#Dracula Ruler of the Night

[draculabridesdraculadaily]

Lucy and Mrs. Westerna

Belated mother's day pic and just a little something since were past the point (at the time of this writing) that Lucy is introduced into the story, so here's her and her mother (whom I dub Minerva in the AU version of Dracula I'm doing). Still human and taking a nice serene picture against their summer home landscape. Enjoy!

[dracularulerofthenight]

Cover Page (Clip Studio Paint Speed Video)

Speed video drawing of the earlier Dracula cover page I posted earlier. Enjoy!

[7-wonders]

"Watching horror movies together"

From a Halloween prompt list. Thanks for reading, guys :)

In your humble opinion, October is one of the best months of the year. How can it not be, when there are so many fun activities that come along with the fall season? Pumpkin patches and apple picking, haunted houses and costume parties, colorful trees and fall-scented everything. One of your favorite parts of October? An excuse to watch as many scary movies as you could possibly desire.

You don’t just watch scary movies in October, of course. Halloweentown and Hocus Pocus were made for this month, and it’d be a shame to not watch them both at least once. But horror movies, in all their spooky, creepy glory, have a special place in your heart, and they’re something that you go out of your way to watch this month. There are only so many days that you can pack in all the Halloween you can handle, after all.

You’re spending the night as you do so many others in October—with the lights off, a snack on your coffee table, and the horror movie of your choice on the screen (tonight’s pick being The Conjuring). The movie is maybe 15 minutes in when you get your first jump scare, but it doesn’t come from the screen. Instead, it comes when a man materializes out of the shadows of your living room, making you yell in fright before your eyes recognize the messy head of black hair and alabaster skin.

“You scared me!” you exclaim, quickly getting over your fear and being unable to stop smiling when it sinks in that Morpheus is actually here.

“My apologies.” He takes in the scene before him, you sitting in a darkened room with a blanket on your lap watching a movie, with interest. “What are you doing?”

“Watching a movie. Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re almost never in the Waking.”

It takes him a moment to figure out how to say what he wants to say. “My duties have kept me away from you as of late. I wish to rectify that.”

After translating from Morpheus to English, you have to exert a lot of willpower to keep from breaking. He came all the way to a realm he’s not comfortable in simply because he missed you? Because he feels guilty for being busy and wants to try and make it up to you?

(There’s no need for him to make anything up, because you’re not mad at him in the slightest. He’s the ruler of a freaking realm; of course, that’s going to take precedence over almost everything in his life. But if his misplaced guilt causes him to spend more time with you, then you certainly won’t complain.)

“Okay. Do you…want to watch the movie with me, then?”

He considers the question, likely the first time he’s ever been asked such a thing. Regally, he answers, “I suppose.”

Now he’s here, sitting next to you on your secondhand couch in your cozy apartment, trying to wrap his all-knowing mind around what a horror movie is. You’re simply pleased beyond measure that your boyfriend is doing something so human and mundane with you, and therefore willing to answer any of his questions that take your attention away from the screen.

“These are watched with the express purpose to leave the viewer frightened?”

“Exactly. You know, like how people read Dracula and Frankenstein?” Relating the movie to classic literature he’s familiar with (you doubt he’s had time to catch up on Stephen King novels) finally makes it click for Morpheus, who nods. “It’s fun to be scared, sometimes.”

Even though this is likely one of the first movies that Morpheus has ever watched, he has enough of an idea of the concept to realize that it’s an activity that’s mostly conducted in silence. It’s a concept he respects…for the most part.

(“Why do they not simply move to another home?” Morpheus asks when one of the daughters sees someone standing in the dark behind her door. Smirking, you simply say, “Now you’re asking the right questions.”)

When the pictures fall off the wall and remind you that one of the best scenes is seconds away from happening, you smile as an idea comes to mind. 

“There is another plus to watching scary movies together,” you begin, making Morpheus look at you curiously.

“And that would be?”

“Well, when scary things happen on screen…” Carolyn Perron falls down the stairs as the spirit locks the door. “And if I were to, say, jump in fright because of it…” The basketball is thrown from within the cellar, and you jump exaggeratedly. “Then it would only make sense for you, as my romantic interest, to…” Taking Morpheus’s hand in yours, you maneuver his arm until it’s draped around your shoulders. “Comfort me.” 

It takes him a moment to settle into the new position, for his arm to relax around you until he naturally pulls you closer to him. When he does, your smile widens until you’re flashing a very smug grin at him.

“I believe you are right,” he says. “This does make the experience better.”

Laughing lightly, you kiss his shoulder before turning your attention back to the movie. October continues to be full of new reasons as to why it’s one of the best months of the year.

[see-arcane]

The idea of one of the Weird Sisters being a romani girl or a slovak girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time is horrible, and a great way to showcase the kind of power (both social, and supernatural) that Dracula forces upon the humans around him.

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong state of being, social, supernatural or otherwise. Dracula could have taken anyone from any station in Transylvania. Rich or poor, friend or foe. But I think none of the Weird Sisters were noblewomen while alive. They were, like Jonathan, sniffed out among the chattel. Dracula is their superior in every regard that way; and more, the servile classes do one thing better than any aristocrat.

It is their wont to make their ruler happy.

The eldest, a young fair girl, was a drop of sunshine and laughter in a threadbare village. Someone who uplifted and charmed whoever she crossed. Dracula, after some unknown breaking point in the mad red fog as he skulked up the mountains into his broken castle to wrestle with inhuman instincts and hold to something like a man's sanity, was alone. A monster made raw with slaughtering, with his people only fearing and fleeing around him. His halls are quiet. He crawls and lopes through them, snapping at himself, knowing he is reducing night by night into a Thing more than a man, let alone a conqueror.

So he goes hunting. He finds the fair girl who makes others happy and holds their hearts. He steals her. Wrings out months of playacting from her; in turn, he has reason to force himself into behaving like a man. The castle has no visitors in that era. When she cries and calls from her window, she hears only her own echoes as a pleading choir. And then it is back to making her monster happy. So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

The next girl was taken back when ties were first forged between the Count and the early generations of Slovaks he would come to entrust with his errands. There was trust on the human side too. Yes, he was a monster, but he was their monster. Their benefactor. He speaks to them like kin and pays a dragon's ransom for their work. They are allies! He calls them friends!

So it goes until his attention falls on one of the girls. A daughter. A sister. A new wife. She knows their Count, their kind monster. 'A friend of the family.' And perhaps she is not even afraid when he asks her, cordial as a lord, to aid him with something in the castle. A small matter, my dear, but something he would not trust the coarse handling of the men to do. She goes in. The door locks.

Does she go to that same room, that same window? Does she weep and call for her family? Does anyone try to come for her, to plead with their friend-master-owner, or to--ha--raise a weapon against him?

If so, it is a small matter. Quick. Bloody.

She charms him while alive. For she must. She thought, just as her new-ancient Sister thought, that she might find a way out. A chance to flee. But she makes him so happy. So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

And the Slovaks learn a lesson that is shared through centuries. They warn all those they work with in the future of the same. The locals, the nomads, the strangers. No women. No girls.

The third girl has no warning. She is Romani, but she has run from her people too. Or else she was trying to find them. Times have always been grim, but especially when the mania over witchcraft was at its height. She lost friends and family to...what? Sham trials and tortured deaths? A scattering to the winds as they fled the self-assigned hunters? Running further, higher, steeper. God's soldiers will not bother with their mission if it means galloping up the cliffs.

Up, up, up.

There are wolves. There is cold. She has no room in her to care.

And then, a fairy tale happening:

A man appears on the moonlit mountain. His eyes are fire. Are you lost, my dear?

