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prokopetz · 1 year

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Fact: The earliest reliably dated use of the phrase “fucked up” appears in the court records of a US Navy court-martial case from 1863; the way the phrase is used suggests that its meaning was already well known at the time, but this is the first known printed record of it that we can confidently put a date to.

Additional fact: Bram Stoker’s Dracula is set in 1897.

Conclusion: It would not anachronistic for your Dracula fanfic to have a character describe the Count as a fucked up old man.

#media #literature #dracula #bram stoker's dracula #fandom #fanfic #history #language #linguistics #etymology #swearing #sherlock holmes could also say 'fucked up'#he wouldn't #but he could

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winters-orbit · 1 year

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I think what I love most about current day tumblr and it’s obsession with things like Dracula daily and Goncharov is that it’s a reminder that the internet and social media can be fun. It’s not all algorithms and selling things to you based on data the company got from tracking all your movements. Sometimes it’s about coming together to have fun over something completely superfluous and stupid but ultimately meaningful because we gave it meaning.

#text #dracula daily #goncharov #martin scorsese #you’ll have to drag me off tumblr. this is the only current day useable social media #goncharov 1973 #film #tumblr

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sixxxer · 2 years

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i love you vampire themed media i love you metaphor for queerness i love you blood aesthetic i love you gothic architecture i love you coffin beds i love you cross necklaces i love you canine teeth i love you intimacy hidden in violence i love you vampires

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evydraws · 3 months

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"It seemed as if the whole, awful creature were simply gorged with blood; he lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion."

Bram Stoker's Dracula | portfolio | prints

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vampiresque · 7 months

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Listen to them. Children of the night. What music they make!

BÉLA LUGOSI as COUNT DRACULA DRACULA (1931)

#dracula (1931)#draculaedit #filmgifs #moviegifs #dailyflicks #filmedit #fyeahmovies #cinemapix #moviehub #vampiredit #vampireedit #horroredit #*mine #media #vampcore

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sophielovesbooks · 2 years

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Actual hot take:

I think maybe a big part of Dracula Daily's success (and perhaps also the success of all those Netflix reality tv shows like Love Is Blind??) is that media has become so asynchronous. You can never really talk to your friends about any shows because either it's "Oh, I haven't seen that but it's on my list" or "I watched that ages ago, I barely remember it, remind me who [character X] was?" or "STOP TALKING, I'm on Season 2, no spoilers!!"

And it's kind of upsetting, because we cannot really discuss media anymore the way people were able to when a show was on TV and everyone kind of experienced it together. Synchronous media is an event, it's fun, everybody can participate! Now we're drowning in recommendations of what we "should watch", and the list gets longer and longer, but even when we do get around to a particular show, we almost never properly discuss it with the friend who recommended it and it's just frustrating.

So yeah. My take is that humans actually kind of really enjoy synchronous media consumption, which has been greatly reduced by streaming, and perhaps Dracula Daily is filling that gap for us right now, you know?

#dracula daily #genuine hot take #what do you think?#dracula #media #streaming #netflix

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see-arcane · 6 months

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Thinking about how Jonathan Harker’s role as the haunted vampire hunter-archenemy has been so thoroughly pushed onto Van Helsing's shoulders. Annoying as it is to see in so many adaptations and spinoffs, I can’t help King Laughing about both the comedic and dramatic potential of this misconception as it would apply to future supernatural shenanigans post-Dracula canon

Specifically, how hilarious and/or advantageous it would be to

Have would-be enemies getting bamboozled by one of Dr. Abe’s monologues, as per rambling banter rule, only to have some soft-spoken solicitor drop off the wall behind them and kukri them in half without a word. Or,

Have our good friend Jonathan Harker constantly getting approached by people with a bad case of the Horrors, said people assuming the white-haired, haunted-eyed, knife-wielding, vampiric vendetta fellow must surely be the famous Abraham van Helsing who—by way of a game of Victorian telephone is assumed to have—‘spent a season in close quarters with a horde of vampires, injured the latter without even a holy item on his person, scaled a mountainside and traversed the Carpathians barefoot, and sent Count Dracula himself running after nearly splitting him in two..!’

All while Jonathan ‘Only Assertive Under Duress’ Harker is just sitting there, politely waiting for the chance to speak up and say, no, actually, that professor over there is Abraham van Helsing. His name is Jonathan H—

“Oh, Jonathan van Helsing? My apologies. Was it your father who did all that?”

Jonathan, sweating: “um—"

Van Helsing, not immune to a Good Bit: “No, no, it was him! My child, do not be shy on the matter of your so many harrowing feats! He brings such pride to the Van Helsing name.” :)

Jonathan, internally: (Why this???)

Mina, internally: (It keeps our name out of the wind and away from snooping supernatural ears, darling. I’d rather Mary not open the door on an angry undead horde because they knew where to find Mr. and Mrs. Harker.)

Mina, out loud, the Power of Prank Compels Her: “He really is too modest.” <3

I just think it’s a gimmick that could get some good mileage as a misdirection ploy and a feasible in-universe excuse for why Van Helsing keeps getting all the Dracula Nemesis credit

#it could be such a fun thing to play with if only it wasn't so warped into a literal interpretation Every Single Time by Dracula-media #augh #jonathan harker #abraham van helsing #mina harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

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sexyleon · 8 months

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Dracula has been my favourite novel for just under two decades and I have reread it multiple times throughout the years, but nothing compares to the experience of @re-dracula . Something about hearing the voices of all the characters, experiencing the horror as it happened to them, is more chilling, more compelling, and more terrifying than any other reading experience. Nothing is filled in and nothing is cut out. It’s a 1:1 adaptation that places you between predator and prey. The voice acting, the sound design, the pacing— all of it lends itself to a completely immersive experience that transforms Dracula from a silly little vampire story into a fundamentally horrifying tale.

Anyways, you can listen to Re: Dracula here.

#re dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily #dracula #plz no sexyleon #I know Dracula isn’t a silly lil vampire story but media has definitely watered down his character throughout the years #anyways I love this podcast and it has reignited my love for this book by making me feel physicall ill #I feel like I’m there homies

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prokopetz · 5 months

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Modern vampire fiction: Vampires are scheming masterminds whose plots cannot be fathomed by mortal man.

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897): Most people become mindless animals when they turn into vampires; Dracula is exceptional in that he retained any intelligence at all, but he's still dumb as hell, and his schemes literally only work because he's rich.

#media #literature #tropes #dracula #bram stoker's dracula #bram stoker #vampires #swearing #thesis: modern dracula would be vampire elon musk

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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

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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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yousaytomato · 2 years

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Big fan of the way Dracula Daily hasn't broken out of Tumblr in any real way

primarily, because I love being able to casually mention it to non-tumblr friends like I'm just that kind of cool, intellectual and cultural person who signs up to projects where you read a classic novel over the course of 6 months, and not because it's a big social media trend.

Whilst, actually it is a big social media trend, and I get to make and see lots of stupid memes and just, have fun with y'all in this space

#literally ideal #in a similar vain to the superiority you get to feel when tumblr is your social media of choice #oh. Instagram? never heard of her?#i actually don't really use social media #[is addicted to a social media platform most of the internet abandoned]#woes of emily #Dracula daily #also to be clear. I'm not lying to my friends so they think I'm cool 😂#i link it to tumblr. but i dont think most people understand how active tumblr still is #and tbh. even in it's hay-day lots of people still referred to it as 'the art website'

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vampiresque · 7 months

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