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the-secret-keeper · 1 year

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Part 3 of Obey Me X Twisted Wonderland/Barbatos X Reader

This was requested by @sonicfangirl123 and @babyxwolfiex

TW: Very sassy demons terrifying a crow, mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption, and canon levels of violence for Obey Me.

Reader is referred to as MC.

There has been a bit of time that has passed since the end of the last one and the start of this one. It will begin the day that the festival celebrating the finding of MC is starting.

Also, fair warning, in this, MC used to live in the House of Lamentation, but currently lives in Diavolo's castle with Diavolo and Barbatos.

Enjoy!

I shifted my bodyweight from the front of my feet to the back, as I stood beside my best friends and boyfriend in front of the mirror portal.

"Calm down, MC. They'll be here soon." Lucifer sighed.

"Sorry, I'm just excited." I laughed.

"I am too!" Luke agreed, matching my impatient movement. "I haven't met their friends before! It isn't fair that you guys got to!"

"I am excited as well, but you doing that won't make them appear any faster." Simeon agreed with Lucifer, but in a much gentler tone.

"Here they are." Barbatos interrupted our discussion. I turned and practically started vibrating in excitement as their silhouettes appeared in the mirror.

They all stepped through, getting their bearings, but I was only interested in one.

"Grim!" I exclaimed, speed-walking up to the flying cat and hugging him.

"Get off me, Henchman!" He complained.

"You got your backpack?" He nodded. "I'm so excited!" I beamed. Riddle cleared his throat. "Right, sorry." I apologized, taking a few steps back. "Welcome to the Demon Lord's Castle in the Devildom. You have all been formally invited to stay here for a few days, and attend the Welcome Home Festival that starts today."

"You get a whole festival just for coming back?" Azul questioned.

"Yeah. I'm pretty well-liked in the Devildom."

"Yeah, we all like MC here." Satan agreed.

"Yes, in fact we like them so much that once we named a comet after them." Diavolo said proudly. I nodded enthusiastically when they looked to me for confirmation.

"Wow!" Kalim exclaimed, eyes shining with glee. I smiled warmly, nodding at them.

"You'll actually be split up in where you're staying. Malleus," I paused. "Where is Tsunotarou?" My friends from Twisted Wonderland looked around. "Oh my Diavolo." I sighed. "Diavolo, come on, let's go get him. We'll only be a few minutes."

"You can't just order a crown prince around!" Jamil hissed, glancing between us.

"I don't mind!" Diavolo smiled jovially.

"Yeah, Dia is really chill." I agreed, before leaning into my lovers side, who leaned into me in kind. "Please make sure Jamil relaxes. He's a 24/7 babysitter, he needs a vacation almost as bad as Lucifer does." I whispered, and Barbatos nodded, before we both stood up straight, and Diavolo and I headed into the mirror portal.

We walked through the school, past stunned students, and straight towards the Diasomnia mirror in the mirror chamber. It didn't take us very long to reach the Dracula-esque castle. I fearlessly pushed open the front doors to see Sebek approaching the doors with a bag.

"Sebek! Good, you're already on your way, we were going to pick up the others as well. If you'd wait by the portal back to the mirror chamber, we're going to retrieve Malleus." I smiled at him.

"The Young Master hasn't arrived yet?"

"No. For someone so tall with such a presence, he is very easy to lose."

"Lillia-Sama! Is Waka-Sama here still?!" Sebek yelled into the castle.

"Child of Man." I turned around, and beamed at my tall friend.

"Tsunotarou, I was worried when you didn't show up with the others. Are you ready to go?"

"Are you certain it's ok for me to go?"

"Trust me. You are no more intimidating than him." I gestured at Diavolo who stood at my side. "Plus, it's really important to me that you're there! I want you to see where I'm from, you're one of my best friends, and I want you to enjoy the festival."

"Yes. Your presence will likely be about as noticeable as the brothers. While it may turn a few heads, most people in the Devildom will not spare a glance." Diavolo reassured.

"Now that I think about it, you'll probably stand out the least." I hummed, though didn't explain my train of thought further.

"Malleus, you almost forgot your bag." Lilia appeared upside down next to me, causing me to flinch.

I don't usually flinch at intimidating presences. But when Lilia just pops out of nowhere, it scares me for some reason. Maybe it's because he hides his presence, and I can usually sense when those with presences like Malleus or Diavolo as they approach.

"You ready to go?" I smiled at Malleus, who nodded.

"I am ready as well!" I laughed a little at Sebek's enthusiasm.

"Sorry you have to miss it, Lilia. But he's in good hands." Someone has to look after the dorms, which is why all the Vice-dorm leaders are staying back, aside from Jamil. Ortho is also staying behind, simply to watch over the dorm. But he made Idia come, somehow, so, there's that.

"Take lots of pictures."

"Definitely will!" I promised, giving him a thumbs up before whipping out my phone. I sent a quick text to the group chat containing my first-year friends, making sure they were going to meet us at the mirror chamber.

Once I got a confirmation from all of them, we all headed towards the mirror portal, which was actually in the auditorium. And we emerged in the Devildom. Everyone was still there.

"Now!" I exclaimed, causing most to flinch. "As I was saying." I smiled. "You'll actually be split up in where you'll be staying. The First-years will be staying here, in the Demon Lords castle." I said. "However!" I turned to my friends. "This isn't Ramshackle, and what Barbatos says goes, got it? Behave yourselves." They nodded. "Now, Sebek." I looked at him, placing my hands on his shoulders. "Don't panic."

"What?"

"Malleus," I turned to Malleus, letting Sebek go. "you will be staying at the House of Lamentation with the Demon Brothers."

"I will?"

"Yeah. They're pretty chaotic, and they only have the one guest room. You're the only person I felt could deal with them without completely losing your mind." I laughed a little awkwardly. "Boys, I expect you to treat my friend with respect."

"Yes! Waka-sama is the Crown Prince of Briar Valley." Sebek agreed.

"True." I nodded. "Anyways. The rest of you will be split between two halls. Solomon is in charge of one, and Simeon and Luke are in charge of the other. They will actually determine who goes to which hall."

"I want him!" Luke exclaimed, standing next to Riddle. I pursed my lips.

"Luke." I was trying not to laugh, about to ask a question to him.

"Yes," I paused.

"Nevermind. It's fine with me, Riddle likes sweets anyways." I shook my head a little. "You all can duke out who goes where. But, Jamil needs to stay with Kalim. So those two are a package deal." I explained. "The Festival starts in a few hours, so until then, I guess we can take you guys to your separate living arrangements?" I looked to Barbatos for confirmation.

"I don't see why not."

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Alright, I'll show the first-years their rooms so that they can put their stuff down and then we can head to the House of Lamentation."

"Why don't we tour the castle first?" Vil asked.

"Because you won't be here that often." I explained. "We can always do the tour of the castle later, but the other living arrangements are a good distance from here, it's just more convenient to do them as soon as we can. Plus, by the time the tours are done, the festival will be getting ready to kick off, and there'll be just enough time for Vil to prepare. Right?"

"That should be correct if the estimations of the time his routine takes is correct." Barbatos nodded.

"Rude." Vil grumbled.

"But accurate." Belphie sighed. "If you're anything like him, then you take forever to get ready."

"Basically the alternate universe version of each other." I nodded.

"What's even going to happen at the festival?" Leona asked.

"Hmm." I hummed, squinting my eyes in thought. "I know there's going to be a lot of food booths, various welcome home themed activities, and a big ball at the end of it, but I didn't do very much of the planning because they insisted it be a surprise."

"That's right!" Asmo latched onto one of my arms, and Mammon threw an arm around my shoulders.