She is. She thinks herself already dead or dreaming when he leads her into the castle. When there is food, warmth, and sympathy from this smiling noble perched in the crags of the Carpathians. And for one month, maybe two, even after she smells something worse than death on him, even after every liberty is plucked from her like petals from a rose, even after she has her first glimpse of her grinning Sisters, even after she sees strangers--Living people! Her own people among them! Look, look, I am trapped here! Please! Please, do not go, do not leave me with him...--she clings to charm. To smiles. She makes him happy.

So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

And now there is a young man. Such a winsome thing, young and strong. He makes their monster so happy.

His waiting Sisters think their monster may just love him.

And as they hear him shout from the hand-me-down window, they laugh along with the living in their coffins.

[ssleeping-in-a-coffin]

Dracula — Count, Prince, or Lord?

Although Dracula is referred to as "Count," this is far from the highest aristocratic title. In European hierarchy, the title of Count is a mid-level rank. Above it are the titles of Marquess and Duke, and even higher are the Prince and, of course, the King.

Interestingly, the title of Prince (or "Knyaz") in Eastern European contexts is closer to the rank of a Duke. In Western Europe, Princes could rule over small independent principalities, placing them above Counts and Marquesses. Thus, Prince Dracula might rank higher than a typical Count, especially considering his symbolic role as a ruler of darkness.

But why does Dracula have so many titles? The answer lies in the myths and legends: his titles reflect his power rather than just aristocratic rank.

"Count Dracula" is his aristocratic title, corresponding to the historical figure on whom the character is partially based (Vlad the Impaler, ruler of Wallachia). The title "Count" signifies his noble heritage, but it’s not the highest rank in reality.

"Prince of the Night" is a more symbolic title. Here, "Prince" represents a ruler of darkness and the vampire world. This makes it an intermediate status between a real aristocratic title and his mystical role, emphasizing his authority over nocturnal beings and forces.

"Lord of Darkness" is an even higher, almost divine status, surpassing ordinary aristocratic hierarchy. This title connects Dracula with the forces of evil and mystical entities, positioning him as a figure on the boundary between the mortal realm and the supernatural.

In essence, these titles showcase not only his real-world status but also the increasing level of his mystical power and influence.

If you want to draw a similar, "shaking" gif, this is the place to go!

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 9

Hiiii! Welcome to part 9 of my Dracula x Reader fic! I hope you enjoy this chapter, though I apologize if it feels kinda wonky. I finally got a new pc built during writing, and a bunch of other stuff has happened. It was hard to piece it all together with so much happening in my life. I hope you all enjoy it though! Just in time for Nocturne to release :D Summary: After arriving in Dracula's castle, you can't help but feel you are in a dream, though you certainly wish it was to avoid the awkward air. Meanwhile, Dracula contemplates his next moves. After all, he's sure he's bound to be the center of the world's gossip mill when they find out he's caring for a Belmont.

CW: Anxiety, references to bad home life, injuries mentioned, blood drinking

Word Count: 4216 words! Like my work? Come check me out here: Link Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Tag List: @Onewiththebeanbag @starrlo0ver @sleepyendymion @dame-sunflowers @sapphicsfordracula @ursamajor17 @maorizon @marshmelloe Wanna be on the taglist, let me know in the comments!

First: Here Last: Here Next: Here! --

Sorting his affairs turned out to be a much more annoying endeavor than Dracula originally intended.

Despite this, he wasn’t all too surprised.

For the past few centuries, despite being the King of the Night, he has had very little presence in paranormal societies.

Every time he had been revived since this cursed cycle began, he had barely been alive long before a Belmont or some other hero would come and battle him to the death.

Even if for all intents and purposes he was the King of Vampires, he has had little or no time to rule.

He absentmindedly swirled his glass, before taking another sip.

There were two probable scenarios because of this.

Vampire covens and supernatural communities were in chaos.

Or-

They were in various communities across the globe, staking territory. He doubted any of them would be happy he was back to rule.

No one liked their own power to be threatened, after all.

Even when he was actively King, vampire covens and paranormal communities weren’t always happy to serve him. Many just did for his power, or the safety he offered.

Some felt the call of power from him and Castlevania itself. Others are uniquely tied to him and his castle. Those ones he hardly had to worry about.

No, he had a feeling his return wouldn’t be as happily accepted outside his usual circles. Most would probably only lend him an ear since he was Death’s master, and Chaos’ champion.

Did not mean they would be cooperative or happy.

He let out an agitated sigh. No doubt being killed over and over made him appear weak. Dracula suspected many would be aiming for his throat and his throne.

Nevermind the fact he was almost always slain just after being revived, before his powers ever had a chance to settle.

And he was sure many underestimated the power of the Belmonts. He may have always just woken up around each battle, but each Belmont still had power beyond belief.

“What a nuisance.” He muttered, downing more blood.

While normally he would handle this himself, he couldn’t afford to sit idly and wait for such pathetic attempts on his life and power from want-to-be rulers.

Dracula had a guest this time. He had you.

Back when his precious Lisa had still been alive, he had been alive for several centuries at that point. Almost every underling knew she was off limits, lest they desire something more painful than death itself.

Even those he knew wanted his head knew better than to go for his wife.

Lisa had been left alone by his servants and other creatures of the night. Ironic how it was the humans that took her from him.

The gall and irony humans had to call him and his own monsters after that. Bah.

The glass in his hand cracked, and he looked at it in annoyance.

Banishing it, another drink was brought to him as he continued to think.

Things were different this time. At least back then, no one dared to lay a finger on his wife. But now?

He had no doubts a target would be on both his head, and the Little Belmont’s.

Dracula was sure word was already spreading across the castle, and no doubt would soon do so to other communities nearby.

‘The Dracula? Taking in another human?’

He can already imagine the gossip.

The scowl on his face darkened.

It would only be a matter of time before word reached across the globe.

He knew you could take care of yourself, sure. You had told him several stories of hunts you had when he had been imprisoned, usually involving the death of a beast hunting innocents.

However, there was no way in hell you would survive in your current state. Whatever had happened, had intended to either permanently harm, or to kill you.

Dracula’s free hand gripped his throne tight, and he felt the arm of it splinter slightly.

How you received those injuries was a whole different issue that he would have to investigate later on. An issue he planned on thoroughly going over.

So for now, you were under his official protection while you healed.

Unless of course, you decided to go against your word. Though, Dracula heavily doubted you would do so.

You really were different then those who came before you.

This would not be easy, but when had it ever been? He was just thankful you knew how to defend yourself, and had the means to do so.

Once word got out, and you were healed, he also had suspicions you would be hunted. Either as a Belmont, Dracula’s human, or a ‘traitor’.

He may not have been privy to any sort of personal information regarding hunters and their circles, but he knew back a few centuries ago, helping out a ‘monster’ was a death sentence. It did not matter if they didn’t wish to harm humans, simply helping a beast was an act against god and humanity itself.

Hunters and the church considered such a person no better than the very beasts they hunted at that point.

Dracula doubted that sentiment was completely gone, even now in more modern times.

Reaching up, Dracula pinched the bridge of his nose in thought.

He had someone making potions for you at least. Hopefully you wouldn’t be badly injured for too long.

After that, he wondered if you would be opposed to staying here at his castle? You didn’t seem disgusted by it, nor did the castle seem to try and push you away like it did other intruders.

Those who were not welcome usually felt such pushes on their mind and body. Only the strong willed could push onwards past it.

Even his castle seemed to see you as a guest.

The castle bent to his will, sure, but it was still a being of Chaos. This small revelation also intrigued him, how such a being seemed not to mind your presence.

