#count dracula bbc

[black-ak9]

"Drink as much as you want

I'd like to join you but I don't drink ...wine."

[darklinaforever]

I don't understand the problem people have with rewrites of Dracula that humanize him. Yes, Dracula in the original book is a pure representation of evil. But like Carmilla he is a fictional and almost mythological figure at this stage who evolves with the times. The myth of the vampire has changed, so it is logical that Dracula himself follows this model. The book will still exist, so what's the problem ? The same goes for offering him a romance, whether or not it is with a rewriting of the character of Mina or an another invented female character, or sometimes a woman linked to the Van helsing lineage, or even Van helsing changed directly into a woman !

Even Jonathan himself for exemple in order to explore a homosexuality or bisexuality in the story of Dracula ! Strangely I never see people revolting when Jonathan is placed as a romantic interest. I totally see where that's coming from, but the fact is that their relationship isn't good in the original material either.

As for the problem of Mina, a strong female character, apparently having her strong characteristics erased when she is made Dracula's lover... I don't agree.

After all, it all depends on how the thing is done. Yes, the Mina from the 1992 film is not the one from the book (which is far from being a flawless representation of a strong woman... Yes, for the time when the book was released, it works, but in our time modern era, there are flaws apparently, as with most works dating back a certain number of years), but she still remains a strong female character in her own way and morally ambiguous in this adaptation. It's just a different version. I particularly liked the version of Mina in the canceled series of 2013. These 3 versions of Mina are all strong women on different levels.

Don't make me say what I didn't say. I love the original version of Dracula, and I really hope one day to have a more or less faithful adaptation, but the rewritings of the characters of Dracula and Mina are not to be demonized. I also think that we will surely continue in the future to have versions where Mina and Dracula are associated together as lovers, as other times not. Maybe one day we'll even have a version with Dracula and Jonathan officially partnered as lovers. Who knows ? And everything will simply depend on the writing of the characters. On the other hand, yes, I am a little exasperated by the tendency to make Jonathan a character either bland or an asshole in certain adaptations. Give me the adorable Harker from the book for a change please... Anyway, these are my thoughts on the various adaptations of the Dracula myth !

[mechanicalemotions]

claes bang as dracula (i'm barking)

[jangmirina]

My favorite character all time.

Oh come to me, personal porn named Dracula.

[agir1ukn0w]

listen up freaks, I will enjoy my interpretations of Dracula as a truly monstrous creature representing disease and abuse and terror AND as a cunning, drop-dead gorgeous, bitchy sex god

[the-fucking-cannibal]

BBC Dracula (2020) and Renfield (2023) would probably be the most powerful couple on the planet, but ya'll aren't ready for that talk yet ☕

full uncensored version right here ♡

[hillsidecomics]

The long-awaited second instalment of Orlok Holmes: Vampire Detective has arrived in the Hillside Comics Shop! Can Orlok and his loyal companion, Dr. Jeff Witson, solve the case of the Neck-Bite Killer? Order your copy today, and save money by getting the Hallozine bundle! (Includes Dr. Acula 1-3 and Orlok Holmes 1&2)

[horrorsmashorpass]

[anncanta]

***

As I said before, what is obvious is often not noticed. Dracula's confession in the second episode (‘Agatha, you're exquisite’) seems so natural that we don't think what it's about.

And it is about expectations and reality, from three sides, – Dracula, Agatha, and the viewer.

Agatha expected that when she offered herself to Dracula, she would be torn to pieces. Instead, she received a chandelier, a wine cellar, an interesting conversation, and an admiring look. There may be something else, but they don't show it to us.

But there's something much more important. When Agatha realized what was happening and where she really was, Dracula stood up and suddenly made this confession. Doesn't anything about it seem strange to you?

Yes. He talks about her. The psychopath and narcissist (as the viewer expects him to be) would be talking about himself. He would celebrate the victory. If Dracula were who he wanted to appear and who, perhaps, up to a certain point he believed himself to be, he would say something like the following. ‘You were here with me. You loved it. You ate out of my hands. You couldn't take your eyes off me. If I wanted, you would have allowed me everything.’

But he says something else. He talks about how beautiful she is. And thereby reveals both his personality and the secret of what is happening between them, and the degree of his confusion in the face of his feelings and the woman he fell in love with.

It's incredibly beautiful.

[biellepics]

So... Im really in love with Dracula BBC. I mean, Claes Bang as Dracula is soooo hot 🥴

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

How successful would Dracula…

Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!

[black-ak9]

You are a monster!!

And you a lawyer, "nobody is perfect" 🩸🦇

[kbaker1431]

My friend hates me, She doesn't think Dracula does the whole sex thing, but on the whiteboard in our English room it says,

Wilde:" Stoker created the greatest sex monster if all time"

And I turned around and said told you.

[seleneblue]

Pomegranate Sea

pomegranate sea

x. Dracula 2020 x. Dracula x Reader x. Explicit-ish Note: This story is a repost. The music swelled. A half-lit moon hovered in the sky, a blue-white orb clouded with the smoke of night.