"We planned it all!" Barbatos cleared his throat. "Except for the ball. Barbatos insisted he do that." Mammon corrected.

"Today, tomorrow, and the day after's events will be like a steretypical festival. With lots of games, food, fun, and a few amusement park rides that Diavolo rented." Asmo explained excitedly.

"And booze too!"

"Just to be clear," I added quickly, "the alcohol from the Devildom doesn't affect humans, unsure about beastmen and fae." I made sure they were aware. "If, there is alcohol from the human world, it will be marked. And there will also be nonalcoholic substitutes for those like Luke who are too young, yet will be affected by alcohol from the Devildom."

"Will you be partaking?" Azul asked.

"Not without several powerful demons around me." I smiled knowingly at him. "Don't try it."

"Noted." He nodded.

"Partaking in any alcohol, from the Devildom or otherwise, will be optional, so don't even worry about it." I shrugged.

"That's good to know." Riddle nodded.

"Yes, dealing with over a dozen drunk humans would probably be more chaotic than the actual festival."

"Probably." I agreed with Lucifer cheerfully. "I will be right back, do not leave without me." I waved for the first years to follow me, showing them to the guest quarters.

Though each of them technically had their own room, I knew my friends well enough to know that they were going to spend the majority of their time in each other's rooms or in my room. I left all of them with maps, as this castle can get kind of confusing.

But I marked several places as "Do not go. This place can and will kill you." While that may have been a bit of an exaggeration for some of these places, I also wanted to make sure they didn't cause too much trouble, for Diavolo and Barbatos, but also in case they ever wanted to visit.

I also marked the room I was staying in while they were here. Normally I'd share a room with my lover, but I knew he needed sleep and that my friends would be coming to my room in the middle of the night. Like the little gremlins they are.

After making sure they were aware of the different areas they were not allowed to go under any circumstance. I made sure to really pound that into their heads. I know that they're chaotic, but it's for their safety.

Of course, I'm not an idiot. I know my friends. They're going to try to go there anyways, despite my warnings that it could put their lives in danger. But none of them are nearly as powerful as Barbatos who put up a barrier around the areas that they aren't allowed to go into. Even combined, they won't be able to break a barrier put up by him. If my warning isn't enough to deter them, the fact that they will be physically unable to enter it should.

I made sure that they were all set up in their separate rooms. That everything was where it was supposed to be, and that they were comfortable. And then I made them change out of their dorm uniforms into more casual clothes.

No point in wearing them when not at NRC or their dorms.

All of this took about 20 minutes because they're slow. But once the entire process was done, I led them back to the entrance hall, where everyone else was as well.

"Now that that's done." I sighed approaching the group. "Let's go! I can't wait to show you all around my home town!" I beamed, as I began to lead them all out of the castle.

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rottiens · 25 days

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SCREAMS IF U DONT TELL ME MORE ABOUT DRACULA TOJI EXPERMENTING ON YOU-

😳😳

cw. vampire toji x afab reader, dracula au, noncon, experimentation, blood, mentions of pregnancy, breeding, predator/prey, size difference, yan toji, you are compelled by him. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Okay, I just think that Count Toji must be tired of living in his castle, bored of having spent centuries in this land where he only goes out hunting at night to survive and watch others live their lives under the hot and threatening sun.

Curiosity would lead him to set his eyes on the girl who occasionally walks around his castle, Toji is not interested in her social class or status; all he wants from her is the taste and ecstasy that her young blood can give him. He often sees her stop in the distance and admire how majestic the building is, so tall and imposing.

Toji believes that she managed to notice his presence once. Standing in front of the second floor window, as the sun set and he turned his back to the shadows. When their gazes met, it was then that he realized that the pleasures and memories of his human life still lingered there hidden under the clothes of the elegant lord he pretends to be, he wanted her, he wanted her on his property, he wanted her holding his hand and carrying his seed inside her.

With this idea in mind, he waited and counted the days until she would pass by his castle again; he waited and waited until, during twilight, he saw her walking slowly up the clear, flower-filled hill.

The dense flakes of black clouds hid the sun that day as if someone was conspiring on his behalf, so he took the opportunity to approach her, cautiously, making sure his movements would not frighten her, though nothing could make his dead heart beat faster than the sight of her running down the hill as she flees from an inevitable outcome.

Toji blamed her smile. If she hadn't smiled at him in that open, friendly way, as if inviting him to take her right there and then, he might have let her slip away. After all, it was not yet dark and anyone could catch him in the act; however, the way her heart was beating, hidden under her corset-tight ribs, and her nervous, choppy breathing, with her chest rising and falling, had never made him feel so alive as he did at that moment.

She doesn't remember how long it's been or how she got there, sometimes she thinks all she knows is that castle and her master. There are gaps in her memory about the family she lost one day and who she was before; all she remembers are the Count's words: “This is your home now.”

She serves him. She dresses for him. And she allows him, for some reason, to take anything he wants from her including her blood. Whenever he asks she goes to the back room, perfectly decorated with a bed with red silk sheets and sheer curtains hanging from the ceiling. Toji strips her of her clothes and she offers him her previously injured and fang-marked left arm, he feeds sometimes until she faints and loses consciousness. Other times, he calls her to breed her.

Toji is obsessed with the idea of getting her pregnant. One night, he told her how he wants to have children, how he wants to procreate, and that is the only reason she is there, not to serve him dinner or clean his floors; she is there to accept his cum every night and every time he wants to give it to her.

Toji has tried it so many ways, with her on top, underneath, beside him. His fangs are in every inch of her skin, marking her as his, and he keeps trying, wishing that at some point she might give him an heir for eternity so he won't be alone.

So far, though, none of that has worked.

There are days when she wakes up lucid and fear creeps through her veins, making her get out of bed in the middle of the night and run downstairs, screaming in terror. She doesn't remember how many times it has happened, she only knows that he finds her opening the front door and pushes her from behind crushing her against the old wood.

"Where are you going?" he growls annoyed against her ear, his breath hitching.

"Please, my lord; let me go."

Toji is quiet for a moment, perhaps weighing the decision?

"Let's make a deal. I will open the door and you will run as fast as your little legs will allow. If you can catch a moonbeam, I'll let you go.”

The castle is gigantic, she thinks. It will be a moment before she can step out of the shadows of it and reach the light.

"What if I don't make it?" her tear-filled eyes close for a moment and the tears fall.

The Count laughs softly, grinding his hips against her lower back showing her how hard what is about to happen makes him.

"You don't want to find out and ruin the surprise, do you?"

Toji flings open the door and she almost falls to the floor. Her hands touch the ground and she gets up in a hurry to get away from the castle, running as far as she can. Grass brushes against her feet, pebbles cut into the soles of her feet and her dress gets tangled between her thighs, but she keeps going without stopping. She looks back and sees him in his sleeping clothes from the doorway mimicking being a man, wrapped in darkness from his home with jet hair covering his eyes. And with red eyes and sharp fangs, she finally sees him for what he is.

A monster.

She looks ahead, screaming from the depths of her lungs for help. She thinks of her family, of her mother, and picks up the hem of her dress with one hand to run faster. The moonlight seems so close that she thinks she can reach it, but it all becomes a distant dream again the moment a sharp sound tears the air; like the cry of a wounded animal, and her body falls to the ground. Her palms bleed and she screams in pain, in rage, in fear.

"Please!"

"I've got you. Let's go back home."

notes. i believe faithfully that he does this kind of experiments with you. he spreads your pussy with his fingers, pushes his cum inside, maybe hm fucks you in the ass all this to see your reaction. he is addicted to the way you respond to pleasure, to pain, that he wants to know everything about you. how much would your body resist before breaking, how much he should do to make you pregnant.

