#i know hes named after bram stoker just let me have this

[chipsartist]

Timothy- 'Name of Greek origin that means "honoring God".'

Stoker- 'A person whose occupation it is to tend the fire for the running of a boiler, heating a building, or powering a steam engine.'

Timothy Stoker "honoring God by tending the fire" mr. explode a building to save the world hoo hoo wee wee

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello!

I was doing a deep dive into the history of vampire literature and my mind was blown when I heard about “The Black Vampyre: A Legend of St. Domingo” published pre-bram stoker Dracula, in America 1819. Maybe it’s bad to say but if never heard of it before. It was really revolutionary, and the first of its kind of many things. A comedic study that explored themes of slavery, interracial marriage, and had a mixed race protagonist, a (possibly ambiguous?) vampire child character AND was literally one of the first anti-slavery stories.

I’d be so curious if Anne Rice ever read it and if Rolin or any of the show writers came across it during research. I’ve not read it yet but wanted to ask you if you’d come across it before?

Hey!

I have not read it, but I have actually just gone and ordered a copy.

For now:

I went through the Vampire Companion, and while I do not know if Anne read that book (maybe someone else knows?) there are some... let's say interesting tidbits that could connect:

Saint-Domingue The French name for Haiti, a former French colony. Lestat claims to be married to an heiress from this island when he first becomes a vampire; the claim is part of his disguise while dealing with Pierre Roget, his lawyer. Two centuries later, Lestat is in this country when he sorts through his doubts about Akasha's plan. They argue and Lestat perceives Akasha's weakness: she needs an allv to confirm her vision. (VL 118, QD 391-398)

and

Haiti The Caribbean island where Lestat and Akasha go following the slaughter they perpetrated on Lynkonos. Overcome with shame at his participation, Lestat resists Akasha here, even though the island of Haiti has been the scene of male violence for over four hundred years. Lestat ironically refers to Haiti as the "Garden of God," for revolution, aggression, slavery, and bloodbaths have turned this virtual paradise into a land of mud and poverty. It is in Haiti that Lestat begs Akasha to bring him to the other surviving vampires who are currently in California. (QD 391 , 395)

Now... I'm not sure if that is indicative of her having have had the knowledge of the book (as I do not know the content of it yet), but it kinda seems that she could have, and I would think the show maybe does, too. (Obviously the QotD arc might give a bit more away here, so the future will tell I guess.) And of course the child vampire might parallel other things as well, though if Anne might have read it before or after or maybe because of that...? Sheer speculation^^

But the themes of the book you described definitely make one listen up, right?!!!

So thank you for putting me to it, I'll come back to it when I've read it.

And if someone who has read it wishes to weigh in, please do so!

[babybatscreationsv2]

I watched Deadpool and Wolverine and I have thoughts

Spoiler buffer for people with notifications on

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First of all

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ELEKTRA

I cannot believe I saw my girl Elektra again and yes I would have cried and thrown up if they killed her. If Blade and Gambit are both getting a new movie where's Elektra's?? I say we riot. And I'm only a little bit kidding. Spider-Man needs a new mother figure after all. How about an Elektra/Jessica Drew team up? OMG I'm just realizing they could have put her in the canceled Shang-Chi film. Does the Hand never face off with the Ten Rings? You would think a couple of a martial artist gangs would have a rivalry. We could have been shipping Elektra and Xialing 😭

Okay actual movie thoughts

Yes the car scene was in fact a sex scene and I don't even think that's even debatable. You can't tell me Hugh Jackman threw his head back like that and groaned like he was fucking cumming and it wasn't an analogy for sex and then following it up with a pan away/sunset shot? It was 100% an ode to the many gay writers who hid their desire to penetrate another man through swords, guns, and fangs. Bram Stoker would be proud

Do not watch this movie if you're uncomfortable with inappropriate sexual touching, or language for that matter. Everyone's getting sexually assaulted and it's a joke every time, but at least they call it what it is I guess?

I feel like the amount of graphic sex jokes was to cover for the fact that they were told not to joke too much about drug use. Although choosing to joke about how they can't do coke was possibly my favorite joke, don't ask me why

They sure did let that little people joke in there though... yikes. Disney is really begging people with dwarfism to jump their asses this year

The weakest part of the film was definitely the villain dialog. I guess they didn't want any big plot twisty reveals because man these dudes came out monologing and like who asked? Nobody. Why are they talking so much?

I have a genuine love for Happy becoming the new Stan Lee cameo. I just love that man as a character and it feels right that he has a hand in everything.

I saw someone on here pouting about the photo of Tony and Peter together and how Peter's face was covered BUT ACTUALLY it's a running gag in the comics that Deadpool can't see Spider-Man's face or hear his name. Even if Peter takes his mask off right in front of him the "Marvel censors" hide it from Wade and I hope to god that's why they covered it because it'll be so damn funny if and when they're both in a film together

Speaking of funny, the comedy in this film was so well done. They poured most of the jokes out in the first act and left room for the movie and the characters to be taken seriously. I'm here praying that the other Marvel writers take notes because while I'm a very emotional person who requires comic relief to get through most movies without crying, we all know the humor in Marvel films is getting to be a bit much.

I was holding my breath during the big team up thinking it was going to be Deadpool 2/Suicide Squad all over again, but they actually got to have their hero moment and it was beautiful.

But WTF? Why did Blade and Gambit get a big moment where they show off their skills but Elektra gets half the screen time during the fight and her moment is just her kicking someone? She has magic ninja abilities?? She could have also done something cool?? The martial arts stuff was cool in her stand alone film, it doesn't impress in a crowd of people who know how to fight. At least let her skillfully throw her sais or something, damn.

And how good is Channing Tatum as Gambit? I'm not a Channing Tatum fan or anything, but damn does he nail it.

NICEPOOL I love Nicepool, I have no idea what Deadpool variants exist in the comics because I actually hate multiverse stuff that isn't spiderverse, BUT it's canon that if Deadpool were to stop killing people that he would become pretty again and I love that there's a universe where's he just insanely nice and handsome mostly because I don't think they would ever make a Spider-Man/Deadpool film so at least we acknowledged that this happens, sorta, they don't really talk about why he's pretty and our Deadpool isn't

I love how it was a Deadpool film, but also everyone got their moment. It was barely even about him. He was the vehicle through which Wolverine and Nova and Laura got to tell their stories and it worked really well

I also feel like Wade getting Johnny killed felt weird and mildly out of character. He's an asshole, not a sadist. There's a big difference. If they wanted him dead to get rid of Chris Evans and still have their cameo, it didn't have to be Wade's fault

Wade and Logan recognizing Chris's face as belonging to Steve also sets a precedent for RDJ playing Doom. (It also means that yes people in universe will recognize him and angst will happen, I'm still crossing my fingers that there's multiple Dooms)

I give the whole thing a 4/5 had a good time, few complaints

[nelegance]

Chapter 2: Enduring

I’m jumping way ahead. Are you interested in the before? Wouldn’t you rather read how it all ended and get back to your lives? Your beautiful mundane lives. Maybe you’re roasting a chicken for dinner while the children are running up and down the street outside; playing tag in the warm sunlight. Or maybe you’re listening to the radio in your living room while you pet your purring cat, who sits on your lap and doesn’t have a care in the world. What I would give…Oh! I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Madeline. Maddy to my friends. You’re my friend, so I’m Maddy to you. I live in New Orleans with Lestat. Our home is in shambles. It’s wooden, very dark inside and our and decorated in the 1800’s and never brought into the new century. Lestat likes it that way. I do not. It’s so cold. Anyway, onwards.

“I can heal you,” Lestat said, coming up behind me in the bathroom.

