#he is a vampite after all
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#wow#world of warcraft#transmog#transmogrification#xmog#this has only had a minor touch up since i made it back at the end of BfA#cuz it just looks good imo#anyway#plate#goddamn adelphius#tw: blood#cuz deathknights dont fuck around.#in memory of the san'layn in ICC#he is a vampite after all#starting with my personal fan favourite here#but i made some more bangers recently >_>
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all of my fears, my inner scars
synopsis: In a cursed village where the leaders plan to sacrifice their own to monsters in the forest, you escape for freedom and safety. But instead, you encounter a terrifying vampire who lives in an isolated castle. After an attack that leaves you on the brink of death, escape becomes impossible. Vernon’s dark castle is your new prison… or perhaps the key to your survival.
pairing: vampite!vernon x female reader
wc: 5,8k
genre/aus: thriller; suggestive
warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death, violent content, +18.
No one could explain the reason for the countless misfortunes that plagued the small village where you lived. Before, life had been calm, peaceful, and quite prosperous – except for a few mysterious disappearances. The crops flourished, and the livestock were healthy. Now, the crops were devoured by pests, animals were disappearing, the water tasted strange, women and children fell ill constantly, and the men who volunteered to hunt in the forest never returned.
The leaders – the ones who everyone accepted as leaders, though no one had ever chosen them – began to worry about the grim fate of the village and proposed a very old practice as a miraculous solution.
— Dear villagers! — said one of the leaders, the eldest. — You all know that our village is plagued by terrible afflictions! But what have we done to the heavens to deserve such punishment?
His deep voice stirred the crowd, men and women shouted fervently at his words, shaking leaves of cycas revoluta to ward off curses. All the houses were decorated with these same leaves and scented with rue. Everyone took superstitions seriously, no one dared leave the village without a sprig of rosemary in their pockets. Mothers feared losing their children, and men feared not returning home before nightfall.
Everything was in chaos.
— We must calm his anger! — the second leader cried.
A murmur of “his?” and “who?” spread through the crowd, silencing the men standing on a sort of pulpit. Seeing the villagers’ agitation, the man smiled wickedly, his hollow eyes glinting with sadism.
— The beast! — he shouted. — The terrible monster that lives in the depths of the forest, he’s responsible for the curses. He’s poisoning the fertile land and killing our animals. We must appease him, or he’ll come after us, slaughtering our women and children; there will be nothing left once he’s satisfied.
— How will we do this? — the crowd cried, exchanging startled glances.
— A sacrifice! — said the last leader. — A virgin, as was done in ancient times.
The young girls in the crowd began to tremble, clinging tightly to the long skirts of their mothers, who, in turn, now appeared less confident. The last leader, noticing the women’s indecision and resistance – that made up most of the village now – rushed to continue.
— It only needs to be done once — he shouted. — One single life in exchange for many. A noble death.
— Who will it be? — a voice cried from the back, a man. — The chosen girl, who will it be?
The girls squirmed, hiding their faces in their mothers’ clothes, their small hands shaking and their eyes welling with fear at the thought of an imminent death. Mothers clutched their daughters tightly, terrified of losing them.
— Don’t worry! Young children will not be chosen — the leaders assured. — A careful conversation will be held to select a worthy offering who can rid us of these curses.
This did little to calm the villagers, but only one family truly needed to fear the fate ahead, for the girl had been chosen long before the solution was shared with the villagers.
You.
______________________________________________________________
Consciousness returned slowly as if you were emerging from an endless nightmare. Your senses awoke one by one, revealing the cold dampness of the night, the smell of dry leaves, and the feeling of something hard against your body. You’re being carried, you realize with a shiver. Your body swayed with the heavy steps of the man holding you, and a throbbing pain pounded in your head, blurring your thoughts.
A growing panic took hold of you as you realized where you were and who was carrying you. You tried to move, but your body was still weak, your legs barely responding to your commands. Your heart raced, your breathing grew ragged, but before you could react, you heard a deep, mocking whisper:
— Finally awake, aren’t you, sweetheart? — said the youngest of the three leaders, with a venomous smile.
— Damn, finally! I thought she’d overdosed. — The man carrying you grumbled and dropped you to the ground.
You stumbled, your body still a bit numb, your legs trembling from cramps, and you only didn’t fall to the ground because the man held you roughly. Suddenly, you found yourself surrounded by them, the three of them looking at you with a predatory gleam in their eyes, their expressions cynical, as if they took pleasure in your vulnerability.
At some point in your life in the village, you had noticed those looks, but you never paid much attention. Surviving on your own, without family or friends - no one to rely on - already took all your energy. You focused on staying alive, ignoring the intentions of the men around you.
But now, in their presence, the discomfort you’d once felt was real fear and pulsing panic. Their expressions were open, undisguised, and filled with a malignant desire and a bitter resentment. The oldest leader tilted his head to the side and let out a dark laugh:
— And to think if you hadn’t been so proud… — he left the words hanging, intentionally unfinished, his eyes tracing your face and finally lingering on your body.
The three men encircled you, their dark faces illuminated by the faint lamplight, their eyes fixed on you with a threatening intensity, making it clear that their interest went beyond the sacrifice they had spoken of so fervently. When you finally found the strength to speak, your voice came out weak, but full of confusion and panic:
— Why are you… doing this?
For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, a laugh echoed, low and cruel, and the three men looked at you with cutting contempt. The oldest leader, his hollow eyes dark and menacing, leaned close so you could hear his cynical laughter up close. He grabbed your wrists firmly, pinning you to the damp ground, mud spreading across your skin as he brought his face close to yours.