#asks #wr #cw noncon #toji x reader

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vickyvicarious · 8 months

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ooooh, I love Patrick Hennessey's voice!

Renfield getting possessive over Dracula... or possibly just recognizing that the boxes being taken away means Dracula might leave too, and he wants to prevent that.

kfjsldf Renfield is so good at managing the staff here. politely gaslighting them to believe he's oblivious to his own actions then escaping

OHkay the dull thuds were quite awful when he's slamming the guy's head into the ground

"you know I'm no lightweight" between this and Seward knocking Renfield off with one punch I now find myself imagining them like. wrestling each other for fun or something at least once. (jack would have gotten very bisexual about it and then refused to look dr. hennessey in the face for days probably)

"'I'll frustrate them! They shan't rob me! they shan't murder me by inches! I'll fight for my Lord and Master!'" I love how rough his voice sounds here, so different from usual. Also the murder me by inches is such a vivid and bleak way to describe being deprived of the chance at supernatural life.

sorry for your finger, Hardy

YES, the first of the very thirsty men who are suddenly more relaxed when given a drink. it's so funny

but really, Hennessey managed that very well. his quick smoothing over and attention to detail could be really helpful if anyone decided to sue them or something over this.

the phonograph noises at the beginning of Jack's entry at first made me think they were at the end of Hennessey's report, and it would be very funny if Jack insisted on getting his report in phonograph form. That, or Hennessey just wanted to take the chance to see what all the fuss was about.

...and then Jack started speaking and all amusement was lost. God, he's wrecked.

the stop and scoff before "too miserable" GODDDD

"the flapping of the wings of the angel of death" yeah he's been flapping a lot the bastard

but really, the way Jack lists them off, so bitterly, damn it's horrible

is he drinking? or trying to keep from crying? I mean he's definitely doing that either way but

the shake on "we must not all break down"

van Helsing speaking SO GENTLY to Arthur, auuugh

"You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will be comfort to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we sleep." this is so sweet, I can't believe I'd forgotten about it

"in this room, as in the other," of course, it makes sense not to keep Lucy in her own bedroom, where the windows are shattered and where her mother died... but I wonder where she is. Did I miss a line about it somewhere? A part of me imagines Mrs. Westenra's room, which would mean they both die in one another's beds. :(

NOT THE TEETH

"Her teeth, in the dim, uncertain light, seemed longer... and sharper than they had been in the morning. In particular - by some trick of the light, the canine teeth looked... longer... and sharper than the rest." he repeats 'longer and sharper' twice, and especially the second time sounds so... nearly fascinated. It reminds me of Jonathan describing Dracula.

"there came a sort of dull flapping or buffeting at the window" there he is, the flappy asshole. angel of death himself.

"It struck me as curious that the moment she became conscious she pressed the garlic flowers close to her. It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but that when she waked she clutched them close." SHE'S TRYING. GOD I WANNA CRY

van Helsing's fear and despair is so well conveyed. and when he spends several minutes staring at her and then sounds so calm - he is determined.

"I went to the dining-room and waked him." the way Jack says this line is just. brutal.

I CAN'T LISTEN TO ART BREAK DOWN THIS IS GONNA DESTROY ME

the saddest "my dear old fellow" in the world

brushing Lucy's hair... I love that this makes Jack cry, because it makes me cry too.

ffffuck her shaky greeting to Arthur.

so I was talking a little bit ago about how Jack seems to distance himself unconsciously and start referring to Lucy as a thing whenever she is in more vampiric mode, and I love to hear it reflected in his voice here too. He goes from being so choked up with emotion to sounding almost cold as he says "the mouth opened,"

and he sounds so disturbed when he calls her eyes "dull" and her voice "voluptuous"

oh no oh no that "oh my love " is SO DAMN SINISTER art don't do it don't do it. like damn, I can't even make a joke about van helsing playing chaperone I'm just thankful that he's there!

it's not like being a vampire is transferrable through saliva or anything anyway but. she sounded so scary there.

Jack's delivery about van Helsing pulling Arthur back from the kiss was so funny. He sounds so incredulous: "dragged him back with a fury of strength which I never thought he could have possessed," van Helsing may joke about him being bitchless but Jack was here thinking he was a frail old man so who's laughing now. (van Helsing. definitely still van Helsing.)

van Helsing's panting!

art, bless him, choosing not to get into a fight over his fiance's deathbed. (the way Jack's voice gets rough on "and the occasion" uggggh)

god, Lucy's voice makes me so sad. that final "and give me peace"......

"Their eyes met instead of their lips; and so they parted." THIS LINE.

nooooooo don't make me listen to Art cry fuck it's breaking me

the music while Jack is talking about there being peace for Lucy is so ominous!!! also I love the way he is so clearly trying so hard to stay composed and say something nice and look on the bright side if only a little... and then van Helsing has to be mysterious and ominous and ruin that for him too

van Helsing Barbie strikes again

"only some letters and a few memoranda, and a diary new begun." those last few words are so sad. She never got to do more than just begin her diary. She never got to even begin her new life before it was taken away from her.

"we both started at the beauty before us," Beautiful Corpse Jumpscare

"He had not loved her as I had, and there was no need for tears in his eyes." I get how you feel but that's pretty dang rude, Jack. He's told you that he loves her and wanted to save her. He already cried for her once.

kjdsfljksdf THE DELIVERY of "I want to cut off her head and take out her heart." and. no DUH he's shocked, vH! don't go acting like this is typical surgeon behavior/reaction. omg.

and then that sigh and 'kind' concession that 'all you have to do is help me cut off her head that's all'

I fucking love the delivery of "no good to her, to us, to science, to human knowledge"

"I may err—I am but man; but I believe in all I do." the way his voice almost wavers on the word 'believe'. Not out of doubt, but emotion.

"and she kiss my rough old hand and bless me?" the way he says this line... he was so affected by her trust in him and her final request. he feels honored and burdened both.

Jack being so emotional about the maid grieving for Lucy... and me sitting there knowing that she's in there to steal from Lucy. (or at least, she does even if it's not why she went in)

mr. marquand! you are a decent guy, thank you for trying to look out for Lucy's interests. anyone who tries to give her agency is good in my book. even if your rejoicing is in. rather poor taste. (Jack's laugh at that is great!)

Art bringing Jack in with him is so sweet, god, god, his crying.... THE WAY HE SAYS JACK'S NAME. THE WAY HE SAYS THERE'S NOTHING TO LIVE FOR

Jack's line about men only needing "a grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over the shoulder, a sob in unison," was already ridiculous but the way says it like he's trying so hard to convince himself

I hit the bulletpoint character limit. Wow.

Anyways the delivery is so stiff-upper-lip-this-is-fine, it's great. especially as the further into the line he gets the more you can hear him trying not to sob as well.

THE SADDEST SMOOCH NOISES

the way Art reacts to being called 'Lord'. ""No, no, not that, for God's sake! not yet at any rate." he sounds so desperate, the POOR MAN

and the way he is taking deep breaths while talking to van Helsing. He is working so fucking hard to be kind and try and make things easier and get through this without lashing out at anyone. I love him so much.

and van Helsing immediately follows up with "I stole your dead girlfriend's letters, can I keep them?" I KNOW he feels bad about it and he feels it is necessary and everything but. damn okay.