I kept the towel against my backside. “Please just go to bed. Your nose is already bleeding.”

Lestat wiped his nose with his hand and looked at it. He shook his head.

“I don’t care. Here,” Lestat bit his finger and held it up to where I had the towel. I sigh and took the towel away. He carefully wiped his bleeding finger against the wounds he created. “There. All better.”

It wasn’t all better though. I had dozens of these “accidents” that happened when Lestat got too excited. My bum, my back, my thighs…He always rushes to heal them. And I let him. I always let him.

Lestat washed his hands and grabbed the towel I was holding. He held it up to his nose. The Bleeds. A vampire must sleep and feed. If they don’t, they bleed from the nose and ears. If they ignore the bleeding, it gets worse and worse until…well—

“Let’s go back to bed. I need to sleep,” Lestat grabbed my hand and roughly led me back to the casket. Since he was bleeding, I said I was going to sleep in the bed. This made him angry.

“Why? I’m fine! Do you not want to sleep with me anymore? I give you everything and all I ask for is for you to sleep with me. I know it’s small in there but I just ask you to endure it until I can find something bigger. Please Madeline.” 

His ears were bleeding now. I didn’t want to fight so I nodded and climbed into the casket after he did. I curled my arms underneath me. Lestat was skinny but still had abs. He exercised only to blend in with humans. If he didn’t, he would be waste away and look sickly. 

“I love you, Madeline. I hope you know that,” Lestat wrapped his arms around me. “You mean everything to me.”

 My blood meant everything to him. I guess you could call me a familiar but that sounds too Bram Stoker. I’m more of a donor with benefits. I give Lestat blood when he needs it and in return he gives me a home and protection. This place has a surprising number vampires and any human is up for grabs. How did I become Lestat’s donor? 

Are you sure you want to go down this road with me? This really is a sad story. That roasted chicken sounds like a much better way of spending your time. 

I needed a job. I was alone and I hadn’t eaten in three days. This isn’t the place to be young, poor and alone. My old dirty dress seemed to signal that I was looking for a customer, not a job. I walked down the street with my head down. 

“Well hello there sweetheart,” a man mumbled as he stumbled along with me.

I could smell the whiskey on his breath. Atherton. I wanted him gone. I was desperate but not that desperate. I quickly turned and entered the first building I could reach. He followed me. 

Jovial piano music, and a woman barely dressed in her red show girl like outfit were the first things I noticed. The woman, standing at a wooden podium, snapped her fingers at the man following me and pointed to the door.

“Out!” she exclaimed.

The drunk man waved his hand at her and stumbled back outside. I was going to follow him but what I was seeing had my feet glued to the floor. To my left and to my right were women that were naked, or dressed in fine bejewelled gowns. They either led a gentleman dressed in a suit or were whispering sweet nothings in the ear of a gentleman dressed in a suit. A few woman were serving drinks. Cigarette smoke hung in the air. A pale man with soft reddy blonde hair sat at the piano in the corner of the room, next to the roaring fireplace. He played a song I couldn’t quite recognize. A woman in a green gown was sitting next to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder. He took his drink and sipped it, seemingly not impressed by her flirting. 

“Can I help you, honey?” the woman at the podium asked.

I shook my head but I wanted to stay.

“I need a job.” I blurted out.

[volturialice]

Do you have any dark gothic/horror book recs? I’m trying to get out of thrillers at the moment. also looking for some dark classics. any ideas?

I was waiting to answer this until after the Bella's Book Club summer reading reclist went live and now it's live!! and I must say, full of some Choice gothic recs. But I'll list my personal faves here!

Dark™ things from my part of the BBC reclist:

Jamaica Inn (and My Cousin Rachel) by Daphne du Maurier - iirc I described Jamaica Inn as gothic + adventure in my recs, and yep, that's what it is. definitely part of the specific "the book cover shows a woman in a nightgown running from a scary building" gothic heroine tradition. I also gave a brief nod to My Cousin Rachel because it's another of du Maurier's works which I think is underrated (that one's more of a slow-burning gothic mystery featuring a hero of the 'little wet babygirl' variety.)

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno Garcia - Also as I said in my recs, it's very like Jamaica Inn in structure and genre, though of course the writing, the specific characters, and the central mysteries are different. But MG is (of course) Mexican and has more fun Get Out/Ready or Not vibes with its themes of class and ethnicity.

Girls Running from Houses by tanaudel on redbubble

Perfume: the Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind - Villain protagonist villain protagonist! This one I love mostly for its flowery prose and sheer aesthetic commitment. You're telling me this 18th-century French serial killer turns his victims into perfume?? Say more

The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey - Seriously the most underrated YA series of all time. Also so gory and terrifying I sometimes cannot believe it's YA. To this day some of the scariest written horror my eyes have beheld, not to mention it's got banger prose. Most people know Rick Yancey from The 5th Wave which is such bland cookiecutter 2010s YA dystopia love triangle nonsense that I just want to shake everyone and go NO, READ THIS BRILLIANCE INSTEAD! ngl the last book in the series is Not Good (you can 100% tell he had switched all his energies to 5th Wave, which is a shame) but the first 3 are absolutely good enough to make up for it.

Other people's reclist recs that I too have read and enjoyed: Rebecca (Daphne du Maurier), We Have Always Lived in the Castle (Shirley Jackson), Dracula (Bram Stoker), Frankenstein (Mary Shelley)

More classics: The Turn of the Screw by Henry James (short and easy read!), The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (a must-read for aesthete gays everywhere. I mean cmon it's Oscar)

Extremely melodramatic "classics:' I loved reading Louisa May Alcott's little known "flops" A Long Fatal Love Chase and Behind a Mask (short story collection.) I might make Book Club read Love Chase at some point because I think we'd have way too much fun with it. We'll see.

My personal favorite that I think everyone should read: The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter (short story collection of gothic fairytale retellings!)

Not exactly what you think of when you hear 'gothic' per se but definitely Dark and it's my OTHER favorite: Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer (I never shut up about this book and it's for a reason. Very different from the movie, which I also love!)

My favorite gothic/horror authors:

Shirley Jackson - I've definitely talked about her before but both The Haunting of Hill House and We Have Always Lived in the Castle are straight bangers (and short, easy reads to boot!) Do NOT think you can watch the Mike Fl*nagan Hill House show of the same name and call it a day—they're completely different stories. (also let the record show I'm censoring his name out of personal dislike he hasn't done anything 'problematic' afaik calm down)

Stephen Graham Jones - Insanely good writing oh my god. I have so far only read the My Heart is a Chainsaw books but his entire oeuvre is on my TBR because he cannot lose. Also he lives in my town and I'm starstruck just knowing this fact. Indigenous (Blackfoot) author who writes about indigenous characters!

Kelly Link - Writer of banger short fiction. I particularly enjoy Pretty Monsters because it's 100% written for the Twilight girlies and clearly made with love and silliness

Grady Hendrix - I didn't loooove Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires, but I adored Hörrorstör and especially My Best Friend's Exorcism, which is a total masterpiece IMO. Another writer whose entire oeuvre is on my TBR.

[mongrelmutt]

Continuing the Jules Verne kick with "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea"

Under a cut because this is longer than the others:

- This is my least favorite of his books so far. I am falling asleep while reading it.

- The professor calling Conseil his "boy" when Conseil is 30 years old, and only 10 years younger than him  😬😬😬

- *Hisses at Captain Nemo* Bad Vibes

- I'm pretty sure physics doesn't work like this, but I don't know enough to argue. Nor do I care enough to look it up. I am just so bored. Please get to more interesting things. 

