#He made absolutely no mention of Dracula loving HIM and says “In the end I killed him” when Maria asks how things “Turned out in the end.”

[one-in-a-million-fishsticks]

Snuck away from my desk to finish Episode 1 in the break room.

Why is Alucard talking like he never found out about his parents coming back to life????

DID DRACULA AND LISA NEVER RECONNECT WITH HIM?????

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

Alastor demands you tell him what you’d consider a nice date, which makes a surprisingly lovely time in the library. Dancing leads to… not dancing and a minor rearranging of your guts. And finally, you try to shame Alastor out of Mania and Alastor finds himself having to explain, well, Alastor.

「warnings/promises: Smut, guts➡️rearranged, kinda dub➡️con cuz Alastor still doesn’t listen, but funnily enough neither do you?, lots of interrupting each other, Luci’s hat, you’re down so fucking bad lmao」

🎶 minors DNI 🎵

Angel was live blogging everything you said when you recounted what happened to you after returning to the hotel.

“Wait there’s a character limit, I gotta make a new post.” He was wiping actual tears from his eyes, “Fuck this is funny.”

“Hmmph,” Alastor offered a small noise from his end of the sofa. Neither of you had mentioned or even referenced the sex. There was a strange feeling between you that it didn’t happen so it didn’t need a discussion. But also that it had absolutely happened, as Alastor’s hands found renewed vigor in their search for you when in public and private and your body seemed to respond in kind. You’d still occasionally move his hand off of you, but there was a pulse of electricity every time. When his hand would come to rest on your upper thigh while seated beside each other in the common areas, you let it linger. What harm was it? Heaven wasn’t fucking watching.

Everything aside, the sex had done nothing to dispel his interest. Perhaps you’d only made it worse, for both of you. 

By midweek you found the sling useless, happily tossing it aside and beginning gentle stretches. That was more progress than you'd made in your main task. 

Every morning you woke up beside Alastor, every day you had him in your orbit, every night you fell asleep feet from him.

Had Mania not taken him he would be a prime candidate for showing the virtue of true love. He was already fucking there, a captive audience. But that wasn’t how it worked. Cupid-induced manic love could never be true. Nothing you created was true, really. But atleast with Eros or Agape you could still have added the notion of  true love to the mix. His heart would still be receptive and open to the idea. The way he was now, you could proselytize until you were blue in the face and he’d still think manic love was true love. 

An unintended consequence of living with Alastor was discovering you both had quite a bit in common, as much as that information irked you. He enjoyed horror movies such as ‘Dracula’, you enjoyed horror movies as well, just newer ones. Ones in color. He could cook quite well, something you enjoyed to do. And his taste in music was actually lovely. You had assumed he listened to screams on a 7 hour loop.

Actually, upon closer inspection, Alastor was nothing like you had initially assumed. While he had shown you he was capable of terrifying feats of strength and power, he was also remarkably gentle. Every time you descended the stairs his hand was barely felt as it hovered at your elbow ready to save you. 

Early in the week you fell asleep watching the group play a board game, somehow redemption related, and awoke with his coat laid over your body. When you thanked him, he just smiled and continued enjoying watching Niffty hide the play money.

You were finding yourself more and more wishing the arrow had never fallen. If you’d just met him as you fell, perhaps you would be staring into that portal home. There were definitely worse options around. Even his imposing height had begun to…not bother you, perhaps was the best way to say it.

Or his large hands. There was a safety in the way they rested on your back. Speaking of…

Your throat ran dry when he leaned into you, one of those hands sliding across your thigh,  and asked against your ear, “Ready to go?”

He had to have seen you licking your lips to unstick your teeth. With a nod, he stood and offered a hand to you. 

You both were already out of the elevator and walking to your room when he slowed, coming to stop just in front of you. 

His room, fucking hell. 

“You know, I was thinking,” he wasn’t looking as he spoke to you, which was odd given how often he stared at you. “If you’re going to be here with me from now on-“

You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up, “I’d like to know the things you enjoy doing with your romantic interests.” His smile was almost pure, you could tell he was genuinely asking.

“Well I don’t have any so, why would you care?”

“No things you enjoy?”

“No romantic interests.”

His head lolled to the side, “Sometimes I think you say things just to bother me.”

You did.

“I do.”

You thought if you kept being rude maybe you could keep him at an arm’s length. Not get too attached. You’d been kind to people you didn’t like before and eventually you started to like them. This was that. But opposite.

He stared down at you, taking a step closer. You took one back. That smile shifted from pure to sinister, his eyes half lidded. You could almost see the thoughts playing on his face.

“Alastor-,” your back hit the elevator doors. The pounding of your heart when he brought his face to yours drowned out the sounds of the button being pressed. When the doors opened you fell backward with a yelp, but a strong arm caught you by the waist.

“You have twelve floors.” His hand hit the first floor button, “You can share with me your idea of a quality date. Or I can show everyone,” that clawed hand came to your neck, sliding down the evidence of your pounding heart, “how pretty you scream.”

As soon as the doors closed you were pressed against the elevator wall, right leg pulled up and around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare.” You had meant it to sound strong but instead it was half whispered with a shaky voice.

He popped a button off your blouse, “Maybe!” Warm mouth now on your neck, his tongue ran over your pulse, “I wonder if everyone is still in the lobby.”

Over his shoulder you watched the numbers counting down. The hand that cut off the button slid down to your bottoms, slipping under the waistband.

On the 3rd floor the elevator stopped. When the doors opened a demon you didn’t recognize was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open. He didn’t make a move to enter, Alastor looking over his shoulder and sharing what you could only assume was a death glare. The flickering lights were a giveaway to his anger.

His fingers dipped down and cupped your sex, hot palm pressing into your folds. 

The doors closed again and you watched the second floor light up. A finger bent and pressed into you.

A nibble at your ear, “You know I’ll win, regardless.”

He was right. Which was the smaller defeat? Humiliation or just telling the bastard your idea of a nice time?

“Books. Drinks.” You squeaked, the first floor lamp now aglow. His hand pulled away just as the doors opened. 

Expecting him to gloat you were surprised he just hit the 10th floor button. The library. 

He opened the door for you. The library’s main area had two reading chairs bookending a long antique sofa. You took the chair furthest from the door, hearing the door lock.

With a snap, the entire bar with Husk included seemed to fall three inches out of thin air.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Husk looked around, already annoyed, “You coulda just fucking asked for drinks to bring with you. You know cups are portable, right?”

It was nice, actually. Husk poured, you both read. There was an unnecessary fireplace crackling behind you. Cozy. And it got cozier and warmer the more you drank. Your shields softened as the glasses emptied. 

Your book was good, but as you felt the alcohol hit you were reminded of the last time you’d gotten a little past tipsy. Sneakily, but not at all, your eyes wandered over to Alastor.

His legs were crossed, but you could remember looking down and seeing them spread open beneath you. Open. Did many people see him like you had? Had his talk about a disinterest in sex actually been a trick to intrigue you? It hadn’t worked, you genuinely didn’t care what his preferences were. If anything it made you less likely to make a pass.

Your eyes wandered down his slender neck to his wide shoulders. Less than a week ago your arms were resting there. Further down, you remembered that soft bit of fur at the base of his cock, a small trail from his belly button. 

Husk watched your face turn pink, “You good?” Your head whipped around, looking confused. “You’re getting red.”

Oh. I was just thinking about my pussy drowning in Alastor’s cum.

No, obviously not!

Alastor’s eyes left his book and found yours. They were so red; his eyes, not your cheeks. No one in heaven had such wicked an appearance. When you didn’t reply, busy staring back at Alastor, Husk groaned, “Aah fuck.”

“What are you reading?” You asked, clearly able to see the book title from where you sat. 

Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”

“Never read it.”

You had read it.

Setting your book down, you tried to walk as straight as a line as you could to him. You took the book from his hands and sat down on his lap, back against his chest, before picking it up again. “What page are we on?”

“You can leave, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even look at Husk when he said it, eyes still on your face.

When the door closed and Alastor could lock it with a snap, he uncrossed his legs. “Would you like to start over dear? From the beginning.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Can we?” You leaned your head onto his shoulder. When had he become so comfortable…?

“We can.” The book was set aside, his left hand pulling your chin up, “I think we skipped a few chapters before.”

You opened your mouth, “I don’t like kissing.” 

“You will.” 

The front part of your brain dissolved, you were sure of it. Your decision making abilities were entirely eradicated as his lips pressed into yours. Fuck, maybe even your basic motor skills had been fried, his tongue swiping across your mouth before you just—opened. Your hips ground down into his lap, and you felt his smile widen against your lips.

“Stop smiling. I just like warm bodies.” You reached for the book and opened it to the first page, “and you’re so fucking warm.”

He began to read, but between the rumble of his chest, his voice in your ear, and the heat of his body, you fell asleep.

No matter. Alastor just hummed. With a summoning of his shadow you both sank into your shared bed, where he continued reading with you against his chest.

You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.

Was it so bad, being in hell? Sure you had a fucking deer demon as guard dog but it seemed his mania was … not so terrible. Honestly he seemed relatively normal now. He would wander off for significant lengths of time, even leaving in the mornings while you were still lazing about. A kiss to your hand was the indicator he would be popping off somewhere.

Alastor still wouldn’t let Lucifer alone with you, but otherwise everything was okay. You’d even come to enjoy certain aspects of his possessiveness. That ever present hand, for example. Even when it wasn’t on you, you could still almost feel it. It had become second nature now.

The week was actually peaceful. Your pain was entirely gone, you could move about freely. Despite that Alastor still would press up behind you and offer to help dress you. An offer you declined, but every time he asked you paused longer and longer before saying no.

Alastor was happy to find you in the library toward the end of the week, you having wandered off when he was called away. He summoned a confused but pissed off Husk again, who was midway through making someone else’s drink. He set it aside, pouring Alastor his whiskey. You decided against drinking, you knew you always made poor decisions. Like sleeping. 

Delighted by the impressive collection you found a non-fiction and settled into the same large chair.

“Reading is a virtue.” He said to himself yet out-loud, taking a seat and setting the radio on from across the room. Etta James. ‘Somethings got a hold of me.’

“A little past your time, isn’t it?” You smiled, you liked songs about love. Not because of who you were, you just liked the idea of someone so enamored they have to make art.

He laughed, “Nosey little bird, have you been asking about me?”

Well shit. You had forgotten to play dumb. The past couple weeks you had casually inquired about Alastor from the other staff members. A modest collection of facts to help you better understand the man. A quick recovery. “Know your enemy!” 

He cackled, “Sun Tzu! What does Cupid need ‘The Art of War’ for?!”

What, did he expect you to only read romance novels and Roman mythos? “You can’t make a shadow without light. In fact,” you put the book down, “The Greeks thought Cupid was a child of War and Beauty.”

Okay well, Greek mythos is a little different than their Roman counterpart’s. So. There.

Alastor watched you leaning over the arm of the chair, no sign of pain as you did so. Your injury must have mended well. “Do you have parents?” He asked, genuinely wondering how your kind were created. 

“No, we're just… made. And then sent off on assignments.”

“You must be terribly busy, just one person for all of earth.” If Alastor could pull some limbs and find out more from anyone but you, he would, but unfortunately no one but Vaggie would know anything about you and he had a feeling her time in heaven was never spent thinking about love. 

“Oh, actually not so much! When I’m with humans I can travel around without worrying about the concept of time at all. But it takes a toll.” Or so you were told. There were never two Cupids at one time so you couldn’t really ask your predecessors. Alastor’s brows rose, unsure how exactly a Cupid could be taxed if they didn’t feel pain and couldn’t be hurt. “Every trip to Earth weakens us. Until our bodies just, I guess, give out.” A smile crept across your face, unsure what expression you were supposed to be making.

“Is it just Earth? Or,” he lowered the radio volume with just a glance, “Every time you leave heaven?” It would take a great effort to not notice the weight suddenly blanketing the library. Silence was heavy with what he was really asking you. Would remaining here kill you?

It was a great question. Wow he’s really good at this. It almost seemed like he gave a shit. No one had ever asked you about your creation, about your work. It was nice. Even from him. Maybe especially from him.

You had never been to hell, so you couldn’t be sure, but, “I think it’s a human-world time-thing. But I guess we’ll find out!” Another misplaced smile before you awkwardly leaned back and picked up the book.

While you hadn’t noticed the slip up you had made, Alastor had. “I suppose we will.” 

You would find out, because you wouldn’t be returning to heaven. He was glad you, even if unconsciously, understood that. And perhaps you could live forever if you never returned to earth.

When the song ended, you offered one of your own. 

Alastor was pleasantly surprised to hear you request Nat King Cole’s ‘It’s almost like being in love’.

Standing, he offered you his hand for a dance. “Ugh I hate this cheesy shit.” You said it but stood anyway, putting your hands in his.

Alastor laughed, swaying side to side, “Not a fan of romance? Has Cupid never been in love?”

Those were two seperate things. How could you explain? “Drug dealers number one rule. Never get high off your own supply. That would be—.”

Lonely. Pathetic.

“A bad idea.” His cheek rested on your head. It was a shockingly tender act. “Can you understand? Why would I want something I made. What’s special about that?” 

“And what of true love? It isn’t made by you, yes?” Asked into your hair.

“Yeah but when will I ever find the time to make a connection worthwhile. Winners and Angels are gluttons for choice, I am obviously built for a fun time not a long time.” Which you were…fine with. Yeah. I mean, what choice did you have? “And I don’t want to force it…so…” you trailed off. The rest didn’t matter.

He nodded, suppressing another laugh.  “I see. Well, allow me to give you something you inspired, how about that? Not made. Would you say no, my muse?”

Inspired? Like a song? “Ha, what have I inspired in you, heathen.”

Alastor stopped dancing, his hand pulling your face up for a kiss which took you by surprise.

“Seriousl-,” Husk mercifully disappeared in a flash of neon green.

You couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, much like many of the moments you surrendered to Alastor. It was so fast and he was so strong, his hands large and confident in how they moved you. Before you knew it you were bent over the sofa’s arm getting fucked so hard your leg was shaking and your stomach nauseous.

This was much better than songs or art or whatever you inspired in others. You were gasping with every breath, the action somehow heightening the sensations. The little huffs and groans your body was pulling from him had your heart racing.

His cock was smashing your womb into your guts, the entire organ suddenly feeling like a new pleasure spot. Every jolt to your cervix made a novel kind of bliss pool in your stomach. 

You cried, head empty as he completely left your heat before bottoming out again, “Stop, Alastor. Stop.” A strained moan, hands gripping the wooden sofa arm, “stop, stop, fuuuuck.”

He was pulling out too far and too fast, hitting back too hard and too deep. Your cunt felt swollen around him, your entrance so soft and wet he didn’t need precision to sink back in.

“Does it hurt?” He said quickly on the down beat of his thrust.

“Nngh no.”

“Theeen, no.”

Alastor pulled you up by your chin, back bending as he titled your mouth to his. Despite your mouth hanging open with your tongue out as salacious as you’d ever been,  you told him, “I really don’t kiss during sex.” 

The look in his downcast eyes sent a shiver along your spine, a power there you couldn’t push against, “You do now, my dear.”

When in hell, you supposed. You didn’t even try to argue, accepting his tongue wrapping around yours and exploring your mouth while his dick churned up your insides. Full from top to bottom. Full of Alastor. Safe. Wanted. Needed. 

You pulled away when there was an overwhelming bone-deep sensation spilling through your hips and down your thighs. The muscles felt weak there, and you had an urge to runaway from it but Alastor held you still. 

A scream of ecstasy as both legs shook violently, you finally got your hands free orgasm but to your shock it didn’t stop. As it appeared to wane, it just started mounting again. By the third roll, Alastor came with a push so deep your chest fell over the arm of the sofa. If not for the hands bruising your hips, you would have fallen off entirely.

The ache in your stomach began immediately, you’d have thought someone had been punching you in the gut. Well, more literally than they had been. When you groaned and complained to Alastor about what he had done, he pulled you up by your waist.

You were drawn into him, back to his chest again with your body between those long legs. His hands came to your stomach. Alastor massaged deep circles into your abdomen. 

“Does that help?” His high voice lowered, husky and kind into your ear. You nodded, the pressure relieved the discomfort. 

You wondered if he was used to taller demons than your shorter heavenly form, or perhaps he wasn’t used to anyone at all. Maybe sinners had more room than you did. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe it or not,” probably not, “I’m never trying to hurt you.”

Was it terrible you actually did believe him? Yes he was a serial killer, and considered one of the most cruel overlords in recent memory. But he was always gentle when his hands were on you. Flits of memories of him washing your feet came back to you. 

“I know perhaps,” his hands kept moving, your back already stuck to his with well earned sweat, “I have at times been easily incensed.”

You nodded quickly.

“But, It’s just,” you heard him swallow hard, “ah I absolutely hate this,” He whispered it to himself. “I’m just scared you’ll leave before I’ve managed to convince you how much happier I can make you here.”

It’s not that it was funny, necessarily, but the very idea hell could be happier than Heaven was laughable. It was Heaven. It was made to be happy.  It existed purely to please. 

The smile faded from your face. Well, for the winners. It was made to please the winners. It wasn’t made for you, but you still got much enjoyment. You had…sex. Great sex. Not held aloft in a radio tower great, but…You always came. Everyone did. Wasn’t that the point of it?

Wasn’t that the point?

What was the point?

 A warm and lonely bed is better than an empty one alone. So.

Well, your bed was always warm and never lonely in hell now that you’d been “moved”.

You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming. 

Okay well the hotel had a pool. And yes, if you weren’t running off to earth on command you’d have more energy for hobbies.

What were you thinking about this for again?

You gathered the scraps of your relevant thoughts, “Happiness isn’t being confined to a hotel, Alastor.”

“As soon as you show me you won’t leave me, I won’t care where you go. As long as you’re safe.” One of his hands left your stomach to stroke your cheek, “I’m just waiting for you to realize what I already know.”

If Alastor were to ease his grip on you, could you enjoy yourself? Well, more than you did. But it was more than that, you had to admit you hated the idea of losing, of just running away. “I don’t like giving up.” 

His laugh was quiet but it rocked you as his chest moved. “Darling they threw you to hell and told you you’re not allowed to leave unless you do homework. Giving up what? Being a servant to heaven?”

If he had said it a couple weeks prior, you would have left the room indignant. But now, settled against his hot skin and being so softly touched, it sounded like tough love.

“I don’t belong here though.” You were talking to yourself. So many excuses.

His arms wrapped around your chest to hug you into him, “You belong wherever I am.” His cheek pressed against yours, “I won’t let you go.”