— Why are we doing this? — he repeated, dragging out the words with irony. — Why do you think?
His words hit like a blow, revealing something deeper, something you’d been afraid to see. He laughed again, a cold sound full of resentment.
— Did you really think you could avoid us forever?
He pressed you harder against the ground, immobilizing you in the mud, his eyes now closer, full of contempt and barely hidden desire.
— So beautiful… A shame it has to end like this — muttered the second leader, crossing his arms as he watched the scene. — You know, I would’ve married you. You would’ve been protected, safe, and quite satisfied, but you chose to scorn us as if we were nothing.
You tried to move, but the grip was too strong, the weight of the oldest leader’s body preventing any chance of escape. The truth began to take shape on their faces as the panic inside you grew like an unrelenting wave.
The youngest of the three, with small, cruel eyes, shook his head with disdain. — If you’d been smarter, you could have saved yourself from this. Well, we have other plans for you now, but don’t worry, sweetheart. It’ll be quick!
— Will it? — said the quietest of the three. — I don’t think the creature will be satisfied if she suffers too little…
You shook your head in desperation. — Please, don’t-
— Sungjin… — the youngest warned, but the other just shrugged.
The eldest, who was holding you down, pulled a silver dagger from his back pocket and raised it above his head, smiling darkly. He let out a laugh as you struggled harder and closed your eyes, screaming in fear.
But instead of what you expected, you only felt the soft scrape of the silver tip against your cheek, making you shiver. Reluctantly, you opened your eyes to find the three men looking at you with sadism and twisted smiles. You turned your head, glancing from one face to another in confusion and dread.
— Silly… — the oldest cooed, and with the tip of the knife, he cut the high collar of your simple harvest dress, slitting it until your skin was exposed.
You groped at the ground around you, searching for something to grab onto, something you could use to strike at them and escape. The youngest of the three noticed what you were doing and kicked the ground near your hand, clearing away anything you could use to flee. Then he knelt beside you, holding both your wrists as their leader continued to cut the collar of your dress.
The terrified scream of the third man interrupted the others’ actions, and they turned around completely startled. Because of their large statures, you couldn’t see what they were looking at, but you knew it was bad by the way their bodies tensed.
The savage growl echoed through the trees, slicing through the heavy air with a bestial force. Before you could react, the body of the man on top of you was brutally torn away and ripped apart with a deafening noise. The blood of what was once the oldest leader now stained your skin and dress, and fear exploded in your chest, propelling you into instinctive, desperate movements.
You crawled through the mud, trying to escape the beast capable of tearing a man apart, looking up at the colossal creature standing before you. A monstrous figure, covered in thick black fur that absorbed all light around it, like a living shadow.
The powerful muscles moved beneath dense skin, each step causing a slight tremor on the ground as he advanced with a predatory and lethal grace.
The eyes, two large blazing embers, red as freshly spilled blood, locked onto you before shifting attention to the two remaining men with a glint of hunger and cruelty. The elongated snout revealed razor-sharp fangs, so long they barely fit in its jaw, dripping with thick saliva that glistened in the moonlight. Its hot and dense breath carried a metallic scent of blood, filling the air around with the smell of death.
The beast’s claws were enormous, like dark, gleaming daggers, each one capable of tearing flesh and bone with ease. The creature emitted a low, guttural sound, almost like a sadistic laugh, as it advanced toward the middle brother, throwing him to the ground with brutal force in a single move. The sound of bones breaking echoed, muffled only by his strangled cry of despair and pain that faded into the night. The beast then crouched over him, its fur soaking in blood as its teeth sank into the flesh.
You watched, paralyzed, unable to look away from the carnage before you, your mind swirling with terror and disbelief. The shadows seemed to dance around you as if every drop of blood attracted the very evil haunting the village.
The last man, the youngest leader, backed away slowly, his face a mask of pure terror as his eyes darted frantically between you and the creature that was now advancing toward him. He barely had time to scream before the monster struck him down, his body falling lifeless.
Breathing heavily, you stood up, legs trembling and heart racing. Your mind was a whirlwind of terror and confusion, desiring one thing only: to escape. You ran as soon as you could, stumbling in the mud and over roots, unsure of where to go, guided only by the need to distance yourself from that carnage and avoid a painful, imminent death.
Adrenaline was all that kept your legs moving, even as your feet became bruised and bloody from stepping on broken branches and sharp stones. You continued running without thinking, each heartbeat echoing like a frantic drum in your ears. Blood still pulsed in your temples, and the metallic smell mixed with sweat and mud covering your skin only intensified the sense of terror corroding your senses.
With each step, the forest seemed to close in around you, the twisted shadows of trees extending like deformed, menacing fingers. You refused to look back, afraid of what you might see – the creature with red eyes, the claws that tore bodies as if they were nothing, the growls that still echoed in your mind. The ground beneath your feet was treacherous, filled with roots and sharp stones, but the pain in your feet was just another detail you ignored, fighting to keep moving forward.
Suddenly, the forest opened into a corridor of trees, the twisted trunks like dark guardians of a forbidden path. The silhouette of something massive emerged in front of you: an ancient construction, a fortress of dark, impenetrable stone. A castle. You stopped for a second, panting, your mind was torn between the impulse to enter or try a different direction, but a distant, familiar growl broke the night's silence again, and the decision was made in an instant.