- Also, lol of course the Victorian dudes would be like "WHALE BODIES MUST BE STRONG AND IMMOVEABLE LIKE MANLY IRON TO DIVE SO DEEP AND NOT BE KILLED!" Wrong! they squish and adjust their innards to adapt to the pressure: 

- Trying to suss out what (if any) real sea life is being described when no name is given, just fantastic descriptions.

- Sleeping underwater in scuba gear seems... unwise.

- More 19th century anthropology 😬😬😬

- Yes, yes I understand that the water temperature is invariably 4⁰ wherever and whatever time of the year at depth. You've said that like 8 times already. This had better turn out to be relevant. [Note: not particularly]

- I do not like Ned Lands.

- Shark slander 😭

((Why did the myth that sharks have to turn over to bite things last so long? I remember it from "James and the Giant Peach" as well. I would have thought enough people would have at least seen sharks biting bait at the surface by the 1800s for this to be known false?))

- Man, these guys are a bloodthirsty lot. Every new animal they see they're like "Can I kill it?? Please let me kill it! Let's kill it! 😈 Man, wouldn't you jump at the chance to kill sharks like you do bears and lions??" :/

- At the same time they're afraid of everything, assume it's dangerous, and, if not killed instantly, will retaliate violently in revenge, including a freaking *dugong.*

- Wow, some people at least knew industrial commercial whaling was unsustainable and would result in the whales' extinction even in the late 1800s! Wild that it took almost 100 years to get it (mostly) banned!

- *head desk* Nemo is such a hypocrite (I imagine that may be The Point)

- Ugggghhh the whole "predators are evil, vicious monsters, and we need to slaughter them all without mercy to protect the poor innocent prey animals" attitude still so prevalent today.

- ...wait, those are *sperm whales*?? I thought they meant killer whales at first! Sperm whales  don't even eat baleen whales... All that brutal slaughter for nothing :'( 

- ... Bonus for an even more uncomfortable use of "voluptuous" than Bram Stoker! Seal eyes are described as "voluptuous" 😆

- Of all the sea creatures to declare harmless Verne chose *elephant seals* 🤦🤣

- YAY THE KRAKEN!! At least these covers haven't lied to me!! :D 

- aaaw no, the giant squid didn't play nearly as big a part as advertised *le sigh*

- Ah, the classic "crap I've written my characters into a deadly corner, time to knock out the POV character and have them wake up safe in bed later." 

- Why did the Professor talk about Lands like he was dead at the beginning? I can see a few reasons from the author's perspective (varying from "deliberate red herring to increase the suspense" to "oops I forgot dude was originally going to die and didn't correct it") but not from the character's? It's not even like he was reflecting on the matter from decades later, when Ned might have died after the story, they're all still chilling together in Norway waiting for a steamer home?

Lands: Stop telling people I died.

Professor Aronnax: Sometimes I can still hear his voice.

- Welp, I did enjoy the sea critters and fun steampunk machines, just not the long rambling bits that seemed to overwhelm the story for me

[theproblemcallednight]

sending you akutagawa and/or bram for character ask game

hii soda!!!

k imma do both cuz im bored :D

ok it got rlly long so it’s under the cut:

akutagawa:

first impressions- tbh i thought he was a weird ass bitch who needed cough drops bc his lil villain cough was making no one but the butterflies scared. like his ability was rlly cool but i didn’t really get him at first. also his name took me ages to pronounce 😭😭

impression now- genuinely one of my fav characters!!! he’s such a guy y’know. a goofy little guy. but i do rlly like his backstory and how he persevered and fought through ever and still was a morally bad person. like i luv seeing characters i adore suffer to hell and back and then finally find some sort of broken peace with themselves. aku allowing himself to value his own wants and needs after fighting atsushi and seeing him grow as a character is just perfect. 10/10 i luv him my blorbo forever <3

favourite moment- anything in wan tbh. i know i just went on a heartfelt rant abt aku but. wan aku is the true star let’s be honest. i mean look at him. just stare into those soulless eyes.

idea for a story- uhhhhh i not very creative gimme a sec… i think him finding himself with a pet would be cool. yknow like he gets attached to some stray cat and then ends up taking it in. and i feel like it would force himself to see that he can be a good person and there is beauty in life. the cat may or may not resemble a certain someone

unpopular opinion- ummm idk rlly? i guess i hc him somewhere or the aro/ace spectrum but i dunno if that’s an u popular opinion

favorite relationship- right so obvi sskk bc i am unoriginal and one with the masses. but. i luv it when chuuya and aku have like a father son relationship. or even when gin and him get to just hang out and chill. i just luv the idea of aku constantly chasing dazais approval and chuuya being like “bitch i fucking raised you the mf left after a year”

fav headcannon- hmmmm prob the hc tha he can’t cook? like he can’t boil water even. i just find it funny that it’s like the one thingy dazai passed down to him. father son duo that can blow up your kitchen in five seconds.

bram:

first impressions- i was so exited when i saw the name bram stoker omg. i haven’t actually read dracula but i’ve heard enough to abt it that ik brams ability would be sick. and god i thought it was so cool. and also the fact that bram was just a shish kebab was sending me and i immediately loved him

impression now- still absolutely in live with him and his character. he’s just like the biggest mood in all of bsd. and his and aya’s relationship is so freaking cute i luv them sm

favourite moment- either when he says he’ll be aya’s knight at the end, or when aya’s like bram what do we do about the apocalypse he’s like “sleep in a hole for a couple centuries.” i would love to sleep in a hole for 200 years every time i had a problem. it would be great.

idea for a story- i think it would be rlly interesting if it was a college and no abilities au and him and mary shelly and adam were besties. like it would be great. they would be the besties fr

unpopular opinion- uh i dunno… i kind of think that he shouldn’t have gotten his body back? at least not when he did? like don’t get me wrong he slayed and saved aya and stuff. but i feel like tbh ere was so much to use with his shish kebab state. i don’t know i think it was underutilized

favourite relationship- oh def bramcraft or lovestoker or whatever it’s called now. bram and lovecraft are ancient yuri and i will die on that hill. they can be eldritch monsters together. and be ancient together. that being said i like kunikifa and bram more platonically. like they become friends through joint custody of aya. and it’s one big happy family

favourite headcannon- oh i don’t know where i saw this but i luv the idea of him using like a cane or mobility aids. for balance probably, but i think it would be so cool for bram to have a cane. he’d look badass with it. best part is he can bonk ppl with it :D

well that got long. but it was rlly fun!!! ty for the ask soda!!!

[mytragedyperson]

OK tumblr apparently hates me because twice now I've wrote out a relatively long slightly ramble post and it's let me click post and then just not posted, and as far as I can see there not in my drafts so, instead of that post, I will be watching all the episodes of bsd 5 tomorrow and just noting down any thoughts I have, probably mostly appreciating Ranpo and making fun of Fukuchi, because that's fun to me. However there are 2 thoughts that won't leave my head and so tumblr gets to have them.

So first of all I've seen manga panels of Dazai getting shot and presumably dying, which I guess is a spoiler but has also been all over tumblr and it looked like it was on twitter too. Quite frankly, I'm not buying it, and not just because I love Dazai and am living in denial. I've already been burned by BSD in this department of being convinced a character is dead and then bringing them back. I am, of course, talking about Margaret. I thought Akutagawa had killed her and then, a season later, she was brought back, albeit in a coma, to further a plot. Also this is Dazai, if anyone could come back from being shot in to head it's him. For all that he's suicidal and has no will to live, hes really bad at dying, which is good for those of us who like Dazai and I won't complain about that. The only people that have died and stayed so far are Oda and his orphans and Rando (I only watch anime). There may be others but I can't remember them. There were a couple characters who appeared in one episode and were killed off in the episode but everyone else has simply said no to death, which I can respect. Honestly they could get his body out of the prison and have a whole like funeral/memorial scene with all of the characters mourning him and I still wouldn't be fully convinced he's dead. So maybe it is slight denial but I stand by what I said.