A threat. A threat you leaned into and warmed yourself with. A threat a quiet part of you hoped he kept his word on.

You were getting too comfortable. Every morning you woke up to Alastor curled into your body, holding you tightly to him and you found yourself smiling before your consciousness clicked on. At some point in the last week he grabbed your chin and kissed you good night and suddenly every time he left your side you allowed a kiss to your cheek before he parted. What was worse was how you’d talk in bed about your recent reads and what happened the few hours you weren’t with each other. 

The thing that made you realize you were getting honestly too deep was when you went to go to bed early and actually took the elevator past your floor, walked all the way to his station and told him good night. You’d made it to his chair and were leaning down for your kiss when your face fell flat. 

He asked what was wrong but you shook your head. A poorly faked smile offered to him.

You sat in your bed. His bed. Your bed?

You sat in bed and wondered how to press forward. Two months, nearly, you’d been in hell. At this rate surely heaven had made a replacement. If you could make it back quickly you could still keep your place.

A decision was made, you’d never confronted Alastor head on. You had misunderstood his illusion of you. But maybe if you just forced it into his thick skull he’d been controlled and puppeted by an arrow, not his free will, he would abandon it to save his pride. 

Knees to your chest, why were you crying again? Did you want to go home?

No, you wanted to curl into his stupid fucking lap and listen to him hum his stupid old, forgotten songs. You wanted to dance while Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. You wanted to feel loved.

But you weren’t made to want things. And Alastor didn’t love you.

Okay, one more night to enjoy yourself before you pissed him off so much he kicked you out of his bed. Or took such a turn into obsession he never let you leave the room again, allowing you to shirk responsibility for not returning to heaven.

When you turned the handle there was resistance, the door pushing in. 

“Alastor? Done already?” He’d seemed busy earlier.

He closed the door and locked it. Oh. A blush. The sound of a locking door had come to mean certain things to you.

“You seemed bothered.” His thumb wiped where your tears had already dried, “What ever is the problem? Did someone upset you? Some neck I should wring?” You shook your head no. His other hand came to join in  holding your face, those goddamned red eyes melting you to nothing, “Some limbs I should snap?” He took a step toward you and you took two back, hands holding his wrists. Another no. “Or some cheeks I should kiss?”

Stop crying.

An eager nod. “Don’t cry, my love.” Soft lips catching your tears, thin fingers wiping them away. He kept walking forward and you kept walking back until your legs hit the bed. 

One more night, just in case. In case he forfeits the mania.

You kissed his neck, startling him. “Rare form. Did you need some more intimate attention, darling?” You tried to avoid initiating, never knowing what he wanted or when, never wanting to enjoy his touch too much. “I could indulge you.”

What you wanted was to be reduced so thoroughly to just a physical creature by way of pleasure that your mind disconnected from your brain. Fucked dumb, as people said. Alastor wouldn’t know what that meant but you were confident he’d enjoy sussing out the finer details of the meaning if it meant your full surrender.

You bit down on his neck, getting you pushed onto the bed in return. “I need overindulgence. I don’t wanna feel anything tonight but you.” You should practice your manners, for heaven's sake. “Please.”

There it was again. That look that turned your bones to jelly and your brain to cotton; that downcast half lidded stare as he towered over you that promised to devour you whole. His hand pulled at his bow tie and loosened his collar, knees on the bed as his legs spread you open at the thighs.

 “Good girl.”

No punishment or inspiration, just that mental numbness that turned off all your worries. We’re you making stupid faces? We’re your sounds embarrassing? Didn’t matter. You didn’t care. You clung to his body like you’d fall apart without his skin on yours. Because you would, in some fashion. 

Every gap between your bodies felt like room for doubt. So you filled them with flesh and sighs and moans. 

With his height difference you were smothered by him when in traditional heaven-approved missionary, but you liked lying on top. Your head only made it to his chest when your hips were positioned above his cock. You could go slack and let him move you on and off himself. You had been lying when you said you preferred to not move or make noise, but you’d learned he got harder and more feral when you let him manipulate your body any way he pleased. 

He smelled like sweat and leather, probably from the chairs in the lobby. No one sweats in heaven, this seemed like a mistake now. You’d have to be sure to not wash your clothes after you left hell, or else you’d forget his scent.

After finishing, he was surprised to find you still clinging to his torso, arms under his armpits and hooked onto his shoulders. He offered to pull out and let you lie down but you just held on tighter in response. He glanced around the room, soft light and softer music on the radio. Your quiver and bow rested against the armoire, practically dusty. He asked if you were alright, a hand coming to your back with large claws gently scratching.

“Yeah I will be.” you lifted your head, waiting.

Both of his eyebrows rose, unsure what you were waiting on.

Complete surrender. “Good night kiss.” You had to stretch to meet his lips before settling back into his chest, “okay bore me to sleep with your day, sinner.” He gladly did, you falling asleep yet again to the sound of his slow heartbeat and the rumble of his words.

You awoke nauseous, already knowing your day was going to fucking suck and it’d be your own fault. The idea of approaching Alastor and initiating the conversation felt impossible, your feet became stone when you thought of it.

The coward’s option. Wait for time alone and then pace the library until he came to find you.

After an hour or so he did, smile brightening as he entered. “Should I summon the bar?”

You shook your head no, struggling to speak. He sat in his chair, book still on the small side table.

Heart pounding, you considered doing this another day or week or maybe year but knew you’d already lost so much time. “Alastor, I need to talk to you about my task.”

He snapped the book shut, eyes not leaving his hands. “Oh?”

“I need to leave the hotel or at least need serious time alone with someone. I need to change someone’s heart on true love. I can’t go home—,” you were cut off, Alastor standing quickly.

“Home?”

“Alastor.” You stood your ground even as his spine stretched and antlers widened.

“Your home is wherever I am.” A pained smile now, something akin to hurt in his eyes that did damage to you too. “Ah. So last night— and people say I’m cruel.”

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

A snap, his anger and desperation eclipsing his pain, “Why don’t you ever listen-,”

Your turn to cut him off, “Because you’re under a spell! You act so fucking tough like you’re in control all the time. But you’re not! It’s just the effect of the arrow.”

He laughed, but you kept going, “Don’t act like you’re sooo strong you can fight the effects of my shot. You don’t fucking love me. Not really, not naturally. It was an accident. You’re just— it’s been made by me. I don’t want it. I want something real and true.”

“My feelings are true, just let me speak. I can make you understand if you’d just listen to me.” Pupils like pins, teeth somehow sharper.

“Alastor you can’t have true love. Nothing triggered by my arrows can ever be true.”

Another ring of laughter, “Tell me then how your true love is different than mine, Oh Wise Cupid.”

You huffed, “Don’t talk down to me, radio demon. True love means caring deeply for someone else that occupies your heart and mind-,” he opened his mouth, looking around the room for where you found the audacity but you snapped twice to get his attention back, “not just that! You put them first without fear because if they truly love you they would never take advantage of that. It’s trusting them with the most fragile parts of yourself. It's a best friend. Someone who makes you feel like a better version of you, makes you want to always be improving yourself.”

Alastor was still smug, staring at you from his unnervingly demonic height, “Lovely! Last question, expert, is true love ever one sided?”

You thought for a beat, “It can be.”

He hummed, body swiftly resuming his smaller but, again, still too tall scale, antlers remaining fierce as his sinister smile dropped to just a small upward turn of his lips. “I see. You’ve truly enlightened me. I believe you.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on you.

You rolled your eyes and licked your lips to go off when a portal opened beside you.

Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.

You looked from Alastor to the circular doorway, taking small steps towards it. Your hand pressed through, confusion wiping your own smugness off your face.

Alastor began a mocking slow clap. “I’ve been convinced. Happy now? Task complete.”

“But- the love Mania causes…It clouds the mind, you can’t even process the idea of true love properly.” You searched the floor for some clarity.

His hands stopped, eyebrows meeting his bangs as a laugh that started typically but quickly morphed into maniacal filled the room. You just kept pushing your hand in and out of the portal. Alastor finally quieted, antlers fully drawn back into little prongs. He stared at you. A shiver as his smile reached his ears. That look again. You took a deep breath, ready to be eaten.

“Your little arrow didn’t pierce me, you glorious fool. It literally fell into my pocket. I was never under the effects of your magic. I said that many times.” He straightened out his suit jacket,  “Very plainly, might I add. You just never listened to me. So sure you knew better than I did.”

You sputtered, too many thoughts trying to express themselves, “Why did you act like that then?!”

“Because I wanted you. Something something first sight, as I recall the adage goes.” He crossed his arms and looked at his claws, “Perhaps my love happens to be manic by default. I am a murderous overlord, darling.”

All the energy left your body, shoulders relaxing. “Oh.” 

“So, here I am,” he opened his arms, “trusting you to not hurt me any further today. Does that fall into your narrow view of true love?”

A good question. You shifted your weight onto your other foot, looking back at heaven. You could see the shining gates.

He sighed and brought his arms down, “I can’t promise how long I’ll let you stand there and look at anything other than me.”

A warning.

A deep breath, another shift onto your other foot again as you shook the anxiety out of your hands before finally making eye contact with him, “Well, eldritch horror, prove it.”

You heard the door lock from across the room. 

You decided heaven could wait. It took about two days before they seemed to notice you hadn’t entered the portal, which closed on its own some time between Alastor pushing you onto the floor and you begging him for more. Luckily St. Peter wasn’t privy to your escapades.

It was a fact Sera was aware you had completed your task, because a knock came to the library door on that second day after you did so. Entering without waiting for a reply, which was brave, Lucifer and his hat popped into the room.

“Heeeey giiiirl. I got a message from heaven asking what’s the hold up, worried you were incapacitated.”

From your seat in Alastor’s lap you lowered your book, “How nice of them to suddenly care about my well-being.” You brought the book back up, “Little late.”

He nodded, “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I can understand that. Sooo,” his fingers tapped the door, “What should I reply with?”

Alastor turned the page and hummed a reply, “Finders Keepers.”

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

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🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

[joyfullywizard]

Hey, what do you think about a new Ellen in new Nosferatu 2024 remake?

Hi there!

Ok, so I'll state my opinion based on comparisons with versions of Ellen's character in 1922 by Murnau and 1979 by Herzog.

I think it's pretty funny that it was latest remake of Nosferatu that made people at large actively ship Orlok x Ellen - from what I see. When it never was the case with 1922 and 1979 versions (in the later she was called Lucy Harker).

I think it's noticeble that out of three versions of Ellen we had on screen 2024 Ellen was somewhat the version where they kinda took away important stuff which was in 1922 and 1979 movies. Ellen no longer finds the way how to kill Nosferatu, she also doesn't take decision to take her own life in sacrifice entirely on her own and doesn't come up with a plan how to do it, like the case with 1922 and 1979 movies - now it belongs to remake Van Helsing-type character, who finds then tells her all important information and when basically talks her into taking one for the team. Ellen of course dies in the end and Van Helsing -type character is of course alive and dandy. In place of that they gave Ellen a lot of Possession (1981) type of spasms, convulsing, and seizures scenes and it's showy for horror and stuff, but it's hardly a worthy and smart replacement for Ellen doing really intellegent work and plotting and making a choice to give up her life entirely independent. Not to mention movie doesn't provide any good plot or narrative reasons why Ellen couldn't do both all that spasming and doing the research work and plotting work like she did in original Nosferatu movie and its 1970s remake.

2024 remake also makes Ellen far more responsible for all the tragedy and horror that happen in the movie. Ellen/Lucy in 1922 and 1979 movies had absolutely no responsibility for Orlok/Dracula setting sights on them - in both cases he accidently saw the picture of the woman and got obsessed and that's it. In 2024 remake however Ellen due ho her psychic powers which are cracked up to 10 here summoned Orlok and made a mental connection with him while she was still young and that's how he got interested in her and that's why he went to Germany later. Then when Orlok got to Germany and started having conversations with Ellen face to face he began throwing ultimatums at her saying that if she won't be with him he'll start killing her loved ones -and when she didn't comply at first he killed some of those loved ones. That didn't happen with 1922 and 1979 versions, Orlok/Dracula killed people in both those versions including some of the people in Ellen's close circle-her friends, but he didn't make any ultimatums about it to her either in any of those versions. So yeah, while Ellen in remake made connection with him by accident in her youth because she was lonely and stuff and it's not like she wanted her friend and her friend's little daughters to die, remake repeatedly puts far more responsibility on her - which further alters and muddles her sacrifice. While in 1922, 1979 movies Ellen's sacrifice was sudden, desperate measures caused by terrible situation she unexpectedly found herself in, and because there was no other way and nobody else to save everyone, and sacrifice was fully executed by Ellen alone and unquestionably heroic, it's not like this in 2024 remake. She still is the one who literally woke vampire from his undead slumber and thus set in motion the subsequent events. Vampire's coming to Germany is nor longer sudden and out of the blue, but pretty much inevitable continuation of what happened when she established connection with Orlok in her youth. She must have known as well that when refusing vampire's ultimatums her friend and her friend's family are going likely to die by the hands of vampire considering what he was and that she actually knew him. So, her sacrificing herself to him in the end in-movie also becomes practically inevitable and basically obligatory conclusion to all this mess. Again, due to responsibility and extra involvement that remake places on her by adding previously non-exisisting plot lines or moments. At the same time movie took away most of her intelligence and competence that she had in 1922 and 1979 movies - leaving her the act of presenting herself to vampire to feed on her and distract vampire till daylight and then die. Coincidentally that's also the version of the character that also shows her naked breasts on screen and makes out with Orlok on the mouth. For plot reasons, of course. Only those plot reasons somehow couldn't fit in what 1922 and 1979 versions both did well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[iwhoneverbelievedinwar]

I FINALLY finished today's episode of re:Dracula and.

First of all I read Dracula last year but something about this version got me tearing up. Jonathan's devotion! When Mina says she's unclean and mustn't touch Jonathan and he just takes her in his arms and says that may God bring greater punishment upon him if he ever lets anything stand between them. That just. I can't help remembering that people were saying Mina shouldn't have married Jonathan when he was sick. This just shows that it was right, because Jonathan would have done the exact same thing if the roles were reversed!!

And, how can I not mention the quote that they chose for the title.

"To one thing I have made up my mind: if we find out that Mina must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and terrible land alone. I suppose it is thus that in old times one vampire meant many: just as their hideous bodies could only rest in sacred earth, so the holiest love was the recruiting sargent for their ghastly ranks."

I know. Everyone has talked about it better than me already. But again it made me tear up. Jonathan is willing to become the horror just so Mina won't go into it alone. They're a package deal: God will either take both of them up into heaven or none. They love each other so much it's making me insane.

And, of course. What the fuck was that song (affectionate) (positive) (frothing at the mouth but like in an appreciative way)? like. Truly brings me back to the good ol beginning of Dracula, where Jonathan is in a horror novel and Dracula is in the Beauty and the Beast. The choice of having Dracula address Jonathan! He has just assaulted Mina and threatened them all, but yeah he's absolutely obsessed with this white haired anime kid who slammed a shovel into his face. The whole choice of lyrics really gave me nbc Hannibal vibes which I suppose isn't that odd, considering Hannibal is a gothic horror romance (no I will not be taking criticism). The music is absolutely lovely, and of course Karim Kronfli just delivers. The lyrics are what's sending me into a spiral.

[beevean]

The main ships of NFCV:

DraculaXLisa: The science couple! Bonding over their shared love of science and nothing else. For someone who seemed deathly afraid of what her husband could do to humanity Lisa really didn't seem to have any issues with him commiting genocide in the end! Gotta love having to twist characterizations to keep a ship alive!

Trephacard: Superficially it's the most obvious, but the group goes a surprisingly long time separated and the time they spend together is often spent being cunts to each other

Striga and Morana : lesbianrepresentation.png

Alucard x Greta: When a cunt meets a piece of wood

Lenector: https://youtu.be/UnDhyWnHPD0?si=AcoJZBVXlYlByHgL

Annette X Richter: That great moment when one member of the couple gets treated nicely by the other when they suffer from trauma, while the other treats them like shit for the same reason, only to basically lie about it later on by saying "Oh I was worried about you". Also dead moms are a great bonding agent!

^ you couldn't have made a better analysis, my friend.

If you count Strirana (Morga?), then you might as well count Olrox/Mizrak, which is a very nice combination of fanservice (look! two hot men fucking!) and angst (oh nooo Olrox turned his bf but he says he doesn't want to do the same with his new bf because he doesn't care but he clearly does, oh the drama!) :P

Anyway, the straight ships in these show all suck. The gay ships are too busy being gay to go beyond that, but the others are all built on the same dynamic of "sassy woman keeps his stupid/rude man in check and they have cute sassy banters that are supposed to mimic chemistry" - and I would count St. Germain with his woman too if the latter had any sort of personality.

It was cute when Lisa sassed Dracula because, well, he's Dracula, although she really looks bad afterwards with how she neglects her son in favor of her monster of a hubby (not to mention she just comes off as an arrogant ass, since her love for science comes in the form of wanting to be seen as smarter than the peasants below her). Sypha insulting Trevor loses its charm very quickly, even when they're supposed to be cutesy together - and she has no right of calling Trevor rude when she can be even nastier and meaner. Greta appears out of nowhere in the end and she believes she can order and sass Alucard around like a common fanfic OC, not to mention making a tasteless joke out of his experiences in S3. And the "banter" between Lenore and Hector is sick from multiple angles, but on a lighter note is also forced as fuck - they sound OOC, there's no other way of putting it, because the only way they know of showing a man and a woman getting along is shit like this.

When you think about it, the only people genuinely in love really are Striga and Morana, because they were designed to be joined at the hip.

Well, I suppose Annette doesn't really fit the mold. She doesn't sass Richter: she sounds like she genuinely looks down on him and thinks lowly of him, until the writing has to force a "cute" ship tease between them because despite having absolutely nothing in common with game Annette and being a very obvious example of "this character sucks, we'll improve her and make her super cool", she couldn't be her own character, oh no she's still named Annette and therefore she's bound to become Richter's GF :) "I knew you'd be back. I was more concerned than I wanted to be." you are a horrible liar

anyway the only way you can enjoy ships in this show is ignoring canon and forcing the characters into your favorite prepackaged molds, like Trevor being the funny penis man, Sypha being the braincell holder and Alucard being the snarky broody asshole. Or ignoring all the abuse and rape for the sake of kinky hot sex in the case of Lenector :P

[number1villainstan]

I FINALLY finished the backlog of Frankenstein Weekly last night at 1am (deadass), which means now it's time to start on the massive backlog of Dracula Daily in my inbox. But I also have some Thoughts:

ELIZABETH. ELIZABETH MY BABY. I thought she didn't want to be married to Victor before this reread and I'm absolutely sure she didn't want to marry Victor now. She tries to comfort Victor on the ride to the honeymoon cottage not by saying stuff like 'hey, we're married now! Celebrate!' but 'look at all of the beautiful things out in nature! Look at the lake and the plants and the animals!' And although I say she tries to comfort Victor, I think she's actually trying to comfort herself--her personal worst case scenario has come true, and she's trying to comfort herself in this terrible moment where she's now married and truly bound to someone who she doesn't love and who doesn't love her as a person, just an object, by looking outside and comforting herself in the fact that nature is still beautiful and that the world still goes on despite her misfortune---ironically enough a massive contrast to how Victor wallows in his own despair without even trying to see the good that still exists in the world outside of his little circle.