Without thinking twice, you ran toward the castle. Your hands trembled as they touched the worn, damp, slippery stone stairs. The steps were narrow and winding, like a serpentine path climbing the fortress's side, almost like a mountain road. The cold wind whipped against you, lashing your face and mixing with the sweat and dried blood, while you climbed without stopping, stumbling but refusing to give up.
You hesitated at the door, your trembling fingers tracing the rough surface of the old, heavy wood, dark as coal and damp as if it had never seen the sun. There was no time to think; another growl tore through the forest's silent air, and your hand, almost acting on its own, pushed the door. It creaked with a grave, ominous sound, revealing a cold, damp interior steeped in shadows.
The air inside was dense and icy. Each step echoed as a ghostly sigh while you advanced, feeling the weight of the walls around you as if the castle itself were breathing. You knew you weren’t safe here, but if the alternative was facing the creature outside, the castle had become your only hope. The silence of the castle enveloped you in a cold embrace, and your heart still pounded uncontrollably, adrenaline sustaining your caution, trying to figure out where to go and what to do.
You followed a long corridor, shadows seeming to stretch and intertwine around you, guiding you to a grand room at the end of the path. As soon as you crossed the carved stone arch, your gaze was immediately drawn to the center.
The throne made of bones was a macabre and impressive work of art. Countless interwoven bones formed its base and structure, arranged with terrifying precision and symmetry, composing a throne worthy of a dark king. Human and animal skulls were arranged in layers, forming a deadly crown around the man seated at its center, enclosed by a prison of bones, reinforcing his aura of power and predation. There was something disturbingly alive in how these skulls seemed to gaze at anyone who approached. Every detail seemed to breathe darkness, and you felt that if you got closer, the cold of the bones would engulf you, bringing with it all the secrets and sufferings of those immortalized there.
Vernon sat there, motionless, as if he were a statue sculpted by a divine artist. His skin was of flawless paleness, so delicate and translucent it could easily be compared to porcelain. His face was angular, with severe and incredibly beautiful lines, a dark, well-defined brow that highlighted even more the icy sharpness of his eyes. The gaze – cold, cruel, piercing – seemed to cut through you with unsettling ease, as if he could see every hidden fear and thought within you.
The platinum hair fell around his face with an almost ethereal softness, glinting in the room's dim light, making him stand out even more amid the shadows. He exuded a surreal beauty, too perfect to be human, unreachable and dangerous, something out of a dream. And yet, everything about him inspired dread: every detail, from the predatory look to the barely-there smile curving his lips, showed a threat that couldn’t be ignored. You felt every cell in your body scream to run, but something stronger – perhaps his very presence – held you captive, hypnotized.
Vernon was imposing, a figure that dominated the entire space with undeniable authority, and the aura around him was dark and powerful. Whoever he was, he looked at you as a helpless prey who entered the predator's territory unknowingly.
The simple sight of him was enough to steal the air from your lungs. You didn’t know his name, or what he was, but even so, you knew you were in the presence of something ancient, far older than you could imagine.
When he finally moved, leaning slightly on the throne, your heart skipped a beat. And then, a single word, soft and laden with danger, slipped from his thin lips: — Who dares enter my castle?
You felt the impact of his voice reverberating throughout your body, a low, cutting sound that seemed to grip your heart with invisible claws. His sharp gaze was the last thing you saw before everything began to blur and darken. Your body felt heavy, as if being pulled down, the ground coming closer, and you felt your legs give way, unable to bear the weight of fear any longer.
Your field of vision narrowed until only shadows surrounded you, like a dark veil closing slowly. The sound of your heartbeat echoed, muffled, and your mind grew cloudy and unfocused. The sensation of being pulled away from yourself intensified, as your senses faded one by one. All that remained was the cold feel of stone against your skin…
And then, nothing.
When your eyes opened again, a face was looming above you. Vernon was even more intimidating up close, his flawless, unreal skin under the shadows hanging over him. He gazed down at you with a look of disdain and cruel curiosity, as if examining a broken insect. His eyes slowly traced over your blood - and mud-streaked face -, then over your injured body, as if trying to decipher every mark of pain and suffering you bore.
In his expression, there was a hint of interest, cold and impersonal, an almost predatory fascination with your fragility.
Realizing you were awake, he curved his lips into an icy smile, his eyes glinting with a silent threat. In one swift, ungentle motion, he gripped the torn collar of your dress, pulling you to stand, despite your trembling legs and aching body.
— What do you think you’re doing in my castle? — he murmured, his voice low and disdainful, full of curiosity.
His touch, though delicate, was impossible to ignore. His cold fingers held the fabric tightly, and the slight smile on his face suggested he already knew the answers—he just wanted to see you struggle, vulnerable, as you tried to explain your presence.
Fear coursed through your veins like poison, even as the question lingered in the air, laden with palpable tension. You tried to respond, but the words tangled in your throat, choked by panic and pain. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming, and you squirmed, trying to break free, but your strength seemed to slip like sand through your fingers.
Vernon continued observing you with disdain and amusement. His smile was a thin mask covering the cruel curiosity that sparkled in his red eyes. When he tilted his head, assessing every fragment of your being, every ragged breath, and tremor of fear.
— Silence, then? — he whispered, but his voice still held an authority that allowed no opposition. Vernon brought his face close to yours, and the smell of damp earth and fresh blood surrounded you, sending a chill down your spine. — Do you think you can escape your fate?
You tried to avoid his piercing gaze, but it was as if an invisible force compelled you to meet his eyes. Fear burned like a wildfire in your chest, and as he leaned closer, you felt the sensation of drowning in the darkness of his gaze. Emotions clashed within you – despair and the determination to live.