Perhaps it was that it also didn’t consider you a threat? It was obvious you currently had no intentions to fight him.

Dracula’s eyes narrowed, a presence pulling him out of his thoughts.

The room grew darker, and a familiar figure rose from the shadows. It flew around his throne, before giving a bow in front of him.

“Good to see you back, Master.”

Death.

Dracula looked over the divine being that had worked under him for centuries. His second in command, his devout lieutenant.

Dracula gave the being a brief nod of acknowledgment, and Death rose.

Even after all the deaths Dracula had endured, Death itself still remained loyal after all these years. He supposed he should count it as a blessing now.

“Report?” Dracula then idly asked, drinking from his glass.

“Things are running smoothly. Everyone is settling in quickly, as usual my lord.”

Dracula hummed.

“Good. Good.” He mumbled, mind still partially elsewhere.

A moment passed, and Death gripped his scythe.

“Master, if I may be so bold…”

Dracula held back a sigh, already having an inkling to what he was going to say.

“Do you think it is wise to have a hunter, let alone a Belmont residing in the castle?”

There it was. He knew his subordinates would be asking sooner or later. He wasn’t particularly surprised Death was the first to make an inquiry.

“They pose no threat. This Belmont is… different from the others. I would like to speak with them properly about our standing with one another as soon as they are recovered.”

He then looked Death in the face.

“They are not to be harmed while under my care. Do I make myself clear?”

Death studied him for a moment, probably wondering if he had a few screws loose, before nodding his head.

“As you wish, milord.”

Death was silent, and a beat passed. Dracula hoped his warning managed to sink into the other entity’s skull.

He was no stranger to the fact Death was his most avid supporter. Although Death had always followed his orders, the entity didn’t shy away from making its own decisions if he felt it was best for his master.

Staying within Dracula’s orders, but bending the rules just enough to do his own thing if he could get away with it.

Typically Dracula didn’t mind. Death was his most trusted lieutenant for a reason.

However, he couldn’t help but feel Death may try and get around this one rule if it felt it was best.

As much as he hated it, he would have to keep an eye on all his close subordinates.

Dracula tried not to focus on the growing migraine building in his head.

“Now, what of the vampire covens across the earth?”

Death gave him a subtle crooked grin, and Dracula had a sinking feeling he would need another drink before returning to see you.

—

Dracula’s castle was far more pleasant than you would like to admit.

Your brain was in and out of a fog, but even then you could appreciate just how nice the guest room and washroom alone were.

You almost felt like royalty with how classy and intricate the rooms were, and how they had convenient modern touches.

Never had you stayed somewhere so elaborate and fancy. All the hotels you have been in couldn’t even come close to compare.

Even now as you laid in the giant bed with its soft, velvet sheets, you couldn’t help but be amazed.

Kinda ironic, the home of your ‘enemy’ was way better than any place you had ever stayed at.

Besides maybe your own home before your step family took over, you supposed, though that was a long time ago.

Slowly rolling onto your back, you winced as your wounds flared and your stomach churned. You continued to admire your setting.

The bed had a beautiful silk canopy around it, and you still couldn’t help but be enamored by it.

Or by it all, really. Even if it was a bit overwhelming.

…Just how long has it been?

You had been in and out of sleep, occasionally slipping into a doze before startling awake. The time was lost to you.

In retrospect, you couldn’t help it. Your instincts were going haywire from… well, everything.

The bed and sheets were nice at least. Almost too nice.

You were used to your old sheets, or stiff bed sheets you’d find in cheap hotels.

Not soft satin sheets and pillows that were as fluffy as a cloud.

There was also the glaring fact you were in monster territory. Despite how nice the decor was, it was something on the back of your mind also keeping you up.

Yes, Dracula said you were a guest, but it was hard to lower your guard when you knew just outside the door were monsters roaming up and down the halls. That this whole castle was filled to the brim with the paranormal and monster kind.

You were also a hunter, and a notorious one from a notorious family at that.

It wasn’t hard to imagine some monsters may go ahead and take a shot at you, regardless of Dracula’s orders.

To some, it may be worth it to suffer Dracula’s wrath or ire if it meant eradicating you from existence. It wasn’t exactly a secret that a lot of the paranormal hated you.

You carefully laid on your side, and looked out the window.

A small comfort. Originally, the window had been covered by thick curtains. However, you had pulled them aside to attempt to relieve your anxiety.

The clouds were dark. You couldn’t tell if it was night or day at this point. Perhaps that was the point.

But you were so tired. Exhausted.

You really couldn’t even sleep if you wanted to, knowing Dracula, or at least a servant, would be bringing you a meal sometime soon.

The hunter in your soul didn’t wish to be taken off guard, even if it was to be fed.

A small part of you wondered if you should even eat. Your instincts whispered in your mind about poisons, warning you of incoming death.

But that was ridiculous. Imagine it, you, a hunter, dying from poison.

No, if Dracula wanted you dead, he would have killed you by now. By his own hand no less, you were sure.

Still, that didn’t stop your instincts from making things difficult.

You curled in on yourself a bit tighter, wincing when some of the stitches tugged. Reluctantly, you adjusted to keep them from stretching.

You reached over, and grabbed the nearby pillow, and hugged it close to your body for some comfort.

It smelled nice.

That was another issue. You were so sleep deprived and struggling with blood loss, your brain liked to bring up such things, no matter how much you were trying to shut them out.

Gripping the pillow tighter, you felt your face form into a sour look.

“What am I going to do…” You mumbled, closing your eyes again.

At least if you didn’t sleep, lying here would be some rest. Better than none.

Though you hated to admit how much you jumped when you heard a brief, but loud knocking against the door. Talk about acting like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs…

You sat up in bed with a wince, and you noticed that no one seemed to enter. Another knock followed the previous one. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Uh… Come in…?” you called out, uncertain. Were they waiting to see if you were awake, or what?

The doorknob slowly turned, and you felt like the breath was punched out of you when Dracula stepped through.

Right. He had mentioned he would return.

He looked different though. Better, if you had to put a word to it. He wasn’t particularly disheveled to begin with, but now he didn’t look as… Hungry? Irritated? It was hard to figure out the words.

The Lord of the Night had also changed. Similar style, dark cloak and all, though he had on a vest with a dark red dress shirt underneath, and some sort of fancy slacks.

You imagined you probably would have wanted to change too if you had been wearing the same clothes as a stone statue for however many years.

But seeing Dracula again? You hated to admit how he practically took your breath away.

His power and presence were just as intimidating as before, and he wasn’t even angry. How did your ancestors handle him before, when he felt this powerful without seemingly intending to harm you?

Dracula looked you over briefly as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. Even if there were no traces of malice on his face, a shiver still ran down your spine, instincts still screaming to run or fight.

You swallowed your nerves down as he walked closer.

He stopped at the side of your bed, and once again, you had to crane your neck just to see him at his full height.

That is, until with the wave of his hand, a chair nearby in the room came scooting forward. It came to a stop behind him, and he sat down without a glance.

Internally, you hoped your awe wasn’t blatantly on your face.

When he sat, he crossed his legs, before holding a tray with some sort of bowl on it. He held it forward, and you blinked at it slowly.

“I hope you are resting well, Little Belmont. I had some servants make you some soup. I fear eating solids may upset your stomach, which would aggravate your injuries if you were to grow sick.” He spoke, his voice low and deep. Even if he wasn’t loud, his voice still seemed to vibrate in your chest.

It took his words a few moments to register, and you looked between him, and the tray. He took in your expression for a moment, before speaking once more.

