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thegoatsongs · 4 months

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(Following the bad ending, Mina waking up as a vampire in one of the tombs of Castle Dracula after Jonathan carries her body there)

The moment she opened her eyes, her whole being was Hunger.

Once the smell that she knew was blood came from the breathing, black-clad body lying with her in a tomb as cold as she, a wild desire came upon her, and she was now pinning it under relentless arms.

She was instinct, bare fangs itching to tear that bag of flesh and bone underneath her apart.

The scent of anything besides blood was a dark blur, yet she was driven to seek fear too. She grabbed the fabric covering the pumping veins beneath and met the eyes; hollow, gleaming in the moonlight.

Why was this man in mourning garments not trembling underneath her adamantine, heartless cruelty? Why was he smiling so sadly up to her?

Why was this invading familiarity hurting?

"Wilhelmina..."

The word deafened the thumping of the arteries in the hand reaching out to her snarling face.

The hand (no, her Darling's hand) cupping her face was cold and tender on her cheek.

A wetness trailed down her cheeks and she saw red liquid drip on his clothes underneath her, staining them.

His thumb simply wiped one of her tears away, and she was again in that sickbed that became their wedding bed, on top of him, as he was looking up at her with these same adoring eyes.

The remnant of his love was supposed to have passed into hate and loathing. Her killing to be done by his hand, with savage delight.

My husband, she tried to assert, but the pain in her wounded throat cut like a bonesaw, but he must have heard it anyway because my wife was his staunch reply.

Her husband bent his head to the hand gripping his collar and kissed the ring in reverence.

She saw through his eyes how the final act had played out: Alone he returned to his old Hell, carrying his other half in his arms for this final visit, and thus he abandoned his place among the stars of Heaven. She understood then where the smell of blood on him had come from, that the snow outside was as stained as her forehead.

But the past was dead like noble old friends with stakes and saws, and there was only the now. No regrets arising from the grave.

In the haze of her mind, she felt a touch of triumph. Her sire's demand for her to devour her man against his will had been overpowered. Could King Saul force his kin to mangle the Beloved intertwined with his soul? Foolish to even conceive. She knew the Vampire would shroud her mind again, but she would not let It take their renewed union and its sanctity away from them.

She lifted her clasping hand away and waited. Wordlessly, her husband presented his dear throat to her.

His caress was tender in her long hair as she sank her teeth, and his sigh filled their desolate chamber. Love surged through her veins, and she was enveloped in warmth.

#dracula #jonathan harker #mina harker #jonmina #holiest love #blood of my blood #dracula au #dracula daily #dracula fic

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another-chaotic-bisexual-vampire · 7 months

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if a filmmaker ever makes a book-accurate adaptation of Dracula, the only right way to dramatize the night of September 17 is to cross-cut between Lucy's experience and Mina's experience - like so:

Mr. Hawkins, raising a glass in toast to Jonathan & Mina: My dears, I want to drink your health and prosperity; and may every blessing attend you both. Lucy: *waking with a start, dazed, in pain, bloodied, finding her room smashed-in and her maids come in screaming* Mr. Hawkins: I know you both from children, and have, with love and pride, seen you grow up. Lucy: *her maids lift her dead mother off of her, lay her on the bed, cover her with a sheet, and Lucy lays flowers on her mother's chest* Mr. Hawkins: Now I want you to make your home here with me. Lucy: *hearing THUD THUD THUD outside her room, going out, finding all her maids on the floor unconscious beside a decanter of sherry, calling out but hearing only her echo down the halls* Mr. Hawkins: I have left to me neither chick nor child; all are gone, and in my will I have left you everything. Lucy: *wandering her empty manor in tears, calling for help, hearing only low growls, returning to her dead mother's side, shaking with fear and weakness as she looks for pen and paper* Mina: *bursting into tears of joy, kissing Jonathan, shaking hands with Mr. Hawkins, and excusing herself* Both Mina and Lucy: *in their rooms writing, looking out their windows at the same night sky, thinking about each other, and hoping they're both okay*

#thinking about this made me cry so now you need to cry too #sorry not sorry #dracula daily #re: dracula #dracula #dracula september 17 #september 17 #dd september 17 #dracula text post #dracula fic #dracula thoughts