NOT A LULLABY NOOOOOOOOOO

GOD THAT'S SO SAD. DO NOT COME INTO THE NIGHT DO NOT GO TO SLEEP MY DEAR :( :( oh how dare you with that line about eternal life/shine so bright" AND TAKE MY BITE NOOOOOOO

#dracula daily #re: dracula #lucy westenra #van helsing #jack seward #arthur holmwood

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lets-break-free-from-our-chains · 11 months

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Forever and Always My Truest: Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the lovely comments for the prologue of this series. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. When writings this I really could stop imaging the reader with a haunting echo to her voice. Similar to the brides of Dracula in the Van Helsing 2004 movie, which I undyingly love. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Summary: After yet another night of restless sleep the reader finds herself wandered the manor until Walter comes looking for her. Safe to say that things escalate in more ways than one. From a lovers’ quarrel, to making up, and breakfast being served, there is no denying that there is never a dull moment in the Master and his eternal bride’s marriage.

Word Count: 1,800-ish

WARNING: SMUT!!! No vaginal penetration yet! Dry Humping, Angst, Fluff, blood sharing, arguing, obsessive/possessive behavior, Yandere-ish? Walter De Ville, possible Stockholm Syndrome?, forced marriage, abuse of power, Walter playing favorites w/reader as usual, sucks for the other brides, DOM/sub Dynamics, reader being a brat and Walter is not having it. Warning to be added. LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!

MINORS DNI!!!!

Disclaimers: I do not own The Invitation or any of the characters within the movie. You know what is and isn’t mine.

Walter de Ville x Wife!Reader

Chapter 1: Revelations Come to Light

~Current Day in 2022~

~(Y/N) P.O.V~

Long ago there was a period in my life when I was a restless sleeper. I would wander the halls of my ancestor's grand castle. Even now over four and a half centuries later that has not changed as I now glide through the halls of the De Ville Manor whilst steering clear of the evenings’ sun lit areas. It never harmed me, but it didn’t mean it was any less agitating to my sensitive skin. Ordinarily, my restlessness would be quite vexing for me, however, that feeling couldn’t help but be trumped by the excitement of the fact that Walter and I’s anniversary party was just a week and a half away. It was sure to be grand in every way with my Lord Love sparing no expense for our cherished day. Allowing me free reign over the celebration as usual.

‘Nothing but the best for my truest.’ he had confidently stated to me one night as we lounged on a chaise in his study talking about the upcoming date. Though not much was said after that, as we had just devoured our dinner, and I was feeling in a playful and wanton mood. A mood my beloved Master was all too willing to indulge me in, if his sharp smile of adoration was anything to go by. Speaking of my Lord Love, he shall be rather displeased if he wakes in our tomb, and finds that I am not by his side. He insisted from our first night as newlyweds that he and I would share our sleeping place as any Lord husband and his Lady wife would. I was certain Victoria’s face would tear open from her burning ire, at hearing this information, knowing he never intended to share such things with her or any other brides for that matter.

I sighed wistfully and turned before letting out a haunting shriek. Walter stood there with sleep filled eyes and a raised brow. “My truest, what are you doing awake? You must have your rest!”

I leaned against the balcony railing as I gripped it in my left hand and placed my right hand over my permanently stilled heart.

“My love, you frightened me,” I exclaimed in breaths of haunting of exasperation. “You know I have never been one for restful sleep and with all the excitement to be had, I fear I am even more so restless, my Lord Love.”

His face settled into one of sympathy as he beckoned me to his side, never being able to remain agitated with me for long. I practically leapt from my spot and glided over to him without hesitation. My white negligée swept around my feet with my body movement, and he earnestly enveloped me into his arms as I hugged myself to his side and delicately caressed the side of his face and neck. He nuzzles and caresses my hair as his strong hands stroked my back before leaning back to look upon my face and speak, “Well, seeing as it is almost time to rise for the evening, why don’t I have breakfast brought to my study for us to eat?”

I gave out a haunting moan of frustration and lightly stomped my foot, “But Master, I been locked away in this manor for weeks!” He sighed as he goes to speak, but I interrupt him as my eyes light up in a glowing golden hue and I gasp out a brilliant idea, “Why do we not go out for a hunt together. You have always loved when you and I terrorize a few most unfortunate souls in the village!”

Despite his irritation already slightly spiked by my interruption and slight brattiness, Walter takes it in stride and seeks to placate me, “Because the wolves are growing more confident in coming closer to our territory and I would be absolutely devastated if a single hair on my cherished queen’s head was hurt.”

I only proceed to pout at my feet as he rubbed his hands up and down my arms waiting for me to look at him. Once I cast my gaze up to him through my lashes he leans in with a playful twinkle to his eyes and whispered against still pouting lips, “besides you always insist on playing with your food, my truest.”

I let out an indignant squeak of protest which only prompted a heartily chuckle and a sensational quick kiss to my lips from Walter. “But Master—”

“(Y/N)!” I immediately shrank under the sternness of Walter’s voice. I dared to look at him and my face morphed into a crestfallen look as he gazed unwaveringly at me. “DO NOT argue with me on this matter! It is currently not safe for you outside these walls and therefore you will not leave this castle until the problem is dealt with. I will hear NO MORE of this! Do you understand me?”

I gazed back at the floor as I backed away from him, my golden irises welled to the brim with fresh tears. “Yes Master, I understand.” My voice cracking against my will. At seeing my fragile state Walter gave a regretful sigh whilst closed his eyes. Upon hearing my small haunted weeping, always seeming to echo like screams in his ears, he looked upon me hugging myself.

“My truest…please, do not cry. I did not mean to scared you. Do not be frightened by me, my truest.” I hear him speak gently. I slowly look up at him and he gave me an imploring and loving look. Knowing my mind, after so many centuries together, he goes to speak once more, “I am not angry with you, my truest. I could never be angry with you.”

He held out his hand for me to take and I cautiously crept by to him as my weeping quieted but continued to give off a haunting echo. I had seen his true anger many times. It was never directed at me, but it was nevertheless absolutely terrifying. He really only ever yelled at Victoria and others in the walls and on rare occasions, he would yell at Lucy. He seemed to always have little to absolutely no patience with any of them. He never yelled at me though, which is why I would take the blame for most of the mistakes that Lucy made as they were few and far between. I had sneaking suspicion that he knew but allowed me to protect Lucy since I seemed to personally favor her. Nevertheless, he mostly only spoke with sternness to get his point across, when it came to me.

Once I was within reaching distance, he pulled me back into his arms and placed a loving kiss to my temple, “My perfect little wife. My beautiful queen.” He sweetly cooes me, as he sways us gently. Finally, my weeping stops completely, and Walter calls out for Renfield to whom responded promptly.

“Have the food brought to my study. My queen and I will break our fast in there tonight.”

Renfield swiftly nodded before giving a bow to us, “Right away, my Lord. My Lady.”

He left almost as quickly as he came, and Walter gently ushers me to his study. Once inside he guides me to the plush Victorian sofa and sits with me in his lap and begins to softly wipe the tear stains from my glowing cheeks. I look at him for a moment before shifting my seated position and straddling his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and play with his hair.

I rest my forehead against his, “I am so sorry, my Lord Love. I didn’t mean to upset you in the slightest.” Shaking my head vehemently, as he gives a smile and pushes my hair from my face to see me better.

“I know, my truest. I am sorry I lose my temper. I hate to see you cry, more than anything, especially when I am the cause for such a crime.” He kisses me sensationally and I melt into his body with a satisfied wanton moan. Our kissing quickly grows more passionate, and I feel my hips begin to move of their own accord. My warm bare heat slide over his growing hardness trapped within the confines of his trousers. Walter breaks our kissing with a groan as his head leans back. I felt a moan release from my mouth in what can only be described as pornographic as I feel his hands grip my hips move them faster while lifting his hips to press harder against my heat.

“You’re so beautiful!” He moans, whilst looking at me with a heated heavy-lidded look. I keep eye contact with him as I feel my climax closing in, and I can tell by his moans his is closing in too. “My Lord!” I sighed. I could feel it, it was so close.