— I am not an offering — you finally managed to murmur, your voice rough and weak, almost a challenge. The tone of your voice made a subtle smile form on his lips, but there was no joy, only a recognition of your bravery — or perhaps your foolishness.
— I’m not the one who decides, dear. Your village has already chosen your fate — he replied, irony evident in his words. — Pathetic. Sacrificing virgins as if that would solve the plagues that they created.
— It wasn’t a sacrifice — you denied it, knowing your fate was still death, but it was not justified as the village’s salvation. Still, your heart tightened at his contempt and mockery of your pain. — You have no idea what you’re talking about!
But Vernon’s expression remained impassive, his eyes fixed on you as if analyzing every word.
— I’m not interested in the concerns of a village that ignores its destruction, although sacrifices always have the finest blood…
His words resonated like a death knell, and you felt hope slip away. But amid the despair, a thought arose. You should fight, and find a way to escape, even if every fiber of your being screamed to surrender to the terror Vernon represented.
Vernon noticed your hesitation, pulling you closer, the fury behind his gaze now evident. — What will you do now? What do you desire?
A challenge. A spark of determination rekindled within you. — I want freedom — the words came out as a whisper, but there was an intensity in them that changed his expression. The disdain transformed into something deeper as if he were assessing the essence of your soul. Vulnerability mixed with a glimmer of courage for a brief moment, the air between you charged with possibilities.
— Freedom, you say? — he repeated thoughtfully. — Do you think that’s something you can have? What would you do to earn it?
— I… — you began, your heart pounding fiercely within your chest. — I’ll do whatever it takes. Just let me go.
Vernon smiled, but it offered no comfort, only a promise of a negotiation in which you’d never come out ahead. The game between the two of you had taken on a new form, and you found yourself walking a tightrope between life and death, between freedom and captivity.
— Then let’s see what you’re made of — he said, releasing your collar but keeping his gaze fixed, as though every move you made was being evaluated.
You didn’t back down, though you wanted to, you knew you had to face him head-on, with every ounce of courage you had left, preparing for the next step with the monster before you. An enigma wrapped in shadows and desire.
The atmosphere in the castle grew dense, as though the air was electrified by an impending storm. Vernon moved around you, surrounding you with his presence and power, his steps silent and graceful, like a serpent ready to strike. Every movement was laced with grace, and you found yourself struggling not to shrink back, not to let his presence intimidate you.
— Ah, the fair virgin — he whispered against your ear, his seductive voice dancing in the space between you. — Is it freedom you seek? Or deep down, is there a hidden desire for something… more thrilling?
You swallowed hard, your emotions a mix of anger and confusion. The way he moved closer, how the dim light of the lanterns reflected on his pale face, made your heart race, but you wouldn’t give in to the attraction you felt. He was just toying with you, you knew you shouldn’t fall into his traps.
— I am not a plaything for your amusement — you replied, your voice firm, though a tremor had started to seep into your words.
Vernon tilted his head, examining you intently. — That’s exactly what you are, dear, a game. What do you think happens when a little mouse gets lost in the cat’s den? Do you think there’s a way out?
He was almost touching you, and the intensity of his presence left trails of fire on your skin, the warmth spreading throughout your body, mingling with the cold of the surroundings. You found yourself wondering if he felt the same if this attraction was just an illusion born of fear — or perhaps it was exactly what he wanted you to feel.
— What do you want? — you asked, your voice now a whisper, almost defiant, but the emotions you were trying to suppress began to bubble to the surface.
Vernon smiled in a way that was both charming and terrifying.
— Intriguing. I could want many things. Your submission, perhaps? Your despair? Or maybe a piece of your resistance, just to see how you break under pressure?
He grasped your chin, tilting your head back against his shoulder. He inhaled along the length of your neck, reveling in the sweet, pure scent that you carried in your being. His red eyes glistened in the darkness; his scent was intoxicating, deep, and primal, making your body react even against your will.
— I will not play your game! — you murmured, indignation breaking through in your words, though your conviction had already begun to waver. What he was doing was dangerous, and you knew you were playing a risky game, a dance of seduction and power.
— You’re already playing, my dear — the provocation in his voice was clear. — Every word you speak, every emotion you reveal, only feeds my curiosity. Do you not understand what’s at stake here?
You tried to remain firm, pulling your face away from Vernon’s touch, but his gaze was so hypnotic it was hard to focus.
— I know you're feeling something you shouldn’t — he whispered, brushing your hair from your shoulders. The soft touch of his cold fingers on your skin made you close your eyes, holding in a sigh. — Part of you wants to surrender, while the other tries to break free. Your scent betrays you, darling.
You bit your lips, trying to keep your composure, but his words were a direct assault on your resistance and desire. The tension between you was oppressive, and the warmth of his body enveloped you as if he were a flame and you, a moth drawn to the light.
— You can’t deny there’s something between us — he whispered, challenging you. — Something that transcends your fear. And if you allowed yourself to feel, you might discover a pleasure you never imagined possible.
His proximity was almost unbearable, and you found yourself on the thin line between surrender and struggle. Each word was a trap, and you were already ensnared in the web he wove without realizing it. Vernon smiled, knowing he was winning the little power struggle between you.
— Surrender, darling.
— I'm no fool — you replied, your voice now weaker, the defiance almost fading into uncertainty.
— No, you're an untamed spirit — he replied, his penetrating gaze making your heart race even more. — And that's your true beauty. But what will you do when your resistance begins to crumble? Will you surrender your soul to me or run away like a frightened kitten?