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losing-dog-art · 4 months

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A redraw of this old thing, I posted may 17 2022, close to two years ago! I remember not liking it when I first posted it but hoping to get some fandom related attention at the time lol. Anyways I was looking for things to try with the new digital style I've been experimenting with lately! I like it a lot better

I feel like I need to confess that this art was inspired by a very specific fanfic involving Dracula bathing Jonathan after turning him. This fic has stuck in my mind ever since but alas... I did not save it in any way so it is lost to memory (pls let me know if you know it)

#dracula #dracula daily #jonathan harker #vampire Jonathan #dracula au #Dracula fic #dracula fanart #fan art #digital art #art #drawing #my art

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dodger-chan · 1 year

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Self indulgent birthday posting:

Today is my *coughcough*th birthday. Uh, lets go with 40th, that sound properly meaningful. In honor of that event, please enjoy (or ignore) this short Dracula alternate take based on Septemeber 22nd's entry.

September 22

"It is the man himself!"

The poor dear was evidently terrified at something—very greatly terrified; I do believe that if he had not had me to lean on and to support him he would have sunk down. He kept staring; a man came out of the shop with a small parcel, and gave it to the lady, who then drove off.

The dark man turned and set eyes upon Jonathan. The look was neither friendly nor hostile, more like puzzled displeasure. It was a look one might give at finding an acquaintance in an impossible place. That look proved too much for Jonathan; he swooned entirely. I was guiltily grateful that he had not regained his full health for I would not then have been able to support his weight. As it was, we were stuck awkwardly in the middle of Piccadilly; though I could hold him up, I had not the size and strength necessary to carry Jonathan into one of the shops where there might be a chair.

The stranger with his cruel face approached us. Oh, but what relief that the cruelty lay in his looks alone! He easily took up the burden of Jonathan’s weight and hailed a hansom for us. He is apparently a French count and a client of the dear late Mr. Hawkins - which must be how Jonathan had known him. M. DeVille was greatly saddened to hear of Mr. Hawkins passing, and also of Jonathan’s recent illness. He was truly a pleasant and kind man once you got past his ill-looking features. M. DeVille insisted on paying for the hansom and seeing us onto the train home. I do not know how I would have managed otherwise.

He has promised also to come and visit us in a few days to ensure that my dear Jonathan has recovered.

#dracula daily #dracula fic #short ficlet #mina harker #dracula #my fic

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laconic-yet-voluptuous · 6 months

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Fandom: Dracula (1897)

Relationships: Mina/Jonathan/Jack/Arthur/Quincey, past Jack/Arthur/Quincey

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dr Seward's diary, fivesome, sorry to Van Helsing, Mina getting what she wants, bisexuality, cunnilingus, coitus interruptus

Words: 4,438

"I want you to know me, here and now, as intimately as Jonathan knows me - as only a lover knows his beloved. That way you will all have knowledge of me, full knowledge, as I truly am; you will know my most intimate self, as it truly is. And so, if it should be that in the course of our mission, I grow changed, and I reach out to you lasciviously or speak to you voluptuously - you will know it is not my true self. Thus you may protect me from myself, when I am unable to do so; and you may be forearmed with the knowledge to protect yourselves also."

#dracula #dracula daily #dracula fanfiction #dracula fic #mina harker #jonathan harker #john seward #arthur holmwood #quincey morris #lucy westenra #(mentioned)#fivesome #crew of light #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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hoothootmotherf-ckers · 2 years

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The 29th of September, with one key difference. Van Helsing and the suitors are not alone on their quest in the graveyard, their mission to put Lucy Westenra to rest.

Mina Harker will not leave her dearest friend to this hellish fate.

#I did I I wrote a Dracula #Dracula #dracula daily #my fic #Dracula fic

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countess-bathory-erzsebet · 2 years

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The Missing Page

This is a writing exercise to imagine what might have happened on one of the days that Jonathan did not write. I have tried to keep to the style of the book as much as possible.

Hypnosis, some biting, implied DraculaXJonathan. Nothing explicit happens.

May 21st (?)