My second thought was that I still feel sorry for Bram stoker. I dont care what terrible things he's done, he doesn't deserve the fate he's been given. I can just imagine Fukuchi going on and on about his plan, sounding so confident since he always has turn back time as a backup plan, and he just can't escape it. He's stuck forced to listen. That's the true evil right there.

Also I have a lot of thoughts about how Fukuchi is actually not a good villain, as in I'm not intimidated by him and don't truly see him as a threat. Like his sword is a threat, moreso when he weilds it, since he makes it more effective, but the guy himself? He should be more of a threat than he is. I'll address that tomorrow as I rewatch the episodes because its a big part of my mental commentary and making fun of Fukuchi hours. He might actually be one of the worst villains in the show. I'll address that on a later date. Another thought I'll be addressing tomorrow is my theory that Fyodor is the true leader of the Decay of Angels. Like if they had to listen to one of them regarding a plan they'd listen to Fyodor over Fukuchi. They just can't be bothered with Fukuchis attempts to murder or control them with the sword. Also, bing is my search engine and when I looked up who is the leader of the decay of angels? You know to double check it was Fukuchi, it had his name but the picture next to his name was Fyodor so do with that what you will. Anyway no more thoughts head empty.

Also if anyone has asks regarding anything to do with the BSD anime, I'd be happy to answer them because thinking about/discussing BSD is fun and I do have opinions on a lot of things

edit: change of plans. while i do still plan to do this it's gonna take a little longer. I have a blog, not a tumblr one, though, that I basically never use, so I'm gonna use that to note down any thoughts, opinions and just things in general that I feel like noting down. After I've done that, I'll share it here. Again, asks will be open and this will probably take me a while so, if anyone wants to discuss the BSD anime, feel free to send asks or messages or comment or whatever

[steampunkenglish]

World Dracula Day, Folk Horror, and Renn Faire After Party

World Dracula Day (bleh bleh)

May 26 is indeed World Dracula Day. For those of you not in the know, this is the publication date (May 26, 1897) of Bram Stoker's novel, Dracula. In the over 100 years since this character's introduction, the Count and vampires in general have been swooping around most of Western society's corporate psyche in one way or another. I'm not sure if Stoker had any idea that his story of supernatural betrayal, invasion, and ultimate heroics would catch on and still be popular after so long, but here we are in 2023 still talking about the character and still writing stories that link back to the world he created.

If you celebrate, as I do, please lift a glass...but not of wine because we do not drink...wine to Stoker and to Count Dracula!

Folk Horror and a Bit of Self-Promotion

Since we're on a bit of a horror bend today, I'm also going to talk a little about a specific niche of horror and do some promotion for a new anthology produced by Pavane Press and edited by Cliff Biggers and Charles Rutledge.

Some of you may be familiar with the above image. It's from the original Wicker Man (1973). If you haven't seen this movie, get thee to your Amazon Prime or Roku Channel and view it henceforth. Do not watch the abomination that is the Nicholas Cage version from 2006 unless you enjoy watching Nicholas Cage screaming in that weird way he does in his horror movies. The 1973 version is an excellent introduction to the folk horror genre, which is having a resurgence in the horror community both for written works and on film. Midsommar is another good example although, like a lot of folk horror films, has mixed reviews (I liked it. It disturbed the hell out of me, but I liked it.).

I enjoy folk horror because my own horror stories brush close to it. Elements of this sub-genre include a sense of isolation, communities with rituals, an outside element coming into the closed community, and an event of some sort. I feel like Southern Gothic horror is a kissing cousin to this sub-genre. I love exploring all of these things because I feel like we experience these things or are only one or two steps away from these elements here in the South, especially if we live on the edges of rural communities (and a lot of us still do).

If you are curious or if you already have a love for this sub-genre, let me recommend the brand new anthology, Lonely Hollows.

Cliff and Charles gathered 15 of some of the best horror authors in the business and asked that we write folk horror stories. Some of these names you may recognize, like James A. Moore, Jeff Strand, Leanna Renee Hieber, and Amanda DeWees. Others of us are newer voices, including me and Darrell Z. Grizzle. The cover art is by Lynne Hansen, whose cover art is well-known and loved in the horror community. My story, "Renewal," involves werewolves, a community cult, and one young man with a very large decision that needs making.

You can get this in paperback, hardback, or on Kindle. I will be at the Crazy Book Lady bookstore on Saturday, June 10 as well. I hope to have paperbacks there, ready to sell and sign! It's an awesome anthology. Renn Faire After Party

We had a fantastic two days at the Georgia Renaissance Festival last weekend despite the fact that it was overcast both days (that seemed to make it better). There were eight authors at three tables, and I think we all did pretty well. I sold nine books, which I consider a complete win. I also got to hang out with a bunch of folks who were just awesome, including Sarah Sover, Sarah Madsen, Milton Davis, Nancy Dunne, Jen Guberman, and Sherrilyn Kenyon (yes, THAT Sherrilyn Kenyon).

I'm hoping we do this again next year because as much as it was work (and it was), I had a blast. Patrons were really excited to see us (especially Sherrilyn) and a lot of them expressed that they wanted to see more books and authors on site.

I also learned how to use TikTok finally and have opened an account. You can find me at @steampunkenglish1883. So that was my weekend! I can't wait until my next event. #writing #writinglife #georgiarenaissancefestival #folkhorror #booktok #lonelyhollows #southerngothichorror #hwaatlantamember #falstaffbooks #fantasy

[sinfulpetgirlrd]

This was so hard to write :’(

Things get better Odessa, honest!

“Uncle, the flattery is unbecoming of you. You know my hands have been unsteady since the attempt.” Odessa responds with a trembling smile, clutching the sample close.

“Um, would you like some water while I check this? It won’t take but a moment.” She continued before standing, the noise of the needle clattering into the bin ringing through the room before she nodded towards the sink. When he denied her offer with a shake of his head, she walked across the floor, her body drawn to the makeshift workstation she and Jonathan had created.

She stands in silence in front of it, the tension in the atmosphere almost tactile. Walker’s fingers quiver as they near the glass slide that remains unfilled. Without scientific facts, it is easy to deny something. The little nurse could carry on with the charade that all is good, she could deny her and Jonathan’s medical knowledge, her inhuman senses, all of it… She could keep up the façade until she had undeniable scientific proof.

In her state of distress, she numbly placed a single droplet of the watery blood onto the slide, her body going still after she quickly slipped the thing under the microscope’s viewing window.

I know I haven’t talked to you in a long time, but please. Please let me, Jon, and my senses be wrong, please… Not him. As she leans forward, her eye hovering just above the thing’s eyepiece, she stifles a soft, whimpering sob.

“Special infected,” the vampire whispered to herself, her hands leaving slight indentations in the metal tabletop.

“Uncle Sean?” She continues carefully, her teeth teasing against her lip, causing a metallic tang of blood to seep onto her tongue. “I- I have something to tell you.”

“You sound as if I am dieing petal.” He tried to make a joke, a half-hearted smirk on his face, but the moment he looked into her eyes, the expression faded away. Odessa stands, her arms crossed defensively across her chest, her breath coming out in a shuddering sigh.

“Just— I just need you to listen. I beg you, please don’t interrupt me, okay?”

“Odessa, whatever it is I—” Sean says with a huff, finally relenting as her lower lip juts out in a small pout. “Okay, as God as my witness, I won’t say a peep.”

