. He grinned to himself as he exited the cellar. Disposable indeed.
"Agatha!"
He mentally cursed the howling wind that drowned out his voice each time he called out for her. Of all the times for her to disappear, of course it had to be in the middle of a blizzard. On many occasions she had threatened to leave, but the vampire had never thought she'd go through with it. If he had, if he had half the mind to, maybe he could've prevented this. All of this. If he had just been honest. Maybe she'd still be safe. Warm. Tucked away with him in the castle. But she wasn't and he was to blame.
"AGATHA!"
He hadn't quite expected his time with Jonathan Harker to turn the way that it had. It wasn't often that Dracula was left to deal with a slip up-if one would even call it that-but he found himself in a quite peculiar situation. An instance that led him to the steps of St. Mary's Convent in Budapest, Hungary. To her.
Agatha Van Helsing was a creature he'd never seen before. Such wit. Such spirit. She did not fear him like the others. She tested him like a fishman precariously dangling bait off the side of a boat where a shark was spotted. And that very moment when those few drops of her blood met his tongue it was a euphoria he couldn't explain. Seeing glimpses of her past. Of her history. Of who she was and of him. Of the infamous Abraham Van Helsing who had proven for a while to be a thorn in his side. Her grandfather. The product of a vampire slayer. And Dracula wanted...no, needed more.
The next course of action ended grizzly, not that he was quite surprised. But it wasn't until he came upon Agatha and that innocent, weakling Mina that his desire for the nun became curious. In any given dangerous situation, one must choose fight or flight. To defend yourself against your enemy and possibly die, or to out run them in the hopes of living. Agatha did neither. Instead, she offered herself in place of Mina. Seemingly cared nothing for her own life but only that of the woman's.
And so against what he thought at the time was his better judgement, he freed them both. Unknowing that soon enough fate would have them meet again under even stranger circumstances. How delectable and useful just a small amount of blood could be.
He couldn't smell her. No matter how far he walked, he still had yet to pick up any of her scent. That gave him some hope that maybe she hadn't injured herself. That perhaps she had found someone by some chance who had given her a ride somewhere. Unlikely as it was, it gave him a false sense of peace.
But due to the hindrance of his tracking abilities, a part of the Count began to wonder if Agatha's former Convent's beloved God was punishing him. That perhaps his version of Hell was not having her. Losing her. And who was he to deny that truth? Hell had frozen over and with it the former nun's mysterious disappearance. Dammit, Agatha, where could she have gone?
Dracula found himself staring at her for hours when he had first brought her to his castle. Watched as her chest rose and fell with each unstable breath. How her creamy skin was blotched by the red of the fever. At any point he could've killed her. Any second. With how ill she was, she wouldn't even see it coming. But she didn't. Instead, he observed. Quiet as his unaware guest rested.
When she did wake, truly became aware of her surroundings, it was a fond memory. How furious she was. How spiteful. After everything he'd done, Agatha showed no sign of gratitude and quite frankly, the vampire took no offense to that. She was merely an experiment after all. Someone he desired to learn more about. Except, he never expected it to go as far as it did.
"Fuck!"
Dracula's arms shielded him out of pure reflex as a tree fell just a yard away, spraying him with the wet snow that had clung to its branches. He wiped the substance away, his skin cool enough that it didn't immediately melt on impact. The way it clung to his clothes like some form of unwanted camouflage. For the first time in a long, long while, he was starting to despise the stuff.
"Agatha!" He tried again, this time louder. "Agatha, answer me! Where are you?!"
But only the storm returned his calling.
Emotions. Perhaps that's why he found it confusing at first. These feelings that no cold blooded person should experience. But the first real flicker struck him the moment he saw her wearing the dress he'd gotten her to replace that dreadful habit of hers.
Dracula thought of them. The hundreds-thousands of women he'd seen throughout his lifetime. Many whose beauty was beyond compare. But Agatha was different. Something about her, the way she stood there before him. There was so much he wanted to say. And at the same time, he wasn't sure what.
"Well," she said testily. "If it looks bad on me, you might as well-"
"No," he interjected. "No. You look...lovely."
Lovely. Out of everything he could've said, those were the words to spill past his lips. She blushed, but it wasn't the same color as her fever. No, this was different. So it truly began. The start of something he had very much yet to comprehend.
It was growing darker outside and Dracula knew it wasn't just because of the storm. He began to pick up his pace, fear beginning to rise even further than before. How long had he been asleep? A few hours at most? Could she really have gotten this far?
That's when he smelled it. The very faint, but familiar scent of blood. An aroma he was so familiar with that his stomach dropped at the realization. Agatha. It was Agatha. And the sweetness he associated with it only made him want to gag. His worries had been confirmed. Something had happened to his nun.
Maybe it was when they lost control over dinner and ended up having sex so rough, the aftermath of their heated lovemaking shouted to the heavens the next day. Or when she got so furious with him once, she broke her hand against his face. But perhaps the moment it really dawned on him that his feelings for Agatha Van Helsing were far from just a whim of passion was that night he truly tasted her.
The way she trembled against his touch. How he had to hold her as he ran his tongue across the inner thigh and to her very center. Sweet, like her blood, and he savored her like a fine wine. It hadn't been rough. Fueled by aggression. No, the way she melted into him was something far different. And when he was finally inside of her, that same sense of euphoria that he'd experienced those several, several months ago struck him. And he lost it. Completely gave way and pierced his teeth into Agatha's sensitive flesh. Blessed with her indulgence once more. That was his first mistake.
The smell of fresh blood was stronger now and Dracula followed it like a bloodhound. Though he knew he had to be drawing closer, how potent it was becoming only left his stomach twisting into knots. This wasn't a mere scratch. Not with how intense the smell was. There was a significant amount and the vampire dreaded what that could mean. What the outcome he was about to face was. How he wished Agatha had just gone ahead and staked him.
Cruel. That was the proper description for his next actions. Never mind triggering Agatha with old memories of Abraham-a man he knew well enough while, not evil, lacked any sort of endearment towards his granddaughter. He only furthered his stupidity when he abandoned her afterwards, leaving what should've been a good moment with a negative, abrupt ending.
In an almost sadistic, poetic way, the stake to his heart had been the final straw that broke the camel's back. The moment where Agatha's walls completely crumbled to the ground. Where she had, in her actions, admitted her true feelings when he had not. Metaphorically piercing her own heart when she should've done his. And he smiled. Grinned and waved away her affections. If only he realized the cost. The consequences. Those few words scrawled upon a strip of parchment.
Something caused him to stop in his tracks. Not the giant branch that blocked his path, but the feeling that there was something else. And so he hesitantly gazed over the edge, over a set of ragged rocks that dropped down several yards to the bottom. That's when he saw her. A figure lying motionless below wet by something other than snow. Dark. Even from where he stood, his excellent vision could make it out. Blood. Agatha.
"Agatha!"
Dracula leaped with such grace it made the long drop seem like a mere step. He hurried over to her side. Blood. There was so much blood. It stained the rock around her, caked locks of her hair together. And for a brief moment, for a fraction of a second, the vampire thought he was too late. It was only when he heard her pulse, the weak thrumming of her heart, that he knew she was alive. Barely. But still with him. As he exhaled in relief, her eyes opened.
Quickly he knelt beside her, the smell of her blood burning his nostrils. Thirst. Hunger. But he fought it. Battle the feral urge to feast within him. Dracula's hands were warm, sticky and red as he cradled her head ever so gently. She stared back at him unfocused.
The Count wanted to berate her. Scream at her for being so boneheaded. But not because he was furious with her. No, she had terrified him. So many questions. So much to say. Yet he couldn't. There wasn't any time to do so. He was losing her. Right there in his arms, the only person he'd truly ever cared about was withering away. He couldn't let that happen.
"You're dying." And the words held far more emotion than he'd ever had anticipated. "Agatha..."
"I know," she croaked.
The way she said it. Her tone. She wasn't afraid. Far worse. It was as if she was more than willing to accept this horrid fate. This end where one no longer exists. And he had planted the seed that made her okay with that.
"I can save you." There was a tremor in his voice. "This doesn't have to be the end. Let me..." He swallowed, damn how he hated to sound vulnerable. "Let me..."
There was a moment of pause as Agatha struggled to catch a breath. It ached deep within him to hear the pain as she did so. She was so strong. Even in death, she fought with bravery. What a soldier she would've made. What a companion in his human lifetime she would've been.
"Tell me..." Blood bubbled up in the corner of her mouth as she struggled to remain conscious. "Tell me..."
"Agatha!" He spoke to her loudly, trying desperately to keep her awake. "Tell you what?" But the Count already knew what she meant. "Tell you what?!"
"Just..." She was fading now. Fading so fast. "Tell me..."
Tell her. He looked deep within her blue eyes as the light began to fade in them. Tried to hold her stare so she knew he really meant it. Weeks. Months. It was so long overdue and this was far from how he wanted to ever admit it. Open up to her like she had him. But now he needed to. So he swallowed, swallowed so thick as if his very life was caught in his throat.
"I love you." A statement so foreign, and yet, felt so right. Something wet brushed against his cheek. A tear. Was he crying? "I love you, Agatha Van Helsing."
A weight lifted off his shoulders. The entire universe relieving him of the pressure he'd felt for so long. He gazed down at her so longingly it was as if everything had stopped around them. Waited for her final words. Praying she'd give into his demands.
Agatha smiled weakly and closed her eyes at his confession. "Okay," his lover murmured. "Okay…"
And Dracula's fangs plunged into her throat.
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Man or Beast // LH
pairing: witch!oc x vampire!luke
word count: 7.5k
warnings: smut, fluff, magical stuff, angst if you squint
notes: so last week i posted something wicked, an introduction to this universe where 5sos are vampires. as stated in my note for that fic, the idea comes from this book series. whereas that fic dealt with a lot of witch lore, this will deal with vampire lore. basically digging into luke’s family and backstory and such. this has the barest of allusions to dracula. i hope you enjoy!
title: from this dracula quote: “[S]omething dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone and bent over it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell.”
Part 1: Something Wicked
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The first year in front of her had turned bright red in embarrassment. They were in the greenhouse discussing the life cycle of plants and how magic could be used to speed up that process. Margo, the TA for this freshman herbology class, had grown quite used to her students being intimidated by her. Especially those like the young witch in front of her who’s magic had gone haywire and caused several plants in the vicinity to die. The good news was that Margo was somewhat of a prodigy when it came to herbology. It was one of the few things she could do without incantations.
She ran her hands over the flowering plants as she spoke to the girl. “Like with all magic, it is about manipulating something on a molecular level. With raw power, all you have to do is send your magic into the universe and manipulate it to do your bidding. Like creating water.” Margo whispered a quick spell that had an orb of water forming between her fingertips. She tossed it into the air, and it disappeared into steam.
“Or,” Margo continued, “telekinesis.” After a wink from Margo, the large, round, wire-rimmed glasses that the first year wore wiggled up and down on her face.
“The water and your glasses are both inanimate objects, so I only had to worry about manipulating them to my own will. With plants, you can’t just shove energy at it and hope for the best as they have a will of their own. Listen to the plant and learn what it wants. If you just try to bend it to your will, it will resist, which could lead to. . . ” Margo trailed off.
The young witch had already experienced the consequences of such actions. “This takes a level of practiced magical manipulation.” As if in a show of agreement, the plants began to come back alive around her, sprouting flowers as red as the witch’s face had turned earlier.
Margo was so engulfed in trying to teach her young student how to control horticultural magic, she didn’t notice the slight prickling in her thumb.
She missed the whispering and giggling too. It was not until the young witch interrupted her with a small, yet constrained smile and said, shyly, “Miss Crowley, I think your boyfriend is here,” that she looked up and out towards the doorway. Sure enough, leaning against the door frame to the greenhouse was Luke, arms crossed, a smile on his face.