It was the perfect part of the evening: a spray of stars just beyond the window. A slow, moody dream of night—the moon's glow, candles and low lamps dotting the space, thick curtains pulled aside, the room mixed with velvet pillows and throws, art in the color of jewels and blood, the smell of musky sandalwood, and your heart beat. It was like a symphony (Dracula thought so).

The pulsation of Dracula's records played—with some delightful influence from you—and the delicious build up of tension.

Not that you would let on. The vinyl spun, a little cacophony of notes reminding you how easy it was to get lost, to feel dizzy. You were trying to concentrate, to feel focused in a book. You loved poetry, the words were like art and spells in one motion. It was a way to get lost in fantasy and truth.

But, you couldn't concentrate. And that also felt delicious.

Dracula sat across from you, eyes closed and purposeful, immersed in his night music. Truthfully, it made you fawn over him even more. The way he was so focused, so in tune with each note. The muscles in angled face relaxed. The way he sat in the carved chair, well over six feet tall like some kind of dark god. His eyes were closed. But was he looking at you when you were not looking at him? (Yes, but only when you couldn't tell.) You bit your bottom lip and licked it. The urge to be a distraction was fluttering deep inside. A warmth that started in your chest, moved up to your breasts, and down to your ribs. Almost like you were on fire. The waist of your dress was starting to feel hot. Constricting almost. You closed your book, letting your thumb stay on one page, so you wouldn't lose your place. If the distraction didn't work after all. "Drac—" "Yes, darling." He opened his eyes. You took a deep breath, feeling the buzzing within you, the scent of the candles, the night air, and the moon. He smelled your blood. It scared you, and yet you enjoyed it. His eyes studied you from across the room. "Have you, could you ever, taste poetry?" He leaned forward. You were always surprising him with questions. It never failed to intrigued him. It made you smell even better. "Explain, darling. I am quite curious." How the conversation would immediately turn to biting and irrevocably, blood. "Well, when you've told me in the past how you could taste joy, excitement, thrill, and even the longing or sadness." "Yes." "What if you could experience words or art, as I feel it?" All of a sudden he stood before you. Without seeing him move one limb. His tall frame facing you with his shirt sleeves cuffed to the elbow. Your body still in the chair. He smelled like leather and smoke, maybe even a bit of vanilla. A twinge of familiarity, sweet, and sweat. You needed it. You needed him. "What is it that you want?" You paused. He said your name like syrup. "I want to read a poem." "Yes, my beautiful little poet." He was closer now. Bent over your face, your thighs firmly planted in the chair. His lips so close to your face, the smell, the enticement of him getting stronger. "I want to read a poem while you drink me." "Go on." The grin appeared, the fangs poking past his lips ever so slightly. Your chest fluttered again. His lips drew closer, and soft, and hot, his lips starting to grace your bottom lip—and the music stopped. Suddenly he was at the record player turning the vinyl over. There he was, grinning and pleased. "Oh, I'm sorry darling, are you a bit...frustrated?" The quickening, the beating inside you drumming up like Dracula's music. The wetness grew between your thighs. "Mm, what is that you were saying?" There he was again, now behind you, leaning over, tucking your long soft hair behind your ear. Your tall and dark god full of smoke and blood. His finger traced down your jaw and then the slope of your neck. The coldness sent a delicate shiver along your side. Your thighs clenched. Perhaps, the dance of arousal was one of the most beloved parts of this waltz. "I-I...would like to read, and I would like you to drink from me." "But, of course. Your wish is my command." He breathed in your scent, and held your neck in his hands. You felt like melting, and somehow still kept the place in your book. "My little poet, please read," he growled. His voice was like a myth. How could you say no? Suddenly the music notes flitted into your body. The candle flamed. The moon lit brighter. Your own raging desire. The words on the page weaving their own spell. You read. The words speckled the page like blood. A lush red pomegranate sea. The poem painted a dreamscape in your mind. Each line spun and spun. Dracula's lips kissed your neck first. A soft, hot meeting. The delicious burning. Teeth sank into your neck, and still you read the poem. A stanza about the sun, a glowing orb, in all of its glory. Fire.

Your body pulsated, chest warmed, and warmed more. There were his hands, one at your throat, the other cupped your waist. You could've buckled underneath him. If only that hand would have ripped your dress right then. Your body gave into a wave of pleasure. A rich ocean washed over your body, muscles tightening and releasing. Your blood on your neck, on his lips. He stopped; to kiss you, to trail his fingers down your breasts. "My, my...my darling." Yes, you said, with quickened breath. His tongue lightly nipped over the two teeth marks on your neck. He faced you now. "You are a poem," he said. "I hope it never stops." The music kept on. The candles still burned. Dracula pulled your body close to him, guiding your face into his chest.

[frankendavis]

In honor of Bram Stoker’s Commemorative Birthday.

[viva-la-mg]

he never drinks...wine