“If you fear it has been tampered with, I assure you my servants-”

“Oh, no… It’s fine. Sorry, I’m…” You spoke, cutting him off, ignoring how your pulse spiked when you realized you did so.

“S-Sorry… My head is a bit foggy, is all…” You then explained, before shakily reaching for the tray.

Dracula was quick, or perhaps, your brain really was slow. He held out a hand, and quite gently might you add, set the tray down on your lap.

“Of course. You must not exert yourself, and you must eat. I do not know how long it has been since you last ate, but you need something in your stomach.”

As if hearing the conversation, your stomach loudly growled, and you felt your face flush in embarrassment. When was the last time you ate? This morning? Night before last? You couldn’t exactly remember…

It was brief, but you swore you could have seen Dracula’s lips twitch upward seeing you grow flustered. It must have been your foggy mind and imagination. Or not, he could be internally laughing at you. Who knows?

Meanwhile, Dracula knew he had been right to bring you soup. He just hoped you could hold it down.

Though he didn’t want to admit how… endearing it was seeing you grow flustered like that. For a Belmont, you were quite the adorable human.

He would never admit it of course, but hell save him if Death ever found out he had such thoughts. Dracula would never hear the end of it.

Especially considering such thoughts were about a Belmont. Someone he should be wasting no time slaying.

But he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

There was something so different about you, even now, as he watched you pick up the spoon and attempt to eat.

You didn’t stare at him with burning hate in your eyes, but curiosity. There was a sharp mind behind those eyes that asked questions. Someone who didn’t just jump to conclusions.

Was it so wrong he wanted to see more of that, especially in the family of his enemies, who had blindly ran and fought? Killing innocents of his kind?

He was no saint, far from it. But he knew of many others the Belmont clan had killed.

But you… You were so different. He didn’t wish to say it outloud, but he wished to push forward that way of thinking. Perhaps he could even find a middle ground with you.

You weren’t just some ‘scary hunter’. The Little Belmont in front of him showed so much more, showing the better qualities of humanity.

His face almost soured at the thought, but even he could admit every one in a million, perhaps one good human was born. You seemed to be that one in a million exception so far.

Just like Lisa had been.

He decided not to think too much on what that could mean, though he hoped it promised good things in the near future.

It was quiet for a while, and Dracula couldn’t help but study you as you ate. First and foremost, it was to watch and make sure your body could handle it.

But he had his own selfish reasons for doing so.

He could move again. React to you. Speak to you. Touch you.

However, he found it hard to speak. There were many things he wanted to talk about with you, and half of them he intended on waiting until you were a little bit healthier.

Anything he thought of before now though, was suddenly caught on his tongue as he observed.

Perhaps it would be better this way. Dracula prided himself on being charismatic and influential, but that was amongst the supernatural. This was a Belmont, and he knew things were… shaky at best.

However, as he watched you try and consume more of the soup, he found himself managing to say something.

“Are you feeling alright? Adjusting well?”

Briefly, you tensed when he spoke, before you seemed to force yourself to relax. He made a mental note of that reaction, wondering if it was because of him, or if it was a natural response.

Dracula could understand it if it was from him, given the circumstances, but even he could tell there was something off about it. He didn’t like the feeling settling in his gut over the bigger picture.

“It hurts a lot, but I’ll live.” You spoke, your voice still rough, but sounding leagues better than before. For a moment, it looked as if you wanted to say more, but held your tongue.

Interesting.

You were still for a moment, struggling to look at him. No doubt you were still having trouble thinking clearly, and struggling with everything that had happened. Have you even slept?

He had his doubts you’ve even rested. You may not look as manic like before, but you looked completely exhausted.

For a moment, he briefly thought about using his abilities to make you sleep. It was something Lisa would request on occasion if she hadn’t felt well or couldn’t settle.

However, he stomped that idea down. The last thing you needed was him using his powers like that on you, unless explicitly agreed upon. Even though you were… receptive of him taking care of you at the moment, he didn’t want to shatter that small bit of trust.

Given that he had suspicions about your home life, he imagined just the small bit of trust you had given him at all was momentous. Dracula couldn’t afford to lose that. Not now.

Though Dracula hated the odd pain in his chest as he stared at you. He was worried. Something he didn’t think he would ever feel again.

“Thank you, by the way.”

His eyes were on your face in an instant as you spoke.

“I… You didn’t have to take care of me. I do appreciate it.” You spoke, your eyes still on the bowl in your lap.

Your voice was small, and quiet. Dracula could tell though, saying that must have taken strength.

You didn’t see his eyes soften ever so slightly.

“You are welcome. As my guest, I will do my best to make sure you are taken care of.”

Internally you wanted to scream. You hated how much you liked the sound of that. When was the last time anyone cared enough to take care of you? Your mother before she had died all those years ago?

It had been way too long, and it was Dracula who was seemingly wanting to take care of you.

Damn your foggy mind.

A few moments of silence passed.

“I… Um…” You began, unsure on how to word this.

“About when you were a statue…”

You had so many questions, but didn’t know where to begin. Was it even a good idea to ask in the state you were in?

“You could hear and see everything, right?” you asked tentatively.

Dracula was silent for a moment, red eyes staring into you. It seemed he was contemplating what to say, and you tried not to get nervous as the seconds awkwardly ticked onward.

“Indeed I was. I was aware the moment you stepped foot in my castle the first time, though I was not aware it was a Belmont, not at first.”

His voice was still like velvet. No wonder vampires were such good hunters if they could talk like him.

You really needed to force yourself to sleep. Maybe if you smacked your head hard enough on the table, you could knock yourself out before you did or thought anything weirder.

Clenching your fist, you attempted to figure out what to say next.

“Um…”

Internally you cursed yourself for making this awkward. Why did you have to bring this up?

“Then… What now?” You asked, trying to find some semblance of what comes next. Just because he was taking care of you didn’t make everything all happy and cheery.

You couldn’t wash away centuries of history and bloodshed out of nowhere.

Dracula shifted, then reached over to the bedside table, and grabbed a glass of water. You looked at it confused.

When had he brought that in?

Before you could ask, he was gently holding it out to you.

“We can discuss that after you have rested. We have much to go over, but worrying about that and discussing it while you are injured won’t help your healing.”

He looked away a moment, as if contemplating what to say, before his eyes met your own once again.

“You have gained my interest and respect, enough to hear you out and discuss everything. When you are in a state to do so, of course.”

A part of you opened your mouth to speak, as if to say you could do it now, but you froze. Your eyes landed on the glass he still held out.

After a moment, you closed your mouth, and took the glass.

In that moment, you couldn’t help but feel like some sort of agreement or contract was formed, as if your fate was sealed.

As you sipped the refreshing water though, and looked over at Dracula himself, who seemed pleased you accepted the drink…

…You wondered if this would really be that bad?

Perhaps your future wouldn’t be as bleak as you thought.

[bluecatwriter]

So I watched a tv movie called Bram Stoker's Van Helsing (2021) that's only about the London Lucy segment of the story and… you know how no one (despite Van Helsing's fear) is seething with jealousy over Lucy? well, it's a love triangle now because they wanted to make it more interesting. Arthur and Jack keep headbutting for dominance and Arthur is so jealous that he's the one who throws the garlic away at night, for Jack to not be the one who becomes the hero in Lucy's eyes.

Putting this on the pile of Dracula stuff that includes Arthur, but completely changes him to "fix how boring he is"... (see also Anno Dracula (allies with Dracula, becomes a serial murderer all because the Newman loathed Arthur in the book), The Athena Club series (allies with a demon to become a fascist ruler), Dracula 2006 (huge rich jerk, invites Dracula to fix his syphilis), Dracula 2020 (loves to publicly humiliate Jack, horrible person)

Every day I learn about a new adaptation in which my boy is massacred... :'( Bless you for watching so I don't have to.