— I’m not afraid of you— you declared, although your words were nothing more than lies that didn't convince him at all.
— Oh, you are. And it’s that fear that makes this all so delicious. Now, what will you choose? Resistance or surrender?
You found yourself at the edge of a precipice, Vernon’s question resonating in your mind as he awaited your answer, his eyes gleaming with a near-predatory expectation.
Vernon leaned in closer, his eyes penetrating your soul. The space between you diminished even further, and he leaned in, his lips separated by only a breath. You felt the warmth of his presence, and the way he held your hair, elegantly pulling it, made your heart race. He left a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, intimate and provocative, as if he were peeling away every layer of defense you’d built over the years.
Your eyes met, and you blinked slowly, the internal struggle beginning to dissipate under the intensity of the moment. The way he moved, so close and yet so distant at the same time, made you feel a deep connection that defied your logic.
— I can give you everything you’ve never had — he whispered seductively. — Pleasure, power, freedom. The choice is yours, but you must be willing to surrender.
You hesitated, but something within you, a curiosity and desire, began to shine brighter than fear. You’d never allowed yourself to feel like this, never surrendered to anyone. And yet, here he was, this magnificent and terrifying being you didn’t know, offering a new life, a new experience you never thought you could have.
— I… — you began, but the words were lost as he touched your face with his cold fingers, the softness contrasting with the strength he emanated.
In an unexpected movement, he pulled your face close, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was eager and intense, an explosion of sensations that seemed to break all barriers. It was as if he’d awakened something inside you, a passion and desire that had been hidden, ready to emerge. You felt his cold, demanding lips molding to yours, and the ferocity of the moment consumed you both.
The elegance of the kiss contrasted with the urgency of the moment. It was as if you had known each other for centuries, every movement perfectly synchronized, a supernatural connection. Your emotions intertwined – passion, fear, desire, and a silent understanding that went beyond words. You surrendered, the world around you fading, and for a moment, there were no curses, villages, or sacrifices, only the two of you.
You brought your hands up to his neck, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingers, and sighed, surrendering to the intensity of the moment. As he felt your warm sigh against his lips, he abruptly pulled back, surprising you. Your eyes widened in confusion, and before you could protest, he turned you around, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.
You were surprised by Vernon's speed and strength as he walked to the throne of bones, your pulse quickening with each step. The sinister throne of skulls and bones didn’t terrify you as you expected; in fact, you felt safe, as if that were your place.
Vernon sat, placing you gently in his lap, his powerful presence enveloping you as he observed you with a burning need. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, and you realized that the surrender that once seemed distant now became inevitable.
— Now, you are mine — he declared, his eyes shining with a mix of desire and possession. — And there is nothing you can do to change that.
The bones beneath you creaked slightly, creating a trail of mystery and unease, but you were so absorbed by his presence that all you could feel was the electricity flowing between you.
As Vernon held you firmly, his lips traced a gentle path along the length of your neck, each touch affectionate. You tilted your head back, giving him space to continue kissing the skin of your neck and shoulders, holding onto his broad shoulders, trying to find balance as he enveloped you in his powerful presence.
— I missed you so much, darling — he murmured, but the words left you confused as if a mystery lingered over you. What does he mean by that?
Before you could ask, Vernon bit your neck, and the sharp pain exploded through your body, making you scream. It was intense as if time had stopped for a moment, while you found yourself lost between pleasure and agony. The feeling of blood trickling down your skin, the awareness of what was happening, all turned into a nebulous confusion.
You began to feel dizzy from the blood loss, your vision beginning to darken as a metallic taste spread in your mouth. And then, you were thrown to another place, another life.
An open field, the feeling of wet grass under your bare feet as you petted a large creature with black fur and red eyes. He would look terrifying to any lost soul who encountered him, but you know better. Monster is just a giant and needy baby. Your fingers moved delicately over the creature’s fur, and looking into its eyes, you saw more than a predator. Monster is a tormented spirit, just like you.
— Who’s my favorite guardian? — you asked the creature, who growled happily. — Yes, it’s you.
Vernon’s whispered voice pulled you from that memory, only to throw you into another, further back. — It’s been so many years this time, darling. I suffered every day you weren’t here.
A simple, small room lit only by moonlight hid Vernon’s form in the shadows.
— I know you’re here, Vernon — you called to him. — Come out now.
The man stepped out of the shadows with a playful smile, running his tongue over his sharp fangs. — You were too confident that I'm not a killer.
— You are a killer, dear — you teased, wrapping your arm around Vernon’s shoulders as he lifted you, pinning you against the wall.
— Then you should be terrified — he teased, leaving kisses along your shoulder, holding back his desire to bite you.
— I’m not afraid of you, babe — you teased, challenging him.
He pushed his tongue against his cheek, narrowing his eyes at the challenge in your voice. Unexpectedly, he bit your shoulder – gentle enough not to break the skin, just enough to leave a trace of his sharp fangs. You felt the electricity in the air as if fate united you with every word exchanged.
— Nothing will take you from me now, I promise — Vernon's voice pulled you out of that memory again, throwing you into a much more cruel one.
Vernon was holding your hand with empty eyes and a broken expression, watching your body fade away with remorse and guilt. You felt the pressure of the silver dagger against your chest and the blood pooling in your throat as you coughed. The feeling of loss intensified.
— This will not happen again, darling, I promise you. Never again.
Reality returned to you with a shock. — Vernon? — you called to him. He was still on the throne of bones, looking into your eyes, but now shining with a new life, a new understanding. You felt tears streaming down your face as you looked at Vernon, memories you never had flooding your mind.
