#dracula inspired

[edwire]

vampire au jayvik! these outfits were so fun

[corvidacryptida]

Happy World Dracula Day!

Aside from the original, I also have works inspired by Stoker's brilliant story. I think my favorite of these is The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova, but I haven't yet read Dracula's Child. We'll see how that one turns out!

[feyhunter78]

Vervain and Wolfsbane - Vamp AU

Description: Running from tragedy, Jacaerys and Alyra accept a job at Hightower Manor. The home is filled with shadows, riddles, and the strangely beautiful members of the Hightower family. With secrets weighing heavily on their shoulders, and rumors clouding the air, they fight not only to keep their sanity, but their secrets from being thrust into the cold, pale moonlight.

Aemond didn’t understand why his mother wished to hire a human governess. If Daeron was in such desperate need for an education, then surely a vampiric governess would be a more prudent choice. Especially for a fledgling as spirited as his youngest brother.

The bodies of his previous governesses had been quietly removed from the manor’s grounds and buried. Letters written in their own hands sent to their families explaining they had found a wealthy husband and left with him to start a new life. The charade was never ending, and Aemond simply didn’t understand his mother’s decision to continue it.

Then he saw her, the newest governess. He had watched from his window, ears trained to hear the words she spoke before they were whisked away by the howling wind.

She was a young woman from a small sun soaked city, a fair distance from Oldtown. Her correspondence came with glowing letters of recommendation and proof of her time spent studying education and medicine. Each letter praised her kindness and patience, proclaiming her the perfect governess for any child under the sun.

Pity for her, Daeron was unable to even be in the sun.

If Aemond used his enhanced speed to join his mother at the door before she opened it to greet the governess, then that was his own prerogative. There were no rules against using it in the house, and it did not mean he was intrigued by this new arrival.

She ducked out of the carriage, her hood falling back as she observed the manor with an air of polite interest. With golden hair and honey colored eyes, she glowed amidst the shadows and mist, a single shard of sunlight cutting through the gloom.

She introduced herself as Alyra Hawthorne with a radiant smile and an apology for the frigidity of her hands, citing the long trek made in the middle of the night as the culprit.

He hadn’t even noticed that her hands were chilled, too enraptured by the thrum of her pulse, the sweet scent that wafted off her. Jasmine, something uniquely human that tugged at his senses, fine-tuning them to her every movement, and a third scent, one he didn’t quite recognize.

“A pleasure to meet you Lady Hawthorne, I do hope you will find our home to your liking.” He said, taking her hand in his and pressing to his lips.

Her face tinted beautifully, and he had the urge to steal her away right then and there.

“Thank you, Lord…?” Her eyes gave away no hint of disgust or curiosity over his eyepatch, her smile staying firmly pleasant.

“Aemond, Aemond Hightower, your charge is my younger brother.” He said, keeping her hand within his grasp until his mother cleared her throat pointedly.

“Alyra, please, follow me to your room, then I will take you to meet Daeron.” His mother said, stepping between them gracefully.

“What about Jacaerys? He is still getting our luggage from the carriage.” Alyra said, worry creasing her brow.

Jacaerys? Who was this Jacaerys? He wondered, a sense of possessiveness prickling at his mind as he felt his fangs poke at his gums, longing to slide into place and tear out the throat of whoever this Jacaerys was.

“Ah, yes, my apologies. It has been so long since the manor has had a proper groundskeeper, I had almost forgotten he was arriving today as well.” His mother said, giving Alyra an apologetic smile.

Their last groundskeeper had been attacked and drained by a drunken Aegon, a year ago.

“Alyra, some help perhaps?” A male voice called from the half-opened doors.

This was Jacaerys. The third scent was clear now, pungently male, reeking of attachment.

Alyra hurried to the door and took her bag from the brown-haired stranger. “Apologies, Jace, I was speaking with our employer.”

It took all Aemond had to walk calmly over to her and gently take her bag.

Their hands brushed against each other as she looked up at him in surprise. “Oh, Lord Hightower, thank you.”

“It is my pleasure.” He assured her.

His mother clapped her hands together, and the sound echoed off the stone walls of the entryway. “Now, to your rooms.”

Alyra was unpacking her things when a knock came at her door. “Come in.” She called.

“Are you all unpacked?” Jacaerys asked, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Nearly finished, am I correct in assuming you have finished your unpacking, and your tour of the grounds?”

He nodded and glanced around the room before he stepped closer. “I saw something odd in the garden.”

“Odd? How so?”

“There was a woman, with hair like moonlight, she was darting between the trees, and when I asked Sir Cole, the caretaker, about her, he acted as if he had not seen her.”