In the very last chapter, when the Creature shows up and talks to Walton, he kind of mirrors some of Victor's earlier language, and insists that he's had the worst time of it ever of anyone, that he's had the most pain, in a similar way to Victor insisting that he's the one who's suffered the most in human history ever. Some of the self-centeredness of the father being passed down to the son here? Wallowing in his own despair and pain the same way that Victor did? We all love the Creature in this fandom, I'm sure, he's a sweetheart who didn't deserve anything that happened to him, but that doesn't mean that he's automatically a saint.

Soooo, Victor built the first Creature...and the first Creature is implied to be able to reproduce by Victor, soooo...like...what was he thinking? Did Victor really give the Creature sex organs? Would he actually be fertile? Whose sperm is it?? [Similar questions arise with the uncompleted second Creature.] <- This is less about the characters or themes of the book and more about hypothetical worldbuilding/science-y questions, but apparently brain death doesn't exist in the universe of Frankenstein (because Mary Shelley didn't know about it) so like...possibly these are not super fruitful questions

You could write an essay--or a series of essays--or maybe even a book on how Mary Shelley uses beauty and ugliness in her work, and what that might reveal about her own prejudices. Especially with the Creature's looks being what 'inspires' people to drive him away/be so scared of him, and I think I remember Victor saying something about how the Creature was beautiful to him before it was truly animated. And Elizabeth's beauty, and the beauty of the natural scenes...

There's also the question of the Creature's humanity. He was made from human parts, by a human, in the shape of a human; he can speak like a human; he thinks like a human; and yet he has been cast out from human society and, at least in his own mind, is hated by any human who even looks at him. Does he count as human? Is it fair to call him a monster or a Creature? Is it accurate? If he's not human, what is he? If he is human, what makes him human? Might you call him a zombie? What about something similar to a cyborg, or an android? These questions are especially pertinent to someone like me: very very queer, definitely neurodivergent, and with little attachment to my own humanity (and a mild obsession with monsters of all kinds). If the Creature is human, does that mean that I am human? If the Creature fails to be human, do I fail to be human?

Ironically enough, it seems like in the same end scene I mentioned in 2, Walton--although refusing to look at the Creature for its (informed?) hideousness--doesn't reject the Creature for its looks, but for its crimes as reported by Victor and confessed to by the Creature itself. In some ways, this is a just rejection; do not murderers and monsters deserve to be punished for their actions? And yet we cannot forget how the Creature was neglected by Victor and how he was rejected unjustly by strangers time and time again. What is justice here? What would be just? How do we recompense a victim who is also a perpetrator? How do we help someone who is hurting after they've hurt others?

I've got a oneshot idea percolating in my brain, a canon divergence thing that's set during the time where Victor is outside the cottage and Elizabeth is waiting inside, and when the Creature comes in she originally mistakes him for Victor (not looking at him) and they end up talking. There's also a part with her giving him her veil, so that his features are less defined (making him less likely to be automatically rejected based on his looks) near the end, and while what happens after is going to be left ambiguous--it's not the focus of that (currently unwritten) piece--I like to think it's happy. I'm also hoping to at least write up an outline for that oneshot today, if not the whole thing, because I'm Like That as a writer.

[theharpermovieblog]

#HARPERSMOVIECOLLECTION

2023

I watched Blood For Dracula (1974)

I have somewhat seen this before on late night tv, along with it's counterpart Flesh For Frankenstein.

A sickly Dracula travels to Italy to find a virgin to cure him.

If I was to ask, "Hey, do you wanna see a very bloody, soft-core-esque Dracula movie starring Udo Keir and presented by Andy Warhol?" You'd either say, "What? No." Or "Absolutely, give me that now, push it into my face if you have to." There would be no in-between.

Well, before you answered you might ask, "What does PRESENTED BY Andy Warhol mean?" And I would tell you that he had nothing to do with this movie, other than knowing the guy who made it.

Director Paul Morrissey, has made some other movies, which I have not seen. They all seem like slightly queer trash art. A genre I'm absolutely here for in theory.

I'll start with some of the technical stuff, then move on to the movie as a whole.

Morrissey is very competent behind the camera. He understands shot construction and I rather like his visual choices.

The dialogue is often clunky and I'd argue that the script isn't well written or very engaging. And, the fact that a lot of the actors clearly speak English as a second language isn't helping that clunky dialogue.

I should also mention that this is supposedly a horror/comedy, but its less funny and more "funny" in the way which artists think they're being "funny".

Udo Keir is very good here as a rather vain Dracula. He's stage acting and it fits his character. The other acting and actors throughout are hit or miss, but some people definitely shine and would shine more if they had interesting things to say. Arno Jeurging is definitely having fun in his role. Joe Dallesandro's New York accent is almost shocking amongst the Italian, German and British accents that surround it. His acting isn't good, but he's good for a few chuckles.

Overall this film, technically speaking, is ok for shitty gothic horror of the era and a film that has a look that I adore. Dreamy, with a hint of British soap opera and a handful of italian horror. The locations are gorgeous , as are the people and the costumes.

So, how's the movie as a whole.

Well, it's not a high art piece by any means. Outside of attempting to have more tits and ass and excessive blood, nothing really separates this from other horror of the era, and a lot of directors were doing this much better back then. It's stilted and none of the story or action has any weight to it. There's no real scares or laughs either. A few moments of being able to laugh at it, but not with it. Also, the hero assaults a couple women, rapes a 14 year old, and is just kind of a dick. Not really a guy you want to root for.

But, despite the movie not being all that great, there are some moments I enjoyed. I laughed through most of Dracula's Seizures and a few strangely delivered lines. (Not sure if I was supposed to, but I did.) I loved looking at the pretty people being pretty and wearing pretty things, or being pretty and naked. I loved the look of it all, honestly. I loved the end where Dracula is being hacked up. I loved how self indulgent it felt and how absolutely trashy it really is. I loved that it tries to toss in some form of a classism discussion and doesn't really follow through on. Is Count Dracula's illness supposed to be a metaphor for the dying upper class? If so, it's a pretty weak one, and just an attempt at trying to make this seem more high minded than it is.

Basically, I admired the terribleness surrounded by pretty things.

This movie is trash with a little bit of fun to it. There's enough here to it to watch it once, just to see it.

[maxwell-grant]

Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one. 

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction. 

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else. 

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea  considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play? 

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 25 - The Family Dinner [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 5300

Summary: Family time can be chaotic.

Sharing secrets was difficult, but sharing secrets about one’s past was quite possibly one of the most difficult things that a person could do with who they loved. You knew how difficult it was for Spencer to talk about his past with you, but he stood by his word and told you absolutely everything, with nothing to hide. By the time you finished that conversation, it was almost dawn and yet you didn’t feel tired at all.

After that night, something changed but it wasn’t a bad change like Spencer feared.

You felt even closer to him, if such a thing was possible. In the following week, your relationship was better than ever-

Well.

Until now.

“I don’t believe this,” you shook your head, “I just… I refuse to believe this. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t even want to believe you’d put yourself in harm’s way and betray me like this. I get that you have no regard for your happiness, but doing this?” you ran a hand over your face, “This is too much, Spencer. You have no idea what you’re walking into, what kind of danger that’s going to be waiting there to ruin you!”

Spencer just raised his brows, then looked between the two ties he was holding up.

“So that’s a no to the blue one?”

“No to this whole thing!” you let out a groan, falling back to the bed, “No to this dinner with my family nonsense!”

He chuckled at your dramatics as you huffed out.

“Don’t you think maybe you’re worried about the wrong thing?” he asked, “You’re also meeting your father today.”

“But we know my father is a sadistic cruel demon sent to earth to make everyone’s life miserable,” you pointed out, keeping your eyes on the ceiling, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my father isn’t the only dangerous person in my family.”

“It’s just a dinner.”

“No, that’s what they want you to think,” you insisted, sitting up in bed, “Before you know it, they invite you to our place by the lovely countryside, and you’ll walk in thinking it’s just like any other place, there are wolves howling outside and-“

“Why are you giving me the plot of Dracula right now?”

“Because that’s what they are!” you exclaimed, “They’re like vampires! Have you ever wondered why my sister was named Mina? Dracula’s Mina!”

“Your mother loves horror books?”

“Spencer you can’t ignore the signs!” you insisted as he started tying his tie, a small grin pulling at his lips, “They’ll- they’ll suck the life out of you! By the time the dinner is over, you will be begging to see the sunlight again, and you will never be able to. Figuratively speaking.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve already met all of them,” he said patiently and you felt your heart melt, “In case you forgot.”

“Yes, and do you remember how that went?” you asked, “Nolan threatened you, my mother treated you like she was going to hire you and questioned you about everything, and Mina… Mina is a warning by existence.”

“Kenzie was nice though.”

“Yeah, she’s the only good person in our family,” you muttered, then turned your head when you felt his glances on you. “What?”

“Nolan is a part of your family?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you scrunched up your face and grabbed your lip liner and lipstick to walk to the mirror, uncapped it and started applying it, “I’m going to have a billionaire stepfather who looks like a puppy around my mother— that’s not the point.” You put the lipstick into your purse and went to sit down on the bed again while he ran his fingers through his curls as if trying to keep them under control, “I just don’t want you to change your mind because my family doesn’t know how to act normal.”

“Change my mind about what?”

“About this,” you motioned between you and that was more than enough to make him turn his head, his brows furrowed. “I love them, but they’re going to be overly prying, overly dramatic, overly….everything and the next thing we know—“

“That’s never going to happen,” he approached you to crouch down so that he could look at you better, then reached out to entwine his fingers with yours, “That’s why you were so nervous about this?”

You pursed your lips, heaving a sigh and shrugged silently.

“Do you remember what you said to me a couple of days ago, that night?” he asked, “How trust works both ways?”

“You already know almost everything about my past.”

“That’s not it,” he shook his head, “This is about our present, and future.”

“Or lack thereof,” you commented dryly, making him chuckle.

“Do you seriously believe that?”

“They can be a little intimidating.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured you, “And no matter what happens tonight, or on dinners to come with-“

“Social vampires.”

“With your family,” he corrected you, “It won’t change anything. I promise.”

You cupped his cheek, running your fingertips over his slight stubble and he turned his head to place a kiss into your palm, nuzzling there.

“Fine,” you murmured, “Let’s go see my sadistic demon father then. Should be enough of a practice for tonight.”

                                              ***

When you and Spencer got to the prison your father was held in, Luke was already by the hallway, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he said, “He’s going to be ready in five.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“And don’t worry, after you guys are done here, I’m taking him to bullpen and he will leave at 7 p.m. latest. Rossi promised, even if there’s a dead body he’s gonna attend the dinner tonight.”

You looked up at Spencer, “Wait, there was a possibility of you not attending if someone ends up dead?”

“I mean if there’s a case…”

“Please don’t kill someone so that you guys can avoid this dinner,” Luke pointed out and you made a face at him, “We took you off our suspects list way too soon.”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and one of the guards opened the door.

“He’s ready.”

“I’ll be behind the glass if you two need anything.” Luke said and Spencer squeezed your hand as if trying to assure you everything would be alright.

“Come on,” he coaxed and you nodded, then took a deep breath and entered the interrogation room, Spencer following you. Your father looked up, then raised his brows.

“Oh look at you two, together again,” he said and you rolled your eyes, trying your hardest not to show how nervous you were. You took your seat across from him beside Spencer, and crossed your arms.

“John.”

“Dr. Reid.”

“So that’s why you haven’t had the time to come and see me lately,” your father motioned between you, “I can hardly say I approve but…”

“Oh that’s good. I’d probably kill myself if I did something you’d approve of.”

“Honey, you’re surrounded by CEOs and businessmen, and you went for an FBI agent?”

“What the fuck does that have to do with-”

“How much do you make monthly?” he asked, turning to Spencer, “I mean, I need to make sure-“

“Oh shut up, will you?” you cut him off, “He’s going to be hearing all that nonsense and more tonight, I don’t need this from you too.”

“Tonight?”

You and Spencer exchanged glances and he shrugged slightly, as if telling you to continue. A small smile pulled at your lips and you turned to your father.

“We’re having a family dinner tonight,” you said, “Naturally it doesn’t include you, so there’s one good thing about this bullshit, I guess.”

“Well, if it doesn’t include me you could hardly call it a family dinner.”

Your smile widened and you clicked your tongue,

“Nah, Nolan is going to be there so we’ll be fine. The whole family is there.”

Your father frowned, “Nolan?”

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah, mom’s boyfriend.”

A silence fell upon the room as he stared at you for a couple of seconds,

“Your mother has a boyfriend now?”

You hissed in a breath,

“You’re right, boyfriend doesn’t exactly cut it,” you said, “He’s going to propose, so I guess we could call him mom’s future husband-“

“You’re lying,” he cut you off and you tilted your head.

“Am I though?”

“She wouldn’t get married,” he shook his head, “No way.”

A laughter escaped from your lips, “Why not?” you asked, “Because she loves you?”

“Yes she does.”

“The last time I checked, she called you a monster and was hoping you would die as soon as possible,” you stated, “Barely a love story.”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand,” he said through his teeth, “Your mother and I were in love, Petal. We still are, regardless of divorce, or this.” He motioned around the room and you blinked a couple of times, trying to wrap your mind around it.

“Jesus, you really are delusional.”

Spencer muttered your name to remind you to be careful, but you shook your head, keeping your eyes on your father.

“I’m pretty sure Nolan could buy this whole prison,” you motioned around, “I should suggest that, as a wedding gift.”

“They won’t get- hold on,” your father said, “Did you say Nolan? Nolan Yates?”

“Mm hm.”

“Nolan fucking Yates is going after my wife?”

“Ex-wife who hates your guts,” you corrected him and he gritted his teeth.

“I knew it,” he spat, “The first time I saw him at that gala, I saw the way he looked at your mother. They’re not getting married.”

“Okay then you lunatic,” you scoffed “I guess you need something to have delusions about while we’re out there moving on—“

It happened in a flash. One second you were talking, the next you were cut off as your father jumped on his feet, Spencer pushing you out of your chair to behind him almost automatically.

Then, something in Spencer’s eyes shifted.

He grabbed him by the arm, twisted it and slammed him down to the table in front of you, making you cover your mouth, your heart beating in your throat as the door opened with a bang and Luke and two guards came in.  Luke was the first to pull Spencer off of your father, telling him to let go while one of the guards grabbed you and pushed you out of the room before he made his way to your father still trying to get out of the handcuffs and lunge at them as if he was a man possessed. They dragged him out of the interrogation room to what you assumed was the hall that led to his cell while you stood still by the wall, trying your hardest to snap out of it but your mind was almost foggy.

“Excuse me,” you managed to say as you made your way to the bathroom, your hands still shaking. Thankfully no one was there, so you rested your palms on the sink, taking a deep breath before you turned on the tap, holding your hands under the ice cold water.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “It’s fine. You’re fine. It happens, you have a fucked up family.”

You rolled your shoulders back, that crazy light in your father’s eyes flashing in your mind before you shook your head, exhaling slowly.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice reached inside as he knocked on the door, “Can I come in?”

Your heart was still pacing in your chest but you cleared your throat.

“Yeah,” you called out and he stepped inside, his lips pulled into a thin line as he offered you a small smile.

“Hi,” he said gently, still keeping his distance, standing by the now closed door. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, crossing your arms, adrenaline still pulsing through you, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and you pulled your brows together.

“Huh?”

“That you had to see that,” he said, “I know I shouldn’t have slammed him down like that, but when he lunged at you, I just…. I saw red. I understand that it was hard to watch and I apologize—“

“Hold on,” you cut him off, gawking at him “You’re apologizing because you stopped that psycho from lunging at me?”

Spencer frowned as if he was confused at your own confusion, and nodded.

“Yeah. Human mind is very complex, so even if you think you hate him, it could’ve been difficult for you to see him hurt, not to mention it was me who did that. Jung has a theory that states—“

“Spencer,” You interrupted him again, “Lock the door.”

His frown deepened but he did as you asked, but he didn’t get to ask why when you walked to him and pulled him into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes. His hand cradled your head, a sigh of content escaping him but he pulled back when you grabbed his tie to loosen it.

“Wait, here?” he asked, “Y/N, this is a bathroom.”

“Yeah, I’m aware?”

“Do you have any idea how unsanitary this place probably is?”

“Oh, very unsanitary,” you stated, “On the other hand, though…”

You shrugged your shoulders and pulled your silk blouse over your head, so that he could see you in your bra. He stared at you for a moment and he swallowed thickly, his eyes snapping up to yours when you giggled.

“You make a good point,” he muttered before he pulled you into a kiss and walked you back to the sink.

                                                ***

Unfortunately, the rest of the day wasn’t that fun, especially when it was time to get to your mother’s house for the family dinner. You had insisted on picking Spencer up from work after you were done at your work, so that you would at least try to change his mind on the road again, but when you actually arrived to your mother’s place, he still looked like he wanted to do this.

“Last warning,” you said as Spencer looked up at the house, then twirled the flower bouquet in his hand, “Not too late to change your mind professor.”

“I’ll be fine, come on,” he offered his free hand and you took it, then both of you climbed the stairs to the front door.

“I’m a little nervous, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“You hummed the Darth Vader theme for the whole road,” Spencer reminded you, “I had a feeling you were nervous, yeah.”

“Abandon hope all ye enter here,” you quoted Dante as you both reached the door and Spencer scoffed a laugh.

“Ah we went from the den of vampires into the gates of hell, then?”

“Yeah! As Dante would put it, to a place we come where nothing shines.”

“I doubt he envisioned this when he was talking about the circles of hell.” He rang the doorbell and you let out a small whine, looking up at the dark sky.

“There are worse people than me out there,” you said as the footsteps came closer, “Why am I being subjected to—“

“Spencer!” your mother greeted him as she opened the door and you frowned.

“Since when do you answer the door?” you asked and she shot you a look before smiling at Spencer.