— What did you do? — you asked, your voice a trembling whisper, trying to process everything you’d just experienced.
— I transformed you — he replied his expression a mixture of disdain and affection. — You will never be separated from me again. I cannot lose you once more, never again...
His eyes refused to leave yours, and his hands caressed your face tenderly, reaffirming his dominance over you as you closed your eyes and trembled in his lap.
— You are mine forever — he stated, the depth of his words making you shudder.
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Today's entry is really not Dr. Seward's best on display. He's matter-of-factly drugging his patient and rifling through his belongings. He's daydreaming about a cause worthy enough to justify even greater breaches of ethics than he's already doing. But in amongst these musings, there's some interesting foreshadowing too.
How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives? To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record.
Seward's interest in Renfield's skillful reasoning "within [his] own scope" and subsequent curiosity at how he measures the worth of men is of course ironic. He himself has been guilty of reasoning that only goes so far because of his own bias (about this guy in particular, in fact) and also values lives differently depending on the person. Or at least in different ways - we'll see the distinct difference between how he cares for Lucy in her illness (even when there is a question of potential 'madness') versus how he has behaved with Renfield. Obviously, there's other factors at play there too, but I can't help but think of the distinction here, particularly when it comes right before he moves on to thinking more directly about Lucy.
Renfield ends his first account when Seward denies him a cat, and eats all his birds to put a close to the whole process. But then he begins anew the next day. Seward muses about endings and beginnings, and claims that to him it feels like only yesterday that his life "ended with [his] new hope." This refers of course to Lucy rejecting him, and his beginning again was our first introduction to his audio diary. By his count, we're already on his second record. And those of us who have read the book before can recognize that a third will be coming up. Once again, a loss of Lucy will mark the end of his account - according to him, but then he will have to start again when he's inducted into the vampire-hunting. And that's when, as I've seen other people joking about, he gets his "strong, unselfish cause to make [him] work" - but it's far from happiness. (Though he in particular does get a line about savage delight in killing vampite!Lucy, it's another instance of unfulfilled potential in a way. The statement is anticipatory, and when it comes time to actual kill her, Jack is firstly the support, and secondly recognizes it as a terrible task. If he were the one staking, would he take a savage joy in doing so as he expected, or would it be a burden he bore out of love for the woman she was, as Arthur did? He actively participates in beheading her afterwards, in filling her mouth with garlic, in sealing her up. We don't hear his thoughts on any of that in any depth, and that happened after she apparently returned to her former self in death anyway, so... who knows.)
So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss.
This line is also really interesting. In line of what happens later - both in how important records are throughout this story, and also in the epilogue making it clear that the entire book we've read is a preserved account.
But it also draws a comparison with Renfield's notebook. When Seward looked in it previously, he directly compared Renfield to an accountant, balancing numbers representing what we now know represent lives. This wording is kind of placing Renfield in the position of God; at the least imitating a Godly approach. That also goes along with what happens later on with Mina being burned by the Host and the characters seeming to interpret that as God deeming her unworthy (marked down as 'a loss') for no fault of her own.* It could link back to that line about reasoning within one's own scope again. I'm reminded of this excellent meta by @animate-mush which talks about how transgressing or occupying multiple roles is key in so many ways throughout this book. Staying within one's (typical/expected) scope is limiting, while Doing Both is strengthening. A madman's reasoning only goes so far - but then again, so does his doctor's. In that sense, having a straightforward binary of profit/loss is unhelpful. But of course, all this is happening within the context of the Good People fighting Bad Vampires book. As a rule, the novel doesn't delve too deeply into realizing moral dilemmas, even though it raises the question of them multiple times. So this whole line of thought I've been led down by these lines is kind of another instance of that, and there's no clear resolution to it. But it's interesting to think about.
*Pretty sure I've read at least one meta suggesting the mark was actually a warning to instill the necessary sense of urgency they needed to motivate them to save her before it became too late. That it was never meant as a mark of shame at all. In this case it's fully the characters' own limited view affecting their understanding of the situation, and the accountant view of a God tallying up more 'objective' pluses and minuses is lessened.
#dracula daily#jack seward#dracula daily spoilers#just... thinking aloud i guess#fitting response to a seward entry#dracula meta#sort of
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My Friends list
As in, that episode of friends where they are like "this is my top 5 celebrities I'd sleep with if given the chance" Im paraphrasing of course but this is mine book edition???? in the order that I've added them to my list. and it's just that- who would I bom chika wow wow with:
Severus Snape (no I will not add a hear me out. I'm a mess and I'm allowed to like book characters that awaken something in my messed up soul that I do not touch in real life lol
Tamlin, High Lord of Spring (No disclaimer. I'll take him as he is, even after ACOSF. and no it's not because of the way I like severus, its quite the opposite actually. I think we'd actually, you know, work well together. maybe he belongs in a different list of book boyfriends? That being saif, I'd f*** too. So he stays.) (side note: I watched episode 1 of Interview with the vampite and Sam reid????????????????? as Tamlin???????????????!!!!!)
Eris Vanserra (Like, I have this thing. for him? wanna wipe the smirk off his mouth? wanna hear it be both vicious and seductive? wann see his lean frame and angular face and pretty hair and whiskey eyes, and omg this is gonna go on forever go read my Eris alphabet if you want to know what I think of him.)
