This is one of the first Dracula fanfics I wrote, I put Dracula's words and actions into red to help distinguish them from mine. Let me know your thoughts on how this affects the flow/readability. For a bit of context, this is based on BBCs 2020 Dracula. One of his powers is obtaining memories and information through the taste and smell of blood. That's why he licks for a term he'd forgotten. Please let me know if you enjoy this and if I should post more of my writing!!!
"Drac, do you think I'm a bad person?"
"I think that's a bit too philosophical for a Friday night."
"But you love philosophy."
"I like to study philosophy in the same way that you like to study black holes. You cannot even imagine–"
*looks pensively and moves his tongue around in his mouth before resorting to licking the small wounds on my neck*
"–ah yes spaghettification. I cannot even imagine morality. You don't wish to be crushed by the indescribable force beyond an event horizon and I would hate to believe in good or evil."
"Now THAT'S too philosophical for a Friday night. Just answer my question."
"I'll humour you since I am the closest thing to a god that you will ever know. Everything I know about morality is what the blood tells me. Some people regard themselves as honourable but are quite bitter."
*he moves closer to me, and places his hands authoritatively on my shoulder and looks into my eyes.*
"You often have the soured tinge of guilt, a habit that you must cut back on, for the sake of my enjoyment."
"So my blood tells you I'm guilty? By that account I should be terribly ugly as well."
*getting notably frustrated* "No. Your blood tells me that you are still caught up in the lies humanity likes to tell itself. Concepts of good and evil, beautiful and ugly. They are nearly completely absent from the rest of the universe. They live only in feeble minds that allow them to simmer and grow."
"But when I feel guilt, it becomes real because it is real to me. Isn't that how everything is created?"
"My god, clearly you're not listening to me."
*I grin at the opportunity for a joke to break growing tension* "my... what? I thought that's a name we don't say in this house."
*he flashes a mischievous smirk back at me* "quite right my dear" *moving his hands from my shoulders to my waist to pull me closer to him* "we also don't talk about good and bad" *he kisses my head*
"I'll try to avoid it in the future, maybe we should start a swear jar or something, in case I bring up ethics again."
*looking obviously amused and curious, his voice takes on a decisively playful tone.* "a swear jar??"
"Ya know it's like I have to give you some money every time I swear. Except for instead of saying FUCK, it'll be 'good or evil.'"
"Watch your tongue young lady, or I'll pierce it for you. And yes now that you say that I do recall it, from the 80s. Money is something I have little need for and much of. Now attend my words very carefully darling. Your beloved cat kills baby birds because she was made by nature to do so. I erm ‐harvest‐ blood because I need it to survive. And you, you are often moved by something unseen and powerful that you crave. There is no good or bad in that. Do not bring it up again. Come back with sweet, shame-free blood."
"You said 'good or bad' just then, now give me £5"