Margo pursed her lips in mild annoyance, hands coming to rest on her hips. Luke knew that when he showed up to her lectures, it distracted the class. Most vampires didn’t hang out with the Horticultural Magic students–they tended to prefer biological sciences, history, literature, and other such pursuits. And, vampires were also the least prevalent of the magical beings. Chances were many of the first years had never seen a vampire before meeting Luke.
Some of the bolder witches had already made their way over to him, taking his attention away from Margo.
“I suppose class is over?” asked the young witch Margo had been helping. She looked at her students whose focus was no longer on the plants in front of them, but on the tall, looming vampire in the doorway.
“I suppose,” Margo said solemnly.
She went to the front of the greenhouse and called out for attention. “Class dismissed. Please remember that I expect all of you to be able to draw the life cycle of an angiosperm by next Tuesday! There will be a quiz.”
As always, there was a collective groan throughout the room. Margo ignored it as she went to about packing her things. Luke stayed at the door for a couple of seconds saying goodbye to the few students that were friendly with him before walking over to her. When she had rammed all that could fit in the small laptop bag, she slung it over her shoulder, picking up the spellbook and the biology textbook she couldn’t quite fit.
Reaching out, Luke stole the books and a kiss. “Good afternoon, mon cœur,” he said, his native language rolling smoothly off his tongue. “I take it you had a good class.”
Margo refused to smile at him, no matter how charming he was.
When she didn’t return his smile, he turned indignant. “What did I do?” He asked, voice raising an octave.
“Half my class is like in love with you. Every time you show up, they forget I exist.”
Luke laughed at her revelation, placing one arm around her and ushering her out of the greenhouse. “Half your class is in love with you,” he shot back. “That girl you were talking to when I walked in? She has such a huge crush on you, I could hear her heart hammering from halfway down the hall.”
“What?” Margo’s mouth hung open. “No way. Poor thing. It’s too bad for her that I don’t date my students.”
“And that you’re dating me,” Luke reminded, squeezing her shoulder possessively.
Margo laughed; she had known that would get a reaction out of him.
They walked in relative silence, basking in the golden hue of the late afternoon sun. Glancing up at Luke, she watched as the light brushed against his angular features, causing the contours of his face to seem more prominent. She remembered the days she thought vampires would burn in the sunlight. Turns out that, while they preferred nighttime, the sun did little more than irritate their sensitive eyes. Growing up in her small town in Massachusetts, she didn’t have much contact with other supernatural creatures that weren’t witches. It was part of the reason she loved the University of the Arcana as much as she did. The different kinds of people she got to meet were refreshing.
Luke’s Tesla was parked a few feet outside the Horticultural Sciences Complex. The research lab where he mapped the vampire genome and studied evolutionary biology was just a few blocks from Margo’s greenhouse. Their evening routine used to include enjoying a leisurely 5-minute stroll from said greenhouse to the biology complexes. Recently, however, that had not been the case.
“Why’s your car here?” She asked, despite already knowing the answer.
“I went to a few theology seminars today,” Luke said in response.
Along with being an evolutionary biologist, Luke was getting a degree in the history of theism, and, when he was feeling particularly nostalgic, he also attended classes on Romantic-era literature. The thing about vampires was that they had all the time in the world, so getting two or three degrees at once was nothing to them. It didn’t escape her notice, however, that he had been attending these classes more frequently.
Margo tramped down her budding need for confrontation and asked instead, “Do we have any plans for tonight?” In the privacy of Luke’s car, she kicked off her trainers and took her hair from its top knot. Saying goodbye to the day, she relaxed back into to cool leather of the interior, facing Luke only once her legs were tucked firmly underneath her.
Splitting his attention expertly between her and the road, Luke asked, “Would the house be mad if I stole you away for one more night?”
Her house, or rather the Gamma Nu Sorority House, had a habit of misbehaving when it was feeling cheated. Once, a few weeks before, she had spent 6 blissful days sleeping on Luke’s memory foam mattress only to return home to find her room missing. After hours of begging and cajoling, there was still no sign of her scratched up wooden door. Finally, it had taken her promising not to spend more than three days at a time at Luke’s for the house to re-materialize the room in its former spot.
“We’ve got one more day,” Margo informed him, thinking about their Game of Thrones marathon that had lasted two nights in a row. “I can’t watch Game of Thrones tonight though. Your girl’s gotta study.”
“I could cook while you study?” Luke suggested. “Then, we can do dinner and go to bed early.”
“Good food and an early bedtime?” Margo released an exaggerated moan. “Talk dirty to me.”
:: ::
It was 9 PM when Luke entered the study that, over months of dating, had become more hers than his. He was holding a pasta dish, two glasses of wine, and some freshly baked bread. Margo was more excited to see the food than she was to see him.
Luke’s diet consisted mostly of blood, animal’s or hers, and wine. Since becoming a vampire, he had lost his taste for human food, but not his love of the culinary arts. Dating her gave him an excuse to get back into the kitchen where he liked to get experimental with his dishes.
She closed the potions textbook in front of her and held her hand out for the plate as soon as he got close enough. “Carbs!” she cried happily. “You do love me.”
He chuckled and kissed her before handing her the plate. Leaning against the edge of the desk, he watched intently as she took the first bite.
“Any good?” Luke’s culinary inventions didn’t often leave her wanting, and this time was no different. The fork had no sooner left her mouth than she was groaning.
Laughing, Luke said, “I’ll take that as an affirmative.” Perched on the desk, he sipped wine casually and gave her a moment to savor her food. Then, he asked, “How’s potions going?”
“It’s kicking my ass,” was her grumble of a reply. “There are hundreds of potion bases, and I have to memorize them all by next Friday.”
“Do you want me to quiz you while you eat?” He was already reaching for the book she had set aside earlier.
Grabbing his hand, Margo stopped him. “If I see or hear anything about potions for the next 12 hours I might actually die.”
“At least we haven’t resorted to dramatics,” he retorted dryly. After he studied her for a minute, then announced, “Alright, finish eating and meet me in the bathroom.”
Reluctance must have shown on her face because he exclaimed, “Oh my god, just do it!” Then, he disappeared through the office door.
Fifteen minutes later, Margo left the study for the bathroom, which she found with its door slightly ajar, soothing piano music drifting out. She pushed inside to reveal a prepared bath and a few candles burning, tossing soft light off the porcelain of the tub. A small speaker sat on the counter, the source of the sounds that had drawn her in earlier. Luke was noticeably absent.
He appeared behind her in the next second, a couple of large towels in hand. “Ah, there you are.” He said nonchalantly, as if unaware of how romantic this simple gesture was in her eyes. He had seen how strung out she was and had known exactly what she needed. “C’mon, get in the tub.”
Margo was eager to follow his order, but first, she leaned over the stack of towels to press a chaste kiss to Luke’s lips. “You’re getting in with me, right?” She asked while unbuttoning the powder blue shirt she’d been wearing for over 14 hours then.
“If you want me to.”
Margo scoffed, then moved to unclasp her bra. Next went her pants and underwear. While wrapping her hair up into a bun atop her head, she slunk into the tub. She didn’t recline against the porcelain back just yet, leaving space for Luke. He was still standing by the doorway where he had been intently watching her movements.
“You coming?” She asked impatiently.
Those words snapped him out of whatever reverie her naked form had pulled him into. Shaking his head, he deposited the towels next to the tub, then undressed and slotted himself behind her. She relaxed, at last, leaning against the broad span of his chest.
“Thank you so much for doing this for me,” she whispered. Luke’s response was to place three small kisses on the route from her shoulder to her neck. She melted even further into his arms. “Who are we listening to?”
Luke, being as old as he was, preferred classical music to her top 40 pop. Having only taken a recorder class in elementary school, Margo knowledge of music was limited. Luke was determined to change that. Every chance he got, he played his favorite songs for her.
“Chopin,” was his answer, mouth still grazing the skin of her throat. “Nocturne Number 2 in E-Flat Major.”
“Did you know him?” She couldn’t help the slight hitch in her voice when he nibbled gently on the skin of her throat.
“We may have met once or twice.” In Luke terms, that was a yes. In 1795, the vampire who sired him had been wealthy with connections all around the globe. This meant that, for the first hundred years after his rebirth, Luke easily became acquaintances with any one of interest. As little as Margo knew about history, she enjoyed hearing the stories of past historical figures.
But tonight, Luke wasn’t interested in telling her a story. “Luke,” she whined as his bites got rougher, and his hand trailed down past her belly button.
“Is that a ‘Luke, please continue’ or a ‘Luke, stop.’” He asked, pausing all motions.
“It’s an ‘I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep immediately after I come,’” she retorted. A yawn slipped from her in that exact moment as if to prove her point.
“That’s okay.” This time he bit her ear. “You coming is all that matters anyhow.”
Unhindered, his hand slipped between her thighs. It started out gentle, with two fingers pushing against her clit. Almost reluctantly, she pushed her hips up to greet them. Then, as he started to explore her folds a bit more, she ground up against him in earnest. The hand that wasn’t toying with her folds squeezed gently on her breast and toyed with her nipple. She gripped his bicep in response.
Then, he slipped one finger inside her, sinusoidally dipping in and out, setting her whole body alight.
He another added another. Margo’s hips ground against him as she searched for more leverage. When he touched something inside her that filled her with ecstasy and the ravenous need for more, she cried out, and threw one leg over the side of the tub, displacing water in the process.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, God. Luke.” The cries of pleasure rang out throughout the room.
Luke began to finger her in earnest then, index and middle finger slipping in and out of her. He kissed up and down her neck until he was taken by the heat of the moment too. The hand that had been toying with her nipples slid down to her stomach, holding her flush against him as he rocked up against her. His dick was obviously hard between their slick bodies.
It wasn’t until he growled, low and guttural, that she realized just how far gone he was. He rearranged her, so she was seated fully on his lap, dick now positioned between her cheeks. All the tiredness was swept from her mind as she ground down against it.
Then, raising off his lap a bit and reaching back, she wrapped a hand around him. It was an awkward angle, but she made it work. Pumping him a few times made his hips go wild as he bucked uncontrollably.
She said, “I’m gonna–“
The words didn’t quite get out, lost in the haze of lust that made it impossible to think straight. Margo lined herself up with him and sank down. They weren’t going to last very long. The water in the bathtub continued to splash to the floors as one of Luke’s arms wrapped around her body, holding her slave to his motions. He had her pressed up against his chest, fucking up into her and toying with her clit. It was slippery and messy, and Luke had to reposition himself a few times, but neither made any attempts to stave off their lust so they could move to a bed.
Chopin could barely be heard over his growls, her cries of pleasure, and the distinct sound of water sloshing over the edges of the tub. His lips continued their path up and down her neck, bites deeper than before. They were painful, but in a way that made her toes curl.
She knew what he wanted before he said anything. “Please, can I–” He began, but cut himself off and threw his head back, fighting an instinct.
They weren’t face to face, and with the way they were moving, inches from orgasm, neither would want to take a moment to reposition. So, he would have to bite her neck. It was of no consequence to her; it was nothing she couldn’t hide without makeup.
Without really thinking about, Margo responded to his silent plea. “Yes,” she gasped out. “God, yes.”
The next second, she felt the sharp pain of the skin of her neck being pierced, followed immediately by intense euphoria. She buried one hand in his hair, holding him there; the other went down to encourage his motions as he continued to rub against her clit. They came, one right after the other, their hips stuttering to a halt.
“Fuck,” Luke grunted when he pulled away from her neck, head falling against the plaster wall behind them with a thud. As always, it took him a few minutes to get his wits about him after drinking her blood. Margo took that time to pull off of him and catch her breath.
Later, when they were both tucked underneath Luke’s black silk sheets, Luke ran his fingers gently over the deep teeth marks on her neck. Another lore Luke had taught her: Vampires didn’t have retractable fangs, but their teeth were more than sharp enough to pierce skin.