Sartaq, Heir Apparent, Throne of Glass (I'm only maybe 15 chapters in to Tower of Dawn, but theres something about Sartaq that just has me HNGGGGGGG-ing. Idk, its not just that I picture him as super attractive, but like, I dont know him yet and hes just got that *pizzazz* already that has me hooked?????? I want a ride on his ruk with him. Or him.)
Honorable mention to all the book boyfriends and girlfriends that have come and gone, I dont currently have a number 5 yet - but my list of those who definitely should make the cut but I didnt is longgggg. I kinda think #5 goes to Nesta, but I'm holding off until i read the crescent city trilogy.
I might make a secondary F*** Marry K*** list after this that just chaotic because I feel like it.
#acotar#tamlin headcanons#tamlin acotar#tamlin#eris acotar#eris vanserra#eris#harry potter#severus snape#snape#sartaq#throne of glass#tog#nesta#nesta archeron#pro nesta#pro tamlin#pro eris vanserra
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Public domain avengers type of story where a lot of famous literature characthers are actually a part of a mysterious vampire clan (and deeply belive their transformatiom has to have something to do with their literaly fame - with the exception of the couples Carmilla and her Laura and Jonathan and Mina Haker who just happen to exist in a vampite story).
Sherlock Holmes is not really their leader but is the only one still trying to investigate the turning conspiracy (with the help of vampire John Watson) while solving more general mysteries and everyone really respects him for it. They don't hate Connan Doyle (he was John's editor in this world and hated the books because he kept trying to make clear he was just an editor and read my real books and no one listened) but they deeply dislike the Doyle state.
Now they have the sexy, sweetheart of the group Dorian Gray. And while he is waay less of a dick than his literary persona, vampire Dorian Gray just makes so much sense no one really asks anything. I mean the story about a corrupted man that doesn't get old and how this leads him to his ruin? Very vampire coded. Except years and years later they are having a discussion about their "authors" and someone asks him why Wilde wrote him as such a dick and how they had met and he says he never met him and he actually is a trans guy from the 1920's that loved Wilde's work, had an emo/edgy phase and his surname happened to be Gray so it was all too perfect in his younger mind and he named himself after Dorian. He assumed everyone knew he was not actually the characther. Since he was in the clan for a long time and everyone liked him he remains in the group still as their only not actually a public domain characther.
They later discover that there is an actual vampire Dorian who just didn't want to join tbem before and so never crossed their path but he is a dick and they already have their Dorian quota so he isn't invited and he is very bitter over it. Might turn to whoever ends up beig the villain as revenge.
#public domain avengers#public domain#vampires#public domain characters#story idea#the picture of dorian gray#dorian gray#sherlock holmes#carmilla#dracula
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Fangs and Future Master post
The fic
https://archiveofourown.org/works/47699158/chapters/120234133
Fic art
World information
Snapping turtles relevance: https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/719229870660616193/soo-vampire-leo-au-stuff-namely-something-i?source=share
The boys are reincarnations (except Leo of course) and no one knows it yet/some cultural information/sexualities for the au:�� https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/718610284472926208/vampire-leo-stuff-talk-time-so-im-pretty-sure-i?source=share
How Mutants humans and yokai genetics work (plus some donnie info): https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/719082270555815936/some-stuff-about-the-vampire-leo-au-that-i-wasnt?source=share
Vampire ages: https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/718966818314780672/something-for-my-vampite-leo-au-specifically?source=share
Leo’s permeant injuries: https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/718904079728967680/me-bealatedly-realizing-something-about-my-vampire?source=share
Leo’s outfit and what it hides: https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/718519678739382272/
Time line stuff: some-more-stuff-on-the-vampire-leo-au-more?source=share
relations between vampires and werecreatures: https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/718157807160098816/sooo-some-informaton-for-my-vampire-leo-about?source=share
More to do about vampires:
Leo's ninpo
Art
How I draw the boys side views for rise turtle heads (applies to all versions of them except future/human): https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/717712338694914048/i-figured-id-share-this-but-this-is-how-i-draw-the?source=share
How I draw the past rise turtles tails (applies to all turtle aus): https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/719857810475827200/i-just-remebered-i-have-this-xd-but-heres-all-my?source=share
Leo: https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/717716045558923264/i-managed-a-traditonal-drawing-of-vampire-leo-when?source=share
Update/ digital
Donnie: https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/717717802931372032/annd-now-the-human-donnie-leo-keeps-running?source=share
Update/digital
Mikey(true form):
Raph: https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/718088243944603648/more-charatet-art-for-the-vampire-leo-auits-of?source=share
Koya (my rise version): https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/717797408887783424/this-is-not-a-final-design-this-is-what-koya-looks?source=share
Maeve (important oc): https://www.tumblr.com/silverfirewolfsurtleaus/719892275281444864/speaking-about-fangd-and-futures-heres-a?source=share
Four years ago:
Leo healing Donnie
Drabbles (mostly things that I couldn't fit in the fic
How Leo Meet Maeve: N/A
How Leo Officially meet Koya: N/A
Other Information:
Future bracelets:
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Don Juan In Soho
*mild spoilers ahead; serious analysis from here. A lighter analysis right afterwards*
So two days ago I had the privilege of watching Don Juan in Soho at Wyndham’s Theatre. And when I say privilege, I mean it.
I’ve read the reviews. I’ve seen the tweets. I’ve heard about the sex and the humour and much like everyone else, I’ve been waiting for them. But there’s way, way more to this play than just this.
Not to say they’re not important parts of it; I think we spent over half the play laughing. And yes, there are certainly some saucy scenes, that really make you want to grab David and do some things you most certainly shouldn’t. But that’s just not what this is about.