“Cum, my truest. Cum for your Master.” One of his hands sliding up my torso to caress my breasts before traveling up to my neck to grip it firmly but not too tight. I felt my core explode with heat as he did this. As he lets go of my neck and my head falls into his neck as I ride out my ecstasy. Once I come down, I then notice he hasn’t felt his release and so my hips pick up the pace and I whimper at the overstimulation of my clit. He shushes me soothingly and I move my head to begin licking his neck.

Receiving the hint, he gives a euphoric smirk and gives me more access to his neck. I place several open mouth kisses along the slope of his neck before finding the perfect spot. I slowly bite down and begin sucking as his body give a jerk and he lets loose a loud cry of pleasure. He quickly reaches his climax and hugs me tighter to his body before moving some of my hair and swiftly biting down. I release a muffled moan as he began drinking and closed my eyes in bliss.

All good things must come to an end though because not long after there is a sharp knock on the door of the study. Walter growls at the nuisance as I unlatch from his neck, and he releases mine. I sit up and give him a playful smile, my fangs coated with his blood. My mischievous eyes gleam as he gives me a loving look despite his annoyance at the interruption.

“Our food is here, my Lord Love.” I breathlessly gasped out with a haunting echo of excitement. He chuckled, and lightly spanked my bottom, before responding.

“Yes, just remember to not play with your food, my truest.”

I stand up on wobbly legs as I say, “You’ve been saying that for over four and a half centuries! I do not understand why you think tonight will be the night I give up my entertainment.”

He jokingly rolls his eyes before pulling me into a passionate kiss and summoning Renfield in.

‘Now the fun really begins.”

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 8 months

Note

Okay this might be a strange request but please bear with me, so I'm not sure if you've watched or listened to this song from One Piece but basically when sung it summons the king of demons (It's called Tot Musica by Ado) so my request is what would Astarion do if Tav had the same ability? Like their in the middle of a battle or something happens that makes Tav feel hopeless or just done with everything, so they sing the song summoning darkness and etc. But as they sing its clear and obvious that it's affecting/hurting them mentally, physically, and emotionally, but they can't seem to stop, like their hypnotized.

How would Astarion react, and how would he snap them out of it and stop the song?

I never watched nor listened to One Piece but I know something similar to want you're talking with Drakenguard 3. So I can write this.

Warning: act 2 spoilers, loss of autonomy (reader), vampirism, tears of blood cuz vampires can shed tears of water (see castlevania Dracula cry), mention of trauma (Astarion and reader)

The wails of a banshee echo and bounce against the stone walls of this epic battle. The Absolute— Myrkul, Lord of the Dead, is fought by a rag-tag team of adventurers bound by fate in the shape of the worms inside their skulls. At the start of the battle they had at first gained an advantage by freeing Dame Aylin. The skeletons proved easy to dispatch but the real challenge is the Lord of the Dead.

Wave after wave of his power, his mighty form striking none directly but the ground and underground lair shook. The battle quickly began to turn for the worst… Gale readied the Netherese Orb only to be sent into the soul cage by the Dead God.

"You will suffer for your folly."

You are not going to die. You swore to outlive your master! The wail of a banshee, an old bard spell, is not one to be used lightly as it can damage the singer's voice for a time. You caused most of the undead to become frightened or charmed by your song to turn against their master.

More.

The more you sing, the more you feel the bitter sting in your eyes, your throat aches as the pain is setting. The distraction is enough to allow the others to gather themselves until…

Higher.

Soon your song is no longer a song but a screening scream piercing the very souls and God who dares challenge one chosen by the dark father!

Tears of red run down your face, the walls trembling at the might of your God's power.

Those blessed by Kanchelsis would not fear his wrath, his unholy blessed night stalkers, his children of the night. Astarion had not been affected after your song changed, the panic already driving his body and spell to get to your position fast.

Long ago you met a woman on the road, a dead one. The creepy part was her similarity to you, a young bard from a small village. Her throat was ripped out, her eyes gored out, fingers broken or ripped off. Her flute was missing.

To the others, this is another sorry murder, but you know the message— Hearing it loud and clear: He knows where you are.

The desperation, the fear, the anger, the beast feeds on this as your scream summons a piece of the Abyss, only piece is enough to draw forth the large shadow of a creature with sharp glowing red eyes. The area becomes darkness, and those with darkvision can see the many shades of grey outlining the body of the large bat-like gargoyle beast coming out of the Abyssal portal under the bony monster.

"You are mine, Myrkul." It laughs with twisted glee as its winged arms pull and tear.

Your hands wrap around your throat squeezing, everything is painful as if knives are cutting into your throat. Words whispered into your mind in a language you do not understand nor truly want to understand.

You feel someone touching you, holding you yet you are blinded by bloody tears.

Astarion tries to shake you out of the snare of the enchantment, talking to you is pointless as your mind is on the edge of truly being overtaken.

Then you feel warmth, not heat but the warmth of something familiar.

It draws you in, a hum of approval as the spell is broken.

A kiss, silly as it may seem, it worked. Gods, thankfully it worked. He clings to you as your body gives out, his arms holding on as he goes onto his knees keeping you as safe as he can, his lips never leaving yours.

Kanchelsis has claimed the upstart God of the Dead, it is not about saving the world, it is about domination.

"Such… Evil." Dame Aylin speaks breaking the silence as others down below stare in horror as gods return into the portal, color and light returned to the area.

"By the Triad."

"We all saw that right?"

"It was so cold… Colder than the Shadowfell."

Each of your companions is at a loss for words.

"Where's (Name)?" Karlach sees Wyll helping Gale but no sign of you or Astarion.

"Shadowheart, come quickly!" The distressed tone is not ideal for him to let out but you aren't responding anymore once he stopped kissing you.

"Moon Maiden have mercy."

Returning to the surface to let Isobel and Shadowheart work together to heal your body. You have lost too much blood, your magic is tainted, and there are strange blood runes all over your skin.

It is hours, far too many hours, before you awaken. Your eyes empty for a moment before the light in them returns.

"Stop!" You cry out jolting upwards as you awaken from the nightmares that trapped you. "Huh… How?" The room is not empty, every one of your companions is sleeping around the inn room of Last Light, all look exhausted. Especially the one sleeping in a chair with his head on your bed. Astarion looks a mess, though you have seen it many times after rough battles, the way he looks right now is worrisome. They all look like a wreck.

Lae'zel head lifts up and her mouth, "You're a wake." The sigh of relief. You touch your head as others start to wake up.

What happened is the question in your mind yet you know the answer and fear the consequences of it.

#reader insert #anon ask #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x vampire spawn!tav #astarion

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bluecatwriter · 2 months

Text

Overindulgence

A Blood of My Blood-inspired fic for the peer review of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush! Set when Quincey is a toddler, inspired by this art, and by my thoughts of how Mina might've borne the brunt of Dracula's cruelty and manipulation, especially early on in their time at the castle.