Alyra finished folding her last pair of stockings and tucked them in the drawer before closing it quickly. “Perhaps it is the new environment, making you see things.”

Jacaerys rubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps.”

She patted his shoulder. “Get some rest, cousin, I must meet my newest charge.”

Lady Alicent had asked her to meet her in the foyer, and Alyra made her way down the winding staircase, admiring the art that lined the walls. Portraits, landscapes, and tapestries all beautifully crafted, and in pristine condition.

“Lady Alyra.” Lady Alicent said, a small brown-haired boy with large dark-brown eyes looked up at her from behind his mother’s skirts. “This is Daeron.”

Alyra knelt down and held her hand out to Daeron. “Good evening, Daeron, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Daeron took her hand and held it shyly. “Good evening, Lady Alyra.”

“You may call me Alyra.” She said, smiling brightly at him. “After all, we are to be good friends, yes?”

Daeron nodded and hid his face in his mother’s skirts once more.

“He is quite shy around strangers, I apologize.”

Alyra shook her head, standing back up. “No need to apologize, it is only natural for him to be wary.”

Alicent leaned forward ever so slightly and lowered her voice. “And his affliction that I mentioned in the letter, there will be no issue, I trust?”

Lady Alicent’s letter had detailed Daeron’s strange reaction to the sun, it burned his skin quite fiercely, prompting the family to live a nocturnal lifestyle. At first, Alyra had found it odd, but the pay was beyond generous, and Lady Alicent had agreed to hire Jacaerys as well, so she was more than willing to make the sacrifice of time spent in the sun.

“Not at all, I have always been more of a night owl myself, so I should have no problem adjusting.”

“Hear that sweetling? No need to fret.” Lady Alicent said to Daeron, carding her fingers through his hair.

Daeron nodded, then tugged at his mother’s skirts and whispered something in her ear when she bent down.

She smiled politely at Alyra. “You must excuse us, Daeron is positively famished, and he does not like to eat in front of strangers.”

Alyra nodded and waved goodbye to Daeron as they walked away. It was not the worst first impression she’d had with a charge, nor was it the best. Daeron was clearly a shy child who would need time to warm up to her, something Alyra had no issue with. As she had told the Lady Alicent, most children were that way with strangers.

Helaena was crouched on the ground whispering to a firefly when she heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the gravel.

“Pardon the intrusion, my lady.” A male voice, low and steady with a pleasant warmth to it, filled her ears.

She stood and turned, releasing the firefly and watching it flutter off into the night. “Yes?”

“I merely wished to introduce myself. Lord Jacaerys Hawthorne, I will be the manor’s groundskeeper.”

“A lord and a groundskeeper?” Helaena asked, examining the tall, broad-shouldered man before her.

His face tinted pink. “My family held a small title, but my sister Alyra and I are the only ones left. We have not been able to live the lifestyle of our ancestors, unfortunately.”

“I did not mean to offend, I was merely curious, my apologies.” She said softly, brushing the dirt from her gown.

“May I have your name?” He asked, his eyes a curious shade of brown in the moonlight almost rimmed with silver, they were beautiful, and she found herself ensnared by his gaze.

“Helaena Hightower, Lady Helaena, if you wish.” She said, not even flinching when he took her hand in his, pressing it to his lips, the warmth of his skin like a bonfire against the icy chill of her own.

“A pleasure, Lady Helaena, if I might be so bold? I was quite sure the moon could never be outshone, but your radiance surely turns her green with envy.”

Helaena felt a rapid flutter in her chest like those of a butterfly’s wings, and she couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. “I thank you; your kind words are most welcome this night.”

His brow furrowed in concern, and she was struck by the ease in which she could read his face. “Is something troubling you, my lady?”

“I have spent a great deal of time cultivating a sanctuary for my insect friends, and now I fear it will be destroyed.” She explained, motioning to the surrounding garden.

“Ah, well, if you wished, I could attempt to section out a portion of the garden for your personal use?”

“Would you?” She asked, still entangled within his gaze even as it swept over the section she guarded.

“Of course, the beauty in gardening is that it allows for freedom and variety within one place. It would be cruel of me to deprive anyone of the manor from enjoying such natural pursuits.” He said, rolling up his sleeves and surveying the grounds.

Helaena’s eyes were drawn to the prominent veins of his forearm, the steady heartbeat that pumped that sanguine substance throughout Jacaerys’ strong form. It almost startled her, how quickly her fangs slid into place, how desperately she wanted to sink them into Jacaerys’ muscled forearms and drink her fill.

