Bram Stokers Dracula - Blog Posts

Please sir, that’s my emotional support horror movie

AHHHH I DONT KNOW HOW TO DRAW MINA

THEYRE ALL SO PRETTY

People actually like my Dracula AU?? What??

Have a silly doodle I made :) vampire Jonathan doesn’t believe in gravity

He’d probably somehow sneak into Mina’s house after learning she followed Dracula back to Transylvania. Absolutely no warning… he just appears™️

Winona Ryder in Dracula (1992) dir. Francis Ford Coppola

All I want is a good Dracula adaptation is that too much to ask

I positively adore how both Mina and Jonathan think of each other in their journal/letters. Distance may separate them, but they are always on each other’s minds. A recipe for her, practice for him. To be of use to the other. To capture what the other isn’t experiencing. A point of connection for the two who are so far apart. A way of saying that the world is beautiful and fascinating and I want to share it with you

Where can I find a friend who shares the same hyperfixation as me? FYI it’s a 128 year old novel about a silly little english lawyer who goes to stay with a weird guy™ who doesn’t show up in mirrors, has questionable bedtime habits, and can scale walls like a lizard.

My good friend Jonathan is going on a very important business trip next week. Everyone wish him luck.

Alone - Renfield

This is a fic I wrote back during my college’s production of Kate Hamill’s Dracula: A Feminist Revenge Fantasy(which you should totally go read btw). Anyway, this fic stars everyone’s favorite Renfield in a religious-esk fervor.

WC: 957

TW: SH, imprisonment, drugged, mental asylum, Renfield is in poor mental health(which is to be expected), no beta we die like men

Enjoy!

Reinfield stared hard at the writings on the wall. She picked at the skin on her leg, absentmindedly taking the fresh scab from under her nails and rolling it between her teeth. Why hadn’t her Father come? Maybe the lines weren’t straight enough? Pulling the blanket from her bed, she scrubbed the chalk from the walls and started again.

Our Father

Who art in Earth

Of Earth

And by Earth

Hallowed be thy -

Capitalize the T. A swipe of the blanket and she started again.

Our Father

And again.

Who art in Earth

And again.

Hallowed be Thy na-

The chalk snapped. She slowly ran her finger through the powder and rubbed it between her fingers. She swiped it across the wall:

-me.

With new vigor she began again, rubbing the chalk against the wall until the pads of her fingers were raw. She scratched at her leg again and was met with something sticky. The beginnings of a fresh scab. Dark, barely coagulated blood clumped around the site.

Of course! Daddy deserves better! Better than chalk!!

She clawed at the site and began marking that cursed plea. He’ll see. He’ll come. He HAS to come! First she traced over the chalk, the blood drying quickly. The prayer spread across the wall until the blood vessels constricted and the bleeding slowed to a trickle. She whined and rocked on her heels, rolling her tongue between her teeth. The taste of metal made her pause and she spit on the ground, a small red hue highlighting her saliva. She licked her teeth again, feeling the fresh wound in her mouth.

Suddenly, with great conviction, she bit into the flesh of her forearm. She hissed, and pushed on until that bitter, metallic tang pooled between her lips and ran down her chin. It dripped, dripped, dripped onto the ground before with a big sweep she smeared a giant O across the floor. She scrambled across the floor as she went. Bloody footprints began to stain her new-found writing ground. Shaking with adrenaline and excitement she panted that cursed prayer under her breath.

Certainly he will come! He’ll see I AM his most beloved child! He will bring me home! Take me from here!

She moaned and giggled and mewled as she stroked crimson streaks across her chamber. Sticky hands ran through tangled hair; over her eyes and across her cheeks and down her arms until she appeared covered in afterbirth. I am reborn. Freshly made new in His image. She kissed the ground and moved with religious fervor, shaking and dancing as the blood dried and flaked and cracked against her skin. Her muscles grew weak and tired and empty as she curled up in the corner, her head rested against the word Father written on the wall.

Certainly he will come. Make me new. Take me home.

….

“Renfield.”

She moaned and pressed herself farther up against the wall, “leave me for my Father.”

“Renfield.” There was a hand against her cheek, wiping just beneath her eye. She swatted the hand away and peered up at her harasser, “I said leave me for —.”

Her voice caught, “Father?”

“I’m here, Renfield.”

“Father!” She moved to leap toward him and he caught her shoulders, “Easy, easy, I’ve got you.” Gently he lifted her up and held her to his chest.

“I knew you’d come! They said I was foolish and naive but I knew you would come for me!”

“Shhhhhh,” he set her gently down on the bed. He took each wrist in hand and laid them down at her sides, “you must rest now.”

“But Father-“

“Shhhhhh. You need to lie still , Renfield.”

“Please don’t leave me here! Please Father!” A deep weight settled over her, tugging at her eyes and sitting on her chest, “please.”

“I’m sorry, Renfield.”

“But-“

“Sleep.”

…

The first thing Renfield became aware of was a thick wad of cloth in her mouth. She tongued it for a moment or two before reaching up to pull the damned thing from her mouth. The moment she lifted her arm it was pulled back toward the bed with a clang. She tried again.

No. No no no no no.

She writhed against the restraints and clawed and the bed and kicked and pulled and thrashed and shook and screamed and screamed and screamed. Not that anyone heard her. The cloth muffled her wails before they even had time to escape.

I’ve failed. I’ve failed. I’ve failed and now he’s never coming.

Renfield thrashed back and forth, shaking the bet with her fit before it finally fell on its side. She hung from the restraints, her head resting on the ground. The floor and walls, now clean and purified, stunk with disinfectant. They destroyed it. A tear, then two, rolled off the side of her face and dripped to the floor.

A door opened from somewhere behind her. “Oh, Renfield. I’m here,” Seward appeared from around the end of the bed. “Miller, help me lift her. We’ve got you, Renfield.”

They hoisted the bed back upright, taking Renfield along with it. Seward reached up and wiped the side of her face. He turned, nodded at Miller, and she scurried off.

Wait.

“You have to rest, Renfield, or you’ll reopen the wound,” he grabbed the blanket from the ground and laid it back over her.

No.

Miller returned, that venomous vial in hand. Renfield’s eyes darted from Seward to Miller to the vial and back. Seward took it from her and steadied Renfield’s arm, “easy, easy, I’ve got you.”

No no no no no. He was never here.

A quick pinch, a burn, and that weight began to descend again.

He’s forgotten me.

“I’m sorry, Renfield”

I. Am. Alone.

Fun Fact:

This scene from the 1992 film, Bram Stoker's Dracula adapts a real legend regarding the first wife of Vlad Ţepeş, the Wallachian Voivode also called "Dracula".

According to this legend, while Vlad was away from his fortress (Poenari Castle), an arrow message was shot into the chamber of the princess with news of the Ottoman army's attack on the castle the following morning. Rather than risking capture, the princess jumped from the castle tower into the river below. In the film however, she jumps after hearing false news of Dracula's death.

The river in this legend was later named "Râul Doamnei", meaning "The Lady's River". In a later scene in the film, Dracula names the river "Argeș, River Princess". But Argeș is actually the larger river that Râul Doamnei connects to.

“𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦.”

🎥 Van Helsing (2004).

🎶 House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls, The Weeknd (DyEdits!).

One of the movies holding a very special place in my heart 🥀

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) ♡