A page torn from Jonathan Harker’s journal, written in shorthand

The days slip away from me, and I think that if I do not record the date in this book, I may not know it at all. I am certain that it has been days since that dreadful encounter with the she-devils and I am just as certain that some days have passed since the Count tasked me with writing letters. But I cannot say for sure how many days it has been. The fog of exhaustion makes it difficult to discern when one day ends and another begins. I have guessed at the date to keep with my own conventions.

I must keep this record lest my dreams bleed further into my day. In my waking hours I feel as though I have not slept, though I know for certain that I have. The terrible uncanny clarity of my dreams makes sleep undeniable. But weariness haunts my every day, and my body aches though I do not know why. There may be sleep within these walls, but there is certainly little rest.

As long as I have slept under this roof I have experienced nightmares, but they have grown stranger since I became aware of the devil’s stalking me. I am quite certain that they wait just behind that closed door for the moment when the Count will deem me disposable. The letters have made it quite certain that I will never leave.

In these hours after waking, I feel as tired as the night before like I have not slept for a moment. I will try to record the memory of the dream before it fades. It was like so many others, so this entry should serve as an example of the strange visions that torment me.

I dreamt that I was once again exploring the halls of the castle. I am certain that I was looking for another unlocked door through which I might escape. The limbs had the heaviness that only dreams can bring, and I moved almost languidly where I had moved with urgency during the day. I felt that I knew my goal, though the map of the castle remains a mystery to me.

I found the first door that I tried unlocked. It was a grand one at the top of a staircase that I am quite certain I have never seen before.

I am haunted by the sight that I dreamed behind the door. The Count waited for me, his imposing gaze fixed upon me. Even in dreams the coldness of his gaze sends a chill down my spine. At times he seems more wolf than man. He beckoned to me with a single longer finger, ever imperious.

Though I knew the danger of the man, I obeyed his gesture. In my dreamlike state it did not occur to me to object. Any words that I might have mustered stuck in my throat. He said nothing, but I felt that I knew his commands to the letter. I could not turn my gaze away from his eye.

It was an odd kind of detachment. I moved though I had no illusion of the danger. Even as I write these words, I can feel the Count’s long sharp fingers grazing over the skin of my neck as he surveyed the bare flesh. I knew, though no one had instructed me, that I should hold perfectly still as he tilted my chin.

I can feel the shadows of the hands everywhere that they traveled. Under my shirt, over chest, and other places I dare not even voice here. Those sharp fingernails left marks everywhere that they touched. My gaze never left his face, and yet I could feel every line that he drew on my skin.

I do not know how to make sense of it. Perhaps my mind made his tyrannical manifest in those hands. He laid them where he pleased as he held me helplessly transfixed by his eyes.

The last moment of the dream must have been born of the memory of those women. The Count bent over me just as that blonde devil did. His touch was nearly gentle, but just as predatory as those women as he leaned closer. Though he spoke little, he did say as he leaned close to me, “My dear Jonathan.”

I could only think that he had forgotten to say “friend” in his usual address. How strange that my dreams should forget a single word.

There was the strangest sensation, like a needle pricking my neck. But the strangeness of the dream kept me distant from the pain. In a way, the feeling was pleasurable, like a release. I knew something with the kind of certainty that shook my soul: The relation between he and I was sealed by what those women had called a kiss. He is the predator and I am nothing but his prey.

I should not dare to write such words. If I was better rested I would not think such shameful things. Mina must never read these words.

After that, I remember very little.

I have the vaguest memory of sheets that felt like silk and of arms around me. Perhaps carrying me as he has once already.

How strange everything is in this place, even my own dreams. I fear the man, and yet my dreams bring me to his chambers.

Even now, I can remember the sensation as I lay my hand on my throat. Dreams leave no mark in the light of day.

Unless….is that blood I feel?

God, it cannot be.

#dracula fanfic #dracula fic #dracula x jonathan #draculonathan

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embystarr-blog · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Dracula - Bram Stoker (Novel 1897), Dracula & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: John Seward/Kate Reed, John Seward/Original Female Character(s), Jonathan Harker/Mina Harker Characters: Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker, Dracula, John Seward, Brides of Dracula, Quincey Morris, Abraham Van Helsing Additional Tags: I got Kate Reed and made her my own, jack is an oblivious mad scientist, kate is a relentless journalist, Dracula Is A Little Bitch, it's going to follow canon events I want to explore kate and jack, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Romance, Adventure & Romance Summary:

Kate Reed is like a blood hound: when she knows something doesn't add up, she doesn't stop tinkering with it until it does. She's used to elbowing her way into any problem and staying there until she has a conclusion. This time, however, the problem might be more than even she expected...and perhaps even more than she can handle.