She had marks, like the ones now on her neck, almost ingrained in the skin of her chest. That is where he most often drank from her, as was the vampiric custom when it came to lovers.
“I shouldn’t have done this.” He said, fingers still tracing the indents of his teeth.
Margo couldn’t figure out why he sounded so pained. The healing properties of his saliva would ensure it didn’t leave a mark. Unless he bit her there again, after a day or two of covering it with makeup, neither of them would remember it even existed.
“It’s fine. No one’s going to see it.” Margo insisted.
Luke didn’t respond.
Margo fell asleep with his thumb still tracing the outline of the marks.
:: ::
She woke up to a sharp prickling in her thumb. Shooting to a seated position, she looked at her hands, disoriented and confused by the sudden onslaught of pain. Luke, who had been awake in bed next to her, sat up as well.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice noticeably laden with worry.
Margo shook her head.
“Something is looking for me.” She tried to shake the drowsiness from her mind. Her senses were dulled by it. Whenever a powerful creature came looking for her, a small prickling would alert her to their intent. But this was more powerful than anything she had ever experienced before.
“Three somethings,” she continued as she began to make sense of what she was feeling. “They’re big, and they’re powerful. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”
She saw the exact moment understanding dawned on Luke. He sniffed the air once, then muttered, “Shit.” He was out of bed and at the door to the room in a blink.
“What’s happening?” She asked frantically, trying to figure out what she might have missed. There was some information Luke’s supernatural senses had picked up that hers could not provide. In moments like these, she envied how he was preternaturally attuned to his senses.
“If I asked you to stay in the room, would you?” He asked.
But, she was already getting out of bed and slipping into her slippers and his robe. Even rushing through these motions, she was no match for vampire speeds. By the time reached the front door, Luke was standing there blocking the way of three large, imposing vampires she had never seen before.
They were all dressed in all black. One stood in front of all the rest, his dyed red hair slicked back. He wore a t-shirt tucked into jeans with a leather jacket thrown over it. Margo could see he wore two rings on each hand and his nails were painted black. The man on the left looked much more laid back. His black jeans were distressed, and he wore an ACDC t-shirt. While Luke traded jabs in French with the frontman, this one simply stood back with an easy smile on his face. Finally, there was the man with a slightly deeper skin tone than the others leaning against the door frame. His arms were crossed and the fabric of the plain black t-shirt he wore struggled to cover the entirety of his bicep. If this was some kind of vampire shakedown, he was definitely the muscle.
The frontman noticed her first. He scoffed in disgust and began gesturing to her as they spoke. The other two remained relatively quiet but did spare her a few wary glances. What little French she knew was unhelpful, as they spoke too fast for her to catch any words.
She attempted patience first, trying not to look too indignant as they conversed about her as if she wasn’t there. But that was one of her pet peeves, and, to her displeasure, the conversation did not seem to be letting up any time soon.
Next, she tried speaking up, but not even Luke turned his head at her, “Excuse me.” If anything, they seemed to talk louder. She began reciting the spell before she could think better of it.
Their mouths snapped shut the next instant, and all was quiet for a moment. When they realized something magical was preventing them from speaking, all eyes turned to her. Luke’s baby blues looked more frustrated than she had ever seen them. She released him from the spell.
“What’s going on?” She asked, now that his attention was back on her.
For a moment, he glanced between her and the three men standing at the door. Then, he said, “Let’s go inside.”
:: ::
Ashton, Michael, and Calum.
Those were their names, respectively.
It wasn’t a vampire shakedown; it was a family reunion. They relocated into the uncomfortable chairs Luke had purchased for his dining room in hopes of dissuading guests from overstaying their welcome. It was still relatively early in the morning, so Margo made herself tea. The other four vampires had wine.
She knew a bit about Luke’s brothers from the stories about France and the French revolution that Luke liked to tell. From what she knew, Ashton was the leader of their little clan. He was the one who had sired Luke in the first place. It explained why at some angles they looked similar, when he replaced all the blood in Luke’s body with his own, some of Luke’s features changed.
Ashton had an assuming presence that seemed almost too large for Luke’s dining room. Were Margo more mild-mannered, she might have retreated to the background to let the vampires talk. But that was not her.
“You don’t like witches?” Margo presumed aloud once she was seated across the table from Ashton with her tea. She still hadn’t made sense of the argument at the door. Her witches senses did not lie, they had shown up at Luke’s looking for her. When they found her, it obviously became a point of contention.
Ashton scoffed with a hint of condescension. “Please. We are not prejudiced.”
“Do not scoff at me,” Margo shot back. “Not when you refuse to tell me why you’re here. Looking for me might I add.”
The one in the distressed jeans, Michael, grinned at her and whistled low. “Oh, she’s feisty. Finally, someone that’s a match for Ashton.”
Ashton did not dignify that with a response. Instead, to Margo, he bared his teeth and hissed, “This is not about you, it is about Luke. You need to stay out of it.”
“Well, come on now, Ashton.” Calum, like Luke, had decided to remain standing while the other two vampires sat. Well, Michael lounged, and Ashton perched as if poised to jump off the edge of his seat. From his position behind Ashton, Calum placed a large hand on his shoulder. “It’s a little about her. Luke should decide if he wants to tell her or not.”
At that, every eye turned to look at Luke. He was looming over Margo protectively, but not in a way that suggested he expected his family members to attack. He was obviously not afraid for her safety. It was rather like he wanted her out of the conversation more than anything else.
For what seemed like a full minute, Margo believed Luke wouldn’t share this secret. She feared that months of sharing everything with each other had culminated to this one moment, this one Big Thing that she wasn’t allowed to know.
Thankfully, he sighed and sunk into a seat next to her. “My brothers think you and I have mated.”
Admittedly, Margo’s knowledge of vampire mating was basal. She knew, of course, that Luke had every intention of mating her. You’re it for me, he had told her a few months before. It had terrified her, but she couldn’t deny that her feelings for him, their feelings for each other, ran deep. To her knowledge, however, they hadn’t taken that step yet. Even if they had, she wasn’t sure that was something they needed to discuss with his brothers.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong,” Margo began slowly, keeping her eyes leveled with Ashton’s. “But isn’t whether or not we’ve mated between the two of us?”
“No,” Ashton replied with a bitter chuckle. “No matter what you and my idealistic brother like to think. This is a matter for a clan. Luke cannot handle taking his mate by himself.”
Seeing the look of confusion on Margo’s face, Michael took pity on her and began to explain. “Luke is still very young. He has only witnessed one vampire mating in his lifetime, and even then he wasn’t privy to our procedures. Mating when you aren’t familiar with the methods–well that could have dangerous consequences.”
Michael’s eyes drifted pointedly towards her neck where Luke’s bite marks from the previous night were on full display. With the excitement of the morning, she had forgotten to cover them. She slapped a hand over them; then, her color deepened in embarrassment.
She turned to Luke, expecting him to respond, but he was lost somewhere deep in his own thoughts. When he didn’t, she spoke for him. “It was an accident,” She insisted, even though she had a feeling she didn’t quite understand the repercussions of Luke biting her neck.
Michael leaned forward, voice dripping with a dangerous edge. “When it comes to predators, darling, one small accident is all it takes to kill you.”
Finally, Luke spoke, words coming out in a snarl. “I would never kill her.” Shock and anger registered on his face. He was obviously taken aback by Michael’s suggestion.
“Not purposely,” Michael amended. “But your carelessness could get her killed nonetheless.”
“It’s a good thing then that Margo and I aren’t mating.” Luke snarled. He was out of his chair in an instant, glaring down at his brothers.
“Luke–“ this time it was Calum popping in with an argument.
Luke cut him off. “I’m fine, Calum. Now, if you guys want to do something other than have this conversation while you’re in town, let me know. If not, I’ll see the next time I’m at home.”
Michael threw his hands up in frustration. “This is what you get for siring a vampire amid the French Revolution, Ashton,” he grumbled. But he made no more protest as he walked towards the door.
Calum turned to follow him.
Ashton was the last to leave. “I just want you to be safe,” he said, eyeing Margo. What she had mistaken for disgust earlier was now clearly weariness and reluctance. It was as if he wanted to trust her, but was afraid to.
Luke gripped her shoulder and squeezed. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself. As is Margo.”
They held eye contact for a minute, having a silent conversation Margo couldn’t follow. Finally, Ashton conceded and followed his brothers out of the house.
:: ::
It happened in herbology.
That morning, Margo had woken up in her own bed feeling a little dizzy and disoriented. These spells had been happening more frequently, but she chalked it up to stress and dismissed it. She should have told Luke, but he was prone to worrying over the smallest of things. Plus, it had only been a week and a half since his brothers had shown up at his door unannounced, and, no matter how “good” he claimed to be doing, she could still see something bothered him.
So, she didn’t think twice about chugging her weight in tea and going to work. The dizziness plagued her throughout the day. Two hours into her three-hour herbology lab, she was standing in front of the class explaining how gymnosperms grew and reproduced. It was imperative for her students to understand plant life on a cellular level if they were ever to successfully manipulate plant growth.
The funny thing was - she felt it coming on. She felt herself grow dizzier and heard her words begin to slur. She chose to fight through it. Then, one minute she was talking about fertilization and pollen cones, the next, her feet give way below her, and the world went dark.
.
.
.
.
.
.
When she opened her eyes the first time, the world was hazy. She clearly made out an IV drip bag and an oddly familiar man standing at the edge of her bed. His arms were crossed, and he looked like he was there as some sort of protection detail. Margo had the distinct feeling he was there for her. Whether it was to protect her from someone or to protect someone from her, she did not know.
“Hey. Look who’s awake,” came an oddly chipper voice from somewhere outside of her line of sight. Margo almost turned to search for it, but there was a pressure on her left hand. She turned to that instead.
Luke. He was staring at her with worry in his baby blues, gripping her hand tightly.
“What,” she opened her mouth to ask what had happened. Then, a cool hand she knew had to be vampiric brushed her curls from her face and shushed her.
“Try to sleep if you can,” it said. “We'll explain everything later.”
She knew that voice, much like she knew the man standing at the edge of her bed. Before she could search her mind for their identity, something pulled her under, and the world went black again.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The next time she came to, the man was still at her bedside, arms crossed, watching her intently. Her brain felt less foggy this time, and she instantly recognized the man as, “Calum.”
With the tiniest of motions, Calum quirked his lips upwards in the ghost of a smirk. She wondered if he was comfortable standing ramrod straight like that. He looked like he hadn’t moved since she last opened her eyes.
It took him snickering for her to realize she had said that last thought aloud. “I like this position.” He said. “I’ve got clear eyes on everything in the room.”
“Not the door,” Margo pointed out obviously, gesturing to the large door looming behind him. That was what it took for Margo to realize that, despite the drip IV, she was not in a hospital room. This was someone’s house.
Calum shrugged. “That’s what Mikey’s for.”
She noticed Michael then, sitting in a loveseat underneath a large window. It was nighttime, and heavy blackout curtains were pushed aside to reveal what looked like deep woods. He had a Nintendo DS in his hand and was obviously more focused on the game than the other two people in the room.
“Don’t let Calum fool you,” he said, fingers still moving furiously on the buttons of the game. “I do not give a rats ass about security and espionage. At least, not as much Calum and Ashton do.”
He said all this without ever looking up from the small device in her hand.
“Espionage?” She croaked out.
Michael nodded, blissfully unaware of Calum’s glare. “Calum’s the family spy.”
Margo eyed Calum. When she had first seen him, she had believed him to be the muscle of the group. The way he exuded danger made Michael’s words seem less like a joke–as if Calum really was some vampire spy. She didn’t have time to think on this, however, because the dark mahogany door swung open to reveal Luke with Ashton flanking him.