Turning the Suitor Squad into a love triangle (square?) is just lazy writing, period. Ohhh, multiple guys are interested in one girl and they're jealous and fight over her?? HOW ORIGINAL. *eye roll* It's such a cliché that there is NO excuse for using it, and triply so when the source material doesn't have it in the first place! Arthur throwing the garlic away because of some male ego thing makes me want to smash a chair through my dining room window.

It's honestly discouraging how little imagination adapters seem to have. All right, adapter guy, so you think Arthur Holmwood is boring... it's not a completely unreasonable statement. But look— look at the actual source material and see what's buried there! Just off the top of my head...

-Being someone who cries so openly and on so many different people is a huge character trait. Show how he's defying Victorian masculine norms by freely expressing emotion (or how he's conforming to the stereotype of Sighing Lover) and do something with that.

-What kind of person travels literally all the way around the world, having tons of wild and wacky adventures, and yet never tells any stories about it? What is his motivation for not trying to impress his girlfriend with tales of running from wolves or crashing a ship in Polynesia? What does this say about the way he experiences life?

-The story is ripe with little hints about how incredibly close he is to both Quincey and Jack. If adapters weren't so homophobic, they could explore all sorts of possibilities there.

-He likes dogs! That's a whole character trait!

-All right, adapter doesn't want to engage with any of that and is set on making him evil? Okay, then, make him evil in a way that fits the source material. Once again, making him jealous of other men or a philandering spoiled lordling are super-cliché. How about thinking about what could make him actually go off the rails? Is he haunted by how obedient he was in killing Lucy, even when he didn't know exactly what was going on? Does he carry a grudge against Van Helsing for making him into a killer? Do we take the text at face value that when he set his mind to it, he was ruthlessly effective in ending Lucy's undead life— does he get addicted to that feeling, does he get righteously caught up in vampire hunting (or just murder) because he can't bear the thought that he could've been wrong?

People making adaptations don't have to follow canon, of course, but it seems reasonable for the decisions to be rooted in canon, for readers/viewers to be able to draw a line from point A to point B. At the very least, there's no excuse to fall back on tiresome tropes.

Thanks for giving me the chance to rant about this. :D

[pricescigar]

Vampire!Price & Elvira Wolff Lore

Even though I've written Vampire!Price twice, I'm going to dump some new lore between Vampire!Price & Elvira Wolff

I have been brainstorming for a while because why not >:)

(And also because I've been too shy to share it lmao)

You could say I got heavily inspired by Bram Stoker's Dracula / Castlevania because it's my brainrot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ANYWAYS... LETS BEGIN

John Price lore

Captain John Price, also known as "Dracula." "Prince of Darkness." "King of the Night."

Before he became a Vampire was of course a famous captain in the British army in the Medieval era ranging from 500AD to 1500's. John was born at some point in the early 1060 A.D. exactly date, month, was deemed to been long forgotten. The older you get, of course you forget your age and the people around you who are long dead now.

In his human years standing proudly at 190.50 cm / 6ft3 , short brown hair that was always slicked back. His blue eyes shone in the sunlight. Chizzled mutton chops, always neatly shaved regardless of time and place.

At a young age he joined the army, leaving the life he knew behind. He became an excellent swordsman, leader & strategist. He was a young man after all, well built, strong like any man.

Knowing the basic means of survival thanks to all what his father taught him, his father's name forever unknown to everyone else but John.

He sought his enemies to be dead upon the battlefield, always the one to rush into Battle. With his great courage and bravery he quickly became captain, leading his men into Battle with no hesitation. Despite all of the Battles he had won, he wanted more. Of course, John was immensely recognised by his bravery, leadership. He wanted more; He wanted to be King.

At the time had a supposed lover by his side. Despite how forbidden it was for a Knight to have fallen in love with a Princess, he did fall in love with her. He wanted nothing more to take her hand, and make her his. Yet... she soon passed away due to a grave illness, which also made him angry and guilty.

Greed & Power could only get a man so far. With deadly consequences, he betrayed the King, the same one who knighted him all those years ago. Taking the Throne for himself, his other relatives had been slaughtered, taking no second chances. While he sat ever so proudly at the Thone, killing anyone who had defied, dared to betray him.

(That had also meant most of his soldiers for that matter)

To be the Kingdom's forever ruler, John sought out means to possess immortality. He heard of many rumours that of a "Crimson Stone." By any means necessary, the stone got into Price's possession thus he gained immortality. But at a cost.

He became a Vampire. His appearance changed as a whole, all forms of humanity, forms of emotions were gone.

His skin became paler, his ears almost pointed. Teeth sharp like canines, sharp nails that could easily cut you at the slightest touch; Standing now at a staggering height 213cm / 7ft.

With his powers he managed to revive his men forming an undead army, at the bend of his will. Raging War on anyone. With his now gift of immortality, he also gained knowledge of Necromancy & master of Sorcery. Although he gained the common abilities of a Vampire. Price was the most special one of all.

Under the restrained rule of John Price, a band of rebels formed a resistance. A band of powerful sorcerers. With Price's newfound powers, it raged a powerful battle. Almost defeating Price he transformed into a bat, escaping just in the nick of time before his ultimate demise.

One of the sorcerers that almost killed him was a member of the Wolff family. Escaping England for good, moving far away to another foreign land. Yet over time, Supernatural forces grew despite Price's dissappearence, Vampires spawning everywhere causing destruction everywhere.

Soon a Hunters Regieme was formed to tackle the supernatural creatures.

-

Elvira Wolff lore

The Wolff family became strong as the generations went by, one of the many few families built the Hunters Regime, and what it became of in this day and age.

Elvira's mother passed away during birth, so it's been herself and father that stuck through thick and thin. Along with Elvira's godfather, godmother and uncles in their family estate.

Elvira was trained from a young age to be a hunter like her family members, from the age of 5 her training begun. Her knowledge was built on by reading various books about the supernatural creatures; How to fight them, how to deal with them, what to do when you encounter one.

(The list goes on)

By the age of 10 Elvira already had basic knowledge of supernatural creatures, but that was a starting point of her career path.

As she grew older her father got attacked and seduced by a Vampire and eventually turned into one. Bit by bit, all forms of humanity dissapeared within him.

Elvira's godparents, and uncles died in the hands of her father as they tried protecting her but to no avail. Dietrich always had the upper hand.

Elvira became a captive in her own home, each night she heard the various screams of men, women, being dragged into the family estate so Dietrich could feed on his eternal hunger.

Elvira did all she could to save them but that would only result in punishment, when she turned 21 in 1476. She risked her life to do the inevitable. Eliminating her father.

She risk burning down her family estate, trapping her father in it. By the time she got out Elvira was gravelly inured, yet she survived.

The Hunters came and nursed her back to health, yet due to her father's betrayl she had to work hard to regain their trust once more.

Her mission was to kill the Vampire King, John Price. Elvira had everything she needed to make the mission successful.

Yet the moment Price set his eyes on Elvira, the young woman reminded him for his long lost princess... His lover.

[vladdocs]

CD SHORTS: Vlad Tepes, a 15th-century celebrity in the West?