#dracula fic #jack seward x kate reed #dracula daily

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quailfence · 1 year

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Title: Blood and Marriage Length: 385 words Fandom: Dracula - Bram Stoker (Novel 1897) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jonathan Harker/Arthur Holmwood/Quincey Morris/Mina Murray Harker/John Seward/Lucy Westenra Characters: Mina Murray Harker, John Seward, Arthur Holmwood, Jonathan Harker, Lucy Westenra (Dracula) Additional Tags: Canonical Character Death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, (specifically the harkers arrived in time to witness lucy’s death), Gift Fic, Fic Exchange, exchange treat, Dialogue Heavy, POV Mina Murray Harker, Lucy doesn’t actually appear but the story is about her, so she gets a character tag, Ficlet, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Polygamy (discussed) Summary:

“How sad it is,” remarked Dr. Seward after Lucy’s funeral, “that you were not able to marry Lucy before she passed.”

On DreamWidth

On Archive of our Own

#dracula #arthur holmwood #mina harker #mina murray #jack seward #jonathan harker #lucy westenra #my writing #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #dracula fanfic #dracula fic #arthur x jack x jonathan x lucy x mina x quincey #polyam shipping #quail original

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corinthianism · 6 months

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corinthianism's fic recs

here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut

last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

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thegoatsongs · 6 months

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Via Dolorosa

Mina and Van Helsing heading to the Castle, and Mina's truest thoughts. Set from October 31st to the approaching morning of November 5th.

Now with AO3 Link

Mina Harker is carrying the weight of the world.

It feels egotistical, to feel this way. Even if the Professor riding the carriage has reassured her that it is all right to be. Maybe he is right. The weight is crushing, even if she has been sustaining the depth of Death for what feels like so, so long since. And the way to the hill is longer still.

Her Jonathan’s words echo in the growing silence of her mind. “O holy and most merciful Savior, deliver us not into the pains of eternal death,” he had recited, for her, only for her.

The truth she had told him about how much the loving words would comfort her stays, even if everything else has been slipping off her fingers.

His words, spoken or written, always filled so much dear space in her once busy mind- his whispers in stolen kisses last year, his (still experimental) shorthand love letters to her school lodgings, his law facts and his jokes and “Oh Wilhelmina, will you marry me?”...

She feels it. The Pass where it all comes home. She knows the truth of how beyond this, the weight will be ever heaviest. She hears the written words in his voice: “after going to the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow roadway which ran sharply to the right.” and she is ready. So she tells the Professor the way.

It makes him uneasy, she can tell in the way he asks how she could know. Of course she knows! Is her soul not knit to the one who wrote (just said) so?

She laughs a little because it is funny. It scares the poor man a little, who seems gray and morose now. Laughing while mourning is his modus operandi. It had made her cry once, and she had promised the old man to not forget. She will remember him the way he is, his true self. How she wishes to be remembered too, when she is no more.

As they move up thanks to the dear patient horses, she knows she soon will not be able to write her latest thoughts. The Professor is taking over for her. Afraid, afraid, afraid, she hears in the silence. Yet she feels no anticipation of the hammer and the stake.

She can no longer both crawl and lift all at once so now he is carrying it all for her. She knows, even in her day-sleep, when he lifts her on and off the carriage, bundles her, and lays her down. Later, she lies that she has already eaten, to lighten his own burden a little bit. His reaction is a bit amusing again, and she cannot help but smile a little wider.

Mina Harker resolves that when the old man dares to enter the open maws of Death, she will make sure that he, too, will not be crushed by It. Now, in the shadow of where her darling had suffered so much, she fears no evil.

Mina rests in the holy circle as the Professor sits beside her, and awaits the night. She recalls no sounds of waves, but she hears an approaching voice calling her name in a written prayer, and Love fills her like rushing blood in her veins.