CW for abusive relationships, mental/emotional abuse, mental manipulation and mind control, violence, blood, injury and mild gore, violent threats, and violence/murder fantasies. (It ends on a somewhat hopeful note, but it's a rough ride getting there.)

~~~

I wish to spend more time with my husband.

It was a simple request, brought humbly— or as humbly as she could manage— before her lord. Time had softened her to the unyielding lines of his will, made her realize that outright rebellion was met with swift punishment. As her husband sacrificed for her, so she sacrificed for him, and they both sacrificed for their son, humbling their own will to their master's hand so that harmony would reign in the household. That's what marriage was, wasn't it?

And yet, she found herself greedy. Her longing for her husband had never gone away, and she wanted to be able to see him without having to beg for permission each time.

Her master, lounging in his chair by the fire while she stood before him with hands folded, quirked his lips in amusement. "My child, you have spent many long hours in the company of your husband since the two of you have come into my household. What has created this greed in you for more?"

Hours, yes, if all were totaled together. Hours spent in snippets and minutes, when they were allowed, the two of them acting out husband and wife for her master's amusement. She tried not to dwell on these thoughts; her lord was in her mind, seeing everything she thought, and she must remain submissive if she was to achieve her ends.

I wish to spend time with him more than just our feeding. I enjoy passing time in his company.

"Come here."

She balked for a moment, then stepped closer, her bare feet soundless on the stone. She didn't like that her lord was sitting— lounging— while she stood, as if she were a child no older than the toddler she was raising. He kept drawing her with his mind until she stood right up against him, his parted knees gently touching the sides of her legs as he leaned back in his chair.

"And what will you do, should I grant you this request? Do you intend to sneak tastes of him while I am away?"

Of course not, my lord. I would never drink from him without your permission.

"So what do you intend to do?"

She didn't like standing here, pinned between his knees, his red eyes looking up into hers with something like amusement. He was toying with her for no reason— he never took her seriously. To him she was just the mother of his heir, the woman who happened to live in the household and was only useful for snatching away her young child when he got too noisy or bothersome.

She tried to hold back her daydreams of bashing her lord's skull in.

I wish to speak with him, to read books together, to speak of our son and of our life here. I wish to hold his hand and to keep him from becoming lonely in the long hours when he is not carrying out your will.

"He can read books just as well by himself, and if you ever wish to discuss your son, you may bring it up with me. And what wish have you to hold his hand? Do you crave warmth?"

I crave my husband, she thought, before she could stop herself.

"Crave. What a fascinating word. What unrelenting hunger it evokes. And what of it, Wine-Press? How can you be sure this craving will not lead to disobedience?"

She felt his thoughts force their way into her mind. She instinctively resisted before allowing him in— fighting him just made the punishment worse. Though he watched her thoughts, he did not often intrude, but when he did, it was usually to inflict fear.

As long as she was obedient, her thoughts stayed her own.

When she disobeyed, his mind rushed into hers like the current of a diverted river, destroying everything in its wake.

The thoughts he pressed upon her were images, sharp as recent memories: usually scenes of violence, her husband or son being torn limb from limb by the wolves, or being tortured by their lord while she was forced to watch.

He never made good on the threats; he seemed to entertain a genuine fondness for both her loves, particularly her son. But he had no such regard for her. He tormented her casually, as a careless child might pluck the legs off an insect.

She never told her husband about this punishment, fearing that he would lash out against their lord and endanger all of them. His burden to bear was keeping enough blood in his body to sustain them; her burden was enduring the punishment against her that their lord meted out.

The only way she could endure this disinterested cruelty was knowing it was a sign that he never considered her a threat.

She tried to not ever let the thought fully form that he would regret underestimating her.

This time, though, the thought that he pushed into her mind was of a very different kind: an image of her drinking from her husband without their lord's permission, her husband gasping in pleasure under her kisses.

This is not my thought, she told him levelly, but the vision of the two of them entwined, without their lord's watchful eye, made an ache form in her chest where her heart used to beat.

"And yet it is your desire, I can see plain on your face." Her lord was staring up into her eyes now, his gaze keen but amused; he was reveling in this. She stood still at stone, determined not to tremble as he kept her pinned between his knees.

I would not steal that which is yours, she responded, trying to keep her thoughts calm even as the intruding thought played out the scene before her. Her husband was writhing in pleasure, whispering, I am only yours, Mina, only yours…

She looked sharply at her lord, unable to contain her frustration. I know he is not only mine, lord. He is yours, and I am yours, and our son is yours, and all in this castle is yours. I do not deny it! I have learned this hard lesson. I implore you to trust me.

"Trust you?" he echoed, his smile even more amused than before. "You, who have been defying my will since you arrived here? You, who daily entertain thoughts of driving a stake through my heart? You, who flinch each time I speak with my heir, whose mind burns like fire when I partake of the one who has agreed to be my sustenance?" He suddenly stood, and she stumbled back to catch her balance as he towered over her. "What makes you think you have earned my trust, child?"

It was useless to argue with him, to point out the injustice of his accusations, so she didn't even try. Instead, she took another step back and slowly sank to her knees, then pressed her forehead to the stone floor at his feet. I trust in your mercy, my lord. I humbly beg you to grant my request.

His satin shoe glided along her cheek, and nudged its way under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. He gaze down with something like fondness, but the sharp glitter in his eye made a shiver pass through her.

"How I love to see you grovel," he murmured.

She caught and banished the thought of ripping his body apart with her bare hands.

"Very well," he said, and turned, his foot dropping away from her chin. He stooped and held out his hand in a chivalrous manner. She would rather tear off one finger at a time than take it, but she sat up and slipped her hand into his, allowing him to help her to his feet. He rarely touched her physically, but it didn't matter— he was already in her mind, leaving never a thought or a moment alone.

"We shall dine early tonight," her lord told her as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and began to walk toward her husband's chambers. "We shall each have our kisses, and then you may spend as much time with your husband as you wish."

She felt a pit in her stomach. Something was wrong— she knew he would not give in so easily. There must be some plan at work here. In her mind she gazed at the wall of fire that separated her thoughts from his. He could see everything in her mind, but she could see nothing in his. She only had her instincts to know that some terrible mischief was afoot.

They climbed the stairs in silence, his arm crushing her hand against his side. He walked into her husband's room without knocking, as usual, and they found him sitting at the window with their son in his lap. He looked up in surprise to see both of them there.

"Mum!" her son cried. "Papa is reading me the princess book!"

Despite the fear coiling inside, she smiled. He was referring to a book of fairy-tales that her husband often read their son, sometimes with her projecting images of the story into his mind. The fair princess of the tale always had silver hair and beautiful blue eyes, and the rescuing knight flowing black hair and a kind smile. The dragon always died.

"I— is everything all right?" her husband asked, his eyes widening with uncertainty as his gaze flicked between her and her lord. Between them, their son squirmed out of his papa's arms and raced forward, bowing from the waist as he'd been taught and saying, "Hello, Father."

"Hello, my little diavol," her lord said, with the fondness that couldn't be feigned, ruffling the boy's black hair. He raised his head to address her husband. "Nothing is amiss, my friend— we have just come to dine early tonight."

"Kisses!" her son shouted, jumping up and down with excitement. "Kisses kisses kisses!"

She quickly shushed him, pulling him against her side with her free hand. Her husband shut the book he'd been reading and stood up, fumbling with his collar and tie. "Of course, my lord. I am sorry I wasn't properly prepared. Just one moment."

Go out into the hall and wait your turn, she told her son, but her lord immediately intervened. "No. Stay here. You will have your turn soon." She tensed, uncertain what this might mean— but trying not to let on to her son that she was feeling tense. Why did he want the boy here?

He let go of her hand and walked toward her husband, who had removed his collar and tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, exposing his pale throat. The bruises from the last feeding were still purple on his skin, and she felt fear running like ice up and down her spine. He was already a bit weak from last feeding…

Her husband stood very still as their lord circled behind him, and her husband looked at her with wide eyes, as if to ask what was going on. Usually their lord fed standing in front, not from behind.

I don't know, was all she could say, shielding the thought from their son. I don't know.

Their lord slid his hand into her husband's hair and tilted his head to the side, looking at her deliberately over his exposed neck. She was rooted to the ground, trying not to clench too hard on their son's shoulder. Her lord breathed on her husband's neck, and he shivered.

"Papa…?" their son said, a bit hesitantly.