Luke rushed immediately to her side. She didn’t miss how haggard he looked. Briefly, she wondered how long she had been in this bed. However long that was had obviously taken a toll on Luke. Vampires, as far as she knew, did not get tired, but there were unmistakable bags under his eyes, and his pale skin seemed lighter under the harsh overhead lights. She reached out to him, and he knelt at her bedside and slotted his hand into hers.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked as his thumb gently rubbed circles on the back of her hand.
“I could ask you the same thing.” She tried to shit up, but a palm came to rest on her shoulder, stopping her. “Don’t try to do too much too quickly,” Ashton warned, gently pushing her back down.
She obeyed, hoping that it would make them more agreeable with what she was about to ask next. The question had been on her mind since she awoke the first time. She had to know,
“What happened?”
She remembered feeling dizzy in her herbology class, but not much else.
Furtive glances were exchanged around the room as everyone, even Michael, turned their attention to Luke. Luke’s focus was on her. He looked as if those were the last words he’d wanted to hear from her. The longer everyone took to acknowledge her question, the more she wondered if she should have waited. Perhaps this was something Luke was uncomfortable talking about around his brothers.
She slipped her hand out of his so she could brush his hair out of his face.
“It’s okay.” Despite how weak her voice was, she tried to convey all the love she had for him in those two words. Whatever it was, they would work through it.
He leaned into her palm. “You tell her Calum,” He eventually said, shifting all attention to the 6 ft vampire looming over her.
Calum uncrossed his arms and braced them against the foot of the bed. Dark brown eyes told her the story would be emotionally exhausting.
“I came to UoA a month ago to visit Luke.”
Margo’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t heard anything about this visit.
“He didn’t know I was coming. I got into town then tracked his scent.”
“It’s a kink of his,” Michael interrupted with an easy grin. He had abandoned his DS in favor of paying attention to the story. With everyone in the room on the wrong side of somber, she welcomed his quips. “He likes to pop up out of nowhere and scare the holy hell out of people.”
Calum ignored him and continued on. “I followed his scent straight to the Gamma Nu house. When I got there, I assumed that perhaps he was just inside with some witch. We’re all aware of Luke’s. . .”
He trailed off as if afraid of offending her, and she laughed. “Propensity to be a hoe?” She finished for him. When she had first met Luke, he was slipping out of her housemate's room with no shirt on. She was no stranger to his promiscuous behavior.
Calum smiled, amused at her choice of words. “Propensity to be a hoe yes. But, when I listened in, he didn’t seem to be anywhere inside. Instead, I found you. You were sitting at your desk buried in some book about potions and muttering to yourself. I watched you for hours trying to figure out how Luke’s scent was so intermingled with yours. I couldn’t find where your scent ended, and his began. I knew, of course, but I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t think Luke would be stupid enough to take a mate without contacting one of us first.”
At that, he shot a look at Luke. Luke grimaced, ashamed. Margo ran her hand through his hair again in a gesture of assurance, then looked to Calum to continue.
Ashton did instead. He was still at her shoulder, looking down at her as he spoke, “Margo, what do you know about vampire mating?”
“I know that it’s instigated with a mark, like the one on my chest.” The hand that was not in Luke’s hair came up to rest on her chest, touching the mark through her shirt. “That’s the physical aspect of it. There is a mental and emotional aspect to it as well.” Margo trailed off. She didn’t know much about said mental and emotional aspects. She figured Luke would explain those to her when they decided to take the next step.
Michael spoke next, now at the edge of his seat. She remembered Luke’s mention of his bond with someone named Crystal. Perhaps he was their resident expert on bonding. “This is how a bond works. If a vampire has the intention of mating someone, and that person has the intention of accepting said bond, when he bites that person, he’ll be able to feel the bond form from inside him. If he lets it, the bond will wash over both parties like a wave. Then, it is up to the bitten to accept the bond. This act deepens the mental and emotional connection of a couple. In rare instances, the couple will be compatible enough to hear each other's thoughts and feel each other’s emotions. Even when they aren’t as compatible, these bonds are nearly impossible to break. That’s why bonds can never be between strangers and can never be nonconsensual. It’s kind of like your magic in the way that it senses what both parties want, and creates that for them.”
“Luke,” Calum picked up, “has wanted to mate you for a very long time now. And judging by the way his biology is behaving, I’m guessing you wanted to mate him as well. Yet, every time he bit you and that bond began forming, he would suppress it.”
Margo glanced over to Luke, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Which ended up confusing his biology.” Calum continued. “Driving him to want to be near you, to be in you, to bite you, to complete the bond by any means necessary. It’s why he was drinking from you every time you had sex. It’s why you fainted. He took too much blood too quickly, and your system couldn’t handle it. Instances like this are rare, and usually lead to obsessive behavior on the part of the vampire.”
“But Luke wasn’t obsessive,” Margo pointed out. She had dated wizards more obsessive than him.
“Not where you could see,” Calum said.
Luke dropped his forehead to the bed, perhaps to avoid feeling the eyes on him. He was ashamed of whatever Calum had to say next.
“I followed you both for days before calling in Ashton and Michael as reinforcement. On the nights you spent apart, Luke spent them standing outside your window. He started making up theology classes because he didn’t want you to know he had spent your entire TA period sitting in a car outside of the greenhouse, straining to hear your heartbeat. Worst of all, he stopped hunting and started getting all his blood from you.”
“What?” Margo croaked out. Luke looked up then, and she couldn’t miss the welling of tears in his eyes.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” He said solemnly. “We have only been dating for what, almost a year now? It is way too early for us to mate. I was hoping that if I ignored it, maybe it would go away.”
“The bond can be suppressed, Luke. But not as long as you keep drinking from her.” Ashton grumbled. Then, with a pointed look at Margo, he added, “If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” Luke answered for her. “She’s young. She hasn’t even finished her degree yet. I can’t just shackle her to me forever.”
“Let her speak, Luke,” Calum ordered.
With every eye on Margo, she wasn’t sure what to say. Luke was the love of her life, and she wanted more than anything to be mated to him. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t make a difference if it happened that moment or in a year when she had her degree.
You are but mortal woman. Time is now to be dreaded - since once he put that mark upon your throat.
She bitterly remembered the words of Bram Stoker. Time moved differently for her and Luke, she had always known that. Where she wanted to rush, he took his time. This was no different.
She tried to remind herself that, as Luke said, it was forever. Repeated exposure to his venom through a mating mark would expose her to super-powered vampiric proteins, probiotics, and antibodies that would stop her aging and make her impossible to kill. She wouldn’t be a vampire per se, but something else. A hybrid between what she was now and what he was. These were rare, she knew, as vampires and witches were not used to coming together for more than politics and sex. Perhaps an extra year of normalcy was what it would take to give Luke the peace of mind about changing her.
“It’s fine,” she finally said. “We can wait.”
She brought her hand down to where Luke’s rested on the bed and squeezed gently. “What about Luke, though? What’s going to happen if we don’t bond?”
“Nothing,” responded Calum with an easy shrug. “So long as he starts hunting again and stops drinking from you.”
“Like forever?” Margo asked, then blush at how dejected she sounded.
Michael laughed, but said, “Until he’s ready to mate you, yeah.”
That made her stomach sink. It was fine. As much as she liked the biting, she could go a year without it. “Is that going to be hard for you?” She relayed the question to Luke this time.
“It’s fine. The boys will take me hunting. It will help.”
“How long are you guys staying?” As she asked this question, Margo took note of how the air in the room lightened. Ashton left her side to stand by Michael’s loveseat under the window, Michael picked up his game, and Calum’s shoulders relaxed just a little. (She was beginning to think that relaxed shoulders were all she would get from him.)
Ashton answered her question, still staring out into the darkness outside the window. “Not sure. I’ve accepted a position teaching classic Greek literature, so quite a while I think.”
“What?” Margo asked, surprised. Ashton didn’t look like the scholarly type. “Are you qualified to teach that?”
Ashton scoffed in response. “I sure hope so. I was there.”
Margo’s mouth dropped. “Wait, how old-”
Luke cut her off. “Don’t ask a vampire how old they are, babe. They’re not fond of that.”
Margo gave Luke a look that let him know she would definitely be asking that question again, but she would at least do Ashton the courtesy of asking at a later date.
She was almost all caught up now, but there was one question still on her mind.
“Where am I?”
All four vampires laughed.
“Oh!” exclaimed Calum, remembering that he left out that little detail. “It’s our house. It’s in the woods behind UoA. Hospitals kind of cause sensory overload for vampires, so when you fainted, health services allowed Ashton to bring you here.”
“What, just like that?” asked Margo, confused.
“Well, Ashton has a medical degree, so it’s not like you weren’t in good hands.”
Of course. Vampires were fond of their multiple degrees.
“So y’all thought ‘lemme buy a house, so we don’t have to go to a hospital.”
Calum snickered at that, but Ashton was the one who answered. “I’ve owned this house for years. Since a little after the school was built. I thought it would be nice to have if I ever decided to come and get another degree. For all intents and purposes, it belongs to the clan now.”
“It belongs to you too,” Michael added. “You’re family now, whether you like it or not.”
Margo matched his grin. Raised in a household that was always just her and her mother, she dreamed of having a big family. As far as family went, Calum, Ashton, and Michael seemed more than perfect.
--
end notes: i can’t believe how obsessed i am with this series lmao! i’ve already started writing part 3!! anyway, i hope you like cal, mikey & ashton in this one. let me know what you think!
tag list: @5sosnsfw / @bloodmoonashton / @lukescaboose / @5sex-of-summa / @deviantnines / @halcyonnhood / @gh0st-0f-y0u-95 / @aspiringwildfire / @cal-pal-cuddles / @sweetcherrymike / @hereforlukescruff / @softforcal / @ohhmuke / @fratcalum / @calumamongmen / @ashtonandcalslefthand / @asht0ns-world / @colorful-queen-of-the-roses / @heavenlydrarry / @slowlyelectronictragedy / @myemptywallets / @pagesuponstpages / @fallfrxmgrace / @thefireisgone / @michaelorwhat / @dammitbands / @sugarcoated-pain / @sublimehood / @cal-puddies / @singt0mecalum / @irwinkitten / @myloverboyash / @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles
#luke hemmings#luke hemmings fic#luke hemmings blurbs#luke hemmings imagine#5sos#5 seconds of summer#5sos blurb#luke hemmings au#luke hemmings fluff#supernatural!sos#supernatural 5sos#vampire luke#5sos fic#5sos imagine#5sos au#calum hood#ashton irwin#michael cliffod#my fic#jay writes
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What about something where an overwatch agent finds out reader, a fellow agent, is a vampire? Akldsjfa it's a silly ask and I'll totally understand if you might wanna skip it!
Interesting, this is another trope that I haven’t explored before. (I don’t think I’ve done a lot of the non-human tropes at all, so I hope I got this right. Uh, it’s kind of mundane, so, sorry about that. That’s the sort of person I am.)
Warning: Blood mention
Crimson Hunger
The helmet you wear clatters carelessly to the ground, followed immediately by your gloves. You hastily reach for the little refrigerator in your room where you kept your ‘food’.
It’s been two days since you’ve had anything; the mission dragged on and your rations spoiled far too quickly in the heat of the Sahara.
The small door is nearly torn off it’s hinges as you snatch one of the few dark red packets out with a shaking hand. You get up, ready to take your meal that shimmers and swirls lazily in a silver that only you can see.
The door slides open abruptly. You whirl around, ice racing in your chest as your name is called.
“Hey, I came to check on you cause you didn’t look so hot…”
Lúcio trails off, standing there as he takes in the scene, hand up in mid-greeting and mid-smile, frozen. The light from the hall spills into your pitch dark room, highlighting you in likely unflattering ways. You both stare at each other, frozen.
That is, until the cool pack slips out of your hands, landing on the ground in front of you with a deafening ‘plop’.