“Thank you, um— I’m not sure how to start. I know you are not one for nonfiction reading but, have you ever heard of or read Bram stoker’s Dracula?… Really? Splendid book, ah, okay, so not-not everything in it is fantasy.” Her sorrowful words hung in the air, wavering and quavering in the room. She studies his face, searching for even the slightest change in his demeanor as she goes on. Taking care to speak with precision, she was determined to not upset or alarm the man.

When she reminisces about that night, her body twists away from him, her fingers lightly tracing the indentations on her neck. A reminder of how she refused to be a victim in her own home, how she fought back as Father showed her. She talked about her awakening… Of Edward, her beloved, gentle Edward, whose name caused her heart to break once more, staining her cheeks with tears.

Odessa let more information out than she had ever thought she would, her hands trembling. She bares all, not just the damned culling, not just the hunters nor the ever present hunger. By the time she finishes, her body has sunk to the ground, her head bowed low, too exhausted to shed any more tears.

Two months, that’s how long it’s been. Two months that felt like an eternity. The little nurse had managed it all without complaint, never allowing her true feelings to show... Although she had no one to share them with.

Dorothea handled Walker’s secret bravely, but the amount of stress, all these added emotions would add to her recently overturned world view— no it was best if Odessa didn’t confine in her. Besides, all she would do is prompt Odessa to look for Charlie, which... It was best to let her think she was still missing or had passed away.

There was Jonathan but he was— well, him. She trusted him; she did— he had taken in her, cared for her… Yet after that night. Every night since then, it was painfully clear he had his own shit to work through.

Edgar was an option, he was friendly and willing to listen, but he was often covered in Jonathan’s scent, so anything shared was sure to eventually be reported back to her unbonded out of a sense of “care”.

Walker had no one she could reasonably confide in… Till now at least, though, for how long?

Sean held true to his word, maintaining his silence as he listened carefully to every word. He didn’t need her to elaborate past “vampires are real”. It was a fact he had already known, hell he suspected she was one. And if not for his illness, if not for the once strong, now broken woman before him, he’d be quite chuffed to know she trusted him enough to share.

And yet, if he had to be honest, the fact that she only told him because she had to hurt. I understand it was an attempt to protect me but still, I can’t fathom why she always chooses to suffer alone.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” Hampton says, carefully hopping off of the exam table. His gait is unsteady, the world seeming to spin, as he approaches the broken woman, extending his hand to draw her in for a much needed hug. “Odessa… My dear sweet Petal. It’s okay, everything is okay.”

[silvfyre-writings]

Not Such a Simple Tale Pt. 2 (BSD Fanfic)

Crossposted from AO3

Ranpo doesn’t remember being moved from the cell to a room, but the next time that he opens his eyes, it’s to a ceiling of such intricate design that it could only have been carved by someone’s hand. He’s never seen such a ceiling before in his life; the ones within his own palace had patterns, sure, but nothing like this, which is a testament to just how old Bram Stoker’s kingdom is if this is the kind of architecture that Ranpo’s going to see in his day-to-day life here. It’s fascinating and piques his curiosity enough that he can forget about his entire situation for just a moment whilst he tries to gather himself.

He pulls his gaze away from the ceiling to take in the rest of the room, finding it decorated with bookshelves that are filled to the brim with books, along with a comfortable looking, yet still elegant, couch pushed against the wall between two of the bookcases. There’s also a rug on the floor, and the curtains are pulled to keep the room dark from the sunlight that’s trying its best to shine into the room—judging from the intensity it’s well after sunrise, which has Ranpo questioning just how long it's been since he was pulled from the ocean if the sun is high in the sky. His best guess is a couple of days, but he’ll need to ask someone to be sure; he refuses to let himself be led astray for a second time.

The next observation that Ranpo makes is that he’s alone.

It’s just him and the dauntingly large room that he’s in.

And normally, that wouldn’t bother him in the slightest, but unfortunately, going through a recent betrayal and subsequent near death makes him long for the company of someone, anyone, at this point. Well… maybe not anyone, because he doesn’t want someone who would want to hurt him in the room, but someone… quiet would be nice. I need to stop. Ranpo thinks with a sigh. He’s rambling to himself which isn’t ideal because that means he’s bothered and that’s the last thing he wants to be feeling. Right now, he needs a clear head, and all the smarts that he’s so graciously been blessed with, and rambling will just send him spiralling down a path he doesn’t want to go down.

A creak echoes throughout the room as the door is pushed open slowly, and Ranpo looks over to see an old man entering the room, pushing a cart into the room that has food and medical supplies on it. He watches the man carefully, untrusting of this stranger no matter how old or friendly he appears to be. The man moves slowly, glancing at Ranpo occasionally as he approaches the bed, coming to a halt a respectable distance away, and bows towards him. “Lord Stoker placed me in charge of your care whilst you recover from your injuries, Lord Edogawa.”

Ranpo narrows his eyes when his name falls from the stranger’s lips. His distrust grows at the knowledge that this stranger he’s never met seems to know who he is. Logically, he knows it’s because Bram probably shared that knowledge at some point during his unconsciousness, but Ranpo can’t help but be cautious; he hopes that the old man standing before him doesn’t take offense to his lack of distrust. “And your name?”

“Herman Melville, my lord. I take care of the palace and its inhabitants, regardless of what it is they need.” Melville says, voice deep and kind, which goes with the general grandfather look that he seems to be sporting; hair the whitest of whites, a beard that obscures the lower half of his face, and a general roundness that honestly makes Ranpo want to see if Melville is as soft as he looks by hugging him. But he doesn’t move—not because he doesn’t want to, but because he physically can’t.

His injuries are starting to hurt now that his body is aware that he’s awake.

“Might I tend to your injuries?” Melville asks, causing Ranpo to realise that he never answered the man.

“You may.” Ranpo struggles to sit up, pain shooting up his arms that are swathed in bandages that are dotted with bloodstains, the limbs trembling as he forces them to accept the weight put upon them until Melville steps forward, an arm coming around the front of Ranpo’s chest to hoist him up until he can collapse back against the headboard of the bed. And that small amount of effort leaves him breathless, chest heaving as he fights to get air into his lungs.

He hates this—hates feeling weak even though he has no choice but to be right now.

Really, he’s going to skip the questions and go straight into murdering Dazai when he gets his hands on him.

“Are you alright, my—”

“Don’t call me your lord.” Ranpo interrupts. “I’m not the lord of anything anymore, so just Ranpo will do.”

Melville is silent for a moment, brow furrowed before it relaxes a few seconds later. “As you wish… Ranpo. Are you alright, though?”

Ranpo throws the older man a withering glare. “No, I’m not alright. In one night, I lost my kingdom and the only home I’d ever known. I was betrayed by one of the few people I trusted with my life for reasons I haven’t even been able to deduce yet because I’m too busy hurting after being thrown off a cliff in a cage. So, no, I am not alright, and I won’t be alright until I can get back home and take my kingdom back!”

The entire time Ranpo rants, Melville listens without saying a word, which he appreciates in the moment because such an outburst is unbecoming of him. He knows better; showing weakness to the enemy was a surefire way of getting them to never take you seriously again, yet here he is, incapable of controlling his emotions and letting them take over at the worst possible time. Yet, despite that, Melville doesn’t judge him—at least openly—for his moment of weakness; all the old man does is sit on the edge of the bed and gently grab one of Ranpo’s bandaged arms with his hand and pull it towards him.

Silence descends upon them then, with Ranpo watching Melville as he works, eyes following the bandages as they unravel and reveal the wounds they’d been concealing beneath them. In wake of the events that had led him here, Ranpo hadn’t been able to take stock of his injuries. Even after regaining consciousness the first time in the cell, the first thing he’d been concerned about was what had happened whilst he wasn’t aware. But now, the calm of the morning along with Melville’s gentle touch, Ranpo’s able to see just how bad he’s hurt, and well—it’s not good.