#dracula daily #jonathan harker #mina harker #abraham van helsing #van helsing #dracula #dracula fic #unedited so if you see mistakes lmk!

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nerdpoe · 7 months

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Vlad meets Lex. He realizes some things.

Vlad meets Lex Luthor at a gala, and Lex is schmoozing hard.

Lex has heard about Vlad's weirdass business deals, knows something isn't right, and he want whatever untraceable power Vlad's got at his disposal.

Lex has done his research, and knows that Vlad got the equipment for cloning, but that no child was ever announced. So Lex starts bragging, going on and on about Kon and talking about the kid like he's a Thing.

And Vlad, listening to this, has some unfortunate realizations about how he was treating Ellie.

So Vlad excuses himself and does some digging of his own, and holy shit do the dead have a lot to gossip about regarding how Superman used to treat the boy, and Vlad...doesn't want to be compared to either of those buffoons.

He's better than both of them combined.

And he's gonna prove it.

He's gonna be the daddest dad that ever dadded.

He'll be way better than Jack, and if he's a better father than Jack then Daniel and Jasmine and Maddie will follow! He just has to learn how to be a good parent.

Easy.

He proceeds to buy every parenting book he can find, and signs himself up for parenting classes.

Ellie, minding her own business, feels a shiver go down her back.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #story prompt #phanfic #vlad's obsession has switched from wooing maddie with money to wooing her with good parenting skills #redemtion fic #vlad slowly starts to have his obsession switch from maddie to just being a good father #ellie fuckin books it #various justice league members have seen a dracula-esque man chasing a white haired kid through their cities #the only one who could have feasibly done anything was J'onn #he read teh general vibe of “LET ME FATHER YOU” and decided to leave it alone #he did tell batman though #maybe he and that strange dracula meta can bond #the man could use more friends

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thethirdromana · 7 months

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Every so often I get a bit anxious about trying to write fanfic that includes Quincey Morris, because I don't know Texan slang, but then I remember that at no point did that stop Bram Stoker.

#dracula daily #eventually i will finish the suitors fic #ideally before we get to the end of the novel but let's not be too optimistic

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shattersstar · 1 year

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bound

pairing: vampire x reader

summary: He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired. It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

warning: horror-ish elements, blood mention., religious undertones (aka general vampire themes/concepts)

a/n: i have so much to say about this lil piece of writing omg okay, i wrote this back in May i believe around the time i was reading we have always lived in the castle and it Shows. its lowkey fantasy which is not like anything i write but the horror-ish vibes r pretty consistent with my original stuff. it is heavily inspired by a lot of the vampire media ive consumed too though even if its not based on one particular character. i have been thinking about it since i wrote it and while im a bit ehhh about posting something original i quite literally have nothing else to share and as i said before y’all keeping i’d still eat the fruit in my notifs is so :)))) so this is a thank you to y’all and a Step back into writing for me hopefully. ramble aside enjoy ! feedback and comments r always appreciated

—

It had rained, no—poured, stormed, hailed, cried, screamed. It had swept in during the day, white noise to him as he slept, while it greeted you during breakfast. The clouds wept over the lands in what felt like divine punishment. It was as if nature or something higher than that was against him, accosting or trying to stop him. As he stood at the edge of the great forest, rain pelting the top of his head he assumed there was nothing greater than nature. Not even him. There was nothing higher nor more humbling. God could spite someone, but nature enacted it. It flooded your sleepy town and even sleepier forest and he was on the other side. Confined to his home until the storm cleared and the sun rose.

He would not be graced with your presence yet again and he tried to ignore the call to change you, to have his fangs pierce your skin and his blood run across your tongue. He gritted his teeth, reminding himself of the hurt it brought and he would never cause that for his love. His dearest who lived on the other side of the forest he was unable to cross. His icy glare moved along the border, not even noticing the rain drenching his billowing black cloak anymore. Somewhere in the forest a branch snapped and animals chattered.

He would live for eternity, he could wait for you. It was his resolution before heading back to his home in the woods and trying not to be angry, to let fury run through his long dead veins and restart his stilled heart. If anything—anyone—could, he knew it was you.