The DJ’s eyes slowly slide down, and the gears slowly crank in his head. He stares at it. Recognition, then confusion, and finally, a short nervous laugh escapes him as he looks between yourself and the pack.
“Is, is that a…?”
You blink at him–a shiver goes up his spine when he sees the way your pupils change shape from sharp slits back to the familiar roundness of human irises–shuffling the discarded pack on the floor behind your feet as if it’ll make this disappear. Your skin seems…ashen, dry. He’s never really seen you out of the armor before. It’s unsettling–you’re unsettling–you’re…
Entirely inhuman.
The color drains from his face.
“You’re a…nah, you’re not a…” Lúcio couldn’t even finish his sentence, the absurdity of the truth too hard to voice.
“A vampire, yes,” you finish all too calmly.
The jig’s up, you may as well come clean about it. Years of lying and living off lies become tiresome. You’re too aged to consider being so childish about the matter. The way the smile stays nervously glued onto his face and his breathing becoming more shallow does not escape your notice. If only…
“I’m sorry you have to find out this way. I should’ve been more careful,” you sigh. “I guess I’ve just gotten too hungry.”
You normally keep the door locked and the lights off so you could feed in solitude, but in your haste, you had forgotten one of your precautions.
Before Lúcio could even force his feet to move, you quickly add, “Don’t worry, I don’t attack humans. I don’t hate garlic. The cross doesn’t do much to me–though, there was that one time–” you chuckle to yourself, entertaining a far-off memory of being under fallen debris shaped like a crucifix and the subsequent reactions of those who found you after, “–but anyway, only Winston knows, and now you. I’m not going to hurt you or do anything, so don’t worry. Yes, I can be killed like anyone else, you don’t have to drive a stake through my heart. No, my reflection is just fine–that rumor exists because mirrors used to be made of silver, which I am allergic to. Speaking of which, the sun hurts me quite a bit, so that myth is true.”
You try to mentally continue down the list of common questions people ask you, but after the mission and your lack of sustenance, your brain wasn’t exactly working at full capacity.
“…are there any other questions I can answer?” you ask when you can come up with no more.
Lúcio’s eyes have not left the bag on the ground behind your feet, and at your question, his gaze flickers upward.
“Was I interrupting your, uh, feeding?”
Your lip rises in apparent disgust. “'Feeding’? Please, I’m not a mosquito or a bedbug.” You shudder at the thought, running your tongue across the roof of your mouth.
“Sorry!” he yelps, already taking a step back, hands waving in defense. “Didn’t mean to be rude or nothing–”
“No, no, I’m sorry. I was the rude one.” You shake your head briskly, clearing it. “It’s a perfectly reasonable question.”
You would motion for him to enter the room rather than stand out in the doorway like an awkward encounter, but then he’d be in a darkened room all alone with a member of the undead. Even you had to admit that was less than desirable. So you just let him make his choice, which was to stand there with a way out.The hunger gnaws at you, the slight feeling of a feverish desire skittered across your cool skin.
With a long look at the blood pack on the ground, you pick it up slowly. It nearly slips from your trembling fingers twice, but you try to keep your dignity about you.
“Yes. It’s been two days since I’ve eaten anything. I didn’t get a lot during the trip because it all spoiled partway through.”
Confusion is drawn all over his face as he tries to recall you ‘eating’. “So, you don’t need to, y'know, get it from someone’s neck like Dracula?”
You stifle a short laugh.
“We eat life force which is most abundant in blood. It doesn’t really matter whether we get it from a bag or a person. But having this–” you squish the bag between your fingers, “–is like having gazpacho all the time when all you want is some minestrone soup.” There is the hint of irritation in your voice that you can’t contain.
You cast Lúcio a forlorn look, and he resists the urge to cover his neck, his hair standing on end. Secretly, he’s relieved when you turn you attention back to your unopened meal, but that thought is quickly squashed when he realizes that you’re a comrade and he should not be thinking of you as a monster, not hen you’ve sacrificed so much to help them.
You mutter something under your breath about declining birth rates and Omnics.
“Don’t worry, if you’re scared, call for McCree. He has a bit of experience dealing with…people like me. Oh yeah, I forgot. He knows, too.”
He doesn’t miss the way you pause when you say ‘people’. You’re not…a person. You’re a creature of the night. Conventionally, a monster.
A monster who has risked life and limb to protect the members of Overwatch and bring peace to a growingly tumultuous world, that is. It’s unfair for him to be afraid when all this time you’ve been fighting alongside them.
He takes a step forward, steeling his nerves.
You’re still his friend. And friends help friends.
You could practically see his thought process and the conclusion he tentatively arrives at, if the way he rubs his arm then neck is any indication.
“Well, y'know, I could–”
You hold up a hand. “Stop right there. I appreciate the thought, but don’t. If you’re not okay with it, you don’t have to offer.”
“But…”
“It’s okay, I survived years without fresh blood, so a few more isn’t going to kill me.”
He gulp, his newfound mettle quickly fleeing in the face of your objection, but he holds fast. “I don’t mind giving you a little something every once in a while, I mean, you’ve earned it kicking butt out there. Just, don’t turn me?”
You bark a short laugh–it’s not impossible, but you’d had to explain to him the mechanics behind how difficult that would be some day–and cut yourself off when your vision swims just a bit.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” You give him a weary, but the best reassuring grin you could before waving him away. “Now shoo so I can eat in peace. It’s messy.”
That’s a lie, you’ve had decades to clean up your eating habits, but it’s more out of consideration for the young man than anything, who hesitantly nods.
“Okay, just let me know if I can help. Um, enjoy your meal?”
“Will do, thanks.”
You wait for the door to close, plunge your room into complete darkness. The image of that final uneasy look Lúcio gives you lingers only half a minute in your mind before you tear your fangs into the pack, driven by a maddening hunger.
It’s lukewarm, and so utterly unsatisfying.
Maybe you’ll take him up on his offer soon.
#my writing#lucio correia dos santos#reader#blood#speaking of hunger#never trust a cookie recipe that does not call for salt#chances are the flavor isn't balanced properly and won't turn out very good#and then you have four dozen shitty cookies
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Part 2, Chapter 1
Or: Gratuitous? I'll Show You Gratuitous
Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1
Before starting Part 2, Robert Weinberg gives us another Edgar Allan Poe quote. This one’s from the short story “Ligeia”.
That she loved me I should not have doubted; and I might have been easily aware that, in a bosom such as hers, love would have reigned as no ordinary passion.
Who could this chapter be about, I wonder?
New York, NY—March 14, 1994
The most dangerous woman in the world rose each day with the sun.
She lived in the penthouse suite on top of one of the tallest skyscrapers in New York City. The building, from foundation to lightning rod, belonged to her. Few New Yorkers realized that the owner lived on the premises. Even fewer knew what she looked like or how much she was really worth. None were aware of the other, darker secrets the structure held.
A strong start so far. From here, the chapter will emphasize four things when introducing our new protagonist, Alicia Varney:
She’s super hot
She’s super horny
She loves being alive to a decadent degree
She’s a ruthless and unapologetic member of the 1%
In that order. Look, it’s the 90′s, this is a nerd property, and the story’s talking about a woman. You knew where this was going.
The name “Varney” might be a reference to Varney the Vampire; or, the Feast of Blood by either James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest. It was a penny dreadful vampire story that predated both Carmilla and Dracula and introduced several classic vampire tropes, like fangs that leave two puncture wounds and hypnotic powers. It’s also remembered for being terrible, so it’s maybe not the best story to associate your own book with.
As the sun rises, the light shines through her windows and slowly creeps over her lush carpet to her king-size bed.
It splashed across bright red silk sheets until it crested like a wave on the nude body of the woman sprawled in deep sleep in the middle of the crimson sea.
‘Cause sleeping naked on top of your bed covers is what anyone does when they live in New York City, a hundred floors up, in mid-March.
Her dark hair flared around her head in a halo, the sleeper had the face of an angel. And the body of a devil.
Her features, young and wrinkle-free, glowing pink with perfect health, were those of a twenty-five year old. Her body was taut and lean, well-muscled and deeply bronzed. Firm breasts, long, tapered legs, and flared hips proclaimed her one of those rare beauties who looked exceptional either dressed or undressed.
She must also smell like a gym sock dipped in stale perfume, given that she’s just waking up.
Quick comparison: In Part 1, Chapter 1 we didn’t get a physical description of McCann for about two and a half pages, and when we did all we were told was that he was a “big, broad-shouldered man” along with his height and weight. Before then we learned his name, profession, the situation he was in, what he’d been doing in the recent past and what he’s doing at present, and some exposition about a different character. For Varney, we get some brief hints at her wealth and power before being presented with a Playboy centerfold description three paragraphs into the first page of the chapter.
The sunshine caressed her face, causing the woman to smile in her sleep. Sighing softly, she rolled over, burying her head in the silk.
Varney has a grand old time waking up. She wipes the sleep from her eyes (or as we of the lower classes would describe it, scrapes off the hardened crust gluing her eyelids shut), does some lazy, sensual stretches, and shimmies her shoulders and back against the sheets to enjoy the feeling of them against her skin. After that “face of an angel/body of a devil” stuff it’s not like Weinberg was gonna write her groaning, scratching herself, and farting.
Still, I gotta call bullshit on this next line.
It feels good to be alive, thought Alicia Varney. It feels very good to be alive.
I don’t care who you are, how high your Humanity stat is, or how much you love being alive. No one likes waking up at sunrise.
Varney shuffles herself over to the intercom on her nightstand to alert the help.
“The princess in the tower has arisen,” the young woman declared. Her voice, low and sultry, was as smooth as melted honey.
That’d be the morning phlegm doing that.
She requests her usual breakfast and says she should be out of the shower by the time it arrives. The voice on the other end of the intercom acknowledging her wishes is a guy named Sanford Jackson, and he’s one of those fictional servants who’d be overqualified for their job if their employer was your average rich person. A former Green Beret and CIA troubleshooter, Jackson now serves as Alicia Varney’s manservant, chauffeur, bodyguard, and all-around sidekick.
And emergency cock.
During the rare periods where she was without a lover, he handled that job with reasonable competency as well.
“Reasonable competency,” hmm? Can’t tell if that’s a playfully coy way of saying he’s an excellent lover or a polite way of saying he’s meh.
Whatever his sexual skill level, the thought of Jackson’s “hard, muscular body” excites Varney. For the past few nights she’s been going through one of those previously mentioned rare loverless periods.
It was a situation she meant to remedy as soon as possible. Alicia Varney squeezed every drop of pleasure possible out of life. She did not like being denied anything for very long.
Still, she’s not quite desperate enough to fuck the help yet. Smart, since you don’t want a henchman in your stable getting too attached. It could also be evidence for the second of my two theories about Jackson’s Athletics ability.
Varney jumps into the shower, and as expected the narration doesn’t waste time on mundane actions like her scrubbing her armpits or rinsing the dandruff off of her scalp. Nor does Weinberg do the average male author thing of writing the woman doing an exotic dance in the shower while describing the water running down this curve and that tit. Nah, he skips all that and has Varney just go for it.
A few minutes under hot, pulsating streams of water, along with a session with the magnificent detachable shower nozzle, would serve for the moment.
You could give Weinberg credit for writing a woman masturbating for her own pleasure, rather than as foreplay or to show how lonely, pathetic, and manless she is, but keep in mind Varney’s only doing it because she didn’t have the real thing at the moment.
But self-stimulation was no substitute for the real thing. Later today she would go on the prowl. She needed a man.
We’ve only known Alicia Varney for two pages and I’ve read more about her struggling with her libido than I have Kindred with their inner Beasts since the start of the book.
When she steps out of the shower, Jackson has her breakfast prepared in her penthouse.
Dressed in a totally transparent dressing robe (because of course she is), Alicia nodded in satisfaction at the three slices of cinnamon French toast, selection of imported fruit jellies, pot of coffee, and copy of the Wall Street Journal.