There are deep gashes in his arms that have dried and crusted over—much to his disgust—but ultimately look clean which is good; Ranpo would rather not survive his fall from the cliff just to die from an infected wound later on, that would be a truly terrible way to go in his opinion. The wounds have been well taken care of, he notices, pulled shut with stitches in order to aid the healing process, with some kind of salve slathered over them. “What’s that?”

“It’s an herbal remedy from one of our doctors.” Melville answers, bringing out a cloth and dipping it into a bowl of warm water before gently dragging it across the injured skin. “I’m not sure what’s in this salve, but I did hear it contains painkilling properties, along with something to give you the strength to fight off any infections that may come for you.”

“I see.” The explanation brings about a pain in Ranpo’s heart, only because it reminds him of his childhood friend that chose to become a doctor. Yosano and him had grown up together, roaming the streets of the kingdom together, getting up to whatever mischief that six-year-olds could get into, and it’d been that way right up until the death of Ranpo’s parents and he’d been whisked away to begin his training as the next royal of the country.

It’s been years since then those days, and not once did he ever stop missing his oldest friend; they’d kept in touch through letters and the occasional nighttime visit, because Ranpo refused to let go of Yosano, even when those around him told him to, trying to tell him that his friend was only his friend for the money.

An argument he’d squashed quickly by pointing out that technically, Dazai could’ve been doing the same, so if they had a problem with Yosano, they should have a problem with Dazai too.

The people caring and teaching him said not another word against his friends.

Of course, he’d failed to predict just how much work came with being a royal, which meant that a natural distance grew between him and Yosano, and eventually, when Ranpo was ruling the country, and Yosano was trying to become a doctor, they fell out of contact. And since then, there’s always been a hole in his heart where that friendship once was, and briefly, he wonders whether Yosano succeeded at becoming a doctor, wonders whether she’s heard about his ‘death’ yet and how she’ll handle that information.

He wonders how the entire country will handle whatever information it is that Dazai chooses to feed them about what happened.

He hopes they question it.

“Ranpo, I’m finished with your arms, may I move to your legs?” Melville’s voice drags him out of his reminiscence, and he turns to look at the old man.

It takes a moment for him to realise what he’s just been asked. “Huh? Oh, yeah, that’s fine.”

Melville grabs a new batch of supplies before shifting down the bed, taking the blankets with him as he does so, revealing Ranpo’s legs that are wrapped in even more bandages than his arms are. He frowns at them, and tries to wiggle his toes, wincing when he’s greeted with nothing but sharp pain.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Melville says, starting to unwind the old bandages. “You have fractures in your legs, and just as many gashes.”

Well that’s not good.

“No complete breaks?” Ranpo asks.

“None that we could feel. The doctor that treated you insists that you remain resting as if they were, though. She doesn’t want you to overexert and make your injuries worse.”

Ranpo’s eye twitches at the prospect of bedrest. “And just how long does this doctor of yours expect me to lay around and do nothing?”

“At least two months to begin with, and then she’ll reassess and see how well you’re healing.” Melville gives Ranpo a hard look. “I know your type, Ranpo, and listen to me carefully when I say that you will rest, or otherwise, you’ll risk losing your mobility. Your injuries were severe, it is a miracle that Lord Stoker happened to be there that night so that you could live another day.”

Ranpo hums, still unsure of how much of miracle it actually was. “And how many days have passed since that night?”

“It has been four days. You slept the entire time after we moved you to the room. Lord Stoker was worried that you’d slipped into an unwakeable sleep, especially when the third day came by and you still showed no signs of waking.”

“You didn’t seem surprised to find me awake.” It’s not a question or a statement, but a simple fact that Ranpo states because it’s the truth. It was almost like he’d expected Ranpo to be awake.

Melville’s beard twitched in what could only be amusement. “I’ve heard about what kind of person you are, so I simply believed that you would wake when you were ready, and if you didn’t, you didn’t.”

Ranpo raises an eyebrow, curious now. “And what have you heard about me?”

A hum follows his question, and Melville leans back after he finishes cleaning the wounds on one of Ranpo’s legs, reaching over to grab a fresh roll of bandages. The man remains silent as he finds the beginning of the roll, only answering the question as he begins to wrap up the injuries. “I’ve heard a that you were a reasonable king to those that were struggling, that you were cruel to those that hurt others. I heard that you were crowned young, that your parents were murdered—” Ranpo can’t stop the flinch when Melville brings that up, “—and that because of it, you became untrusting of even those that had once been close to you.”

“Interesting things to hear.” Ranpo says, turning his gaze to the ceiling. And all of it correct. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, to know that an enemy kingdom would know so much about him; information gathering is a useful skill to have, one that Ranpo never sought to hone, because it’s what he was already good at. There was never any need for him to seek out information, not when he could figure out everything that he wanted to know with a singular glance towards a person. His skill had earnt him plenty of both awe, and ire, and many dubbed him a mind reader, when really, it was the person he was studying that couldn’t keep him from finding out their deepest, and darkest, of secrets.

Ranpo drops his gaze back to Melville, who’s in the middle of dealing with his other leg. “Do you want me to tell you what I’ve figured out about you?”

“You haven’t even known me—” The man starts to say, only for Ranpo to interrupt him midsentence.

“Doesn’t matter.” And without waiting for a response, Ranpo dives into his observations. “You’re a quiet person, and have strong opinions about things but instead of acting on those opinions, you’ll just go with whatever the other person says to avoid conflict, which lands you in unideal situations, but you also believe it’ll work out in the end, so you push through. Kind of like an ocean, which leads me to deduce that you really have a fondness for the ocean, and particularly, whales, which I guess is because they are peaceful creatures and you are a peaceful person.”

Ranpo could go on about what he’s deduced about Melville, but he stops himself there. He’s aware that sometimes his deductions aren’t wanted, and the last thing he wants to do is upset the man that’s taking care of him until he heals—as he is, it’d be very easy to end his life, and Ranpo’s luck recently has been abysmal. No point in trying to test it even further. So he falls silent and watches as Melville thinks over the words, and the man slowly nods a moment later.

“Very impressive, Ranpo. You certainly live up to the skills that I have heard so much about.” Melville stands up and places the dirty bandages into a bag that he then ties up and sits on top of the cart. “Now, I have some broth here for you to eat if you feel up to it.”

In that moment, Ranpo’s stomach chooses to grumble. He’s not too sure what kind of broth he’s being offered, but… he is hungry.

“I’ll eat a little.” He says.

Melville grabs the bowl and then moves to sit right next to Ranpo, spoon in hand, which he immediately reaches for. He might not be able to move much, and he might in pain, but like hell is he going to let someone else feed him like he’s an infant. It’s humiliating. Thankfully, Melville seems to understand this, because he hands the spoon over and simply holds the bowl as Ranpo struggles to feed himself. It’s embarrassing, because Ranpo’s hand shakes and if it weren’t for Melville’s foresight to follow the spoon with the bowl, his fresh bandages would be sullied already.

And because of Ranpo’s stubbornness, he pushes through the pain and the shaking in order to appear as if he’s still put together.

When in fact, it’s more like he shattered into pieces hitting the ocean, and feeding himself is the only way he can keep those pieces together.

For the next few days, Ranpo’s routine doesn’t change.