He's fine, she immediately assured him. Father is just going to kiss him, as usual. Isn't that right, Papa?

"Yes," her husband said, and he did an admirable job keeping the fear out of his voice. "And then whose turn will it be?"

"Mum's, and then mine!" the boy said, excited again.

She watched their lord teasing at his ear, mouthing over his skin. Her husband had broken out in a sweat. What was he doing?

When their lord bit down, her husband shrieked.

It was a short, unexpected sound that froze her down to her feet. Her son startled and cried out in alarm, and a flood of tears leaked from her husband's eyes as he coughed out another sound, and another, to try to make it sound like he was laughing. She felt ice in her lungs as she numbly watched their lord champ at her husband's neck like a wild animal, sending a spasm of pain over her husband's face with each movement. Precious blood seeped out of the messy wounds, running down into his white shirt. Their lord had never hurt him like this before— not this badly, not in front of the child.

She was moving toward them before she knew what she was doing.

"Mina, stop!" her husband gasped.

She stopped. Her lord looked up at her over her husband's bleeding shoulder, digging his fangs in deeper and making a tremor of pain go through her husband's body.

"It is his right," her husband said, and tears flowed down his face even as he grimaced a smile. "Don't stop him."

"What's going on, Mum?" her son asked, clinging to her skirt.

She forced a thought in her son's direction with one half of her mind. It's all right. Papa's fine. See? He's smiling! With the other half of her mind, she had rushed to the wall of fire that divided her mind from her lord's, and was tearing at it with her hands. Stop hurting him! Stop! Hurt me instead! STOP!

"I'm scared," her son whimpered.

"It's all right, son," her husband said again, his voice with pain as their lord kept gnawing on his neck, moving down to the meat of his shoulder, leaving bleeding bite marks all the way.

Her lord locked eyes with her, his eyes gleaming with amusement. From behind the wall of fire, she heard laughter.

She started to move forward again, but her husband stared at her with terror radiating from his white face. "Mina, please."

She hesitated.

Her son hung on her skirts, behind her. Her husband stared her down, his face set, tears gleaming like silver over his forced smile. "Please," he whispered. "Don't."

He asked for so little. She could do this.

So she stood there. She stood there and told her son that it was all right, as their lord ripped and tore at her husband's flesh, as he lapped up mouthful after mouthful of precious blood— too much, he was taking too much!— as the color drained from her husband's face.

She stared into her husband's eyes. Say the word, my love, and I will kill him.

Through the convulsing jaws on his neck, her husband shook his head ever-so-slightly. Hers was an empty threat, empty, empty, and they all knew it. She was not strong enough. Not yet. But when she was strong enough, she would take their captor apart piece by piece, burn him with fire until only ash remained, scrape him down to nothing.

Her lord looked up, and loosed his fangs long enough to chuckle. He seemed so amused by her fantasies of killing him. He did not know that this was a certainty in his future. She would make sure of that.

At last, she backed away from the wall of fire in her mind. She imagined herself sitting on her knees, bowing once more with her face to the ground, even as her physical body stayed upright.

My lord, I beg you. Her plea was no longer desperate, only heartfelt. Please stop.

Her husband whimpered in pain as their lord sucked up another mouthful. Stop what? her lord said. Is it not my right to drink of him as I will?

Of course it is. But I beg of you to stop. I will do anything.

Her lord paused, his gaze piercing her across her husband's shoulder. His thoughts crawled into her mind, sending images of her chained to a wall, nailed down in a coffin for days without sustenance, separated from her son. Anything?

She gulped, refusing to let her tears fall. Name it, and I will do it.

He chuckled and dug in his teeth again, sending another barrage of images her way. Of her groveling at his feet for hours, of her lying on a table as he used a hammer and mallet to shatter each of her bones, one by one. Anything at all, my wine-press?

She clenched her fist so hard the bones might crack, even as her other hand ran soothingly through her son's hair. Anything.

He released his teeth, and her husband crumpled to the floor like paper in a fire. Her son rushed to his side, but she was frozen in place, eyes locked with their lord as he wiped blood from his mouth with his sleeve. His face was flushed and ruddy, devoid of wrinkles and even his beard— he looked no older than a teenager now, rolled back in time through the precious blood of her husband.

She had not looked into a mirror in years, but in that moment, staring at his flowing black hair and his smooth face, those clever eyes, that grinning mouth… she thought she remembered that this was what her own face looked like.

She snarled before she could stop herself. In the background, she heard her husband laughing unsteadily and choking out words for their son, telling him that everything was all right, that it was all a funny joke, that Father had gotten a little carried away with his kisses— oops!

She looked at her lord, hands folded, willing her body not to tremble, chasing away the thoughts that wanted to burn and main and kill. What would you have me do?

He smiled, his face looking eerie with its youthful cast. His voice came through her mind like a hot knife. There is nothing I want from you, my useless bitch. Take your time with your husband— you will never possess him the way I do.

She stared down at her husband, who was half-collapsed, still trying to soothe their son while steadying himself with one hand, and she wished that she could howl with anger.

Her lord opened his mouth and spoke aloud, his voice higher and younger than usual. "Now it is your turn to kiss, my dear."

It was permission to touch him, permission to rush to his side and help him up and onto his bed, their son still clinging to him and looking worried. Her husband moved under her hands like a rag doll, panting in pain, his face pulled taught, his eyes glassy, his skin so pale it was almost grey.

Her lord was watched her keenly as she lapped up the blood running in rivulets from each of his wounds, trying to get the precious blood without taking any more than he had already lost, and perhaps ease the bleeding a bit in the meantime. Her lord could easily drink with barely a mark left behind, but here her husband's skin was ravaged, bits of gore sticking up from his pale flesh, the bite-marks messy and half-shredded. She would not allow herself to weep, not when their son was watching.

"And now your turn, my son," their lord said from behind her. She turned, aching to contradict him, but she knew she could not.

Hesitantly, their son climbed up onto the bed. "Are you all right, Papa?" he asked carefully.

"Of course," her husband said in a faint voice, trying to hold out his wrist, but he was too weak to do so. She took his wrist gently and held it before their son.

Just a little sip, she told him.

"Nonsense," their lord said, his voice sharp. "He is a growing boy. Drink as much as you wish, my son."

Looking confused and still a bit scared, the boy sank his teeth into her husband's wrist and began to drink. She stared at him, feeling each drop leaving her husband's body as physical pain. Her husband was trembling, and it was all she could do to keep from tearing her son away from him.

After a couple small mouthfuls, he pulled away, looking uncertainly from parent to parent for approval.

"Drink more," their lord said. "You must be hungry."

"I am, but Papa…"

"Papa is fine, don't you see? Isn't that right, Papa?"

"Y-yes," her husband whispered, his eyes almost lolling back in his head.

The boy took another few mouthfuls. She dug her fingers into the covers, feeling like she was going to scream.

When he pulled off, their lord smiled at him. "Now, my child, I will put you to bed tonight."

"Really?" the boy said, his face lighting up with wonder.

"Of course. I promised your Mum that she and your Papa would be allowed to spend time together." Their lord strode forward and plucked their son from the bed, cradling him and giving him a little tickle in his side that made him giggle. "Perhaps I shall tell you a bedtime story, of a brave dragon who taught those who wished to slay him their place in the order of things. Would you like that, my little one?"

"Yes!" the boy said, snuggling into his Father's arms. She saw that he was safe from the punishment, then; her husband alone had borne the weight of her impudence.

Cradling her son, her lord left the room, turning to give them both a smirk on that too-young face before shutting the door behind him.

"Mina…" her husband whispered, and fell limp on the bed.

She spent a long, long day doing everything she could to keep him alive. She had treated an infected wound of his before, and dug out the yarrow she had dried the previous year, heating up water on the stove and making a poultice with shaky hands. She tore up her clothes to bandage him, she held him close, she whispered soothing thoughts into his mind, she mesmerized him so that he thought he was home in England and not in this castle.

The sun rose and fell, and exhaustion tugged on her, but she stayed with her husband, her tears wetting his silver hair with red.

In the evening, he opened his eyes, and he was alive, if very, very weak. He was surprised to see her lying beside him; they had not woken up beside each other since their first night together at the castle.

"Does he know you're here?" her husband whispered.

She curled up beside him, holding him close. Of course he knows. He knows all. And he has permitted this— at least for now. She wanted to say I am sorry, but she didn't know how to begin explaining that her greed had nearly gotten him killed. So instead she held him, and whispered soothing words. He tucked his head against her breast, and they laid there, his body warm and fragile and near.

They were not kept apart after that. She was free to visit him, as long as she asked her lord's permission first. Whether she had passed some sort of test, or if tormenting her in that way had become boring to him, she did not ask.

Someday, though, they would be free of their lord. Someday, she herself would cast off their yoke and cut their captor to pieces, and she would fully claim what was hers.

It was only a matter of time.