Along with Stephen the Great, Vlad Tepes was the most famous medieval Romanian ruler. But what did it mean to be "known" in medieval Europe?! Who knew about the field of impaled stakes near Târgoviște? Or that the Sultan had barely escaped the night attack? The answer is somewhat disappointing: the majority of the population had never heard of Vlad and Stephen, despite many detailed and fascinating reports, found today in archives and libraries. As the majority, that is, the lower classes had NO political power, they also had no access to quality information. They heard at most that there were some wars with "pagans" in the Balkans. Details were known only to the elites: political-military, ecclesiastical, economic. It was their pockets that were hurting, as they had to contribute to some new crusade. An exception were the peasants of Transylvania who filled the pockets of Tepes' enemies. They knew about the voivode, because they (or their neighbors) had personally experienced the side effects of medieval politics, where the economic destruction of the adversary often meant the physical elimination of the peasants and the burning of crops.

[sillyvampireboi]

Blood Delivery

Warnings: blood, neck biting, soft dom, master/servant, blood drinking

Summary: Renfield messed up. He had one very important task and he failed. His Master needs blood but he fails to deliver it. What can he do to still be a good little familiar?

tags my beloveds: @giosnape | @unholy-gigi thank you for beta reading !

a/n:I think this is the most erotic(?) thing I’ve ever written, and the first of that sort. I’ve left the Master for interpretation, using they/them pronouns. So it can be a gender neutral reader or your oc of sorts, etc

Comments are really appreciated:) I just want him to be loved and taken care of. He deserves all the kindness TvT

This whole fic was written around the sketch I did ~

The Diamond of the Night Sky took Her place, 

Covering everything with cold, dreamy light, 

And gifting new shadows to the frightened ones. 

As She looked down upon her few hours kingdom, 

She saw one lonely soul, 

Sprinting in the snow,

He felt cold,

Deep in his bones,

His clothes clinging to body,

With the melting snow.

As Renfield was running,

Dark swallowing him,

He felt fire burning within.

Next to their Queen,

The Stars were blinking mercilessly,

As if judging him,

In his failed attempts.

Nonono! Please! 

I’ve already screw one thing up,

I can’t be late too!

I need more bugs, 

I need to be faster,

I have to be there! Please! 

Renfield’s racing thoughts were occupied,

With fear and worry to arrive,

In time. And how to explain,

Why he couldn’t bring,

Blood for his Ruler of everything.

He adored his new Master very much,

Making their every wish,

Spoken or thought, 

His very purpose to accomplish. 

They weren’t violent as Dracula was,

There was care in their movements towards him. 

That was the reason why, 

Panic pinched Renfield’s heart, 

Always doting and mild,

I can’t bear to see, 

The creeping disappointment in those eyes!

He entered into the house, 

As silently as he could,

But his Master was already awake,

Lighting candles in the dark,

“Good evening, Robert”

The smoothing voice called out,

Turning their face towards the servant. 

Robert ! 

This one word filled the familiars heart with so much warmth,

In those freezing lips,

That can ruin and bring death, 

That name held,

A certain tenderness. 

Calling him by his first name,

Filled his chest,

Planted the seed of pride and—

“Where have you been? 

Why are you soaking wet,

And I can sense no new smell.”

With that, 

Every previous fear re-entered Renfield’s head, 

He dropped to his knees,

In front of his Lord,

Trying to be as small as he could, 

“I’m so sorry Master—I c-couldn’t bring your meal,

They’ve been all locked up— you see there is this illness, a-and they’re all inside,

I have to be careful because you like it here—“

Renfield’s shaky voice filled the room,

As he was hushing out excuses,

Why he couldn’t fulfill,

His task approvingly. 

His Ruler of the Night was just standing there,

Listening,

And couldn’t help but feel adoration within,

I’m quite annoyed it’s true,

But it warms my still heart,

To see,

How much my needs matter to him.

The master was musing as he stood,

Looking down at his follower.

Renfield’s face shyly turned,

To seek any kind of reaction,

Big yellow eyes sank into dark ones,

Suffocating by the darkness within them, 

Silently pleading, pleading and pleading,

But without release.

Renfield messed up his task again, 

And his master wasn’t happy with that. 

Oh the terrible ordeal of being seen! 

How he wished the Earth to open up

And swallow him. 

Pathetic little creature,

His master thought,

While looking down at him amused,

How to hold the strength to berate,

And mark my punishments onto his head,

When he’s looking up at me so desperate? 

He is so so sickly sweet to care,

About my musings and beliefs. 

The master looked down at him again,

Bestowing a fang showing smirk upon him.

“That’s fine, 

You’ll bring someone next time,

But until then, 

I can drink from you instead.” 

Their voice was deep and honey sweet,

Unlike with Dracula,

Now he felt safe. 

In an instant, 

Robert’s whole posture changed,

Excitement running through his veins, 

“From me?! 

Am I really good enough for your taste? 

Oh Master, please take everything you need!”

With shaky hands he started to peel,

Off his scarf and shirts,

While blush was climbing up his neck and ears.

“You still haven't answered my question Robert.”

“Q-q-question?”

“Why’re your clothes so wet?”

They asked,

As they stepped to the fireplace,

And used a match,

So hotness roared towards the kneeling man,

“It snowed outside, 

And to not be late,

I ran through shortcuts in the woods.”

The Master sat down the armchair,

In front of the fire and gently said,

“Come here.”

He did as he was told,

Stopping in front of his Lord,

“Take off your clothes,

Then use that blanket there,

When you are done, 

Come back here.”

It didn’t take a minute for Renfield to get undressed, 

And to stand naked next to the fire again,

His beautiful from was then covered with a blanket,

His blue-again-eyes reflecting flames in them. 

The Master couldn't deny,

How pretty he looked waiting there,

White, pale skin getting colour,

Blue eyes sparkling with joy,

Dark, wet hair sticking to cheeks,

Letting watermarks to fall on perfect skin. 

With one strict motion the Ruler pulled him into their lap,

Petting his dark head,

“Now, Who told you that stupidity, 

That you aren’t good enough for me?” 

“I… Dracula always said—“

“Forget that terrible old man! 

Listen to me Robert,

You are the best familiar I could have,

So attentive, 

Always trying your best,

Execute every little wish I have.

Oh Robert~

Forget those words of poison,

You are the best boy in my opinion.” 

The last words were whispered into his ear,

While the Master slowly pulled away,

Dark locks to free his nape.

Shivers ran through his covered form,

While flower petals traveled up his breast,

Leaving his cheeks blossoming red.

Oh so slowly, lips ghosted over his neck, 

Never touching,

Yet leaving heat in their tracks,

Then leisurely the marble lips

Touched the sensitive skin of his,

Tongue marveld over delicate skin, 

Brush of fangs leaving butterflies in chest,

Breath breaking in that pretty neck.

“Have I ever told you dear, 

That the clavicle of yours is beautiful? “

Ocean eyes went wide in surprise,

Before he felt the bite.

Two sharp teeth broke the skin, 

Letting blood flowing,

Warm, red liquid streamed,

Colouring the canvas of porcelain skin,

Renfield sank deeper and deeper into that saccharine death,

Welcoming pain like a watchful friend. 

He was suffocating under the passion, 

That swam through his veins,

Creating weak moans,

Which from his lips escaped. 

“Master …. please..”

“Please what? 

I don’t understand what you want.”

At this point,

Whimpers were a constant thing,

Moaning more and more by the minute,

Which was music in his Master’s ears.

Such beautiful symphonies you create, 

Floating in this tormenting pleasure, 

And how adorable you look, 

With those red cheeks and heavy lids.

“ I n-eed— I ww-ant you to h-hold me please! 

Renfield got pulled more close,

Letting him to bury himself in dark clothes,

Lying his head on their shoulder,

Leaving whimpers and kisses on their neck.

His Ruler of everything kept kissing,

And leaving purple flowers of lust,

On the cervix of his.