He either wakes up alone with the sun starting to peek into his room, or he wakes up to Melville gently shaking him so that his wounds can be checked and redressed, and then he eats a meal before he’s left alone. He’s brought breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but other than that, he doesn’t see another soul in this place he’s in—he doesn’t see Bram. It shouldn’t bother him, in fact, he should prefer it, but Ranpo’s always been the kind of person to keep moving, to always be doing something in order to distract his mind from the things he doesn’t want to hear, and laying in bed, doing nothing, is agony. All it does is make him think and for a moment he wonders if this is some kind of torture method that this kingdom uses; keep someone in comfort and treat them well, but then completely and utterly ignore them. Why else would Bram pull him from the ocean, agree to house him, and then not once come to visit him?

Of course, the day after he falls down that rabbit hole, Bram comes the next day.

By then it’s been two weeks, and Ranpo is ready to commit some kind of crime in order to get the attention of his fellow king. Not that he doesn’t because not only is he unfamiliar with the laws of Bram Stoker’s reclusive kingdom, he also doesn’t know what the punishments for breaking said laws is, and he’d quite like to avoid another near death so soon after the last one.

He’s already awake when Bram enters his room, knocking to be polite even though he doesn’t wait for Ranpo’s answer before pushing the door open and stepping into the room. Like that time in the cell, Bram is dressed in comfortable, yet still royalesque clothes, and he stands up straight as he strides into the room and comes to a stop at the foot of Ranpo’s bed. Eyes of crimson stare down at him, which instinctively makes Ranpo straighten up—he ignores the sharp pain that shoots up his back when he does—and he stares back, refusing to be the first of them to break eye contact.

Being the first to break means that the opposition has the upper hand after all, and Ranpo’s trying to keep himself on the ladder as much as possible right now.

He feels triumphant when Bram turns away first, eyes falling to the plate of half-eaten breakfast that Melville had brought earlier—half-eaten only because Ranpo’s body was fighting him this morning, and he’d become exhausted after just a few bites.

“You have not eaten much.” Bram comments, moving over to stand before the plate. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Just not hungry today.” Ranpo huffs, allowing himself to relax back into the pillows now that their little staring contest is over. “You try being thrown off a cliff to almost drown and see if you have an appetite still.”

“Herman says you are healing well.”

Ranpo shoots an annoyed look Bram’s way. “Got nothing else to do in this room.”

Bram hums, an expression of thought crossing his face. It’s interesting to see, since Bram’s facial expressions are minute in nature; like right now, a slight furrow between his brows, and a far away stare is the only indicator that Ranpo has to figure out the vampire is thinking. Lucky for him, reading the slightest change in someone’s face is something that he’s quite good at. He’s also not a total ass, and he’s tired, so Ranpo’s content to let the silence stew and wait for Bram to figure out what it is he wants to say.

After what must’ve been five minutes, Bram turns to face the bed. “Would you like to go outside?”

Ranpo narrows his eyes a little in caution. “…why?”

“You have been cooped up in a bed for two weeks. I am told that is not healthy for most humans, but I was also told your injuries required adequate rest, so I allowed you that rest.”

It’s not the most… sensible of explanations, but it makes sense to Ranpo. “So that’s why Melville is the only one allowed to see me.”

Bram inclines his head. “Herman is a trustworthy man. He works hard to keep the palace in order, and has always been kind. I believed him to be suitable in taking care of you, considering your circumstances.”

“And here I thought you were trying to torture me with isolation.” Ranpo huffs jokingly.

He’s trying to make light of the situation, but—

“Why would I torture you? Your advisor has done enough harm to your wellbeing.”

The humour flies right over Bram’s head.

And the reminder of just what Dazai’s done, and what he’s lost because of it makes Ranpo flinch a little. The king of the vampires certainly doesn’t have a way with words—at least, not saying them gently.

Ranpo decides to change the topic. “Don’t worry about it. You said something about going outside?”

“Yes. For just a little while. You will get to leave the room, and I will get to show you around the kingdom since it will become your home, even if temporary. So it will benefit you to learn the layout, and meet the people for when you can move about on your own.” Bram explains, moving over to pull the curtains back and drown the room in sunlight—not that they weren’t open before, but Melville always opened them halfway so that Ranpo wouldn’t be disturbed too much by the sunlight.

He blinks away the sudden brightness. “You would show an enemy king your home? Aren’t you bold.”

“I have no quarrel with your kingdom, Edogawa Ranpo.” Bram narrows his eyes, a slight flair of anger running through them. “And if you were a threat to the prosperity of my kingdom, I would not have fished you out of the ocean. I would have let you drown.”

A shiver runs through Ranpo’s spine, and he knows the words to be true. Even now, after fishing him out, the threat of death if he should bring harm to the lands that Bram calls home, is a valid one.

“Noted.” Ranpo says, and then adds on. “And what if Dazai decides to cause problems for your kingdom?”

“If that so happens, we will deal with it when it does and not before.” Bram says with a tone of finality, his way of saying that the subject is to be dropped immediately.

At least for now.

Because they’ll have to talk about it eventually, especially if Dazai finds out that Ranpo’s alive and well in the neighbouring kingdom. His former advisor—and friend—will do everything in his power to take control of Ranpo’s former kingdom, so to learn of his survival means that it’ll only be a matter of time before word reaches the general population and then he’ll lose the tentative hold that he has on the people. A king rules his people, but it is the people that make a kingdom; and neither can exist without the other. This is something that Dazai doesn’t know, and will never know, because he’s not the king of anything; he’s just a boy from the ocean with no past and no memories of that past.

But Ranpo does know, he knows this very well. For so long, his parents told him about the responsibility he would one day bear, and were the ones to encourage him to know the people, to understand them so that he could rule over and keep them happy. And that is what he did, up until their deaths. He was a young king, younger than most, but he had a few adults in his life that guided him, and helped him to learn his new responsibilities. And then there were those that sought to manipulate him, change him into the king that they wanted him to be—and certainly not a king worthy of the people.

Which is why he and Bram will need to talk about this eventually.

Dazai was smart, but even he would’ve needed help to perform a coup d’etat against Ranpo’s rule, and that’s a terrifying thought, because it meant that Ranpo hadn’t seen the coup forming, hadn’t heard the whispers of future betrayal and of the plans that would come after he was out of the picture.

And people capable of blindsiding him of all people were capable of anything.

But for now, the subject is dropped, and Ranpo is just going to enjoy this brief bout outside that he’s being given.

“How exactly do you intend to show me the town when I can’t walk?” Ranpo asks.

Bram’s lips twitch upwards a little, his fangs showing a little, as he steps towards the bed. “Like this.”

And in one fell swoop, Bram slides one arm underneath Ranpo’s shoulders, and another under his knees before lifting him from the bed.

Ranpo lets out an undignified yelp. “Put me down!”

“If I do that, then you cannot go outside.” Bram says, turning on his heal and striding through the open door into the hallway.

Ranpo curses the vampire, but gives in and allows himself to be carried once it’s clear that Bram doesn’t intend on letting him down, which is both good and bad. Good, because Ranpo can appreciate Bram’s long legs that cross the winding hallways with ease, but bad, because they run into other palace workers and although they do their best to ignore their king and his guest, Ranpo still hears the whispers as they walk by. And while he doesn’t mind gossip—he’s engaged in it a fair amount himself—he doesn’t like it so much when he knows it’s about him. Not him in the sense of he’s done something that warrants the gossip, but in the way that he’s the shiny new thing that everyone wants to get a look, and that’s what makes him embarrassed.

And even though it’ll make the gossip worse, Ranpo turns his head so that his face his buried into Bram’s shoulder in order to avoid the stares.