“Lady Helaena?” Jacaerys’ voice pulled her back from within the recesses of her mind.

“Yes?” She was careful to hide her fangs until they retracted.

“Do you wish for me to escort you inside? You seem unwell.” Again, his brow was furrowed, concern sprawled across his face.

“Yes, please, I am quite famished.” She took his offered arm, and listened intently as he told her of his journey here, the thrum of his pulse fading as she found herself laughing along to his stories.

Tag list: Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool

[nikkigee007]

🌿Kny cover by Mayokonee

🌿Past and Present Art by Hoshi Ko

🌿Chibi by @viart

🌿4th image has screenshots of the flower meanings for her bouquet, they are hints to what her story has changed to 🤭💕 Dracula is also a hint lmao 🤣

[v-thinks-on]

It’s dashed awkward showing up unannounced at some fellow’s door, and doubly so if you haven’t the slightest notion where and when you are. For reasons I dare not tell a soul lest I incur the wrath of my interminable Aunt Agatha across time and space, that’s the exact circ. old Bertie Wooster found himself in on this occasion; dithering on the doorstep of a mouldering castle while the wolves howled their nightly chorus—and I could have sworn they were closing in around me by the second.

I was busy letting I dare not wait upon I would like the cat in the adage, wherever that may be, when the great oaken door, smoothed by time, swung open as if on its own accord. I peeked into the musty darkness to find that it was in fact on the accord of a large, well dressed chappie, who I came to know as Jeeves. He welcomed me inside with an almost servile manner, but there was a brainy gleam in his inky black eyes and the darkness around him rather lay over him like a king’s raiment, it suited the chap so well.

Read on to discover what becomes of Bertie Wooster when he arrives just In Time for Dinner

[authorafterhours]

MadaSaku: Oceans of Pink Camellias

Inspired by this scene, I honestly wanted some old fashioned male pining. :D A short piece that I may or may not continue in the future.

     As he pulled away from the offered neck, licking his lips, Madara took a moment to curse his contemporaries for the criminally weak state they forced upon him. Obito staggered back once released and he snapped his arm out to catch him lest the man finish his fall. A distaste filled him at his…lapse in control as he helped situate his thrall to sit comfortably beside him on the bed. Once he had regained enough of his bearings, Obito reached out for the glass of water set on the bedside table and drank deep before he began to nibble on the small tray of snacks to help replenish himself. Ever since he had freed him, the man had proved useful, helpful even, almost to a fault. He would need to remedy that. Still, he ran his fingers through his hair and watched as more color bled back into existence, he was grateful. His recovery was slowed by the fact he only had one source to feast upon, but he set aside his frustration and instead took the opportunity to think, to plan.

      As far as he knew his enemies had long since returned to dust, a respite he was never to be granted unless someone strong enough tried and succeeded. Something Madara certainly didn’t plan on making easy. Still, that knowledge did not make the resentment, the anger, the pain…the despair, fade, no, instead it festered like maggots under his skin. Unconsciously he brushed his leg, as if some of the grave dirt still lingered even now. He did not look at Obito, as he hadn’t since he made sure the wound was clean and sealed.

     “Forgive me.” His gruff tone only earned a waved hand as the human was just finishing off his drink.

     “Don’t worry about it.” Obito struggled for a moment to find the words, he was never good at comforting people and that included undead ancestors it turned out. But still, he wasn’t one to not try. “Besides, you’ve gotten way better about it since I first freed you.” Madara looked up and side-eyed him for a moment before he deemed the answer satisfactory and glanced at the mirror on the nearby vanity. Even now, his own reflection still jarred him from time to time as silver was used less and less in the creation of mirrors these days. White still tinged his hair and there were still wrinkles that stubbornly clung to his skin but he felt and looked far more hale than he had been a few days prior, a near dead wraith that had crawled out of his prison, and had prompted a high-pitched scream from his descendant. The memory alone had him stifling a smirk and summoned a distant ringing in his ears. Maybe it was something in his expression or maybe an unknown side effect of their session but Obito seemed to know what he was thinking about and huffed, rolling his eyes at him. “Yeah yeah, rub it in why don’t ya?” He stood up and stretched before he grabbed the tray. “Anything else?”

     “…Open the curtains on your way out…please.” Given that the season was in the throes of winter, the brightest thing to greet him was the fading snow dusting the streets below. Clouds grew thick and fat in the sky overhead which would no doubt replenish the city’s supply. Once the door was shut, Madara carefully stood up and made his way over to a chair sat by the windowsill and peered out. Hooves clomped noisily down the cobbled street, street lamps were lit in some parody of time keeping as dusk had failed to swallow a sunlight that never came, and the hats that bobbed were bowed as their owners tried to outpace nature. Like ants, Madara supposed, time changed people little. They still scurried. Among the bleak bricks and extravagantly dressed shop displays, a burst of spring parted the crowds and for the first time in centuries his heart began to pound, and his lungs filled all at once with a nearly forgotten gasp. He was out of his seat before he was consciously aware of it, clawed hand pressed against the glass.