“Hello Ms. Knight.”

“Welcome, both of you!” she gasped at the flowers, “For me?”

“Oh—yes, of course.”

“They’re lovely, thank you!” she said and took them from him, “Come in, come in!”

“No I’m serious, did something happen to Tina? You never answer the door.”

“It’s nice to see you too sweetie, I see we started our dramatics on the way.” she kissed your cheek and you smiled.

“Hi mom.”

“Let me put these in a vase.”

“Spencer!” a gleeful scream rang in the hallway as your mother went to the kitchen and Lily threw herself at Spencer who crouched down as soon as he saw her “Hi!”

“Hi there! Whoa, you’re very strong!”

“Just in time for bedtime,” Kenzie walked into the hallway with a wine glass in her hand, “Hi guys.”

“I told mommy you’re a magician! And grandma, and Nolan too!” Lily counted with her fingers, “And I told them- I told them you can make coins disappear, and that you can do magic with paper, and then—“

“Bug, breathe,” you said, “Also, where’s my hug?”

Lily hastily rushed to you to hug you, then turned to Spencer as if she wasn’t interrupted while he just watched her with a fond smile on her face, listening intently to everything she was saying, and that warm feeling spread through your stomach again.

“And then I told Bobby I know a superhero, then he told me superheroes can’t be magicians but he’s wrong! Do you use magic to catch bad guys? Because if you do, I can help you with your superhero name!”

“Alright, auntie time.” you lifted her up into your arms as Spencer straightened up, “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t,” Spencer shook his head, still smiling, “Please, I… she’s amazing.”

“Lily,” Kenzie said, “Bed time, come on.”

“Can you show me a magic trick please and thank you?” Lily said breathlessly and Spencer let out a laugh before turning to Kenzie.

“Is that okay?”

“Sure thing.”  

Spencer took out a coin from his pocket and held it in her sight, “Alright Lily, this is just a coin, right?”

“Don’t let him trick you,” you whispered to Lily who giggled, then nodded fervently after checking the coin.

“Yes.”

“Okay, keep your eyes on it,” Spencer showed it to her one more time before he put it into his palm, closed his palm and when he opened it, the coin was nowhere to be seen. Lily gasped, her jaw dropping and you couldn’t help but smile at her expression, her eyes shining with awe. You pressed a kiss on her cheek as Kenzie took her from you, and she let out a whine.

“But you all will have fun here!” she murmured, pouting and you heaved a sigh.

“Lily I can assure you, no one will have fun here.”

“Don’t be like that,” Kenzie shot you a look and smiled at Spencer. “She didn’t intimidate you, did she?”

“She tried,” Spencer said as you wrapped your arms around his torso and he kissed the top of your head, “Didn’t exactly work though.”

“For some reason,” you grumbled and Lily waved at you.

“Night night!”

“Good night!”

“I’ll see you later bug!” you said and entwined your fingers with Spencer’s, then pulled him to the dining room where Kenzie and Nolan were talking. Before you could even greet them, the sight of the dinner table caught your eye and you gawked at all the food there, your mother was definitely out of control and this was the proof of it.

There was enough food for a small army.

“Oh God please don’t tell me we’re going to have live music too,” you muttered and Mina raised her brows.

“Yeah, you might want to lower your expectations,” she shot a fake smile at Spencer, “But then again, that seems to be the theme of tonight. Hi Dr. Reid.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring at her and of course the jab didn’t escape Spencer’s attention, but he chose not to respond with the same sarcasm.

“Hi again.”

“Welcome, Dr. Reid,” Nolan smiled, “Y/N.”

“Hi Mr. Yates.”

“Nolan.”

“So this is where you grew up?” Spencer asked you as you led him away from them towards the library, and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, “Right over there me and Mina got into a fight and she pushed me into a vase.”

“Ouch.”

“Spent the next ten minutes begging me not to tell mom. Over there,” you pointed at the corner, “Used to be this huge Christmas tree every year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and we used to have another room next to this, dad’s study, but after he was arrested and we all figured out how evil he was, mom grabbed a sledgehammer and smashed the—“

“Dinner is ready!” your mother called out and you heaved a sigh.

“Just saying, we could just tell them there’s been a murder.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” he smiled at you fondly and you shook your head, Kenzie entering the living room again.

“I’ve been called stubborn before.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he joked as he kissed you on the forehead and you turned to your family who was slowly taking their seats around the table, then both of you approached the table to sit down as well.

“I’m so glad we decided to have this dinner,” your mother clasped her hands, “It was about time, wouldn’t you say?”

Spencer smiled at her after thanking the maid who was filling his glass, “Thank you for inviting me Ms Knight.”

“Y/N was trying to make him change his mind,” Kenzie sang and your mother tilted your head.

“Spencer, I promise you we’re not as bad as my daughter tries to make you believe.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad,” you defended yourself, “I’m just saying you might be a little too much.”

“Define too much.”

You gawked at her and motioned at the table, making Spencer chuckle silently beside you.

“I really appreciate the effort you put into this,” he added, making your mother smile.

“Why thank you, Spencer,” she said and turned to Nolan, “Honey, Spencer works for the BAU as you know, you should introduce him to your friend.”

“Your friend?” Kenzie asked.

“The head of FBI,” Nolan said, “That’s a great idea. He might also help you in any position you want in the bureau.”

Spencer blinked a couple of times, as if he was at loss for words, then cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” he said “I already- I already have the position that I want though.”

“Ah for the future,” Nolan waved a hand and your mother sipped her drink.

“Yeah, now that it came up,” she said, “What are your future plans?”

“Mom,” you said warningly and Mina leaned back, looking between you with a smirk on her face.

“It’s just a question, don’t be so nervous,” she commented and Kenzie arched a brow at her.

“Mina.”

“No it’s okay,” Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear, “I um… I think I’d like to focus more on teaching.”

You lowered your glass, “Hm? Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I mean I do love BAU, they’re my family but seeing murders every single day, seeing all those victims, it becomes too much sometimes. But I love teaching already, so I think I will do that. In the future, I mean.”

“Oh how lovely. How about something other than your career though? In your future, would you say you’re planning to have chi—“

“New topic,” you cut her off quickly, “I saw dad today, and he knows you two are dating now.”

Your mother frowned but Nolan reached out to squeeze her hand, “It’s okay, he would learn eventually.”

“He actually thinks he is in love with you,” you told your mom and she scoffed.

“Please don’t say that, we’re eating,” she said, “I don’t want to feel nauseous.”

“It’s actually understandable that he’s under that disillusion.” Spencer said, making all of you turn to him, “Especially people in his situation, they feel this need to hold onto some outside world that’s waiting for them to get out of their minds. In a way, he hopes that because if he feels cut off from here, he will probably crash down. It’s very common in people who are imprisoned.”

“Well he can hope all he wants, I never want to see him again.”

“I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to see him again either, but she’s not that lucky, thanks to FBI. What do you think about that, Spencer?” Mina asked, and Spencer looked at her.

“I think that’s a decision left to her.”

“Is it though?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mina I need you to remember what I was like when we had dinner with Kenzie, and return the favor.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means shut the fuck up.”

“Y/N!” your mom gasped and Mina tilted her head.

“Ah well, excuse me if not all of us are in a forgiving mood unlike you.”

“None of that!” your mother said, “Both of you, honestly…”

“Spencer, you strike me as a whiskey guy,” Nolan said, attracting his attention, “I purchased a bottle of limited series in an auction in London the other day, would you like to try it after dinner?”

“Sure,” he nodded fervently and you held up your hand.

“I want to try that too. And what about that rum you were talking about the other day? Is it here too?”

“Sure thing.” Nolan snapped his fingers, “In fact, I know a great distillery, why don’t we visit there after dinner?”

You lifted your head, “That could be fun. Where?”

“Costa Rica.”

Spencer looked between you, “You—um, you want to go to Costa Rica after dinner?”

“We could take the jet. We’d be back before the dawn, obviously.”

“People,” you cleared your throat, “Has no one read the normalcy manual I e-mailed you the other day?”

“Yes but the manual said we could talk about drinks.” Nolan said and Spencer turned to you, frowning.

“Normalcy manual?”

“I just thought it’d be useful for tonight.”

“Oh it was very useful,” Mina commented, “Especially the footnote about murders, even if it was unnecessary. No one will joke about murder Y/N, we don’t want your boyfriend to arrest you again after—“ she was cut off as Kenzie kicked her leg under the table, and Spencer pursed his lips, as if he still felt guilty about that.

“I wasn’t in the city,” he said calmly, looking her dead in the eye, “I came back as soon as I heard, I was trying to get her out when you got there.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you said, “Mina , stop it will you?”

She didn’t even look like she heard you, “Get her out? Ah so that’s why I walked into that interrogation room when she was being hounded by your team?”

“Okay!” Kenzie said loudly, throwing the napkin on the table, “I’m so sorry, I just remembered something about Lily’s school that we missed. Babe, can you come with me to the kitchen for a moment please?”

Mina huffed out and put her glass down, then pushed her chair back and followed Kenzie to the kitchen.

“Honestly….” you downed your drink and motioned for another one but then Spencer squeezed your hand under the table, as if trying to assure you.

“I bet you miss the serial killers right now huh?” you mumbled and he tilted your head, humoring you.

“Drinks are better here,” he admitted and you tried to smile before you grabbed your cigarette pack from your purse.

“I’m gonna go to the backyard for a moment to smoke,” you said and your mother shot you a look.

“It’s dinner time, Y/N.”

“It’ll take like five minutes, tops,” you said and pushed your chair back, “I need some fresh air anyway. Spencer?”

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” he said and followed you down the hall until you reached the door to the backyard, opened it and stepped outside.

It was a silent night, as silent as it could be in the middle of the city. You looked up at the stars as you lit your cigarette, then heaved a sigh and leaned back to Spencer’s chest when he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I apologize on her behalf,” you said and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to,” he muttered, “She has a point. I should’ve… I should’ve been there, in that interrogation room.”  

You looked up at him, then reached up to run your fingernails over his slight scruff while he lowered his head to press his nose into the crook of your neck, nuzzling there.

“Spencer, you need to stop blaming yourself,” you said slowly, “I mean it. I don’t blame you for that at all— and….you know Mina. She just turns into someone else when it comes to protecting the family. She doesn’t mean it, not really.”

He nodded silently and you combed back his hair with your fingers, making him heave a sigh.

“This is nice,” he muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“So are you ready to admit that I was right?”

“Hm?”

“I said you would regret it, do you regret it yet?”

“The dinner?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head “No.”

“Why not?”

His arms around you tightened and he pressed a kiss to your neck, “Because you’re here.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours and you stubbed your cigarette before you turned to him. He smiled at you and you couldn’t help but stare at him under the dim lights of the backyard before you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his.

“God, I love you so much,” you said, making him smile, “Thank you for being here and… I don’t know, going through this absolute torture. I know it’s a lot.”

“Hey,” he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You nodded, looking up at him.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” his voice was silent, almost hesitant, “To make you happy. You know that, right?”

You could feel the burning in your eyes and you sniffled, your heart skipping a beat before you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest. The rest of the world felt like it disappeared as you swayed from side to side, inhaling his scent and you pulled back.

“I know now,” you wiped at your nose, clearing your throat and he pushed your hair behind your ear.

“Good,” he grinned, “Glad we cleared that out.”

Someone knocked on the door and you turned your head to see Mina as she opened the glass door.

“So about earlier,” she leaned sideways to the doorframe, “Apologies and remorse, etc.”

“That means she’s sorry for what happened earlier,” you said helpfully and Spencer scoffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, “I get it. Trust me, I felt exactly the same when I saw the tape, but I was trying to get her out with minimum damage.”

Mina nibbled on her lip, eyeing him up and down.

“I guess,” she said, “But just so you both know, mom and Nolan are actually planning a weekend trip to Costa Rica. It’s like what happened with Kenzie all over again, only there’s two of them now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered and Mina nodded at Spencer.

“Yeah so you might need to tell them you have murders to solve during the weekend Sherlock, because they’re not going to listen to us.” she said and Spencer looked down at you.

“I’ll be there in a second,” you said and he pressed a kiss into your hair before making his way inside. Mina lingered there for a moment, inspecting her fingernails in a complete nonchalant manner.

“I guess I could trust you to know what you’re doing,” she said, “Just make sure he doesn’t screw you over, okay?”

You raised your brows, then clicked your tongue.

“Kenzie said no sex unless you apologize huh?”

“She meant it too!” Mina whined as you walked past her, letting out a laugh.

“Unbelievable,” you shook your head with a smile, making your way to the dining room. “All of you.”

Chapter 26 

[jjuzoir]

Homare Arisugawa General HCS

request: “Hi Sora! I never see any art/writing for my boy Homare from A3! (Maybe because his dialogue is so ridiculous.) Would you mind writing something for him?” from tlali

a/n: ahhh i don’t think i’ve ever taken so long in a request jdjdndnd but i just wanted to make it right because i love homare so much❕ he deserves everything and more i just HDHSJJA we need more homare love 🤬 his dialogue is hilarious and i feel like we need to appreciate his style more no more homare slander 🙅

word count: 1667

- He smells like earl gray tea. No one knows why since he uses unscented soaps, he says it’s probably because he spends most of his time drinking or around tea.

- He’s very particular about his hair, he uses very specific shampoos and conditioners that he will absolutely not share or change unless he notices his hair needs it. Talking about his hair, it’s naturally kind of dry so he uses a lot of hydrating products which leaves him with the softest, most fluffy hair ever. It’s like touching a cloud.

- One of his favorite gifts given to him is a tie given to him as a birthday gift by his members. Everyone pitched it, including Izumi, and Azuma picked it out. It’s black, much like his everyday tie, but it’s got a small embroidered snowflake.

- He’s got three main pairs of glasses; his everyday ones he keeps at hand when he goes out, his at home ones which are (according to him) less flattering, and his driving ones. Keep in mind he can’t drive, he doesn’t even own a car.

- He can speak french and latin, and he’s super loud about it too. He’ll sometimes slip in french phrases and no one will understand other than Chikage and it’s just a mess - Muku is always so amazed that he knows two other languages too and probably asks him to teach him sometime.

- Definitely has the prettiest handwriting when it comes to the roman alphabet, he writes in ink and with fancy pens that cost more than Banri’s tuition.

- Absolutely has a bunch of business cards printed out, each with its own quote made by him. Sakyo thought it was such a waste printing them until he realized that no matter how many Homare took when he went to run errands he always gave them all, to whom? No one knows.

- He’s very well respected in the literary community, which still shocks pretty much everyone. He gets stopped often by fans or people who’ve read his work, it happens at least once a day and Izumi really doesn’t… she doesn’t understand, poor girl.

- He’s not that good with phone calls, he’s not bad but he definitely prefers texting or just talking face to face. To him there’s just a certain level of discontent he doesn’t like that doesn’t exist in other mediums.

- His favorite shows are either comedies or heavy hitting detective shows, there is no inbetween. You’ll walk in on him watching a sitcom leave the room and walk in on a serial killer chase down.

- About his love for detective shows, his favorite pastime is trying to solve the mysteries with the main character. He’ll rewatch the episode so many times to try and pick up clues, he’ll take notes and come to a conclusion and he loves the feeling of getting it right.

- In the same spirit as the statement above, absolutely got Tsumugi and Sakyo hooked on some of his favorites and they hang out to talk about the latest episodes and the overarching mystery. The conversations can tend to get kind of heavy very quick, more than once Muku thought they were investigating a real crime and almost fainted.

- He looks like he’s probably allergic to wool sweaters, they make his skin itch and he always needs to use a shirt underneath them - so he tends to buy those expensive anti-allergic ones that need to be washed in a very specific way that could probably pay Tsuzuru’s whole college debt and it takes a lot of restraint from the playwright not to steal one and sell in the black market.

- Talking about Tsuzuru, he often gives him writing advice. Said advice tends to be very useful, like keeping a pen and notebook on him in case anything comes to mind during the day or writing daily to help ease him into a style, etc. Homare genuinely wants him to bloom into a writer and is willing to beta-read anything Minagi needs, be it a script or a sleep deprived rambling about the gay subtext in Nocturnity.

- Arisugawa sets himself reading goals each month, he likes to read at least one book. He prefers poetry books or classic english literature, but he also likes to read romance books or really bizarre dystopian novels.

- Has read more books than most people in the company and can give very detailed recommendations if you give him like a day.

- Sings operas in the shower, unless stopped he will keep going until the second act. Surprisingly good falsetto, but one time Tenma thought it was a Banshee for a second and almost cried into Juza’s chest.

- He’s not only an overly emotional drunk but also a loud drunk, he’s already quite loud but when he’s downed half a bottle of wine and a shot of vodka he’s louder than the Summer Troupe combined. Because of this, Izumi tends to restrict his alcohol intake when they’re at the dorm.

- I can see him being very big into musicals, not all musicals but a very specific niche; classic horror novels turned into musicals. He’s a very big fan of both the German and Korean versions of Dracula, his favorite song is probably “Zu Ende” or the Korean version of “It’s Over”. He also likes the Frankenstein musical too, but overall he finds Junsu’s Dracula more interesting thus his preference.

- He will talk your ear off if you mention any musical though, be it a classic like Phantom or something newer like Heathers.

- A very big fan of Ghibli movies, he told me so himself today. He really likes Spirited Away though, it’s a movie he’s watched so many times but he’s still completely enamoured by it; he probably has made the Winter Troupe watch it at least once and Hisoka definitely knows the beginning of the movie by heart now.

- Homare is also really good at drawing, not like Kazunari but he’s probably the second best. He learned by analyzing and looking at artists he admired and picking up on their techniques. A true Renaissance Man™️.

- I feel like he’d also have a bunch of skills that are kind of, useless? He can probably carve wood and make candles, he also took a course in glass blowing probably. Arisugawa just wants to try everything at least once, his motto is probably to explore and learn as much as possible, not just about art but the world (he can be surprisingly smart if you have a dictionary at hand).

- Very observant, just in general. Which can be both good and bad, it’s good because it helps him understand the situation in ways others might not but it leads to him to sometimes overthinking things and behaving in manners which may annoy or hurt others.

- He also has a hard time trying to react to social cues, as seen in game, with certain people. While he’s worked it out with the Winter troupe and the Mankai company he still struggles when it comes to new people.

- Will make little tunes he sings in the shower that kind of become a little daily song, each day there’s a new one he’ll hum.

- He also canonly makes music and he makes contemporary electro-pop, you cannot change my mind. He probably also mixes opera and classical music into his tunes, which can go from 1 minute to 10, so you end up with a very cool mix of orchestra and techno-pop - it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but he’s probably got his own niche group.