This is very relatable to me. I, too, start my day by eating the Wall Street Journal.
She asks Jackson if she has any messages. He says she has a few, but nothing important enough to deal with before breakfast. He stands at attention nearby as she eats, and thanks to that transparent robe he does so literally and euphemistically.
Old habits died hard, Jackson never rested easy in the presence of his commanding officer. He always stood at rigid attention in Alicia’s presence. Though he couldn’t help sneak sideways glances at her firm breasts tightly pressed against the thin material of her gown.
I can guess why he ain’t with the CIA anymore.
As the former Green Beret tries to get his privates to stand at ease, Varney sets up her breakfast the way she likes it. Then she eats it the way you’d expect a hedonistic immortal billionaire to: like an asshole.
She feasted slowly, savoring each bite much like a condemned convict eating his last meal. Alicia rarely hurried doing anything. Eating, drinking, sleeping, making love,
using the bathroom, getting money from the ATM, deciding what to order at the drive-through,
she did them all at a controlled, measured pace that defined her existence. She believed in devouring her pleasures mouthful by mouthful, chewing them to a fine pulp, then swallowing. She was never in a rush. She had all the time in the world.
The WSJ doesn’t have anything in it that Varney hadn’t already learned from the better contacts her billions can afford her. This is typical even though reading the paper remains a part of her morning routine. Maybe so her sexy manservant won’t dare to try and start a conversation with her?
The mention of her billions leads to us learning more about the earnings of her company, Varney Enterprises, one of the largest corporation on Earth. Nothing about what services or products the company actually sells, though.
Estimating its actual worth was impossible, but corporate yearly reported income was more than the gross national product of many small countries. And that did not include funds from the company’s more profitable but quite illegal secret enterprises.
Someone’s muscling in on Cyberpunk 2020′s territory.
Eventually Varney puts down the paper, surely confident that Jackson won’t suddenly ask about her feelings, and gazes out the window. She lives in a skyscraper’s penthouse and the weather’s clear enough to see “for miles and miles,” and you’d think she’d admire the sight of New York City at sunrise. Instead, she looks toward New Jersey.
Her sharp gaze traveled past the slums of Tenth Avenue and the Bowery and across the polluted green and brown waters of the Hudson River. Beyond the river were the moldering Hoboken docks and the huge toxic waste dumps that had earned the town the nickname “the cancer capital of America.” At the edge of her vision, Alicia could catch sight of the crumbling coastal palisades that guarded the New Jersey swamps.
The World of Darkness is a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World; a Stark, Desolate Landscape where Nothing is as it Seems. So obviously nothing about New Jersey changed.
The view makes Varney feel like “a medieval princess in her tower surrounded by a world of peasants.” The narration explains America’s social situation in the World of Darkness: The rich are like aristocracy, there’s no true middle class, just rich and poor. Same old, same old. And while Varney has a history that should give her a unique and profound view on this social problem, the only conclusion she’d come to is that being rich is better.
Having experienced both extreme poverty and extreme prosperity many times in her life, Alicia knew without question that incredible affluence was the better of the two.
Wise words, Upton Sinclair.
She reveled in her riches, her lifestyle, and, most of all, in the physical sensations of life itself. There was no way she would give up any of it. For anyone or any cause.
Now with a set-up like that, you could normally predict a character’s arc. This time I have my doubts, as extremely long lived immortal characters tend to be set in their ways, but we’ll see.
(Spoiler: There's only one damn character in this trilogy who grows, and it's not this one.)
Oh, right. If you haven’t figured it out yet, Alicia Varney is actually Anis, Lameth’s former conspirator and lover, or whatever the ancient Mesopotamian term for “friend with benefits” was. It’s not revealed for another two chapters, but it’s obvious, so...
Having reflected on how the hardships she experienced over the millennia have taught her absolutely nothing beyond “fuck you, got mine”, Varney starts feeling philosophical. She asks Jackson if he can imagine living without the sun. Unfortunately the guy’s a bit of a dumbass when it comes to this sort of thing. Or so we’re told.
“Pardon, Miss?” Jackson was poised, bright, and articulate. He did not, however, possess an imagination. He viewed the world in terms of blacks and whites, positives and negatives. A wonderful bodyguard and right-hand man, he was less satisfactory as a conversationalist.
Jesus, all he said was “pardon.” No need to insult the guy’s worldview or conversational skills just yet.
She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Have you ever given any thought to what it would be like enduring in a world of eternal darkness. (I see what you almost did there, Mr. Weinberg) Without hope of ever seeing sunlight again?”
The big lug thinks she’s talking about being blind.
“Can’t say I have, Miss Varney. During the war, I trained wearing a blindfold, learning how to rely on my other senses if my eyes were injured.
Jackson’s secretly a kung fu movie protagonist.
But that never happened. I’ve been lucky that way. Always had perfect vision.”
Alicia sighed. She wondered why she bothered. With a shake of her head, she tried one last time.
“Big bright light in sky. What if... could kill you? Can only do awake things when big bright light go sleep at dark time? You like?”
But seriously. Varney tells Jackson to imagine he caught a theoretical disease that would kill him if he were exposed to sunlight, and cost him the ability to enjoy “physical pleasures” like eating and drinking. Never again able to see the sun, to eat or drink. Would he go mad? Would he adapt, if he even could.
Jackson finally figures out that his boss is talking about vampires, like the ones she deals with at a place called The Devil’s Playground.
“Became one of those vampire things who spend all their time plotting against each other? Or haunt the streets, drinking the blood from bums who don’t have a place to hide.”
“They are not prime examples of the Kindred,” said Alicia. “But close enough.”
Nah, that’s an accurate description of your average WOD vampire, even the older low-gen ones Varney no doubt thinks of as prime examples (and secretly is).
“It wouldn’t make a difference to me, Miss. I’m a survivor. I enjoy my food and drink,” his eyes widened suggestively, “and my lovemaking.
“Uuuuuuuugh,” groaned Alicia as she once again regrets banging him.
Can’t say I’d be thrilled if I had to live without them. But I ain’t quite ready for the great beyond, if you catch my meaning. If I had to drink some blood to stay around, I’d do it in an instant. Did worse in the war, ma’am. Lot worse once or twice. Survival ain’t pretty, Miss Varney. Still, death is awful final.”
“You are a practical fellow, Mr. Jackson,” said Alicia.
Me, I would’ve asked him to clarify on the war crimes and possible cannibalism he just admitted to, but fine, let’s go with practical.
Varney concludes that she sometimes thinks an eternity of darkness is no better than a short life followed by death, and Jackson can’t really understand because “Mankind is born of the sun” (not me though, I was born after nine o’clock PM) and “Humans are truly heirs of the morning.” Jackson counters by saying he’d heard vampires being called the Children of the Night. Varney says that’s poetic, but very true, proving that neither of these two idiots had watched the damn movie. Dracula was talking about wolves. If anything, werewolves are the Children of the Night. Vampires are more like the Stuffy Old Dudes or Moody Teenagers of the Night, depending on the story.
That was all a fancy way of them agreeing to disagree. The conversation ended, Varney stands up and reminds us that she’s not so much wearing a robe as a big sheet of Saran wrap.
She rose to her feet, grinning as her assistant’s expression froze, his thoughts as transparent as her robe. “Keep hoping, Mr. Jackson,” Alicia purred as she walked to the huge closets that covered one entire wall of her bedroom. “If I don’t find a candidate to satisfy my carnal desires within the next few days, I will be forced to rely on your services. I’m positive you will rise to the occasion.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will have an erection for you when the time comes.”
“...Mr. Jackson. We’ve talked about you explaining my wordplay.”
“...?”
“That you shouldn’t.”
“Of course, Miss Varney,” said Jackson politely. “I’ll try my best.”
“That will be quite satisfactory, I’m sure,” said Alicia.
It’s more clearly playful than the last time Jackson’s fuckin’ skills were brought up, but the fact that he still has to wait a few days before his boss gives up and settles for him still makes me doubt his ability to please.
This reminds me of some Spider-Man history. Do you know why Spidey’s relationship with Black Cat didn’t work back in the day? It’s because while she was in love with the mysterious, wise-cracking and crime fighting Spider-Man, she had absolutely no interest in boring old sad sack Peter Parker. Sure, he was dating this incredibly beautiful lady, but the nature of the relationship meant his self-esteem was at rock bottom.
The situations are different, but the results are similar enough. Jackson occasionally gets to have sex with his gorgeous and seductive boss, but she straight up tells him she’ll only do it if she’s going through an extended sexual drought and can’t find a different boy toy, and she’s too coy to straight up say whether or not she enjoys those rare times with him. It makes me wonder about poor Jackson’s mental health. That and that war time cannibalism he mentioned earlier.
Ah well. Next chapter we learn that Varney pays him enough for her to have no doubts about his loyalty, so he has that going for him at least.
Speaking of paying him enough to deal with her bullshit, as Varney enters one of her closets she orders Jackson to bring up her messages and Sumohn, her pet panther she hasn’t seen in several days. Not only is Alicia Varney a selfish corpo yuppie, she’s one of those people who thinks it’s a good idea to own an exotic animal.
Jackson blanched. His big hands clenched into fists as he scowled at Alicia.
Even her boner-addled henchman is judging her.
“That beast is dangerous, Miss Varney. Black Panthers aren’t made to be household pets. Not even for ladies like you.”
“Nonsense,” said Alicia, her tone of voice brooking no disagreement. “I can assure you that Sumohn is incapable of harming me. I repeat, Mr. Jackson, incapable. We have had this conversation before and it does not please me to repeat it again. The subject is closed.”
Jackson relents, understanding who writes the checks and provides the magic pussy. He says he’ll send word to the kennel, because of course the ignorant billionaire keeps the poor wild animal in a kennel. Following this is what I think they nowadays call a #girlboss moment, but I’m a little out of touch when it comes to cancelled Netflix shows and the social and anti-corporation essays they inspire. It’s the 90′s so let’s call it a Girl Power moment.
“You’re getting better, Jackson,” said Alicia, with a laugh. “But you’re still not perfect. I run my life the way I want. You worry about my business rivals sending assassins after me. I’ll worry about Sumohn.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Jackson, his tone of voice indicating he thought his employer was crazy. “You’re the boss.”
“Exactly,” said Alicia. “Now go.”
Alright, Robert Weinberg, I believe you. Alicia Varney is a Strong Female Character and not the result of typing one handed.
The gimp goes down to warn the kennel people while Miss Varney gets dressed. Now, this is a young rich woman getting ready to take her pet out for walkies. It’s an... eccentric choice of pet, but still. You’d expect her to wear something trendy but casual enough to sweat in. But this is vampire fiction, so she’s gotta dress a little more extra than that. She puts on a long black velvet skirt, the Seinfeld puffy shirt a frilly white blouse, and, get this, a black toreador jacket. In this one case, it’s “toreador” as in a bullfighter, not an undead hack artist.
No word on whether or not Varney’s jacket has epaulettes, but I choose to believe they do.
She completes the look with a black beret worn at a “jaunty angle”, so that by the time Jackson gets back she looks like the french foreign exchange student from a 90′s high school movie.
(The only thing we were told about McCann’s wardrobe was that he wears a topcoat.)
Jackson came back with a folder full of documents and word from the kennel that the panther’ll be up in a few minutes. Varney can’t help but snark at Jackson one more time about his earlier common sense argument with her.
“At least they understand the wisdom of not arguing with me,” said Alicia, thumbing through the documents.
Making anonymous calls to the ASPCA, on the other hand...
Halfway through reading her messages, she learns some bad news about Russia. The Shadow Curtain has affected the country’s economic plans as well as secret vampire crap. Now we learn how Miss “I Run My Life the Way I Want”, earlier described as someone who “did not like being denied anything for very long,” reacts to being told she can’t have something.
Not well, as you guessed.