That is, that’s not what stuck to my mind when I left the theatre.
For me, the key moment was the rant. In this scene, DJ is confronted by Stan after having lied to his father (and to Stan himself) about planning to change his ways. He wants DJ to tell him he’s important to him, that he loves him.
DJ won’t do it. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been honest with,” He tells him, before moving on to talk the fake hell we’re all living in. “This is the age of apology,” He tells him. “Don’t confuse it with authenticity.” Because there’s the thing - the world is full of so many hypocrites, of so many dicks and idiots who think they’re something (”A fake tanned, an orangutan!”), of so many people who’re just so busy telling everyone what they think and what they’re doing any second that they don’t actually live anymore. The world is full of liars, of people with no integrity or ones who’d give theirs up for the right price, of people who hurt others and make excuses for it, or hide behind a mask made by society. Welcome to 2017.
I’ve read a lot about that speech. I know certain people thought it ‘over the top’. Too much. Pretentious. Somewhat true but... Or complete nonsense.
It’s not.
We live in a society where it’s okay to lie to each other so long as we tell ourselves it’s for someone else. We live in a society where it’s okay to think only about yourself, and hurt whoever you might have to in order to get what you want. We live in a society where it’s okay to lie to yourself - no, it’s not only okay, it’s even encouraged. We live in a society where everybody’s so busy vlogging and taking selfies that they no longer actually live.
The world is going to hell, and we’re the ones taking it there.
Later on in that scene Stan tells DJ he’s not human. DJ tells him that on the contrary - he’s the only true human. He lives for his pleasure, and screw everyone else (quite literally). But the thing is, what makes him the only ‘true human’ isn’t that - it’s the fact he just doesn’t hide it, like everybody else does.
Not to say that DJ’s guilt-free, hurt-whoever-it-may life is the way to go, but how does DJ put it? “I know what I am and I understand it: I’m a child, a creature only of want. I choose this life and I own it. And no one owns me. Free will: it’s the only thing we all have. And the only thing worth having. And most of us deny we have it at all.” (Don Juan In Soho, Act 3)
And that’s the point of this play.
*end serious analysis*
What can I say?
Aside from this analysis, there’s an awful lot to say about this play. It’s absolutely hilarious - the script is fantastically written (and even more fantastically updated), the cast is doing a marvellous job and the production is beautiful. There are bits of singing and dancing - with a teeny bit of David and Adrian singing a duet and dancing - and then there are dreadful scenes, and funny scenes, and serious moments, and some sex sprinkled on top. I know I sat in that theatre for nearly two hours, but it genuinely felt like ten minutes.
David is absolutely magnificent (and also ‘magnificently fuckable’, but I think we all knew that already). From his faces (goodness, his expressions are something!) to his movements to his speech to his amazing comedic timing, he was absolutely amazing, during every single second of the play. “Please don’t be charmed, he’s not a lovable rogue,” Stan asks us in the beginning, but with David playing DJ, it’s quite impossible not to.
Adrian did a marvellous job as Stan. The differences between him and David compliment them both as well as the production as a whole, and he’s funny, his timing is brilliant and he delivers both lines and emotions beautifully. It’s hard not to feel for him by the first ten minutes of the play.
The play as a whole is certainly dazzling. Between the music, the lighting and the smoke, it feels more like Soho - Don Juan’s romanticised Soho - than Soho itself. The fact the play is clearly updated all the time just makes it even more amazing - it feels like DJ is actually speaking to the audience, like he’s living amongst us, and in a matter of speaking, he is. Patrick Marber is certainly right to keep doing it.
What else can I say? I really wish I could watch it again (tough life for those of us who don’t live in the UK, eh?). I do recommend seeing it - it’s one of the best things in the West End right now, if not the best. I’ve been waiting for it for about four months, but it was totally worth it.
*I gotta admit, with how much everybody’s talking about the sex, I half expected it to be like Casanova, but there’s a lot more of seduction than there is of sex, and there’s a lot more about our lives and mankind than it is about both of them. That being said, seeing him in a gold robe and red knickers - yes, knickers - or getting a blowjob are certainly enough to make you wish you could have him for a night.
**David’s entrance after the intermission may have been one of the funniest things I’ve even seen. Plus, with that mask and the gold robe...
***There’s a bit in the beginning where DJ wants to smoke in the hotel, and Stan tells him he can’t. DJ goes, ‘Watch me’ and has Stan light him a cigarette. A couple of minutes later a hotel employee walks in and he lets her take it, telling her he had no idea he can’t smoke. As soon as she’s gone, he lights another one, only to have her come back and go through the same thing again. When she leaves, he takes a good, appreciative look at her bum... and then lights another one. This time a big, quite threatening looking male employee walks in and DJ is forced to give up his cigarette again. And as he walks out, DJ makes sure to survey his backside just as well... The perfect description of DJ ;)
****There are a couple of bits where you desperately want to hold DJ and promise everything will be okay... I’m not gonna lie, he’s an arse, but you just can’t help but like him.
*****David does look a bit vampite-y in the end, doesn’t he? Between the make up they have on him, the white shirt and the blood all over him, he seems a bit pale and oddly vampire-like. Or is it just me?
Of course, since it was April 18, the folks at Wyndham’s were ready and brought a ton of party poppers, which they gave out to everyone at the Stage Door. As soon as David came out, we all started singing Happy Birthday and pop them and it was simply wonderful. Seeing the look on David’s face when we did was more than enough, and I’m just happy I could be there and be a part of it, even though I didn’t get to talk to him.
So long as he knows we love him <3
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