The Master drank and sucked and drank,

Torturing his beloved,

However Robert felt safe,

Sinking deeper and deeper into that beautiful abyss.

Chest heaved,

Moans increased,

He was clutching to his Master firm,

“You’ve been so good Robert,

You can let go.”

And submerged in pleasure he did,

Feeling safe and screamed.

As his breathing slowed,

He felt sleep pulling him close,

And there he fall into the land of dreams,

In the arms of his Chief.

The Master hinted kisses on his drying hair,

Clasping him in a tight embrace.

As they remained by the heat of flames,

The Moon shone through huge windows,

And with Her Star they sang,

A lullaby of lovely dreams. 

[munsonology]

Dracula!eddie and vampiress!reader inspo!!!

You and Eddie got exposed to the public and now, as the rulers of the undead, you thrive in the attention, wanting to make this lifetime livable for the other creatures of the night

Picture found on Pinterest but I’ve seen this posted by so many users I have no idea who the original artist is 😭 I had to crop this one because it was somebody’s screenshot 😩

[beevean]

Translating Symphony of the Night's bios

Alucard (Adrian Fahrenheit Ţepeş)

Age: 400 (presumed)

A hybrid born from Count Dracula and a human mother. Despite his beautiful androgynous features and slender body, he is physically strong and can use dark magic.

His main weapon is a sword, and by using various magical devices and items, he can gain the ability to transform and magical attacks.

He is a taciturn and gloomy young man, but he has an intelligent and calm personality.

Maria Renard

Age: 17

A girl who is distantly related to the Belmont family of vampire hunters, and also Richter's sister-in-law.

She herself is a vampire hunter who defeated Count Dracula with Richter in battle five years ago.

An intelligent and active girl who has the amazing power to control animals. On her journey to find a missing Richter, she hears rumors of a resurrected Castlevania.

Richter Belmont

Age: 24

A descendant of the Belmont family, who have fought Count Dracula for generations as vampire hunters. In the battle five years ago, he defeated his nemesis, Count Dracula, but has been missing for a year. A hot-blooded man with a strong sense of justice, who fights with a whip that has been used for generations as a weapon against vampires by his ancestors.

Count Dracula (Dracula Vlad Ţepeş)

Age: 800 (presumed)

As the lord of Castlevania, he has terrorized many people. With his mighty power of darkness, he is the supreme ruler of the dark world and he is skilled in black magic.

He was revived for the third time in the 18th century, but he was supposedly destroyed, along with the castle, by the vampire hunter Richter Belmont...

He is also Alucard's father.

Master Librarian

The master of the Long Library. He serves Dracula and is acquainted with Alucard.

By talking to him, you can purchase items, sell gems, and obtain various information.

Death

The Grim Reaper, who works as Count Dracula's confidant. He is also acquainted with Alucard, and ends up taking his equipment near the entrance to the castle.

Shaft

A mysterious monk versed in various dark arts. Five years ago, he was the one who revived Dracula, but was defeated by Richter Belmond in that battle. … supposedly.

Lisa

The wife of Count Dracula, she had a son with him. That son is the main character of the story, Alucard.

The beautiful Lisa has already passed away, and her image lives on in Alucard's heart.

[dracularulerofthenight]

"Dracula: Ruler of the Night - Admiring the View (Colored Version)"

And finally colored:

MARIA: Ugh, Winnoa c'mon already. The moon just hit it zenith and I don't wanna wait all night to feed.

WINNOA: Just a few more minutes. Gotta make sure I look lovely.

MARIA: For who, the air? Were unholy beings shunned by our reflections. What's to get lovely for?

URSA: Hey you'd be surprised how long it takes to make yourself presentably spooky for the master.

MARIA: Ugh.

[zane-helps-otherkin]

Name suggestions with a macabre/gothic theme

Requested by: Anon

Adrienne: Meaning “the dark one”. Can also mean “the one from Hadria”

Umbra/Ombra: Latin name meaning “shade” or “darkness”

Arachne: Arachne was a weaver who was transformed into a spider after challenging the Goddess Athena

Hecate: A Greek goddess associated with witchcraft and the underworld

Kalma: As in the Finnish god of death and decay

Kali: The Hindu goddess of doomsday and death. Can also mean "black" or "dark"

Lilith: Meaning “night monster”. Lilith is a demon in Jewish mythology

Draven: Meaning “of the raven”. Can also mean "crow hunter"

Chaos (can also be spelled Kaos or Khaos): Total disorder, or the Greek idea of total emptiness

Crimson: The color of blood.

Blade: “Sword” or “wealthy glory”; also after the half-vampire main character in the movie “Blade”

Morticia: Meaning “death”, also a character in “The Addams Family”

Rogue: “Unpredictable” or “mischievous”. It can also mean "wanderer"

Onyx: “Claw” or “fingernail”, also a shiny black gem

Vladimir: This name is based on the ruler of Romania who inspired the Dracula story. In Slavic, it means “of great power.”

Thana: With Arabic roots, this name means “death”. Can also mean "praise"

Thanatos: In Greek mythology, Thanatos is a figure who represents death.

Nandor: Vampire character from FX's "What We Do in the Shadows". Originally meaning "brave"

Lucy: Character from Bram Stoker's "Dracula". Originally meaning "light"

Armand: Vampire character from "Interview with the Vampire". Originally meaning "soldier" or "warrior"

Some extra names that don't have a deep meaning:

Raven

Crow

Skull

Corvid

Grave

Midnight

Cal (short for calcium wich is found in bones, or "calavera" wich is a spanish word for skull)

Letal (spanish word for lethal, pronounced "let-all", you could also use Lethal)

[blood-official]

Some notes on my Lord Protector (who is literally just me but cool. Gonna use third person to refer to them though just to make it easy)

They were not raised in Macabria. After Project Twilight Sun was a success, Dracula had them sent to the "real world" in order to protect them from the monsters under the kingdom until they were old enough to face them. This was to the dismay of Victor, who was hoping to raise them as his own.

Side note about Macabria itself, I see it less as a real tangible country on the map, and more as a pocket dimension that Dracula discovered and founded as a safe haven for supernatural beings. Most of the time the only way to find it is to stumble across it, otherwise you have to be extremely gifted in magic to find it yourself. The "highway to the outside world" under construction is less of an actual highway and more of a simpler means of traveling to Macabria that will be open to anyone.

They were fairly normal before being brought to Macabria. No one would have been able to clock them as anything other than a regular human and they were raised by a normal family. When Dracula decided to peace out, Carmilla went to get them to bring them to Macabria.

Their vampiric half was "activated" when they got there. It was not a pleasant process.

They are not involved with Alexis (because in this version they didn't grow up together) but they are still friends.

They are getting the hang of being Lord Protector slowly but surely. They take their lessions from Carmilla very seriously and want to be the best ruler than can be for their people.

They still like to sneak off from now and then, wandering the streets, checking out the local music scene, and spending most weekends at their lodge in the mountains. They weren't raised for this life and it weighs heavy from time to time.

Some stuff about Rikke and Rollo specifically!

They both swear to god it was never supposed to happen

It all started one of the first nights Rikke went out to get away from the castle. They wanted something familiar so they hit up a local metal show

The band was actually really good, and damn their drummer is really hot. Local shows tend to be pretty intimate but they could swear he kept staring

After the show he introduced himself and invited them to the after party and they ended up slipping away together

The next day Carmilla tells them she's hired a mercenary to help bolster the wardens' ranks. She takes them to meet him and uh oh! It's the guy they fucked last night!