     Impossibly Sakura stood at a corner, awaiting a carriage as if she didn’t just stroll out of his memories, uncorrupted by time and space. The sight of her breath, soft puffs against the oncoming night, evidence of her continued existence through those petals she called lips nearly made him choke up. She was alive.

She was here.

      She tucked a few strands of her flyaway fairy floss hair behind her ear, unveiling her eyes that surely the fae blessed themselves, and the urge to go to her, to take her in his arms again and hold the closest thing to heaven he ever beheld seized him by the throat. Just as he was about to—do what? Leap from the window in naught but his dressing gown? Phase onto the street and sweep her off her feet? He knew not, but the reflection in the glass stopped him short. Mismatched hair like salt and snow on asphalt, wrinkles worn like tree bark, teeth sharp and fresh with the flush of feeding, and eyes the shade of red that could not be found in nature. Black-tipped claws scratched lightly on the pane as he recoiled and ducked to the side, almost certain that the unsightly had been seen.

     After a moment or two, he could no longer resist, and cautiously sought her out once more, shadowed behind the edge of the curtain. A stake would have been preferable for how her gaze pierced him! Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, lips pursed, an old ache throbbed as he recalled happier times, her buried in a book by the brook under the summer sun and he, by her side, hands brushing. Had his bodily functions not already ceased some time ago, he would have worried they would at the thought of Sakura seeing him this way. She could not and for a while he dared not move. Involuntarily his breath came, and it came easy, when her attention tarried elsewhere. Something inside twinged as she hailed down a cab, and the coachman helped her climb inside the carriage. Madara watched them disappear into the darkening streets, and for the first and likely only time, he thanked his captors for the patience he had cultivated. He had waited this long…he could do so for a little while longer. The curtains were pulled shut, and he reminisced on what it had been like to be loved by her…and dreamed of when she would love him again.

[isingonly4myangel]

Blueberry muffin tea and jasmin tea ^.^

Hey nonnie! Thanks for asking! 💕

Blueberry-Muffin tea: Tell me a memory, which makes you smile.

I also answered this question here but I have lots of memories to go round, so here’s a different one! 

The second time I was in Paris, it was with a school trip- the drama department at my high school went on a trip over spring break every year, and the year after I graduated it was France. I got permission to go anyway, because even though I’d graduated I was still in town, willing to pay the student rate, and would be one of only two people who spoke conversationally fluent French (I still speak it, but I’m so out of practice now. Though if you dropped me back in France I’d imagine it would all come back pretty quick) So I was a translator and pseudo-chaperone! The whole trip was fantastic, but one of our last nights in Paris we were up in Montmartre for dinner, and were given some free time to roam before we gathered back at Sacré-Cœur. My little group of students followed me around to do some shopping and a little sightseeing, but I gathered them in this little alleyway with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower right before it lit up on the hour. And I have this terrific memory of sitting on the pavement next to this wrought-iron fence and the girls all piled on top of each other while I sat back a bit to watch them watch the lights, and they were all so delighted and awed and laughing, it’s such a sweet memory. 

Jasmin tea: Can you draw / paint? Wanna show me something?

I can kinda! Most of my drawing is sort of sketch-based, and I’ve only tried painting a few times but I should do it more often, I enjoy it! Here’s a couple pieces, since you asked! 

The hand is a sketch of my own, holding this faux-vintage cigarette holder, actually drawn the same night in Montmartre I talked about above! (If you’re super invested, my friend took a picture of me as I was drawing it that I could share lol) The second was done for the lovely @sibella-mysibella (and I totally blame her for my love of Dracula) and the painting was just me following along with an episode of Bob Ross lol 

[tomionefinds]

There was a fic where i think Hermione was the heir of Ravenclaw and there’s some type of reincarnation (maybe? I don’t quite remember). Thanks for your help!

Hey @mad-for-the-hatter thanks for the ask! I haven’t actually read this one but am very intrigued by your description. I did a quick search is it perhaps this one? I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You by ToryTigress92

M | Complete | 51k

On her sixteenth birthday, Hermione receives strange visions and a heritage she never knew she possessed and Lord Voldemort will discover the one woman who can save his soul. Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger. Set during OOTP and the DH.