He followed the path compacted over the years of those travelling to stare at his home, humans daring each other to go near it, but never following through when the windows shuddered and a figure moved past one of them like a ghost. Times had changed, but people were as superstitious as ever. They saw his decayed and rotted home and prescribed evil to it. It was overrun with vines, leaves would not grow on them. Even in spring. They stayed black, and gnarled, tightening their hold in his house each season. Thorns protruding from some of the thicker vines, protecting him it seemed. You had noted that, staring at his wondrous home with bright eyes.

It was in a clearing in the forest, grey stone withered away and swallowed by nature. It still stood strong, the outside a grotesque picture that did not reflect the inside. Oil lamps and lighting fixtures alike lit the space from the inside out. It warmed the walls, revealing the deep brown wood panelling that made up the older parts of the house. The stairs were still the original wood, a grand staircase that greeted no one, but him and you these days.

Many of the rooms upstairs had been closed off, sheets gently placed over the old furniture and doors closed forever. He had no need for such space, other vampires stopped visiting when hunters started lingering in your town. You had told him of your many encounters, most were smart enough to stay out the forest, but they still killed many of his kind. Finding them in their carriages amongst the cars rolling down the freshly paved roads. Horses killed along with whoever dwelled inside. They saw themselves as vigilantes, but you had told him most of your town considered them a nuisance. Urban men thinking they can save the more rural lands that bordered their great cities. Cities that forgot the magic that once thrived in places like the forest.

“Their thinking of building a highway through it, connecting us to other towns or one of the bigger cities.” You had explained one day, sitting in his lap and letting him hold you. He hummed, long fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. You placed your warm hand over his and leaned further into his chest. He asked you to let him hold you and you had obliged like always.

He kept those memories in mind, the soft questions he would extend your way and how you listened so dutifully. May I hold you? Will you lay with me? Come walk through the cellar? Can I drink your—

His fist slammed against his dinning room table, nearly snapping it in two as a crack ran jagged through the centre of the chestnut coloured wood. His fangs were out, nails morphed into claws dug into his skin and blood dripped into the crack. He stared at it, muscles in his face twitching as he waited for it to end. Waited for the creature in him to return to laying dormant and his own clear, sound mind to return. Though he supposed it was never very clear or sound anymore, not when you had burrowed inside of him and promised to never leave. And as if his thoughts beckoned you themselves, the old telephone in his study rang. It’s shrill scream echoed through the quiet house, though the ring was discordant, snapping in two halfway through its loop and screeching a pitch higher. The noise made his pointed ears twitch and with a swoop of his cloak he was in his study. He answered it on the normal ring, cutting it off right before it went off tone.

He held the phone to his ear, but waited to speak. “Hello?” You asked, your voice soft and worried. You’d never called him before—truthfully he had no idea this phone even worked.

“Hello my love.” He returned, and you breathed out a happy sigh.

“Oh my god, hi! I found this number in some old directory—phone book thing,” You explained with an airy giddiness that he wished to share, “I wasn’t sure if it was going to work, but…” You trailed off and he was smiling fondly into the receiver.

“I have missed you.”

“I miss you too, I hate this weather I can never get through the forest when its so rainy.”

“I know.”

“Maybe they should build a highway through it, I could hitchhike my way to see you.” You laughed, but he turned somber. Industrialization finally touching the sacred land of the forest didn’t sit right within him. It may be the great divider that kept him away from you, but it was his home. A highway felt like you were asking to be swept away, to a new town or bigger city that he could not adventure too. He could ask you to stay—he knew you’d oblige—but it was not his place to keep you here. “Is your phone one of those spin, dial ones?” You asked suddenly, breaking through the tension he hadn’t meant to create.

“A rotary phone?” He corrected with a ghost of a grin, “Yes it is.”

“I want to see it when I come over again.”

“And so you will.” It was quiet again and he hadn’t noticed the tears running down his face. He didn’t know he was able to cry anymore.

“I love you.” You whispered, holding your cellphone close, likely curled up in bed and staring out your window at the rain and the forest beyond it.

“I love you dearest.” His voice did not betray the sadness building in him. “Sleep beloved, I will see you soon.”

“Yes, I’m gonna come see you and your rotary phone.” You laughed, forced and watery.

“Soon.”