“The Russians refuse to let our people into the country? What the hell is happening there? It doesn’t make sense. Varney Enterprises has been doing business with the Communists since 1919. Did that fool in charge, Andropov, give any reason for the abrupt change in policy? I thought we were bribing the miserable son of a bitch plenty.”
She’s most likely referring to Yuri Andropov, third General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and, as of ‘94, someone who had been dead for ten years. I can’t find anything about him being a secret vampire who faked his death and ruled from behind the scenes, so Alicia Varney hasn’t been paying attention for the past decade.
She also seems to think the USSR’s still a thing when it fell three years ago. I don’t think WOD is one of those fictional universes where the Soviet Union stuck around. That only happens in things like Star Trek, which came out before the Soviet Union fell but takes place in the future and made the wrong prediction about Russia’s. It’d be a waste anyway. There’s plenty of darkness and misery to be found in post-Cold War Russia.
Jackson informs her that rather than dying of renal failure in the 80′s, Andropov has vanished without a trace, along with other people they’d been dealing with in the country, thanks to either Boris Yeltsin or the true power behind Old Drinky. They’d been eliminating the “Old Guard” and replacing them with their own people. Either a reference to the 1993 Russian constitutional crisis or just ”business as usual”. In any case:
“They’ve made it absolutely clear that foreigners are no longer welcome into the country. And that includes us.”
No McDonald’s for World of Darkness Moscow.
“Fuck,” said Alicia harshly. “That move is going to cost us millions. We spent years setting up that network in the Soviet Republics. It can’t crash just become some reformer has taken charge. I refuse to believe it. Russia doesn’t work that way.”
This is the second big change Russia has gone through in less than a century. Nothing stays the same forever. Countries and cultures change. You’d think an immortal would know this.
Jackson says that “things have changed drastically in the past few months,” and their agents, presumably the ones that haven’t become Nictuku food yet, delivered some disturbing rumors about Yeltsin’s secret advisors.
“Word is that to consolidate his position, he’s cut deals with some awfully ruthless characters.”
“Ruthless?” Repeated Alicia. “What’s new about that in Russia? Those bastards are colder than ice. They’d murder their own children and sell the bodies for medical research if it paid enough.”
The urge to include a vodka crack in that rant must have been so strong that if this were the tabletop it would’ve needed a dice roll to resist.
Unfortunately, no one knows the exact truth. Jackson says that despite all the talk, anyone who gets too close to the real truth disappears.
“I’ve studied the reports from the past twelve months.”
This has been going on for a year and you’re only now telling the head of the corporation?
“The closest thing we have to actual facts are several garbled reports of a gigantic old bitch with iron teeth and iron claws meeting late at night with the Premier.”
That sobers Varney up immediately. Or gives her a stroke. You decide.
Alicia froze, her mouth open in stunned surprise. All the color drained from her face, leaving her white as a ghost. Her eyes clouded, as if focusing on something deep within her mind. She stood unmoving, like a statue, for nearly a minute. Then her jaw snapped shut and she ground her teeth together.
“The hag,” she murmured, as if dredging a name out of her subconscious. “The iron hag.”
If Yeltsin had been in league with a powerful witch of legend in real life, I think he’d be remembered more fondly.
Jackson asks her what she means but she snaps out of it and dismisses it as remembering a story from her childhood. Then the elevator arrives and her mood brightens. Sure, Baba fucking Yaga is messing with her bottom line, but right now, KITTY!!!
She turned just as a short, swarthy man (oh for fuck’s sake) entered the parlor. Accompanying him, barely controlled by the steel chain leash around its throat and jaws, was a huge black panther.
The poor thing’s not even wearing a muzzle. They just wrapped a chain around its mouth.
She squees about how much she missed her giant baby as she rushes toward it to run her fingers through its neck fur.
The beast growled, a deep rumbling sound that Alicia insisted was its way of purring.
Oh surprise of surprises, the exotic animal owner knows jack shit about it. The largest species of cat that can purr are cougars. You can argue that some of the noises big cats like jaguars and leopards can make are equivalents to meowing, but I can tell you from experience that cats only meow when they want something, like food, or to bite your throat out and escape because you took it from its natural habitat and regularly stick it in a kennel for days in a row.
(Black panthers are jaguars and leopards with black fur, not a separate species, but we aren’t told which of the two Sumohn is. Cougars are sometimes called panthers, but there aren’t any with black fur, they’re smaller and, despite what the Red Dead Redemption games would tell you, they aren’t as deadly to humans as the actual big cats, and thus aren’t as impressive a thing for a sexy rich immortal to own.)
“Glad to see me too, huh?” said Alicia, scratching the monstrous panther behind the ears.
Yellow eyes stared deep into Alicia’s dark blue ones. The billionairess nodded, as if in reply to an unstated question. It appeared as if the animal and human were communicating by telepathy.
When it comes to animals, vampires are like ghosts and killer robots; animals can sense they aren’t human and freak out. A way around this for vampires here is ghouling the animal. It's heavily implied in Blood War, and will eventually be explained in the third book, that Sumohn is a ghouled animal, which makes it both a superpowered mutant cat and completely loyal to it's master. I also figure that Varney knows the Animalism discipline, which at its most basic allows vampires to communicate with and control animals. The first tier power, Feral Speech, allows one to do exactly what Varney did just now: communicate with animals telepathically if you look them right in the eye. The name of the power wasn’t mentioned, but that same thing happened many chapters ago with Vargoss’ Dominate attempt. There’re also Animalism powers that allow you to summon an animal, sooth its anger, and even possess it; all useful abilities to have if you’ve got a goddamn panther. Animalism isn’t a Brujah power, associated instead with Gangrel, Nosferatu, Ravnos, and, unfortunately for the animal, Tzimisce. But over the millenia old Anis could have learned it from a member of one of those clans.
Varney orders Jackson to find out more about what’s going on in Russia by this evening. She tells him to call their people in the State Department and have them check with the CIA, a “subtle” example of her influence. Right now, it’s time for walkies.
“Sumohn’s tired of being kept in a cage. She needs exercise.”
Then don’t keep it in a fucking cage! There’s a reason zoos don’t do that anymore!
They’re headed for Prospect Heights in Brooklyn, to Jackson’s dismay. In this world, New York City has gotten even worse than it was in the 70′s. Here’s what he says about Prospect Heights.
“Prospect Heights isn’t safe. The police have declared it off-limits to civilians. Last week they threw in the towel and stopped patrolling the grounds, even during the daytime. Squad cars won’t enter, even if they spot a murder taking place. Too many gangs and psychos hide in those woods, all armed with heavy artillery and anxious for a chance of blowing away some cops.
“The mayor washed his hands of the whole situation. He called the park a national disgrace. The city council wanted the national guard called out to clean up the place. But the legislature vetoed the funds.”
Jackson shrugged his shoulders. No fan of politics, he was a strict believer in justice delivered from the muzzle of an automatic. ”No way Republicans are going to help a Democratic administration. Meanwhile, the park is a free-fire zone. You’ll be taking your life in your own hands if you go in there.”
What I believe he’s saying here is that The Warriors is canon to Vampire: The Masquerade. Deep down, I think I always knew that.
Varney laughs off the danger. Sumohn will protect her.
As if responding to her mistress’ comments, the panther growled. Despite the big cat’s mouth being muzzled by steel chains, it was a terrifying sound.
Fine, I get it, the panther loves her owner back. But still, GET HER A REAL MUZZLE! ONE THAT KEEPS THE PEOPLE AROUND HER SAFE BUT IS COMFORTABLE FOR THE PANTHER! YOU CAN OBVIOUSLY AFFORD ONE!
How do you even wrap a chain around a panther’s jaws without losing a hand? Christ!
“I hope she can catch slugs with her teeth,” said Jackson.
And take out enough creepy mute baseball bat-wielding psychos before you’re both overwhelmed.
Varney insists she’ll be fine and tells Jackson to focus on Russia. She’ll be back in a few hours. After all, she’s got evening plans at the Devil’s Playground.
“Alert the usual spies. It’s going to be a hot night.”
Which was more true than she could imagine.
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DRACULA Makes the Rules: Visionary Author Bram Stoker Born 170 Years Ago Today!
New Post has been published on https://nofspodcast.com/dracula-makes-rules-visionary-author-bram-stoker-born-170-years-ago-today/
DRACULA Makes the Rules: Visionary Author Bram Stoker Born 170 Years Ago Today!
We all know the rules of the vampire, right? Garlic, bats, stakes, coffins, mirrors. All these attributes and more are so familiar, almost anyone could rattle them off. And why not? Like zombies, vampires have enjoyed a bloody reign over horror for so long, they have practically carved out their own genre.
Sure, the brain starved walking dead have gained a recent dominance over their classier counterparts. But it wasn’t long ago that Twilight ruled the bookstores and box office — for better or for worse. And let’s not forget True Blood, Interview with a Vampire, Salem’s Lot, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the other iconic additions to the modern vampire myth.
But the current conception of the vampire wasn’t always set in stone. In fact, we have a single work to thank for the majority of the vampire myth as we know it today. The 1897 novel Dracula is where the modern vampire was truly established. And the author behind the horror classic, Bram Stoker, was born 170 years ago today.
Bram Stoker was an Irish theater manager working in London when he wrote Dracula. Stoker had made a habit out of writing novels on the side to earn some extra cash. The author became inspired to turn the European folk myths of vampires into his next story. Stoker spent seven years pouring over vampire folklore to research his book. Most of his sources were the legends and superstitions regarding vampires that were passed down throughout Eastern Europe for centuries.
The tricky thing was, a consistent set of rules for vampires couldn’t be pinned down from these folk sources alone. Besides the fact that a vampire was an undead revenant who fed on blood, everything else could vary widely.
So Stoker took all these folk elements, borrowed some ideas from gothic literature, added a dash of his own creativity, and set down the rules of the modern vampire. Some of these rules remain unaltered, some have transformed over time, and some have been forgotten. But they demonstrate how Dracula defined the modern vampire.
1. “I Never Drink…Wine”
The classic line, uttered by Bela Lugosi in the 1931 film version of Dracula, is iconic because we all know what the vampire does drink. And of course the villain of Stoker’s novel consumes blood. He couldn’t be vampire if he didn’t do that!
What’s interesting is that, unlike most modern vampires, Stoker’s Dracula doesn’t need to consume blood to be immortal. He is undying simply by virtue of being a vampire. He does need blood to gain strength, and the more he consumes, the younger he appears. In fact, at the beginning of the novel, Jonathan Harker encounters a blood starved Dracula who looks old and decrepit. By the time the villian’s feasting on the blood of Londoners, he looks quite young and attractive.
So what else about this rule has stuck around in most modern vampire iterations? Dracula never eats food or drinks anything but the red stuff.
2. Mirror, Mirror
We all know the classic vampire tell. Hold up a mirror to the potential bloodsucker. No reflection? It’s a vampire!
This rule was set down clearly in Dracula, and it’s been a staple of the myth since. One aspect of this rule from the novel that has stuck around less consistently? A vampire will cast no shadow. Some films, like Vampyr (1932) and Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992) prefer shadows that move independently of the vampire. Most forgo shadows and just keep reflections in play.
Either way, we can thank Dracula for confirming the importance of mirrors in the vampire myth.
3. Gone Batty
In pop culture, if a vampire isn’t a suave gentleman (or a sparkly teen heartthrob), they’re a bat. A squeaking bat emerging from a discarded cape is an iconic horror trope for a reason. The fact that vampires could transform themselves into a bat was one of the rules established in Dracula.
But the titular Count wasn’t limited to bats, in fact, he also transformed himself into a wolf, and according to Dr. Van Helsing, he could become dust if he’s in the moonlight, or travel as a mist for a limited distance. He could even become tiny to slip through cracks! Most of these rules have fallen by the wayside. But the Counts’ tendency to turn into a winged, nocturnal bat remains a fixture of the modern vampire.