He is equally shocked his one night stand ended up being the Lord Protector and his new boss

Away from the others they have a chat and agree it was a one time thing and they should just keep it to themselves

Except they can't seem to keep away from each other and their little rendezvous in the night continue happening

Obviously it all has to happen on the dl, it would look really bad if the public or even the other wardens found out the LP was sleeping with a subordinate

Slowly but surely they each start developing deeper feelings until yay mutual love confessions!

Eventually only being able to see each other in secret starts to take a toll

Until Rikke has the brilliant idea of, hey if we got married, what would they even do about it?

So they go off and elope in the mountains with their only closest friends (obviously Ragnor and Runa knew about it the whole time)

And Rollo gets bumped up in the ranks from warden to Consort Protector (or Protector Consort. I'm still working on the name for the title I haven't decided which I like better)

:D

Finally, some visuals of my LP courtesy of Hero Forge!

An outfit for doing Lord Protector-y things out in the wild and a fancy outfit for doing Lord Protector-y things at the castle!

[nesrinslittleworld]

The Most Beautiful Thing In The World Is Love - Chapter 3.

Book: Dracula A Love Story

Pairing: Mehmed x MC

Characters: Şehzade Mehmed, Lale Hatun, Ambassador.

More than a week had passed since the departure of the imperial army from Edirne, and Alexandra,escorted by two sipahis, had soon followed after them, leaving Lale alone.

The young lady was now restless. Not only had the war taken all of her loved ones away from her, but it also left the palace under the supervision of her Uncle’s grand vizier, Candarli Halil Pasha, to whom the mysterious ambassador seemed to whisper his every wish.

While pondering upon all this, Lale shivered. Her grip on her silken emerald green shawl tightened as she walked down one of the many paths of the gardens, while her mind went back to the fateful letter that Nuray never got to send her.

Despite all logic, she had the intuition that all these unfortunate events and the arrival of the Ambassador were not a coincidence. And everything she had learned from her Uncle’s physician corroborated her theory; after all, even in the past many dreadful events unfolded upon his arrival: Mehmed’s fall, Şehzade Ahmed’s death, Hüma’s condition, the death of her second cousin, then Hüma’s; and lastly, her own mother.

According to Shirvani, demons were dancing and screaming in Hüma’s house on the night Mehmed was cured, and coincidentally, the Ambassador excused himself and did not attend any meeting with the Sultan.

If one thing was certain for Lale, it was that he was the one who summoned those dark forces. And he was the same man that had stalked Mehmed and herself while at the caravanserail, and the words he had spoken back then still echoed in Lale’s mind. He had threatened Mehmed’s position as future ruler by mentioning a potential brother.

Now he was taking advantage of the Sultan’s absence to pressure the inhabitants of the palace, and imposing his vision on the Grand Vizier. Alexandra had been discovered and threatened because of him; what would be next?

Dread filled her stomach as she stopped next to the wooden bench facing the small pound. The young lady had planned to work on the zaviye, but her gloomy thoughts had disheartened her.

She sat down silently and contemplated the gardens for a while, unable to shake off the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. These gardens had become her safe place, where she could hide away from the world and meditate on the serious topics that had been burdening her mind lately. But also, they reminded her of their own designer, of him.

The sound of hurried footsteps made Lale turn around, only to see the breathless messenger stopping a few steps away from the kiosk, and bowing deeply.

“Lale Hatun” he started as he tried to catch his breath. While he was doing so, the young woman noticed the golden tube he was holding firmly; it only meant one thing: this came from the battlefield, and it was sent by someone powerful, urgently.

Her blood ran cold.

“What is it?” she asked while trying to maintain some countenance. “What news of the battlefield?”

“The battle started during the night, my Lady” the man replied while keeping his gaze to the ground. “This letter was sent urgently to you as the first wave was ending.” He extended the golden tube to her, and bowed respectfully once she took it.

Lale could hear her heart pumping in her ears as she looked at the letter and barely heard herself thank the man, before focusing on the letter.

With trembling hands, she opened the tube and examined the seal on the letter before hastily breaking it as she recognised its sender.

There was no introduction, nor salutations, only fourteen lines were elegantly written.

Lale’s eyes widened as she recognised the style of Mehmed’s writing; similar to another one that she received not so long ago.

“O my love! Only if my heart’s pain made my tears spill over for you, would the secrets hidden in me be disclosed to you?

You are seated on the Throne of Beauty ;I am trampled on this road of Earth. O my Solomon! How can a mere ant explain its state to you?

O light of my dark room! Look at this candle weep, at your gathering, see how it goes mad to burn so fine for you.

O my love with the face of the bright moon! It is plain as day that in the anguish of love I am as true as the light of morning to you.

O my love! Somehow, yesterday you stayed the torments my rivals wreaked on me. Did my cries and wails, then, move you?

O dear friend! I cannot explain the wound of separation. So let my torn collar and wounded breast show you how my heart has been torn to pieces for you.

O my love! Don’t bring Avni’s heart and eyes to ruin with your torments. For the great sea of my eyes presents pearls to you, and from the blood-filled mine of my heart are drawn out ruby garnets for you.”

Lale’s fingers trembled as she held the thin paper, and a tear silently rolled down her cheek while she read the last line of the poem. She suddenly felt out of breath, and realised that she had forgotten to breathe altogether. Without taking her eyes off the paper, she sat down on the bench and tried to regain control over her racing heart. Luckily for her, the messenger never raised his eyes to her, and kept staring at the ground; unaware of her torment.

In his poem, he was speaking of her staying the torments his rivals wreaked on him; what rivals could he be talking about? Lale couldn’t recall when she displayed her attention to anyone else than him; or had her Uncle matured his own thoughts about her wedding?

Was this Mehmed’s answer for the talismanic shirt she secretly gave him? And if so, was he wearing it during the battle?

She couldn’t help but feel all of his anxiety, and then joy through his lines and now she could only pray to the Almighty that they would return soon to Edirne safe and sound. That he would come back to her unharmed. She cleared her throat and stood up before addressing herself to the messenger, still bowing behind her.

“What about my family? Are they safe?” The man could feel her piercing gaze on him as she spoke and tried to weigh his words carefully.

“Our Sultan led the battle wisely and remained out of harm; Şehzade Mehmed…” he paused, unsure of what to say. But that short pause filled Lale with dread and she urged him to speak, immediately.

“Our Şehzade fell into an ambush; luckily he wasn’t alone and fought alongside Aslan and the Prince Vlad to find his way back to the camp. Our Sultan was grateful for them keeping the Şehzade safe. And then his Highness went back to his tent, only to return with this very letter and commanded me to ride immediately to Edirne.”

The young lady nodded, thoughtful.

“You shall rest here for a bit and depart in a few hours. I will entrust you with a reply before your departure. You may take your leave now.” She returned her attention to the letter as the man retreated, and sat back on the bench, deep in thoughts.

She only returned to her room at sunset and crossed paths with Shahi Hatun who, filled with exhaustion, had come back from Mehmed’s wetnurse’s chambers. Not wishing to leave the sickened woman alone, and to relieve her own wetnurse, Lale offered to visit her for a moment.

But as she reached Daye Hatun’s chamber, she overheard a muffled conversation that sent shivers down her spine.

“Why am I here? I have business with your ward. It’s unfortunate that he left before my arrival… But I'll definitely wait for him.”

“No…”Lale whispered with dread without realising it, then stepped away from the door, but a moment too late, revealing the ominous form of the Ambassador.

“Lale Hatun… Good evening.”

---

Notes:

Poem from Fatih Sultan Mehmed, under the pen name of Avnî.

Here's an audio of said poem in Ottoman Turkish -> poem