~~~

#my writing #blood of my blood #mina harker #dracula #count dracula #jonathan harker #quincey harker

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zoophagist · 9 months

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Do you have any specific headcanons for your Renfield's Dracula, anything at all? How much does he have in common with the BoR dude?

hmmm, good question! in the respect that this is a roleplay blog i try not to get to invested in the minutiae of headcanons on any character other than my own, because i love playing against all kinds of different versions that other people flesh out. but with a character like dracula, that is so crucial to renfield's life, i'd be lying if i said i didn't have any thoughts or preferences. so here's what i got:

not the first vampire. you aren't SPECIAL, count. yeah, i just think it's more spooky and ominous to have this guy you think is the biggest and baddest and then have to come to the harrowing thought of "what evil begot this evil" you know? and dracula's maker is still out there somewhere (just probably better at being a vampire than he is). personally i'm into the lore tidbit that killing a vampire kills all the vampires that it turned, so dracula's creator MUST be alive undead still, or else dracula would be dust along with them.

sophistication. i love a suave dracula, refined, elegant, a little uncanny. big hulking draculas don't do much for me, and i think that the novel's vibe of "he mimics civility and poise so perfectly you might miss he's the monster until you get too close" is best suited by a dracula who's not the tallest or the most muscle-bound. then his strength and ferocity are even more of a surprise when he reveals them. this is also fun in contrast to a beefy renfield.

inhuman forms. personally the mist is the one i'm most obsessed with, but bats and other such creatures of the night slap too. since you ask about tBoR overlap, i do like the idea that dracula's forms are much more varied than what stoker shows us, and some broader shape shifting abilities are very fun. i love a dracula that's sort of unknowable and myriad because it gives renfield more fodder for both worship of the inhuman and paranoia about the omnipresence of a master he may not understand or recognize at first.

the ur-mind meld. so in canon dracula has the power to see within the minds and senses of those he feeds on or turns. i like to headcanon that power further, letting him see/use the minds of those bitten by vampires he's made. so for example, dracula turns lucy and can exchange thoughts with her, and if lucy turns someone else, dracula can reach through to that person as well. it's all about the shared blood connection, baby. this also sort of draws on the logic of like... chains of command. if your boss is lucy, and her boss is dracula, effectively your boss is also dracula, as she would be bound to him, and you are bound to her, binding you to him... i love making a messed up little hivemind <3 other vampires & familiars can feel these connections to one another too, though more faintly. for them it's less like dracula's direct access to their minds, more an awareness of another being's presence in the same web of vampiric consciousness that all centers on dracula. maybe they have a stronger sense of empathy with one another, or can pick up each others' distress or warnings.

the I.N.B. (international network of brides). i like to headcanon dracula having a much larger number of progeny to spread around the world and do his business. first, it's just FUN. second, it works with the anxieties of vampire 'infiltration' in the book. third, it- well, frankly it makes my life a lot easier for how renfield becomes a familiar with telepathic dracula-alarms. see, if we accept both the I.N.B. and the above point about the psychic link vampires, familiars, and victims share, then i can have renfield get bitten by a bride in england (hello milady in tbor) and be psychically connected to dracula as a servant without having to break the canon of dracula never having been to england before! bc that canon is SUPER significant to me! on that note:

homebody. dracula has not traveled significantly in all the time of his undeath. i think it's just really important to stoker's novel that dracula has never tried something like his attack on england before and is actively learning how to pull it off as it happens. so when i think of dracula, i'm thinking of a guy who hasn't left the flyable-in-one-night distance of his castle since becoming a vampire. it's why his immediate area has become so unworkable for him; he's over-used it, everyone nearby knows what he is , and they've been learning ways to protect themselves from him for years. it's getting very hard indeed to keep himself and his three local brides fed around these parts!

schrodinger's bite. i have multiple, contradictory headcanons about if/when/how often renfield has been fed on by dracula, and if you don't look in the box to check, they're all equally true and correct at the same time. :) but i shift between them for whatever works in certain verses/interactions. for instance if i'm writing with a dracula who's never left transylvania until the harker incident? cool, dracula and renfield have never met face to face and renfield's only had contact with brides. no pre-england dracula bite. writing with a dracula who's from a source version that lets him travel more, maybe through parts of europe and asia? cool, renfield spent a little time in amsterdam where he got bitten at least once by dracula. both these versions are true and neither of them is. that's just how it be.

dracula's bite. every vampire lore has to talk about what being bitten is like, right? it's mandatory. i enjoy media that plays into the eroticism of the bite, but i think that an angle of plain, straight "it feels good" is BORING and LAME. what are we here for if it isn't also agonizing and making your fight or flight kick in??? i like to imagine the count's bite as an initial stab of pain and terror but then the sensations blur and the fight drains out of the victim, not just from blood loss, but from dracula's manipulative power, lulling them into foggy uncertainty and complacency.

dracula's bite but make it FAMILIARS. when dracula bites someone that he's exchanged blood with (a familiar), there's still the pain of the bite and the looming mind-haze, but because their minds and blood are already linked, there's this sort of reciprocal sensation-sharing that passes between them. for example, if dracula bites renfield, dracula can experience a sense of what renfield feels being fed on, and renfield can expereince what dracula feels feeding on him. this is why a familiar might crave being fed on in spite of themselves - the intoxicating sensation of being both the hunter and the hunted at once is rather heady. victims don't have that blood/mind link, and so are trapped in the horror of the bite, while familiars have had their senses opened to another layer of awareness and connection that can turn being fed on into a pleasure.

those are the things i can think of right now, anyway. but to specifically hone in on the tbor angle and answer that directly, i mean... some? some significant overlap? i think i consider the stoker novel more gospel that tim's 'gospel of dracula' (i think i'm SO clever with my wordplay), so stoker lore supersedes tbor for me if they're ever in conflict. for instance, even though tbor has some strong subtext that milady is 1 to 1 just dracula, i play looser with that in order to keep the stoker canon that dracula has never been capable of going to england before. but in places where tbor can add on top of the dracula novel without contradicting it, i'll use it (example: the above point about his range of shapeshifting!)

i hope this is a satisfying answer! i don't have a lot of, like, physical description hcs or minute behavior hcs, so i hope lots of lore-heavy stuff pleases you instead, anon.

#||x LET ME ENTREAT YOU OH LET ME IMPLORE YOU! [ answered asks ]#;; LORD & MASTER [ dracula ]#||x IF YOU WISH TO STUDY ZOOPHAGY [ headcanons ]

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