- Now, into more romantic HCs...

- He’s a good flirt, a very good flirt. They may sound weird looking back at it, but his pickup lines work and they work well.

- He knows when to stop pursuing someone too. He senses even a bit of discomfort and he’s backing away, won’t ask anything. Very big on consent and unless stated absolutely explicitly he’ll keep his distance.

- A true gentleman, please - he’ll never let his dates pay, always open the doors for them, will even do the “walk on the inside of the sidewalk” when he’s walking you home.

- His favorite dates tend to be ones where you get to know more about each other, not always necessarily by talking though. Being able to go into a bookstore and look at the books, seeing the ones you pick, what you pick at a cafe or restaurant, it all helps him draw a better picture of who you are and he likes to think it helps you get to know him better too.

- He’s very in tune with his S/O’s feelings but is afraid of overstepping any boundaries which may lead to some miscommunication at the beginning of the relationship. But it’s workable and it wouldn’t be that big an issue in the long run as long as his partner is willing to help him understand them.

- Not big on PDA, thinks certain things should remain inside - not to say he wouldn’t talk for hours about his partner to anyone who listens but things like kissing or hugs tend to be behind closed doors. He’s okay with hand holding and maybe a kiss on the cheek though!

- Likes wearing matching outfits with his S/O, thinks it shows how they’re “one in spirit, heart, and mind” and will not stop pointing it out to the point even married couples feel single as they hear him ramble on about the subtle coordination in your color schemes to create a perfect contrast.

- Notices the smallest things like how much sugar you like in your drinks, the telltale signs of when you’re lying or uncomfortable, how you act when you’re too cold or too hot, and learns it by heart.

- Homare is also the kind of boyfriend who’d confront the waiter if they get your order wrong, he’s not ashamed of it either.

- He kind of just wants to make sure you’re doing well and happy, he’s a gentleman.

- Damn… I love him so much

[sineala]

A Few Thoughts About Hurt/Comfort

I have been asked this month to make a post about hurt/comfort in Avengers comics. And I love h/c -- I actually have a massive number of WIPs right now that are h/c -- so I am very happy to talk about it! Anyway, this is not really all that planned out and this mostly turned into an excursus on Tony Stark's pain. I'm sure you're all surprised.

Like pretty much everyone else, I'm sure, I have found that everything lately has been... pretty tough. And the coping mechanism that really got me through last year and this year was reading and writing a lot of h/c, on the theory that, however lousy a day I'm having, I can absolutely make sure that Tony Stark has a worse one. And then I can make sure he gets hugs. Wish fulfillment? Why, yes. (Once at Hallmark I was trying to find a "get well soon" card, forgot what it was called, and described it to my wife as "a hurt/comfort card.") I think Marvel Comics -- the Avengers side, in particular -- is an interesting canon for h/c for a lot of reasons. Though, honestly, if you asked me to recommend you, a hurt/comfort fan, a new fandom, I would probably just hand you some Starsky & Hutch DVDs. Go watch "The Fix" and get back to me later. If you like that, there's way more where that came from. But there's still lots to love in Marvel! Superhero comics are really a goldmine as far as the hurt side of h/c. Because superheroes, and you probably have noticed this, get hurt a lot. They get hurt repeatedly, in fantastical ways that are probably impossible in real life both physically and emotionally (at least, I don't think anyone's invented mind control yet), and even the heroes without superhuman healing powers tend to get physically hurt a whole lot worse than actual people can take. Currently in Iron Man comics, Tony has a broken back and is dealing with this by locking himself into the armor as a backboard and injecting himself with massive doses of painkillers. He's busy! He's got stuff to do! He doesn't have time to lie around and heal! So, basically, if you name a kind of pain that you would like to see happen to a character, it's probably happened to superheroes. Multiple times. The downside, though, is that comics do not really deliver that well when it comes to the comfort part of h/c. They could. It's not inherent to the medium that they don't. But because of the serial nature of comics and also the fact the primary audience is dudes who want to read about people in spandex punching each other, a lot of the time they don't really feel the need to provide closure and write about people dealing with any of the hurt. (Raise your hand if you're still annoyed with the end of Hickman's Avengers run.) But at the same time, I think that's a quality that makes Avengers ripe for h/c fanfic. Because, generally speaking, fandom likes to provide the things that canon doesn't, and fandom is more than happy to provide the comfort. If you enjoy canonical h/c in comics, I think you really can't go wrong with Iron Man. One of the big innovations of modern Marvel Comics was the concept that heroes would also suffer from relatable human problems, and in practice what this means is that a lot of heroes start with a fully-loaded angst-ridden backstory and origin story, ripe for h/c. So Tony starts out by incurring a heart injury that he fully expects is going to kill him, which he responds to by vowing he won't get close to anyone so they won't be sad when he dies, and throughout the early Silver Age is constantly on the brink of death as his heart nearly gives out on him practically every issue. And then even after his heart gets (mostly) better, there are various plots involving his armor being detrimental to his health and him choosing to fight on anyway. It's hard for me to think of another superhero hitting that particular variety of h/c in exactly the same way. Sure, superheroes risk their lives constantly, because this is how superhero comics work, but Tony is the only one I can think of who is this constantly this badly off, physically. Like, think of all the other heroes who have had a continual solo presence as fan favorites across Marvel history -- Captain America, Thor, Spider-Man, Wolverine, maybe even Deadpool. You know what those guys all have? Healing factors! For the most part, they are not running around continually on the verge of death, and while there are certainly memorable arcs involving several of them being severely injured and/or dead, you really have to work at it. It's not their constant state of affairs, whereas Tony is the kind of superhero who shows up to a fight already bleeding out under his armor. Yeah, I know Extremis gave him a healing factor. But he didn't have it very long, and also he did some extremely dangerous things while he did have it; I'm pretty sure I've never seen Wolverine saying that he'll just solve a problem by cutting off his own foot. So, anyway, yeah, there are a bunch of good arcs involving h/c for Tony. If you're looking for physical injury, he has a whole bunch of heart problems over the years, gets several new hearts, then ruins his brain, et cetera. That level of hurt is basically the background pain of Tony's life; every so often, his heart will get damaged or he'll have to live in the armor or the armor will be killing him, et cetera. If you're looking for more unusual trauma, I am, as always, going to rec Manhunt, a relatively obscure arc in late v3 (IM v3 #65-69) in which Tony has an extremely bad week. His tech is stolen and used to bomb a building. Then he gets shot in the chest. Then while he's at the hospital a nurse tries and fails to poison him, and she then tries to beat him to death. Then he checks himself out of the hospital and a helicopter shoots missiles at him. Then he becomes a fugitive from justice. And then, oh, yeah, he has to fight the Mandarin. It is... a lot. (Volume 3 of Iron Man is pretty good as far as h/c possibilities. You've got a lot of physical pain, Carol's drinking arc, the Sentient Armor, both DreamVision arcs, and Manhunt. Manhunt is finally supposed to be out in trade this month, by the way.) There are of course the drinking arcs, which probably count as their own type of hurt. But if you haven't read the second drinking arc (IM #160-200), please do. Marvel likes to up the stakes on events (Fear Itself, Secret Empire) by making Tony drink, and it does work, I think. I feel like I've spoken at length about Tony's drinking elsewhere so I don't really want to rehash it all here. And then there's the emotional pain. Angst and drama is something that happens to a whole bunch of characters, yes, especially in comics, but somehow Tony seems to end up with possibly more than his fair share of it. Fandom likes to make a lot of Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, so much so that you might think, if you didn't know canon, that this was just fandom running with a throwaway mention of Tony's terrible childhood and making it worse. But, no, canon really does go there with a reasonable amount of frequency. Howard's actual first appearance is in a flashback where he's ordering teenage Tony to break up with his girlfriend because she's the daughter of one of Howard's business rivals. And then we get into the verbal abuse, and the physical abuse, and the time Howard made Tony take his first drink, and the part where Howard was a demon in hell who Tony fought while he insulted him. And more! Currently, in canon, Howard is alive again and is in league with Mephisto for the express purpose of ruining Tony's life. Also when Tony was a baby, Howard tried to trade him to Dracula. I think you can make an argument that fandom is actually showing restraint when compared to canon. Tony also has a whole lot of Terrible Exes whose presence and/or former presence in Tony's life can be used for a lot of hurt. If you've read any amount of fanfic, you probably know that the exes who get the most play in fandom are Sunset Bain and Tiberius Stone -- not that Tony and Ty were ever canonically a couple, of course, but fandom is definitely enamored of this idea. Ty and Sunset both have relatively similar interactions with Tony in canon, in that they are both liars and emotional abusers, heavy on the gaslighting, with the purpose of becoming more successful than Tony. They both also attempt to murder Tony, although this is after he figures out they're evil, at least. (Yes, I know, this is not how either of them usually appear in AUs.) Tony also has a bunch of exes who also have just straight-up tried to murder or otherwise hurt him, sometimes while they are dating, and sometimes before Tony dates them: Whitney Frost, Indries Moomji, Kathy Dare, and Maya Hansen come to mind. There are probably more I'm not thinking of! But, yes, if you want to write about a guy in a series of terrible relationships, please consider Iron Man comics. If mind control is one of your favorite flavors of hurt, Tony's pretty good for that too. We all know about The Crossing. I suppose when I say "mind control" I mostly mean "armor control" because there are an awful lot of plots where someone else makes Tony's armor do whatever they want it to do and Tony is along for the ride -- Demon in a Bottle, Sentient Armor, and Execute Program are the first things that come to mind. There is also a fairly obscure What If that is What If Iron Man Lost The Armor Wars in which Justin Hammer apparently really wants Tony in a mind control collar to take off all his clothes and lounge around in his underwear. No, really. I think a lot of pain for Tony often revolves around his issues with control, generally -- his alcoholism comes into play here again. The entire aftermath of Civil War is also notable for its propensity to hurt Tony over and over and over. Is he stoically soldiering on through his grief after Steve dies? Hell, no! He cries, like, six separate times. He 100% blames himself for Steve's death. It's great. Everybody loves The Confession and the funeral in Fallen Son, but one of my personal favorites is Avengers/Invaders, in which Tony is confronted with a time-traveling Steve from WWII and in order not to screw up the timeline, he can't tell Steve he knows him. He is clearly not coping well. He shuts himself in a room with a giant wall of pictures of Steve! Also there's a part where he has to try to convince Steve he can trust him and he ends up having to tie Steve to a chair to talk to him, and Steve looks at him and asks, "Who did you kill to get where you are?" and I feel like that is probably one of the worst moments in Tony's life. No wonder he gave himself amnesia. So now we might want to ask, okay, but why is hurting Tony in fanfiction so much fun? I mean, I can tell you why I think it's fun. I can't speak for anyone else. One reason is that he is very emotional and very affected by everything he does. Sometimes you will see people complaining that the heroes of m/m fanfic cry too much and this is not realistic. This is not a problem if you're writing Tony! He can cry as much as you want and it's perfectly in character. I don't think it would be as fun to hurt him if he didn't express so much of his pain. But he does. He also feels guilty, and for me that's a very satisfying character element. If he were well-adjusted and didn't blame himself for so many things, it wouldn't be nearly as fun as watching him blame himself for everyone whose death he thinks he is responsible for, whether or not he is. And then he just keeps going, and it's, y'know, nice to watch him be resilient, too. So, I guess, I think hurting him is interesting because it's easy to hurt him, his weak points are pretty obvious, and he reacts a lot. Steve doesn't hurt quite as much as Tony does, in canon. It's certainly possible to hurt him -- I mean, they did actually kill him after Civil War, after all -- but I don't think the canonical patterns of hurting him are as numerous. Obviously deseruming Steve is a fairly popular go-to in terms of physical hurt; he's been deserumed at least three times that I know of. I think's easy to see the appeal there of taking a character who is fairly physically resilient and making him... much less so. Certainly Marvel seems to see the appeal. But other than that I don't think he has any other really common way to get physically injured. Unlike Tony, whose origin story is basically "oh no, I've acquired a disability," Steve's origin story is "I drank a serum that cured all my disabilities." Which, I mean, great wish fulfillment but there's not really as much there to poke at. Pretty much all of Steve's pain is emotional, but, unlike Tony, his pain isn't often specifically in response to someone directly, purposefully hurting him. Hickman's Avengers run is a big exception, yes. His pain seems to come up most often as a kind of situational angst. He feels like a man out of time. He feels out of touch with the modern era, with people his own age. He feels guilt because he feels responsible for Bucky's death. He feels like he can't trust the government and therefore he can't be Captain America. He worries that he doesn't know how to have a normal life. And, yes, these are deep and important worries but it's different than, like, Indries Moomji dumping Tony with the intent to make him sad enough to start drinking. Very few of Steve's villains want to personally ruin Steve's entire life the way Tony's villains do; mostly they just want to do things like bring back the Nazis. In terms of Steve's potential for h/c, I think Steve is harder to hurt than Tony is. Physically, he is definitely harder to hurt. You can deserum him, sure, but unless you want everything you write to be a deseruming fic you're probably not going to want to do that more than a couple of times. And if you want to hurt him physically while he has the serum, you have to hurt him hard. Usually past the point where a regular human would ever survive it. He's also harder to break, emotionally, than Tony is -- which means it's very satisfying when you can get him to break, but this is a guy who's only cried twice (that I remember) in canon. So if you want to get him to cry, you really, really have to wreck him, and he doesn't have as many obvious weak spots. He also doesn't generally sit around blaming himself for things that aren't his fault, and the whole "stewing in guilt" genre of plots for him basically came down to "he was sad that he thought Bucky's death was his fault," and that's really the biggest regret he seems to have, and also Bucky's not dead anymore. The Steve/Tony relationship itself, I would think, is also appealing to h/c fans because canon provides a lot of ways for them to hurt each other. Some people only ship pairings who would never, y'know, take turns beating each other half to death in major event comics. (And for a lot of Marvel Comics history, that was also Steve & Tony, so if you want them to be BFFs who have never fought, you can just set your fic earlier.) They have definitely hurt each other both physically and emotionally, so if you're looking for something easy and satisfying as a h/c fan, you can just read or write something where they... make up. What about Marvel characters other than Steve and Tony? Surely some of them are angsty, yes? Well, yes, but also it depends on the particular flavor of angst that you like. If you like the way Tony hurts, you may very well enjoy Doctor Strange comics, because they have a very similar attitude towards life -- they are both former alcoholics whose origin stories involve physical disabilities, who routinely make tactical decisions that negatively affect their continued existence and/or happiness a whole lot. It's very much an "I must suffer alone in the dark and no one will ever know what I am doing to save the world but it's the right thing to do" sort of vibe. Like, you can read comics where Strange is lying in hell with two broken legs, hallucinating that Clea has finally come to save him. Strange's biggest fear, akin to Tony's control issues, is basically that one day he's going to be an asshole again, so he's out there trying as hard as he can to do good. Also, if you like tentacles, he has all of them. I mean that. Carol also occasionally hits similar angst spots, and her drinking arc is great. A lot of people like Natasha, too; I have read zero Black Widow comics but I get the impression many people enjoy her brand of angst. The mutant metaphor is a little different in terms of overall vibe, but some people really like it as a source of angst -- the whole "protecting a world who hates and fears them" thing. It may not work for you, but if you like your hurt to include things like systemic oppression, go pick up some X-Men comics. Start with something like God Loves Man Kills. I feel like I liked this sort of thing a lot more as a teenager but that I kind of aged out of liking the mutants quite so much. It's also worth mentioning that not everything that hits the spot in one universe will be the same in the others, and I'm mentioning this because I feel like I have to say something about MCU Bucky. MCU fandom seems to get a lot of mileage out of Bucky's guilt about being the Winter Soldier, everything he was forced to do, et cetera. I have definitely read my share of those fics, and FATWS sure went right for that angst too. But as far as I can tell, he doesn't hit the same way at all in 616. And I like him a lot in 616; I'm always pleased when he shows up on a team. (He was so good in Strikeforce. Everyone was so good in Strikeforce.) But the thing is, 616 Bucky is, basically, phenomenally well-adjusted, given everything he's gone through, and I'm including the time he wrestled a bear in a gulag. He gets over having been the Winter Soldier, and now he's just, y'know, a guy with a cool arm who likes to bring guns to every fight to horrify his teammates, and he snarks at Clint. If you're looking for that angst, that is really not him these days. He's all better. So pretty much all that is canon. So what do we do in fandom for h/c? Well, as far as I can tell, a decent amount of it is canon-based or very canon-close -- there are a whole lot of stories exploring the angst of Civil War or Hickman's Avengers run. Tony's drinking comes up a fair amount, and if one of Tony's Evil Exes comes back to haunt him, it's pretty much only Tiberius Stone. I don't think I've read a lot of fic with Steve getting deserumed; it doesn't seem as popular in fandom as in canon. When Steve gets hurt, he tends to just get physically whumped pretty hard, and there's a fair amount of that for Tony too, but of course Steve can take more. There's also a thriving, uh, subgenre of pain involving Hydra Steve doing terrible things to Tony, presumably the terrible things he would have wanted to do to Tony in canon if Tony had had a flesh body. There's the usual kinds of h/c setups that appear in basically every fandom as well -- sickfic, whump, dub-con/non-con. You get the idea. But since fandom in general likes to take specific inspiration from canon, there's a lot of fic where the hurt tends to resemble things that happen more in canon. Like, I feel like comics fic probably has more tentacle fic and more mind control than canons that don't come pre-stocked with those. Probably everybody has a whole lot of "tied up by bad guys," though. And then, of course, fandom brings the comfort that canon does not. This is true in pretty much every fandom -- I mean, you aren't going to find a lot of actual canons where Character A saves Character B from mortal peril and then there's gay sex -- but, like I was saying, comics don't provide a lot of closure before it's onto the next thing. Usually with a different creative team, who has no interest in wrapping up anything from the last team. Steve and Tony talked about the incursions exactly once after Secret Wars and nobody mentioned the part where Steve spent several months trying to hunt Tony down and kill him. Tony is never going to remember the events of Civil War. Hydra Steve died ignominiously in a fire and no one has ever talked about him again. Honestly, if you're looking for a way to get some comfort in your fanfic, picking an event, any event, and just having the characters talk about it will be way more than any of them get in canon. I feel like honestly that can often be a pretty satisfying to read. And even though comics canon physically hurts characters pretty often and pretty badly, they also often skip right past the recovery. Maybe you'll get one page of a character in a hospital bed at the end of the story arc. Maybe you won't. Demon in a Bottle has one splash page of Tony going through alcohol withdrawal and then he's all better. I think Manhunt skips to Tony getting out of the hospital at the end. That's just not a story that they want to tell very often. The second drinking arc is notable in that it devotes almost as many issues to Tony's recovery as it does to getting him to rock-bottom. Similarly, Steve is done with his Nomad angst way way faster than you probably think he is (though The Captain does go in for a fair number of issues). So one of the things we often want to do in fandom is focus on all the bits that canon skips over, both in the "why did no one ever mention this story arc ever again" way and the "wow, so how long are they in the hospital after that" way. That's really all I can think of about h/c! I'm off to write some more of it!

