my favorite thing about dracula is that in original folktales vampires bit their victims on the chest but bram STOKER, not wanting it to be SEXY, moved it to the NECK because he’s a dumb homo repressed idiot
… wait, he moved it to the neck to be less sexy?
i’m bram stoker, i’m protestant or whatever the fuck and tired of being in sexy thot ireland
these people need to know what sins of the flesh can lead to. time to write a whole book about biting i guess
ahhhh first vlad request and im so happy because he deserves so so much love and im soft (ฅ≖̥﹏≖̥ฅ) thank you for your sweet words ฅ^◕˛◕^ฅ i may have overindulged so long thing ahead bois
*༚｡◍☆˟✧༚｡◍*༚｡◍☆˟✧༚｡◍*༚｡◍☆˟✧༚｡◍*
moving on is such a painful and slow process for him(i mean can ya blame him)
after what the humans did to Lisa, trusting another human would come very hard to him; but you had the advantage of being Hector’s older sister so there was a certain leverage
when he came to visit your brother, the expression on his face practically broke you
you tried to be supportive of what he intended to do, containing the humans, but you were smarter than the naïve forgemaster also a lot better at reading,,,,well,,,vampires
you could tell he was hiding something, but clenched your fist and went along anyway
you started off by bringing him food, warm tea and comforting smiles
you could see he was getting weak and noted that you couldn’t recall him drinking blood for the time you were there
you could see the glimmer in the other vampires’ eyes and knew they had noticed too
your heart hurt at the thought of betrayal, wanted to go to your brother to talk about this but he was oh-so-busy with building the army
so you decided to take matters into your own hands; you created a small cut on your finger, allowing the warm liquid to pour into the teacup, mixing it in before taking it to him
naturally he noticed and before you knew what was going on, you were pressed against the wall of the study, the tray knocked down, breath hitched in your throat, wide eyes locked with his
His claw ran down your skin only for him to pull it back with a tired sigh, releasing you before turning his attention to your poorly bandaged finger “To go to such an extent,” he murmured, taking it into his hand.
“My lord, I only meant good!” You were quick state, the lightest wince passing through your lips when he exposed the wound.
Without a word, he instructed you to sit in his armchair, going to fetch something from his desk. You watched, breath hitched “My Lor-!”
“Vlad.” He corrected, coming back with a bottle filled with clear liquid that stung your nose and made you draw a hissed breath when he poured it on the cut “Call me Vlad.”
since then he placed much more value on your words and you used that to your advantage
you would convince him to be gentler, to take a sip of blood every now and then
then one day, when your fingers were weaving through his hair, massaging his scalp
“you should stop this carnage,” you brought this up gently “you’re a gentle, kind man,” you continued, feeling him tense beneath “please.”
he would tell you to leave on the spot, face stony
the silence between you two in the following days was agony to you both
eventually after much mulling over the subject, after tossing and turning
Toad's Cave 