“Soon.” You repeated, and hung up. He kept the black phone, laced with intricate gold details, to his ear for a moment longer. He had heard your voice at least and could sleep. He moved through his home, snuffing out candles and flicking off switches before finding the one room without windows. A coffin laid on the floor, dark brown and glistening with the finish that had been applied centuries ago.

He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired.

It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

Though it was hard to think of such evil things when looking at your face, he had taken the photo while you were on the roof. Wind had wiped your clothes into a frenzy and you laughed as the night sky twinkled behind you. He had taken it and was surprised when you’d given it to him only a few days later. He had kept up with modern technology as well as he could, but there was always something so magical about photographs to him. He collected hundreds over his life time, faces he knew and others he didn’t. Organized neatly into a collection of books, which he’d let you look through on occasion. He showed you photos from the many lives he’s lived, something about them bringing warmth rushing to your face.

He was always so devastatingly beautiful, regal and hypnotic across all eras. Yet, he couldn’t focus on the kind words that bubbled from your lips as the rushing of the blood under your skin nearly shattered something inside of him. His fangs threatened to meet your skin, but with calculated focus he reigned in his hunger. It was hard at first—you were the only human he had been around in decades—but he did it for love.

Everything he did was for love, it was his reason for existence it seemed. You had other reasons for your claim to life, but to him? You were all he had, the only reason to not let the sun engulf him or let a hunter kill him. He could not break your heart until you broke his. He let that thought dwell in his mind as sleep overtook him just as the sun rose and the rain ended. Its incessant pitter patter had ceased and he somehow dreamt of you standing golden in the forest and beckoning him closer.

He woke up to your face—maybe it wasn’t a dream—as you crouched next to his coffin. Maybe he had finally died and you were welcoming him to where God decided to send him. If you were there it couldn’t be hell. Could it be?

“My love—“ Your hand pressed to his chest, keeping him still. “It’s still daytime, sleep okay?” You whispered, hand moving to his jaw and cradling his face in your palm for a moment. “I’ll be back in a sec okay, I just need to change.” He nodded against you, kissing your hand before you let him reside in darkness. He had caught a glimpse of your pants caked in mud and could smell the blood from your skinned palms. Despite the slick terrain it seemed you ventured through the forest to see him. It made his chest shudder and for a moment he thought you had actually restarted his heart.

It was only a few minutes later when you were carefully opening his coffin again, now dawning a loose fitting silk shirt that made his red eyes alight with something wild. You had cleaned your scrapes and mud off your skin, smelling faintly of rain water and the lavender soap you gifted him. You stepped over him, nestling against his side and letting him enclose the two of you. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your head rested on his chest, knuckles grazing over your hair while you stretched an arm across his torso. Your legs intertwined with his long ones and you let out a breathy sigh.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, and while you likely couldn’t see as thing, he could see you perfectly. You shook your head no against his chest, yawning into the fabric of his shirt.

“I just wanted to see you.” You murmured, chin resting in his chest as you made hit best attempt at eye contact in the blackness. “I saw the dining room table, are you okay?” You asked, somehow staring through him in the darkness. He offered his hand instead of finding the words in his throat, slowly unravelling his fist to reveal a mark free palm. He wasn’t sure you understand what he meant or if your eyes adjusted enough yet, until you carefully closed it once again, kissing his knuckles and placed your hand over his. You both were silent for a moment, until you looked up at him again and breathed, “You’re all I want.”

“And you’re all I have.” He held you closer, watching a grin pull at the corner of your lips. He was sure it was that devotion, obsession even, with you that would bring about his downfall. Centuries old and all powerful, but reduced to nothing without you. His strength and knowledge meant nothing if he didn’t have you to share it with.

And you could not stand your stagnant life in a town full of people who wished his kind dead. You chose a trek through the forest during the twilight hours of the morning to see him, bringing him soft kisses and silk under his hands as you let your mouth meet his. You kissed him with all the exhaustion and lethargy wrapped up in the two of you, molasses slow kisses that were just as sweet. It was how you fell asleep, lips to his neck and head tucked under his chin before your warm breathed puffed across his pale skin. He fell asleep not long after, engulfing you in his embrace, his cloak draping over your frame as he decided home was where you asked him to be.

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