[danwhobrowses]

Castlevania Season 4 - My Thoughts

So we return, for the end Well, the 'end', there's possibility for expanded universe stories they say but for our current trio this is how we finish it

I've just binged it all so it's fresh in the mind, so I'm gonna look at the ups and downs of it all

You can also look at my review of season 3 if you'd like

Spoilers for Season 4, Watch it and get back here

So yeah, another great season, it had its downs but a lot of it had its ups too, which we will get to soon - but first let's get the negatives out of the way

What wasn't so good Nothing is perfect, and while a lot of these will be negatives they are mostly small negatives, stuff I felt could've been done a little bit better.

Saint Germain's heel turn could've been hidden So Saint Germain turning bad under the deception of death was a good way to establish conflict and pull back the rebus thing he mentioned in Season 3. But I kinda wish we didn't immediately know that he had broke bad, like we could've been super sly and coy about the fact that he's back and this time encountering Alucard only to be the orchestrator, like imagine the shock we could've had with learning what he was doing in the Castle then getting the flashback which drove him to it.

The rules of the ring change Last season Hector made the foolish decision of trusting Lenore, and while he got to bed a sexy vampire it had cost him all his freedom and the ring would prevent Hector acting against the coven of four sisters. But come this season it turns out that Hector was easily able to scheme against the sisters and invite the downfall of Camilla. Was a bit weird to establish that last season only to ignore it in the next.

The Patented Slow Start Castlevania has had a bit of a knack for starting slowly and Season 4 kinda did the same, things only really kicked off halfway through. Now of course we had to establish things; Trevor and Sypha being exhausted, the plans to resurrect Dracula, Alucard taking in the village and whatnot but we did linger on it a bit too much.

Striga's 'Day Armor' doesn't get enough time Striga took an ambush like a champ with a specialized armor that allowed her to fight in daylight. It was awesome and striking and looked absolutely badass...but that's the only time we saw it. It was just a shame really, granted it ended up that this was Striga's only time to fight, but we could've then used it for other characters, like the ambush dude who had his armor picked apart by the trio, or the Slavic vampire, just felt we could've done more with it.

CGI is sometimes a little shoddy The animation quality was mostly excellent, but that made it very glaring when some of the 3D rendering kinda hit an uncanny valley. I think the one that was most iffy was when Varney jumped into the mirror and then the mirror fragments just kinda wiped into the ground - even though Isaac's mirror tore a hole in the air - it was just a bit off-putting at times.

Couple of things left behind So when we ended it felt like we wrapped a lot of things up...except 2 things. One, where is Saint Germain's unnamed kickass lover? We caught her silhouette just walk away so we know she wasn't killed by Death, she's just 'out there' now. We also never got back to Targoviste, whose survivors must be wondering how to function since Sypha their only hope kinda disappeared on them, they'll also learn that their royals are dead, so it would've been nice to wrap that up.

Our heroes decide to use weapons sparingly In terms of arsenal we knew that our trio had a lot. The weird thing is that in some fights they just wouldn't use what would've been handy to them. There's of course Chekov's god dagger - which we didn't get too much explaining on - but Trevor would often just not use his Morningstar or Vampire Killer at times, even against two vampires, Sypha also seems to have forgotten how to use her wind magic or used her ice buzzsaw extremely sparingly and now Alucard can suddenly have bird wings...which could've been useful in prior fights.

We still lacked intelligent Night Creatures, and the badass vampires were underused So I still feel like it was very missed that the sentient night creatures of Season 1 didn't return still, especially since they were death's creatures. The one's dialogue with the priest is still among Castlevania's best and it's a shame we missed out on seeing more of it. In addition, the Ambusher's squad of vampires looked pretty cool, but like Dracula's council ended up just being swatted away after one fight, the same can be said with the Slavic vampire that was rolling with Varney. They didn't even get the pre-battle slaughter that Dracula's council did, Godbrand got more than these guys and that's a shame.

We don't get Bloody Tears or the Full Opening So the music was good, but we didn't get Bloody Tears again. For the final chapter of this saga it would've been better than using the opening song when the trio were together. Speaking of the opening song, we could've had the full length opening that we loved to see, small stuff but it would've elevated it.

Sypha is pregnant, because...because! So Sypha being pregnant is sweet, but it wasn't really needed aside from the throwaway 'trefor' joke which Alucard did better. Also that baby has gone through a lot, it's not like Sypha's been skipping in a meadow these past few weeks. Also they really gloss over how Trevor knows this and she doesn't

Some of this could've been done in a Season 5 This is more the fault of Netflix I'm guessing, since it does feel like after Season 3 we had much more to tell, but it did feel like some of the characters skipped a load of development. At the end of Season 3, Hector was beside himself in the fact that Lenore enslaved him, Isaac was still very bent on killing everything, Camilla is soaking in her genius and Alucard is more closed off than ever, but in Season 4 Hector is much more content and now has some legitimate connection to Lenore, Lenore is treated as sympathetic, Isaac is eating berries with a new outlook and Alucard decides to rescue a village because they asked, also he has a shield now. It does feel like half of what Season 4 had could've been in a Season 5, and then Season 4 could've built between having the growth be showed; Lenore feeling left out and confiding in Hector, Isaac deciding to bury the dead and rebuild the city, Trevor and Sypha having some friction in their relationship and Alucard not helping someone in need and then regretting it. As I said, this is probably not the show's fault, they were likely told that Season 4 would be it and they had to make do with it but in a vacuum it would've been nice to have had a little more build.

What was Awesome about it So I could easily just say 'the rest of it' but I guess I can afford to be a little more detailed.

Great Animation Aside from the CGI at times the animation was a top grade of excellence. I mean I watched the current My Hero Academia episode which really was pushing its budget and still I'm impressed by this animation, the artwork and settings were excellent too.

Downside: You're turning into Trevor, Upside: You get a strong warrior woman as a love interest While Alucard could've used some more time to go from emotionally scarred by 'the twins' to sympathizing with the town's plight, his character dynamic with Greta was great. Greta herself proved an excellent late addition being both a capable fighter, a strong independent leader and someone who was more than just an Alucard love interest. If you don't like strong women you're doing it wrong basically, and Alucard realising how he's turning into Trevor was some lightheartedness to Alucard combatting his loneliness and depression.

The Dialogue remains just as enthralling as the combat One of Castlevania's great strengths especially in seasons 1 and 3 were their use of gripping dialogue, the philosophical confrontations of different parties envelop the characters in greater depth thanks to the excellent script, primarily for Isaac and his chat with the bug man. The Slav Vampire also had a fantastic monologue.

Characters remain complex After four seasons it would've been easy to make some characters one dimensional, including the side villains, but Castlevania kept with the morally grey. The psycho noble clung hard to her delusions but her motives remained pure, as much as she was someone on the heroes' side she also infuriated Sypha, Saint Germain was driven to evil out of desperation but he still believably made amends in the very very end, Striga, Lenore and Morana were all on the side of the villains but had doubt about the scope of Camilla's ambition and made them consider their very nature. Simply put, it bodes well when characters have struggles that affect their motivation.

Layered Scheming 'Bring Back Dracula' was a simple premise, but the show did really well in connecting the channels between 3 plot areas, Trevor and Sypha learned of the plot by continually walking into scholar vampires attempt it, in Season 3 it was via a Night Creature in Isaac's name to start it all too, this connects to the Hector & Isaac story through Varney who schemes with the former to enact the plan, but this also connects to Alucard's story thanks to Saint Germain also plotting too. It was a clever way to entwine all three separate stories which would eventually bring things together.

Action still kicks a lot of ass Castlevania has good action? In other news water makes things wet. But still we got some great brutal action we've come familiar with in Castlevania. It could've been easy to go overboard like other shows had, which'd zone in on one thing like gore or nudity but Castlevania remained consistent in their action, looking for new lengths of creativity that never pushed its bounds. Of course building up to the final battle where we took it up a notch for the crescendo. Also I continue to call her Sypha 'Fatality' Belnades because god she kicks ass.

Isaac and Hector grow up It could've been easy and satisfying for Isaac to just roll up to Styria, take his revenge on Hector and leave, acting in both anger and mercy. But instead the characters grew beyond it, Isaac finally decides to heed what the shopkeeper and ship captain were saying rather than the crazy witch, Hector accepts his fate but works to try and make amends his own way. When the two finally cross again we see that both have accepted their humanity and instead of working for someone else they look to seek their own happiness, they forgive humanity in a way and it saves themselves. Their understanding to 'let Dracula rest' also grants them payoff from being Dracula's loyal commanders.

Camilla goes out swinging Where was this Camilla hiding huh? Brutal, Lightning powers and a crimson sword, I mean the wardrobe seems to be a bit less than last season and not battle-suited but dammit did Camilla grip you in her scenes. Her desperation and madness in taking over the world set her up to her downfall where she was betrayed and overwhelmed by Isaac's forces, but rather than let him have the satisfaction she kills herself. It could've easily fell flat because Camilla had just been sitting around like a vampire Cersei Lannister last season and end up proving her frustrations right by having a man take her life but instead she took control of her life and went out strong.

The bittersweet ending of Lenore At the end of season 3 the scheming Lenore claimed herself 'the diplomat', but having been shelved and fonder of Hector than usual it opened the door to explore her own grasp of control. The theme of enduring being prominent in this season for all the arcs we had. We learned the tragedy of Lenore's situation though, as a child of war diplomacy was her escape, she isn't comfortable with peace or total control, she can only live for conflict. While she does like Hector, she ends up valuing her own freedom in the end; and though we could've given more time to earn that sympathy we still accept it as she decides against a quiet life of surveillance freedom with Hector - ironically as Hector has lived under Camilla's captivity - and instead chose death. It was a much more poetic death than gruesome as well, after mulling how she mourned her sister because she understood the nature of greed she elected to make a choice rather than live without making any, looking at the sun for once and getting one last banter with Hector before immediately fading to dust. In a show that almost prides itself on hypergore and graphic deaths, this one was perhaps the most tranquil deaths of the show.

Striga and Morana overcome the greed Which leads to the final two of the four sisters. Camilla consumed herself with greed and died fighting for it, Lenore had no greed but also had no freedom so chose to die in order to be free, but lovers Striga and Morana were not in Styria for Isaac's attack, they were on the outskirts fighting and seeing the struggle firsthand. Their conflict over how they agreed and disagreed on certain aspects of the fight was intriguing, with the intermission of Striga on a tear in her swanky armour to tilt the tone to Striga's side of the argument. A Soldier and a Politician, both agreed though that Camilla's ambitions only worked on paper, so when confronted with their castle overrun and their sister dead it became a matter of duty or survival. Instead of dying in a good fight, Striga looked past her desire of battle and agreed to follow Morana in living, and Morana gave up any political power she could have under an empire to be a mercenary. They didn't overreach, and it spares them their lives in a surprising conclusion where the 'bad guys' still kinda get to live happily ever after.

The ReHumanization of Alucard Alucard has always been a fan favourite, but in the world of Castlevania he still acts as an outcast. While helping the village and getting close to Greta helps bring out some positive emotions in him, it's his dedication to saving the people that gives the show some of its lightest moments, especially when he toys with the kids. In a way it's what he wanted from the twins, but they had lived to not trust and wanted to kill rather than survive, and he grew a community out of it. Allowing the town to settle is the ultimate payoff for Alucard too, because it fulfills his mother's dream, now there are people who know the knowledge that his father did.

Bringing the old band together We all knew that Trevor and Sypha were gonna reunite with Alucard sometime near the end, I mean it's a shame they ditched a city that cannot organize themselves but they were kinda needed in the castle. What's best is that the moment came in it was like they never left, perfectly in sync and bantering off each other, when they fought the top level vampires it was their teamwork and synergy which made them overcome - which is great battle narrative too because alone they were getting beaten. It's just the stuff you love to see.

Trevor is tougher than Death The final battle being Trevor vs Death was a proper Attack on Titan-esque boss fight, just peeling away at the enemy and trying not to get hit. As well as a feast for the eyes it proved to be an entertaining climax - in spite of the limited info we got on the magic 3-piece dagger - and in a way it paid off Trevor's character journey. When we first met him he was an outcasted drunk that wanted nothing to do with the world let alone his family, but now he's here fighting death to save innocent people, his half-vampire buddy and his pregnant speaker magician girlfriend, being willing to give his own life for something bigger than himself, and succeeding...thanks to Saint Germain who owed him a favour and one very clever unsung hero of a horse. To tell you the truth when I saw the trailer I was expecting Sypha to have died and Trevor to be pulling her out of hell by fighting death, but this still worked really well and was perhaps a bit more logical to the canon they set.

Death is temporary, Dracula is forever With all the attempts to revive Dracula one had to work eventually. But back at Season 3 I'm sure we all thought about what would Dracula's reaction be anyway. I mean, yeah he's dead but his wife is there, you really wanna be the guy who ripped him from his wife a second time? It worked though because the people loyal to Dracula never truly understood his grief, they only wanted to further their own agendas through him. So when Dracula does come back in the final scenes with his wife, we see that Vlad Tepes is no longer the vicious killer he once was, not for now anyway. Reviving Dracula may make people think that Trevor and Sypha's actions in Season 3 and 4 were worthless because he still revives but you do have to remember that they do still save a few lives and make a few less night creatures. In addition if they want to expand the universe long into the future they can bring Dracula back in older and disillusioned again if they see fit.

He has many faces, but you still know him At about episode 8 I was really ramping up to tear into the Alchemist and Varney for being practically useless characters, but then the show went and hit me with a great twist by having both characters being guises of Death itself, the proper big bad of the season. It was a fantastic twist which validates the characters, because it was super suspect that the alchemist know where the girl was and said you can't look at her rebus, and that Varney felt like a beta Godbrand but still managed to slither away from the fights. His design was excellent too, the crown was really menacing.

A Surprise Happy Ending! Like, could any of us imagined that? The fight ends, Trevor and Sypha live happily to make a family, Alucard has his friends, a girlfriend and a community that appreciates him, Isaac has his own kingdom, Hector doesn't get the girl or a finger but he still has his freedom, Striga and Morana have each other, it mostly wrapped up very neatly and was earned, a satisfying end which closes the chapter on our trio.

Conclusion

It is sad to see great shows end, Castlevania's use of anime-style animation with gore and a strong voice cast has done extremely well, especially for a show who only got 4 episodes for a first season. It did feel like Netflix didn't give it a chance, but it pulled it off big time and escaped Netflix's cancel hammer long enough to bring a satisfying story, and one can hope we see more of this style and universe either in more Castlevania stories or even the rumored Devil May Cry adaptation.

[dostthouhavenochill]

Performance

Rating: Gen

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Word Count: 2.6k

Characters: Alucard, Greta of Danesti, Sypha Belnades, minor OCs (mentioned)

Relationships: pre-Gretacard, Trephacard (mentioned)

Warnings: none

Summary: Alucard muses on how life has changed since the head woman of Danesti, now Belmont, and her people have settled about his home.

The clearing was relatively quiet that afternoon, with the odd settler or two roaming around, enjoying a moment’s rest after doing their part in the rebuilding effort for the day. The setting sun warmed Alucard’s skin as he sat against a large oak tree. Strong winds shook the branches above his head, sending bursts of orange and red drifting about him. He brushed errant leaves out of his basket and plucked out a dark spool to finish his mending.

Aaliya and Rahim, bless their hearts, were the most rambunctious out of all of Alucard's children. So it came as no surprise when a few hours ago, Rahim came to him with pieces of what used to be a stuffed horse, “His name is Sumac, Father!”, wailing his dark eyes out. Alucard promised to make time to mend him by the end of the day. The toy was a well-loved thing, with stains and misaligned stuffing, all evidence of a boy who took his friend everywhere he went. The horse’s reddish-brown fur was now a muddled sepia and its once cream mane and markings now gray. Alucard just about had his fill of bloody horses, but he could make an exception just this once.

He wasn’t resting alone though. After depositing lumber and stone for Solomon and his building team, Greta settled beside him. She only dozed off a short while ago, but not before giving a knowing chuckle at his project and a snark about how he was finally as used to people as people were used to him. Absolutely maniacal. He couldn’t find room to complain.

So much had changed in just these last four months. Alucard would be lying to himself if he said that it wasn’t jarring to go from months of solitude to human interaction and back again, a hellish cycle that always seemed to end with him alone. But with the settlement of the people of Danesti, now Belmont, that cycle had been broken. Funny, considering how he had been hesitant towards the idea.

Except hesitant wasn’t an accurate description. Initially, Alucard had to wrestle with his desires for both solitude and companionship. As much as he longed for the latter, Alucard wasn’t prepared for its magnitude. Saint Germain, for all his scheming, offered a reasonable solution to a suffering people. Only that reasonable solution left Alucard feeling bare and scrubbed raw, as if the entirety of the world made itself at home in his ribcage before even giving him the courtesy of undoing the frog of his cape first.

Those first nights after the battle was when the enormity of his hospitality truly began to set in. He lamented the loss of his solitude. Protection, knowledge, and safety-he would never hesitate to offer, but with so many rooms holding so many personal memories, he’d unintentionally left his soul bare to all. He remembers all but dashing ahead of Greta while showing her the food supply to hide his makeshift companions from her teasing, scrutinous gaze.

But...it was nice.

It had been so long since the halls were alive, filled with laughter and with people milling about the halls. It hardly ever seemed like he was alone now. His role as champion along with Greta’s say-so granted him a founding role in Belmont and as such was bombarded with questions daily; someone asking for aid, someone asking for instruction, someone...just asking how he’s faring that day.

From beside him, Greta, with her arms crossed, snored softly. Alucard let out an undignified chuckle. For someone who had such hasty and scathing observations about settling at Castlevania, she seems quite content.

Greta wasn’t wrong when she called the Castle cold. Alucard remembers plenty of nights alone, abandoned, shivering and craving nothing but someone, anyone, to ease his loneliness. His mother. His father. Belmont. Sypha. Anyone. But after Sumi and Taka’s betrayal, Alucard began to appreciate the aura Castlevania emanated. It’s dark, cavernous windows and ominous silhouette, looming and judging those who came across it, a warning sign to all. It stood imposingly with cautionary tales skewered at its lip. Greta was simply experiencing the emotions Castlevania intended to elicit from oncomers; the cold, fear, and danger.