4. Invitation Only
Another famous rule of the vampire that was set down in Dracula? A vampire cannot enter a place unless they are first invited in. However, once they are invited, they can enter as they please. This is one of the few rules established by Stoker that has remained unaltered in almost every vampire story since.
5. Vampire Repellent
Another standby rule that was established unaltered in Dracula is the classic combo of vampire repellent; crucifixes and garlic. These two remedies of vampiric folklore were firmly set down by Stoker. Because of this, they’ve outlasted salt, rice, mustard seeds, and numerous other traditional vampire repellents to be the two we remember today.
However, it’s interesting that rather than causing a vampire to screech and retreat, as is often seen in films, crucifixes and garlic simply cause a vampire to “take his place far off and silent with respect.” Essentially, he just stands in the corner awkwardly while the dreaded items are around.
6. Slay Away
What’s the most essential vampire rule? How to slay one of course! We all know a vampire slayer would be nowhere without their trusty stakes. And a stake to the heart is the most prominent method of vampire killing employed in Dracula. But it’s not the only possible method laid out by by Van Helsing, the vampire slayer of Stoker’s creation.
Decapitation or a “sacred bullet” can also do the trick. What exactly is a “sacred bullet”? It’s not the silver bullet of werewolf lore, though it certainly shares the folkloric origin. Instead, it’s a bullet that has been blessed, usually with holy water.
Some of these methods of vampire disposal are still featured in vampire lore to this day. But it’s the stake that has remained the most common method to defeat a vampiric threat. Its use in several memorable scenes in Dracula no doubt have contributed to its staying power.
What’s the major vampire killer that doesn’t come from Stoker’s novel? Sunlight! Believe it or not, Dracula’s count could survive the UV exposure that has destroyed many a vampire since. He even appears strolling around in broad daylight in the novel! Daylight does reduce his powers, but it’s not deadly to his kind. The killing power of daylight was established by Nosferatu (1922) and has remained a standby of vampire lore ever since.
It’s worth noting that none of these rules were outright invented by Bram Stoker. Instead, he combed through centuries of vampiric folklore and settled on what to preserve in his tale of the undead.
Other characteristics of the vampire featured in Dracula that have endured include the contagious nature of vampirism — those killed by a vampire will become one. This was sometimes, but not always the case in pre-existing folklore.
The characterization of a vampire as a suave gentlemen wasn’t invented by Stoker. It can be traced to earlier works like The Vampyre (1819) by John William Polidori. But Stoker’s specific version of the vampire, based on Sir Henry Irving, Shakespearean actor and friend of the author, is what has endured. And it’s a serious departure from vampires of folklore; bloated, nightmarish fiends that certainly couldn’t pass undetected in high society.
There are some rules established in Dracula that haven’t stood the test of time. But the ones that have paint a complete picture of the vampire myth as we know it today. And without Bram Stoker’s iconic novel, an entire subgenre of horror would look very different. To anyone who’s ever watched a vampire movie or enjoyed a guilty-pleasure undead romance novel, we have Bram Stoker to thank.
#Bram Stoker#dracula#Dracula novel#horror anniversary#horror history#horror novels#vampire films#vampire folklore#vampire genre#vampire mythology#vampire myths#vampire novels#vampire tropes#vampires
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The Species That You Have Never Seen
Vampire in Madagascar - Dracula Ants
(image credit: Wikimedia Commons)
In my mind, Dracula ants is a very different species as it has special habits of drinking the blood from its young ants. Therefore, their appearances also seem similar to the “aliens”. These “vampire” also likes to live in the rotting logs and the leaf litter. People who interested for this creatures can attempt to find in Madagascar, however, these creatures have listed as critically endangered.
(image credit: Wikipedia)
Development of the countries has strongly affected the habitat of Dracula ants. The activities such as logging and forest fires have caused Dracula ants difficult to find their food and even caused them to kill each other. Lastly, the people of Madagascar should protect and conserve the habitat of Dracula ants as this is a very rare species that with special habits.
Omnivorous Scavengers - Sri Lanka Relict Ants
(image credit: Wikimedia Commons)
Besides that, the Sri Lanka Relict Ants is also a special species of the ants in Sri Lanka. It has special habits as it just only to eat rotten fruit and nectar. Also of this reason, it always called as omnivorous scavengers in Sri Lanka.
(image credit: Wikipedia)
Through so much investigation, I found that ants are usually likes to like leaf litter and dead wood pieces so Sri Lanka Relict Ants are also the same. However, this creatures id difficult to survive as their special habits so it have been classifying as a critically endangered species around world.
(image credit: Wikimedia Commons)
This species is just only can find in a small area of Sri Lanka. It has also threated by the human impact such as forest fire and logging activities. So far, we can know the habitats is very important for these small creatures. People in Sri Lanka should increase their awareness of protecting the endangered species.
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DRACULA Makes the Rules: Visionary Author Bram Stoker Born 170 Years Ago Today!
New Post has been published on https://nofspodcast.com/dracula-makes-rules-visionary-author-bram-stoker-born-170-years-ago-today/
DRACULA Makes the Rules: Visionary Author Bram Stoker Born 170 Years Ago Today!
We all know the rules of the vampire, right? Garlic, bats, stakes, coffins, mirrors. All these attributes and more are so familiar, almost anyone could rattle them off. And why not? Like zombies, vampires have enjoyed a bloody reign over horror for so long, they have practically carved out their own genre.
Sure, the brain starved walking dead have gained a recent dominance over their classier counterparts. But it wasn’t long ago that Twilight ruled the bookstores and box office — for better or for worse. And let’s not forget True Blood, Interview with a Vampire, Salem’s Lot, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the other iconic additions to the modern vampire myth.
But the current conception of the vampire wasn’t always set in stone. In fact, we have a single work to thank for the majority of the vampire myth as we know it today. The 1897 novel Dracula is where the modern vampire was truly established. And the author behind the horror classic, Bram Stoker, was born 170 years ago today.
Bram Stoker was an Irish theater manager working in London when he wrote Dracula. Stoker had made a habit out of writing novels on the side to earn some extra cash. The author became inspired to turn the European folk myths of vampires into his next story. Stoker spent seven years pouring over vampire folklore to research his book. Most of his sources were the legends and superstitions regarding vampires that were passed down throughout Eastern Europe for centuries.
The tricky thing was, a consistent set of rules for vampires couldn’t be pinned down from these folk sources alone. Besides the fact that a vampire was an undead revenant who fed on blood, everything else could vary widely.
So Stoker took all these folk elements, borrowed some ideas from gothic literature, added a dash of his own creativity, and set down the rules of the modern vampire. Some of these rules remain unaltered, some have transformed over time, and some have been forgotten. But they demonstrate how Dracula defined the modern vampire.
1. “I Never Drink…Wine”
The classic line, uttered by Bela Lugosi in the 1931 film version of Dracula, is iconic because we all know what the vampire does drink. And of course the villain of Stoker’s novel consumes blood. He couldn’t be vampire if he didn’t do that!
What’s interesting is that, unlike most modern vampires, Stoker’s Dracula doesn’t need to consume blood to be immortal. He is undying simply by virtue of being a vampire. He does need blood to gain strength, and the more he consumes, the younger he appears. In fact, at the beginning of the novel, Jonathan Harker encounters a blood starved Dracula who looks old and decrepit. By the time the villian’s feasting on the blood of Londoners, he looks quite young and attractive.
So what else about this rule has stuck around in most modern vampire iterations? Dracula never eats food or drinks anything but the red stuff.
2. Mirror, Mirror
We all know the classic vampire tell. Hold up a mirror to the potential bloodsucker. No reflection? It’s a vampire!
This rule was set down clearly in Dracula, and it’s been a staple of the myth since. One aspect of this rule from the novel that has stuck around less consistently? A vampire will cast no shadow. Some films, like Vampyr (1932) and Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992) prefer shadows that move independently of the vampire. Most forgo shadows and just keep reflections in play.
Either way, we can thank Dracula for confirming the importance of mirrors in the vampire myth.
3. Gone Batty
In pop culture, if a vampire isn’t a suave gentleman (or a sparkly teen heartthrob), they’re a bat. A squeaking bat emerging from a discarded cape is an iconic horror trope for a reason. The fact that vampires could transform themselves into a bat was one of the rules established in Dracula.
But the titular Count wasn’t limited to bats, in fact, he also transformed himself into a wolf, and according to Dr. Van Helsing, he could become dust if he’s in the moonlight, or travel as a mist for a limited distance. He could even become tiny to slip through cracks! Most of these rules have fallen by the wayside. But the Counts’ tendency to turn into a winged, nocturnal bat remains a fixture of the modern vampire.
4. Invitation Only
Another famous rule of the vampire that was set down in Dracula? A vampire cannot enter a place unless they are first invited in. However, once they are invited, they can enter as they please. This is one of the few rules established by Stoker that has remained unaltered in almost every vampire story since.
5. Vampire Repellent
Another standby rule that was established unaltered in Dracula is the classic combo of vampire repellent; crucifixes and garlic. These two remedies of vampiric folklore were firmly set down by Stoker. Because of this, they’ve outlasted salt, rice, mustard seeds, and numerous other traditional vampire repellents to be the two we remember today.
However, it’s interesting that rather than causing a vampire to screech and retreat, as is often seen in films, crucifixes and garlic simply cause a vampire to “take his place far off and silent with respect.” Essentially, he just stands in the corner awkwardly while the dreaded items are around.
6. Slay Away
What’s the most essential vampire rule? How to slay one of course! We all know a vampire slayer would be nowhere without their trusty stakes. And a stake to the heart is the most prominent method of vampire killing employed in Dracula. But it’s not the only possible method laid out by by Van Helsing, the vampire slayer of Stoker’s creation.
Decapitation or a “sacred bullet” can also do the trick. What exactly is a “sacred bullet”? It’s not the silver bullet of werewolf lore, though it certainly shares the folkloric origin. Instead, it’s a bullet that has been blessed, usually with holy water.
Some of these methods of vampire disposal are still featured in vampire lore to this day. But it’s the stake that has remained the most common method to defeat a vampiric threat. Its use in several memorable scenes in Dracula no doubt have contributed to its staying power.
What’s the major vampire killer that doesn’t come from Stoker’s novel? Sunlight! Believe it or not, Dracula’s count could survive the UV exposure that has destroyed many a vampire since. He even appears strolling around in broad daylight in the novel! Daylight does reduce his powers, but it’s not deadly to his kind. The killing power of daylight was established by Nosferatu (1922) and has remained a standby of vampire lore ever since.
It’s worth noting that none of these rules were outright invented by Bram Stoker. Instead, he combed through centuries of vampiric folklore and settled on what to preserve in his tale of the undead.
Other characteristics of the vampire featured in Dracula that have endured include the contagious nature of vampirism — those killed by a vampire will become one. This was sometimes, but not always the case in pre-existing folklore.
The characterization of a vampire as a suave gentlemen wasn’t invented by Stoker. It can be traced to earlier works like The Vampyre (1819) by John William Polidori. But Stoker’s specific version of the vampire, based on Sir Henry Irving, Shakespearean actor and friend of the author, is what has endured. And it’s a serious departure from vampires of folklore; bloated, nightmarish fiends that certainly couldn’t pass undetected in high society.
There are some rules established in Dracula that haven’t stood the test of time. But the ones that have paint a complete picture of the vampire myth as we know it today. And without Bram Stoker’s iconic novel, an entire subgenre of horror would look very different. To anyone who’s ever watched a vampire movie or enjoyed a guilty-pleasure undead romance novel, we have Bram Stoker to thank.
#Bram Stoker#dracula#Dracula novel#horror anniversary#horror history#horror novels#vampire films#vampire folklore#vampire genre#vampire mythology#vampire myths#vampire novels#vampire tropes#vampires
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