Even so, after everything that’s happened, Alucard couldn’t help but feel a sense of welcome and warmth in those dark, cavernous windows.

The windows that led to the study where Adrian spent years on years learning a multitude of languages, preferring the ones with lots of “s’s” because of the way it slithered off his tongue.

The windows that led to the southwestern dining room, where an infantile Adrian nearly chomped off his mother’s finger whilst she tried to stop him from swallowing a frozen carrot he’d been teething on.

The windows that led to the science hall, where he, Sypha, and Trevor spent the last few blissful days of their union getting drunk and blasting off various spells into the ceiling to see what would happen.

Yes, there had been plenty of warmth in the Castle, even before it had been graced with the people of Danesti. Almost every room he can recall with a smile and a fond tale. He’d had to convince Greta, he thinks. He can already imagine it; the disbelief on her face when he tells her he learned to shapeshift into a dire pup in a conservatory, a room filled with foliage and beakers and sunlight and all sorts of breakable things. And he can imagine telling her that Lord Dracula himself had to call for aid from his wife when their son burst through a window and pranced about nude in the outdoor sun. He can imagine that curious wrinkle in her brows before she thinks of something, immediately says it, and rarely regrets it.

He can imagine telling her so much about his childhood. About Vlad and Lisa Țepeș. About growing up the only dhampir, to his knowledge. He can imagine telling her so much about his past and about, ahem, possibly their present; what’s changed since he met her and what’s stayed the same. The tangled but firm bundle of feelings she’s elicited from him. He’ll have to ask for her time one day, one day when she isn’t exhausted from doing the work of half a dozen persons in a few hours time and taking a well-earned break.

Alucard was broken from his musings when he saw Sypha striding up to him in the distance. In the midst of Sypha’s pregnancy, her passion and spitfire were amplified. As such, she had enough of all the side looks and loaded barbs between them all.

They had talked, Trevor and Sypha and Alucard. They talked about feelings, about abandonment and betrayal and neglect, about Trevor and Sypha’s child also calling Alucard father. About how it was almost too soon to make such a leap, feelings too raw. About sentiments that could have, perhaps should have, been properly expressed before fucking off across Europe. About regrets and pain, about trust and building it back up. It wasn’t ruined, but it was worse for wear. Nothing that some regular maintenance wouldn’t help.

Alucard almost stands to offer Sypha a hand, but she politely declines, saying that if she gets down, she won’t get back up as easily. Besides, she was only here for a quick thing. Then, she took note of the sleeping Greta, and lowered her voice, saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so still before.” Alucard was inclined to agree. With her coat draped over her lap, and her head lopped to the side, Greta looked at peace. The tasks of a head woman were never-ending, it seems.

“What brings you out here, then?” Alucard asked, once he was able to drag his gaze away from Greta’s sleeping form.

“Rahim was looking for you,” she cocked her head, giving him a puzzled look. “He said that you would help him find some sumac?.” Chuckling into his chest, Alucard ties off the thread on the poor thing's left haunch and passes it up to Sypha.

“I believe I stitched together all the bits of his Sumac as best I could.” Alucard wonders if Sypha even heard him over all her soft albeit consistent cooing.

“Alucaaaard. I never knew you were so good with a needle,” she spoke as she ran her fingers lovingly through its sullied mane. “With the state of Trevor’s socks, he could learn a thing or two from you.”

And then the most terrifying thing happened; Sypha got The Look. To the casual observer, looking at the duo of Belnades and Belmont, one would think that the former was the sensible one. And they wouldn’t necessarily be wrong. However, what the casual observer typically fails to notice is that Sypha, for all her grace and intellect, was at least half as crazy and twice as impulsive as Belmont himself. Arguably, she was at her worst when she got mischievous, and the only tell for that was a distinct Look; one where her impossibly large eyes sparkled and her lips twitched like a kitten holding onto a canary for a little too long.

“You knoooooow,” she began, sounding like a child all too eager to tell an adult about some fact they recently learned, a fact that they had no business knowing. “It's never too early to start preparing things for the baby-books, clothes, toys and things. Perhaps little Trefor would appreciate something personal from his Alucard. Mayhaps if you had any miniature dolls of his parents lying about,” her bright eyes squinting in mischief, “Or something like that.”

Alucard would’ve liked the earth to swallow him whole or for a wayward night creature to snatch him away into the woods. He would’ve liked a multitude of things, but he was stopped by a soft snort coming from behind him. He turned to see Greta trying and failing to suppress a smirk.

With her eyes still closed, she gave up her storybook act and said, “I’m sure sunshine here could pull something off. Yours and Trevor’s resemblance is quite striking.” Sypha howls with laughter, calming herself only after Alucard throws her a glare, all the while blush painting his...well, everything. He sighs, turning back to Greta.

“I hadn’t known you were such a fan of my needlework.”

“Well, I hadn’t intended on saying anything.” Greta barely got her last word out before Alucard rounded back, still mortified.

“Quite unlike you. I ought to be worried.” Greta cracks open an eye at that, playfully raising an eyebrow at the dhampir.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said indignantly.

“I don’t know what gave you that impression,” Greta closed her eye again, crossing her arms behind her head, “ I was merely resting my eyes.”

“And your heart rate?” Alucard bent an arm against his leg, resting his chin in his palm and gazing at her through lidded lashes. “If I had poorer hearing, I would have almost certainly mistaken you for a sleeping person.”

Greta raised a single finger. “Almost. Key word: almost.”

Rolling his eyes under closed lids, Alucard said, “You would make an excellent performer, you know.”

“I am a woman of many skills.”

“Indeed. One day, I imagine you might even be able to successfully imitate a rock.”

Greta effortlessly lands a hit against Alucard’s thigh. There’s no real force behind it. It’s the same friendly banter they’ve always shared, the same heat that fills his chest, the same stir it causes in his gut, and the same burn to the spot she touched.

“Smartass.” As she draws her hand back, the smirk on her face never drops.

Alucard, chuckling and chest warming, cocks his head back to Sypha to ask if she needs anything else from him and is surprised to see an intensity in her widened eyes. Wide as they were when they first entered the Belmont hold, large and curious and flickering as she combed through every book she could find, devouring any new information at her grasp with a thrilling quickness. Before the embarrassment at being perceived settled in his bones, Greta spoke up, this time to Sypha, making her eyes softer than usual.

“How are you and the little one today, Sypha?”

“We’re well, thank you,” Sypha takes her hand and rubs it across her slowly increasing bump, giving the head woman a pleased grin. “I see you’re taking a well-earned break.”

“Nothing wrong with a little rest,” Greta shrugs, relaxing further back against the bark. Her brows get that curious wrinkle, however, and she says, “Especially for those of us with child who’ve been running about since dawn.”

Alucard takes solace in the fact that the air around Sypha tingles ever so slightly and he is, for once, not subject to embarrassment. If Greta sensed Sypha’s chagrin, as she almost certainly did, she didn’t make it known, aside perhaps from the cute crinkle around her eyes and nose.

But Sypha recovers much faster than Alucard ever has, giving Greta a self-satisfied smile. “I’ll have you know I wasn’t up and about until after the sun broke.” She then releases a long sigh. “But between Trevor, Khadijah and the other healers’ constant fretting, you’d think I was on my last legs instead of giving life.”

Mischief incarnate would do well to take note of Greta of Danesti, with a hand propped under chin, a single digit tapping her cheek, and a dangerous glint in her burnished eyes. “Foolish of them, then, to disregard the woman who battles night creatures regularly and moved an entire fucking castle as incapable of anything.”

“Foolish indeed!”

Alucard cast a sly gaze towards Greta, naughty of you to rile her up like this-Belmont is sure to get an earful later. Coy is never a word he would’ve ascribed to the head woman, but the curve of her lips and flutter of her lashes had him reconsidering.

Sypha says her goodbyes and goes to return the horse to its rightful owner. Stopping short, she looks back to Greta and says, “I don’t think you have much room to talk, however, Head Woman Greta of Danesti-now-Belmont-who-wakes-with-the-sun-and-slays-night-creatures-and-carries-lumber-and-.”

Greta ducks her head, sending the Speaker off with a wave, “Enough of that, Belnades.” She lowers her hand, her brows creasing as she says, “Thank you and be well.”

As Sypha departs, Greta settles back against the tree. With nothing to keep his hands busy, Alucard joins her in relaxing in the setting sun, hands folded in his lap. Being immortal, the dhampir never needed excessive amounts of sleep to function, per se. Perhaps he would just rest his eyes and enjoy the company. 

Alucard sighs as the cool breeze passes through his hair and picks up fallen leaves, carrying them across the clearing. Then he sputters as one flies straight into his mouth. The dhampir gets no warning as Greta’s soft hands pull his hair aside, causing him to jump slightly. Her slender fingers pick out the foliage from his hair and shoulders before tossing them to the ground beneath them.

She can’t stop herself from letting out one last chuckle at Alucard’s expense. “Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do that loaf about with me, sunshine?” Her tawny eyes held still against his. Alucard arched his head back against the tree to appreciate her gaze.

“Nothing in particular springs to mind,” he doesn’t bother smothering the smirk growing on his face, “Besides, as I understand it, Khadijah has ordered you to loaf about after your mishap two nights ago.”

That earns him quite the eyeroll. “Khadijah, the worrywart, would order me to loaf about if I tripped over a stick.”

“Tripping over a mere stick?,” he lilted, “ I’d think he’d need to examine your head if that ever happened.”

Another thwack. Another burst of heat. Only this time, Alucard held fast, catching her hand before it could completely fall away. Greta startled at his reflexes, her head teasingly cocked aside as her eyes flicked from his to their joined hands. Before he lost his nerve, Alucard placed his other hand atop hers, giving it a soft squeeze and resting it in his lap. “I’m sure. I’d much rather be here than anywhere else.”

[sonnetthebard]

Owen doesn't really like horror movies and he gets paranoid pretty easily because of them. He hates that it happens and never tells anyone about it, he thinks its embarrassing for someone like him to be set off by something as simple as a movie. Curt also didn't know, until he proposed watching a horror movie one night. Owen went along with it because he knew Curt wanted to watch it with him and tried his best to sit through it, but Curt picked up on how uncomfortable he was -S

I know this was supposed to be headcanons, but... I had to write this as a oneshot. I absolutely love it.

Genre: Fluff/ Romance/ Angst

Words: 3171

TL;DR: Owen is not a fan of horror movies.

TW: Anxiety/ Triggering, brief mention of violence, panic attack, minor implied ptsd.

"Darling, I'm home!" Owen called into his shared hotel room teasingly.

"What, you're done scoping out the venue already?" Curt smirked, making his way out of his room, already dressed down to just a dress shirt (with a few buttons undone) and dress pants.

Owen smirked at that. Evidently Curt had decided his work for the day was over. They were in the primary stages of a small mission- one that should be simple. Intercept the passing of information from the French to the Russians- no matter the cost. If they had to kill someone, so be it. It may be an easy mission, but it was a crucial one. It was set to happen at the ballroom in one of the biggest estates in London during a gala hosted by its owners- set to happen in two days. The owners weren’t royalty, but they were rich- which probably made them more powerful than royalty either way. The event was going to be massive. Royalty and dignitaries from all around the world would be there- and, of course, the informants they were there to stop. If they didn't intercept this information... well, let's just say the Soviets would have a rather large military advantage. And that wasn't something anyone wanted.

Earlier in the day, Curt and Owen had gone out and met the family hosting the gala- who were in full support of their work. They’d even offered to be so good as to give them a discreet signal when their marks arrived. Of course Owen had turned that down because, even with good intentions, the utilization of untrained assets was always a risk. Once they were done with that meeting, Curt and Owen had done some genuine espionage. They were lucky. Their informant had told them when and where their marks would be in preparation for the gala. So they'd alternated locations to watch their opponents. That way no one got suspicious seeing the same two people watching them everywhere they went. Then Owen, being the keener that he was, had gone to the ballroom and scoped it out. He always loved that part of planning. Plus, the house was practically a castle, and it was old. Owen just wanted to see it. It was a marvel of architecture. But it was at least a productive visit. He had a good sense of the place. 

Now, though... Now Owen was exhausted. He'd had a big day preparing for not only his physical game but his mental one. So he was more than happy to be back with the man he loved. And he really did love Curt, in spite of his flaws. Owen was well aware of those. He would have to have been dull not to take them into account when preparing for their romantic relationship. Owen knew he was the more fit spy. He knew Curt could be a bit... careless at best, reckless at worst. And boy, did Curt’s ego ever get the better of him sometimes. But Curt was one of the most affectionate people Owen had ever met. His heart was massive, and he was as loyal as a dog. That was more than enough for Owen. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth. Owen may not have the smartest lover in the world, but... he had never felt more loved by one person. Not even his own parents.

"Already? Love, I was there for nearly three hours." Owen chuckled softly.

"You must be exhausted." Curt rolled his eyes playfully.

"As a matter of fact I am!" Owen scoffed, smirking and setting his jacket on the rack. Curt walked over to him, wrapping his arms over his shoulders and kissing him gently. Owen hummed into it, snaking his arms around Curt's waist. "What are you up to, Mega? Trying to breathe some life back into me?"

"No... I just missed you." Curt blushed lightly, still smirking and trying to play this off as cool as he could. "Am I not allowed to kiss my favourite partner after a long day of work?"

"Oh, you're more than welcome to..." Owen winked, giving him another gentle peck. He rested his forehead on Curt's, sighing. "I would say you could kiss me any time you’d like, but... well... we both know the world isn't quite ready for that."

"I know." Curt sighed. "One day..."

"We can only hope." Owen agreed. He gave Curt one more small peck of reassurance before, pulling away, walking into their room. "So what have we got for plans tonight? I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite at the fish and chips stand down the street. It's quite good. Then... maybe we could go to the cinema?"

"Actually... I was thinking maybe we could stay here." Curt bit his lip. "We've got a television here, and... they're showing Creature From The Black Lagoon on one of the channels we pick up. I missed it in the theatres while we were in Germany, and I've been hoping to see it for a few years now. It's a horror movie, and I've heard the special effects in it are great! We could watch it together!"

"Oh..." Owen bit his lip, breath hitching a bit at that.

Now... there was a bit of a dilemma. Owen came off as very suave, very tough, and impenetrable but... he had a bit of a problem with horror films. That, and films surrounding espionage. He didn't know what it was about the visual medium of storytelling that was becoming so popular, but... it affected him deeply. It was as though it set off something deep inside him, and brought up all his own fears. Even if they weren’t the fears discussed in the movie. As tacky as the movies were with their corny monsters and questionable acting they sparked his anxietes. Even worse to Owen was the irrational paranoia that came with it. The fear of something that didn't even exist. Even the things that very clearly could *never* exist. Like Dracula. Still, if Curt wanted to watch one with him, he would do his best to sit through it. Maybe he could focus his attentions on Curt and not the movie. Or maybe this movie wouldn’t get to him so badly. 

"Oh what?" Curt checked, the smallest trace of concern riddling his features.

"It's nothing." Owen chuckled, trying to mask his lie. He didn't want Curt worrying about him for something so trivial. "I would love to. What are we doing for supper though?"

“I didn’t think that through.” Curt admitted. “We, um... well, we’ve got half an hour before the movie starts. Maybe we could grab fish and chips and eat it here while we watch?”

“Sure thing, love.” Owen sighed. “You want me to go and get it, then?”

“That works for me.” Curt nodded. 

“And do you want me to get some crisps for later in case you get a bit peckish?” Owen checked. 

“Can a get a translation of that?” Curt teased. He knew most of what Owen meant, he just loved bothering him and he knew how much his boyfriend hated Americanisms.

“Do I really have to?” Owen groaned. Curt just raised his brows in expectation. “Fine. You’re lucky I love you... Do you want me to get you some ‘potato chips’ for later in case you get the ‘munchies’?”

“I would love some potato chips.” Curt smirked triumphantly. 

“‘Potato chips’...” Owen grumbled, grabbing his jacket again. “Bloody Americans butchering our language...”

“Love you too!” Curt called out the door teasingly as Owen left. 

The fish and chips place wasn’t far down the street. It was one Owen knew well- his parents had even taken him there as a child. He remembered those days... Things were simpler. Not nearly as complicated as his life had become. But that wasn’t why Owen was so eager to get out of the hotel room. No, Owen wanted the space alone to brace himself and prepare himself for this movie. Because he’d always been strong for Curt. He didn’t want Curt seeing him weak. So he just needed a bit of fresh air. That’s also why he’d volunteered to get the crisps (no matter what Curt wanted to call them). Extra time to steel himself. He took his time, but even then he only spent twenty minutes out of the house. Still... it was better than having had no time at all to prepare. He took deep breaths, making his way back to the hotel room. 

“Alright, darling. I have the food.” Owen called him, taking his shoes off and walking into the hotel. He set the food down on the coffee table. Curt walked out, dress shirt completely gone now. In it’s place, a white tank top. He was in denim jeans now, likely so that he didn’t ruin his dress pants. Owen smirked. “I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie, love...”

“We are.” Curt furrowed his brows, confused. He sat down on the couch, taking one of the meals for himself. Owen shrugged his jacket off, hanging it back up. He then joined Curt on the couch, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Well... you’re very distracting...” Owen hummed. Curt blushed. 

“I can put my shirt back on...” Curt mumbled. 

“No, darling. Don’t do that.” Owen sighed contentedly, taking the meal Curt hadn’t taken and setting it in front of himself. Curt had taken out his multi-purpose hunting tool and a pocket knife to eat with, but Owen stopped him. He pulled out the provided cutlery. “Here, darling. We can eat like civilized people”

“Right.” Curt flushed again. 

“You’re adorable when you’re all worked up.” Owen chuckled. 

“You’re a bully, you know that?” Curt grumbled, getting up and walking over to their in-room television. They were lucky. Not many hotels had them, but... this one did. Their superiors didn’t mind splurging a little on their accomodations, because it usually meant they were better rested for their job. 

“I’m not a bully...” Owen chuckled, his heartrate picking up again at even the thought of what he was about to watch. “I’m just a tease, doll.”

“So you admit it?” Curt smirked triumphantly, fiddling with the knobs to adjust the channel. 

“Only this once.” Owen rolled his eyes playfully. 

“I think I... there we go!” Curt beamed as the television crackled onto the right station. The scoring to a typical horror movie started. Owen gulped, already not liking this. Curt seemed to pick up on that. “You okay?”

“Absolutely fine.” Owen lied. Curt sighed, coming back and sitting down. 

Both men sat in silence, eating and watching the movie. Owen tried to focus on his food, blocking out the movie and his surroundings. But... that was unfortunately very hard to do. Especially when Curt was so invested. The man was leaning as far forward onto his knees as he possibly could. He thought Curt might have said something about Owen being right about the fish and chips, but Owen didn’t really hear it. He was caught in his head, in a way. And in many other ways, he was totally and uterly absorbed in the movie, trapped without consent the the saga being recounted on the screen. He didn’t even notice when he finished his food, caught up in everything. 

And then... then came the moment Owen was dreading. The one that had his palms sweating and his body tense the entire night. Even with all that awful anticipation it caught him completely by surprise. Just as it was meant to. For some people, that was the thrill of the game. To him, it wasn’t. To him, it was not just truly terrifying, but also... humiliating. Totally and utterly humiliating. Especially in front of his Curt. Curt, who thought he was this suave, impenetrable rock. Curt, whom he was the foundation. Curt got to watch him cower like a child. The moment of dread was, of course, the first jumpscare. And just as Owen had predicted, he had jumped right out of his seat, yelping. Curt saw him and... he started to laugh. 

The world caved in for Owen. It was a mix of the genuine fear he’d experienced watching the movie, the fears that fear alone had resurface, and the humiliation. He felt in a way that he was disappointing Curt already. And the laughing... it rang in his ears even once Curt had finished. Because this time Curt wasn’t laughing with him- he was laughing at him. He tried to mask it, but he was far too caught up in his head to have any control over what his face did. He shook a little bit. He couldn’t even fear anything around him. He had tunnel vision, and everything sounded like it was underwater. Owen hated it. He knew then and there that trying to be tough had not been the right move. That he should have said no to Curt. But it was far too late for that realization to be any good. 

At first, Curt had admittedly thought it was funny that Mr. Tough Guy Owen Carvour himself had fallen victim to the classic jumpscare. And he would be the first to admit he had laughed a long time- especially when he thought that for once he had been the one to fluster Owen and not the other way around. But then, when Owen neglected to come back with any snide remarks... When he didn’t tell Curt to shut up, or even chuckle along with him... That was when Curt knew that now was not the time to be laughing. That something was genuinely wrong. That was when he finally took the time to notice that his lover was shaking, and the fear that had been in his eyes when he jumped had not vanished- even though the protegonists were safe. Curt took Owen’s hand’s carefully. Owen twitched in what could be a flinch, but put up no fight. That was the final tip-off for Curt that sommething was very wrong. He got in front of Owen carefully. 

“Hey... Hey, Owen. You’re okay.” Curt soothed. Owen seemed to snap a bit out of it- enough to see Curt in front of him and look him in the eyes. Curt suppressed his concern and put on a comforting smile for Owen. “That’s right, babe. Look at me. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

There was a moment of Owen just staring into Curt’s eyes and reminding himself that Curt had his back. That he was safe. Once he had calmed enough to speak, he took a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Owen mumbled. 

“No... no, don’t be sorry!” Curt shook his head, giving Owen’s hands a squeeze. Immediately as thought that had awakened something in him, Owen was squeezing back as if it were the only thing keeping him on the ground. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do.” Owen spat, almost as though the words were poison. Self hatred oozed from his tone. “I’ve been lying to you. I’m a coward.”

“You are not a coward...” Curt stated firmly. 

“I bloody well near shit my pants at something I saw on the telly!” Owen pointed out, incredulous. “Something imaginary, on the other side of the screen where it could never harm me.”

“That’s what these movies are made to do, O.” Curt assured him. 

“They’re meant to give people a quick fright.” Owen shook his head. “But... that terrified me. Genuinely scared me.”

“Well... we’ve got pasts.” Curt bit his lip. “We’ve seen stuff. We’ve been the victims of real jumpscares where we could have died. Maybe it reminds you of those. Maybe the lines blurred.”

“Curt, it wasn’t anything we’ve been through that scared me.” Owen softened, nearly whimpering, both scared and embarassed but also pleasing for Curt to listen. “It was that that creature was going to show up behind us and do the same, or... take you away. That poorly dressed, hokey monster that could not be any further from being real. I’m not just a coward. I’m a bloody idiot.”

“You’re not a coward, Owen. And you’re not an idiot. Everyone’s brain is built a bit differently.” Curt soothed him. “You want to protect me... just like I want to protect you.”

“From something that could never hurt us either way.” Owen pointed out. 

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter to the mind.” Curt sighed. “I don’t know if this happens to you when you read all your books, but sometimes someone will tell me a story and I get so invested in it that I’ll feel like I’ve lived through it myself.”

“I know what you mean...” Owen nodded. 

“Well... maybe this movie did the same thing for you.” Curt reasoned. 

“I... suppose.” Owen blinked, realizing Curt made a lot of sense.

“Just like you feel things when you read... you’re feeling things watching this.” Curt sighed.

“Right...” Owen nodded, letting that sink in. 

“You think you can take a few breaths with me, O?” Curt soothed. Owen nodded, following Curt through a few deep breaths until he had stopped shaking and his grip on Curt’s hands had lightened. Once Curt was satisfied, he got up and changed the channel. I Love Lucy was on. He smirked, sitting back down on the couch. For once, he was the one pulling Owen close to cuddle. “We’re going to watch this channel for the rest of the night, okay? I think it’s got some of the good family shows on it.”

“Are you sure?” Owen checked. “I can go lay down. I know you really wanted to watch this film.”

“Yeah, but... not as much as I want to spend time with my handsome British boyfriend.” Curt teased. 

“I love you.” Owen sighed, resting his head on Curt’s chest. 

“I know.” Curt winked playfully, running a hand through Curt’s hair. “Hey, if you’re ever uncomfortable with what I want to do... just tell me, okay? No judgement.”

“Alright.” Owen nodded. 

And so they spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Eventually they did switch and Owen was back to holding Curt. He found immense comfort in that- and that Curt didn’t judge him. It was lovely to be totally and utterly enamoured with someone. And that was what he was with Curt- what he was certain they both were. He didn’t focus on the telly (though it did give him a few laughs- that Lucy was always getting into trouble). Instead, he focused on Curt’s hands running though his hair, or the little kisses he was being adornerd with. In other words, he chose to focus on how much he was loved. And that put him in an entirely better place. There was, at least, one thing they could take away from the whole fiasco: no more horror movie nights. They had enough horrors in their own life without needing to worry about anything on the tv. 

[angrbodic]

Alucard thoughts (spoilers for Castlevania S4)

So to preface, I have a sinking suspicion that Alucard was a very solitary little boy and that perhaps his parents kept him close and were very over-protective of him. To me, that would make sense if that were the case; a dhamphir/vampire hybrid would be a rare occurrence in this world and we do have unofficial confirmation of that when Carmilla brought up the fact that Dracula never turned Lisa and they had a son together.

I’m sure not even Dracula would know what they were getting into having Alucard and then Dracula had to teach his son how to hone in on his vampiric side to keep it stable. So, it’s not to say Alucard doesn’t have people skills, he clearly does. I’m only mentioning this because--

-- I’ve seen others make a comment how Taka and Sumi’s betrayal didn’t make much of an impact on Alucard’s development. And I strongly disagree -- it did. 

Alucard does take after his father quite a bit.

- He’s analytical and meticulous, very thoughtful in what he does, like his father. - I’ve noticed that Alucard’s candor when he talks he’s exceptionally soft-spoken like him as well. But he’s not above swearing or making smarry comments. - He is also very dangerous like his father but that’s not a character trait. We’ve seen if he’s hurt enough, he’ll turn to what he knows scared people away (i.e. impaled corpses) but that also shows that, at one point, Dracula had to have discussed his human life with his son and what profound affect that had on him. No one’s going to know how that panned out, but this is in reference to “Lament of Innocence”. - Obviously Alucard is very intelligent, like his father, he’s very educated, so he has a passion to learn like his father. He even makes the comment to Sypha and Trevor how much his father enjoyed learning and lamented how much of a waste it was to see his father turn the way he did instead of using his knowledge to help people. But over all, I’d say Alucard strongly takes after his mother more than his father. He is another facet in Dracula’s long life to remind him of Lisa’s humanity, possibly to the point when his son tried to reason with him that he was so disgusted and hurt that he injured his son. Alucard has a strong sense of compassion and sympathy for others, so much like his mother, and he clearly tends to follow more in her footsteps than his father. 

So, not only did he act out of loneliness when Taka and Sumi asked for his help, he was taking after his mother in doing so. The games go the same direction, Alucard does what he does because of his mother and how much of weight she has on him. But this is going back to how Alucard was brought up, that he was sheltered, in some sense, his parents very protective of him, so I think a lot of naiveté was involved when he crossed Taka and Sumi. They spoke to not only that depression and loneliness, but they also spoke to how his mother was a constant reminder of good in the world.

He did want company, but he also wanted to continue his mother’s good will and helping others. So, he didn’t understand the implications of their desperation and didn’t see their betrayal coming. In my opinion, not only did these two exploit that, but they also coerced him into sex. I though that not only Hector’s sexual intimacy with Lenore was uncomfortable, but I thought Alucard’s was especially so, like his heart wasn’t in it. It’s not to say that it was dubious consent, but they used it as means to break him down and killed them.

So, when they betrayed them, he is so devastated, he goes back to where his father died and curls up to the remainder of his father, because you know at one point, Dracula was always emphasizing caution, vigilance, and that not everyone can be trusted, the opposite of what his mother taught him. He went to the closest source to what he knew best as means of strength and how to handle with being betrayed. His mother likely never experienced as much betrayal and cruelty as much as his father did. And, well, he doesn’t have physical connections to his mother’s remains.

We see Alucard shift further into his depression as season 4 comes up. You see a few more bodies outside of the castle but I highly doubt that Alucard did this to random people without provocation. But more importantly, he just looks absolutely disheveled.

He’s unkempt, filthy, and looks worse for wear. We know he has guilt in doing what he’s done but also the affects of Taka and Sumi’s betrayal made him feel so awful that he let himself go to a complete, literal mess. Before then, Alucard was a clean, well-kempt man. Alucard stopped taking care of himself because what was the point if they were seeing him as someone to be used (not feared, even) for his knowledge and home. The bodies outside were used to ward people away, but even Dracula managed to stay clean and well-kempt, not like his son.

I think this touches the depths of Alucard’s shatter of self-confidence and how lowly he thought of himself after being used by Taki and Sumi. He would have shoved himself further into that pit, but the note and the man that died along the way was a nudge into the right direction. It spoke to his good nature and gave him purpose once more. Innocent people that were 20 miles away that desperately need his help.

Not like people approaching him in the one place he felt secure, a metaphorical invasion of his personal space. Again.

So it makes sense that he felt more secure going out to assist people and once how he saw families being tormented after losing his family, he couldn’t sulk in the castle. He wouldn’t sulk in the castle, because that’s not him. He’s not his father, he can’t do what he did, because ultimately, he’s more like his mother and his mother’s virtues are stronger in him. He is the literal antithesis of his father, he is his mother’s son.

I feel that Alucard always wanted an interaction with the outside world and he certainly had that with the refugees he helped. He played with the children, he happily gave them food, and he was doing what his mother did and you know that’s what he wanted to do in the end: Do what his mother did and used his father’s knowledge for good, like she did.  I feel like in the end, Alucard’s quiet inner grief from season one where he shut down from the world (not only just to heal his wounds) after his mother’s awful death, he was coaxed to open up and find a sense of community and love that he wouldn’t have had and had to limited degree after his mother’s death.

He didn’t see himself worthy of it, not only on the account of his father’s blood, but what he did in reaction to being betrayed. I’m not going to say Alucard’s reaction was completely awful: what Taka and Sumi did was wrong and it hurt him more than he let on and more than what’s seen on a surface level. But not only that, Sypha and Trevor had such an impact on him as well, reminding him of his mother’s good deeds that was easy for him to feel comfortable in his skin again, or perhaps, the most he’s ever felt comfortable as his own person ever did.

From a man that was so deeply traumatized, hurt, alone, and exploited from the very first episode (you know Dracula would have used his son as a tool in his revenge if Taka and Sumi didn’t use him) to a man that’s finally found purpose and it’s the best way he can coumarate not only his father, but especially his mother.

And maybe that’s why he looks “weirdly happy”, the poor man has been limited so much in his life. So in retrospect, his development makes sense. He didn’t necessarily transform -- he found himself again and he found an even better part of himself he never knew he had. People like him for what he is: witty, compassionate, intelligent, and sympathetic. 

[miserable-pile-of-lies]

The Sleeping Prince of Wallachia Ch. 2 (Beta)

Here's a snippet from the upcoming chapter in my latest fanfic, this chapter is going to be a doozy with what I have planned and there will be a lot more focus on the characters, their origins, and motivations. I hope you all enjoy this teaser.

Summary: Wallachia is in great peril at the behest of Death himself; all those who have attempted to battle the creature have swiftly been executed and made an example of. The key to defeating the beast lies in Dracula's castle, located twenty odd miles out from a small village by the name of Danesti. In this village, the headwoman Greta must act quickly to save her people from the onslaught of attacks by night creatures and other ungodly minions who have sworn their loyalty to Death. Will she alone be able to stop Death or will she require additional aid to save her people and those in Wallachia?

Roasted walnuts indecorously bestrewed the forest floor, being tossed from a perch high above that stretched into the sky. Humming a cheerful tune that foretold the story of Queen Dido, a thirteen-year-old Greta smacked her lips obnoxiously as Marius attempted to scamper away from the branch they sat upon. The young girl hurled an emptied shell of a walnut into the air, given to her by the portly baker Grigore, a Wallachian native that had recently settled in Danesti to toil his goods.

“That isn’t how the founding story of Carthage goes, Queen Dido was bewitched by Cupid’s arrow,” a twelve-year-old Marius moaned wearily at his older friend who crossed her lanky arms unimpressed by the explanation. The Roman boy dug into the pouch that sat between him and his companion, uttering a cry when he felt a pinch twist the doughy skin of his love handles. Offering his finest glare, the adolescent lobbed a walnut at the lass who only ducked backwards in response to the sneak attack with a snigger.

“That cannot be, Prince Aeneas deceptively seduced our founding mother with sweet words only to leave her high and dry in the pursuit of his journey, ultimately courting Princess Lavinia of Italy,” Greta bit out with a scowl as she described the cowardly philanderer that covertly escaped into the night when leaving Carthage at the command of Jupiter. Prince Aeneas went on to become the founding father of Rome, previously recognized as the city of Lavinium when the metropolis was founded by his followers to honor their queen.

Marius merely shrugged at the latter details relayed by Greta, knowing how the rest of the myth went. Queen Dido, in a fitful rage, committed suicide out of spite at the abandonment of Aeneas and sparked the Punic Wars that led to the annexation of Carthage. Presently, both civilizations were relics of the past and the descendants of Aeneas and Dido had long forgotten about the dissension that divided the two to begin with.

“Who cares about any of that, it’s all ancient history anyway; more importantly we should talk about Faiza,” Marius clucked out with a cheeky grin as Greta’s face promptly flushed at the mention of the girl who currently held her affections.

Nimble fingers tapped bashfully against the coarse bark of the tree as she thought of the remarkable Moroccan beauty, two years her senior with an unmatched intellect that could not be found elsewhere in the village. Clearing her throat with a thunderous cough that echoed amongst the thicket of trees, thick chestnut brows quirked up to implore Marius to continue his line of questioning.

Sighing heavily in exasperation, the young man reached across to tug at his closest playmate’s cheek, earning an appalled yelp in reply.

“You vexing little runt, what was that for,” Greta demanded with a scoff, lightly slapping the terracotta toned hand away as Marius held his rib from chuckling harshly at Greta’s indignation. Thoroughly riled by the taunts, the daughter of the headman gracefully descended from the tree, stirring up the emerald leaves that laid in the low grass below. Lips curved upward at the sound of an astonished choke, knowing that Marius would take much longer to get down than Greta.

Leaves crunched in protest, alarming the teenager, who speedily pulled out her short sword to defend both herself and Marius from a potential assailant. Green eyes squinted in concentration rising from the thick branch he sat upon, bringing his elm bow and arrow to target the source of the commotion hidden by the overgrown shrubbery. Palms were presented in a mock defense manner and soon both sword and bow were lowered without further questioning; the newcomer was a fellow inhabitant of Danesti who went by the name of Felix. The scrawny queer man looked affright when he saw their weapons drawn, shaking like a white flag in the wind signaling a surrender from a fallen camp of soldiers.

“Greta and Marius, I’ve come to retrieve you both on behalf of Tobias, he says that your mother is nearing the end of labor,” Felix squawked out nervously forcing his hands to his sides while tipping the crooked point of his jaw in the air, an attempt to reinforce his position as an elder among the children who innocently snickered at the poor fellow.

Tobias was the current headman of Danesti, father of Greta and husband of Iman, patiently awaiting the arrival of his second child with the rest of the men in the village. As per custom, Iman was currently being attended by several midwives and parish priests recruited from the capital of Târgoviște; a far journey that took the travelers weeks to make it to the settlement in time for the birth.

The leader of the village had forfeited several family heirlooms to afford the care needed for Iman and adequately compensated those assisting in the birth. Childbirth was an unforgiving ordeal; one could never be too safe to preserve the life of both mother and child even with the aid of experts.

Honeyed eyes crinkled in joy; the youth absolutely thrilled that she would finally meet her younger sibling. The young girl had been praying that it would be a boy so that their father could be at peace and have a successor that would eventually inherit the role of being the headman of Danesti. If that occurred, her father would stop stifling her fun with Marius and the other village children, forcing her to sit through tedious meetings with the village men about the daily state of affairs of their community.

Regardless of the gender of the newborn, Greta promised her mother that she would look out for her younger sibling and her mother beamed from ear to ear while affectionately carding her rich brown hands through her daughter’s silken hair. Often wrapped in colorful linens covering her form and adorned with intricately knotted scarfs, her mother dressed in the traditional garb that was expected of women hailing from Somalia, a resource rich country found in East Africa. Though it was rare to see out in the open, Greta adored seeing her mother braid her kinky curly hair into the fine thin rows of braids decorated by glassy beads and golden hair cuffs imported from North African traders passing through the area to sell their finery.

The relationship between Tobias and Iman was an anomaly to all onlookers based on the traits of the two; Tobias was a brash man who had no filter and the shortest temper that could set off at a moment’s notice while Iman was quiet spoken yet assertive in her demands, effortlessly carrying herself like a member of royalty. Additionally, Tobias carried the wide frame of a brutish bull, but he was slightly below average in stature while Iman towered over her husband with long slim legs and a slender frame hidden by her garments.