He allows himself to get lost in the motion of Bram’s walk as he’s carried, letting himself fall into a light doze where he’s resting, but still somewhat aware of his surroundings, a skill that he’d developed when he was still learning how to rule and kept having his sleep interrupted because someone always needed something from him, and sleeping wasn’t an acceptable excuse for him to not be present—even if the something had nothing to do with him to begin with, so his advisors at the time told him.

Personally, Ranpo found that absolutely ridiculous.

Why bother him if it didn’t even affect him?

At some point, Ranpo does actually drift off, because the next thing that he’s aware of, is his body moving through the air and towards the ground. His eyes fly open, and he jerks in the arms that’re still holding him, heart beating rapidly before he realises that he’s still with Bram. The vampire’s frozen right now, in a bent over position, still keeping his grip on Ranpo whilst he squirms, almost as if Bram believes that becoming still will help to soothe the sudden agitation that Ranpo feels.

Which it does.

Annoyingly.

“What are you doing?” Ranpo asks, and for once, he doesn’t immediately try to figure it out himself.

He blames his exhaustion for that.

“Taking you outside.” Bram says, and inclines his head towards a device that Ranpo had never seen before—wait, he has actually. The design is just different. “I am under the assumption that you would prefer not to be carried out in public.”

Ranpo eyes the wheelchair with curiosity. It’s cushioned well, meaning that it wouldn’t press hard on his injuries, and there’s a blanket folded on the seat—to both keep him warm and hide his bandaged body if he so wishes. “You would be correct. Is this your plan for showing me your home?”

“Of course.” And before Ranpo can even begin to voice a rejection—because he’s a prideful person, and his first instinct is to reject aid—Bram continues on. “You are not the first, or last, person to require assistance in getting around as you will see on today’s trip. Your pride will not be damaged by using the chair; you are injured, and all people will see is an injured person being helped, as is the way it should be.”

Even if Bram’s words weren’t meant to be soothing, they come across that way to Ranpo, and he lets out a sigh.

“Okay then.”

Bram nods, and continues on his way. Shifting Ranpo into a one-arm hold, using his now free hand to grab the blanket and lift it. It only takes a few seconds for him to be deposited into the chair and for the blanket to be draped over his legs, which he doesn’t hesitate to bundle up because he has to admit that he’s a little cold. Ranpo shifts a little to get comfortable and then tilts his head up to look at Bram, staring at the vampire’s upside-down face.

“Where are we even going?”

“Just around the town that surrounds the palace.” Bram says, grabbing the handles of the chair and setting a brisk pace towards the open doors. “You are still healing, so rest is prudent, however you are healing slower than expected, so I decided to see if fresh air would help.”

Ranpo feels his eye twitch, annoyed that Bram and his people are trying to force him onto a schedule that benefits them. “I didn’t expect be healing quickly.”

“You mistake my words.” Bram stops just before the doors and glances down at Ranpo. A gently squeeze to his shoulder encourages him to look up. “You are healing slow, yes. That is a fact. But we do not expect you to be healed soon. It will take time, as all healing does. What I meant is that your wounds are slow to close. I have seen people near death whose wounds have closed in the time that you have been recovering.”

“Oh.” Well now Ranpo just feels stupid. He doesn’t apologise, it’s not in his nature to, even if he’s the one in the wrong, and he drops his head back down before changing the subject. “How much fresh air do you want me to have?”

“An hour at the least, three at the most.” Bram responds, pushing Ranpo forwards again. “Is that acceptable?”

“It is.” Ranpo says before he’s blinded by the light of the outside. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the warm sun on his face, and waits a few minutes before he opens them again, blinking rapidly to help them adjust faster.

And once they do, he finally gets to take in his new surroundings.

Before him is a kingdom of stone. The castle behind him, and the buildings before him are all made out of stone, gray and dreary looking which does suit a kingdom of vampires if you ask him, but it’s not all that either. He can see where the people have tried to bring life into the buildings; plants line windowsills and sit in pots outside homes, there are colourful banners blowing in the gentle breeze, and the people themselves are dressed in tunics and cloaks that are any colour but gray. It’s so different to Ranpo’s own kingdom of wood and bamboo—his kingdom does use stone as well, but that’s usually for paths and foundation, not walls and rooves—that he can’t help but stare, fascinated with what he sees. And that fascination only grows the further down the path that he and Bram go.

Despite the stone buildings, the path is nothing but dirt, packed down over years of people trudging along it. A few tufts of stubborn grass poke through, but ultimately, it’s barren and bare—yet still beautiful in its own way. To Ranpo though, it’s just strange. The buildings look odd, the people are dressed weird, and they speak in a tongue that he knows, but also doesn’t at the same time. As much as he appreciates Bram Stoker’s offer of temporary sanctuary, he doesn’t believe that he will ever grow to be comfortable in such a foreign place.

It's just too different.

And Ranpo’s always struggled with change.

As he and Bram move down the path, people pause in what they are doing to turn their gaze upon him, and just him; no doubt because he’s the stranger and living this close to the palace that Bram calls home, means that these people probably see their king wandering about rather frequently. Ranpo’s proven correct when people wave and call out greetings upon spotting their king, and Bram returns each one with an incline of his head, but otherwise says nothing to his people, which Ranpo likes to believe is because of him. He’s almost certain that Bram is the kind of king to stop and talk to his people to see how they’re doing, even if he’s supposed to be doing something else.

Ranpo’s that kind of king too, although he does it at the cost of never doing any work until he’s dragged and forced to sit down and do it.

At least, he used to be.

Bram starts to talk once they’re free of the main road, heading in a direction that’s still bustling, but with more space to move about. He tells Ranpo about the buildings that they pass, what they are and what they’re for, end even tells him a little about the people that live or work in them, but it all goes in one ear and out the other, and not intentionally. The warmth of the sun is pleasant, too pleasant, and it’s starting to make Ranpo sleepy, even though he does his best to force himself to stay awake.

“Perhaps it was too soon to bring you outside.” Bram says suddenly, bringing Ranpo to a stop, which is what finally jerks him back to wakefulness.

“No it’s not.” Ranpo argues. “I just haven’t been sleeping well, is all.”

“Nightmares?”

Ranpo hesitates for a moment before he nods. Almost every night, he dreams of falling, waking just before he hits the ground. Sometimes he falls for minutes, and sometimes he falls for hours, and sometimes he thinks he’s falling, only to find out he isn’t until he gets shoved from whatever platform it is that he’s standing on and then starts to fall. Occasionally, he’ll get a reprieve from the falling dreams, only to have them replaced by the suffocating feeling as he drowns in the darkness that fills his throat and prevents him from being until he jerks awake gasping for air.

So, between falling and drowning, it’s safe to say that he doesn’t get a lot of sleep.

“It is common to dream of a traumatic event after it happens.” Bram says, turning down a quieter street, moving at a much slower pace than before. “We have sleep aids if you require them.”

“I don’t.” Ranpo says quickly. He doesn’t need, or want, to be drugged thank you very much. “Dreams pass, they always do.”

“The offer will stand should you change your mind.” There’s a brief pause. “Would knowing what happened help perhaps?”

Ranpo tilts his head back with a frown. “What do you mean?”

Bram looks down at him. “Your memory is a little strained, is it not? You do not quite remember what happened that night, so your subconscious tries to fill it with what could have happened instead. That is my theory anyway.”

And it’s a theory that makes a lot of sense. Even if it doesn’t wind up helping, or if it happens to make his nightmares worse, Ranpo thinks it best that he knows Bram’s point of view on what happened that night. It’ll help him to understand what he doesn’t, help him to make some sense of it, and maybe Bram knows something about how it happened as well. Ranpo remembers the vampire telling him that he’d been patrolling his borders that night, but why had he been patrolling them? It’s not uncommon for a border patrol to occur at night, but it’s also not overly common—at least, in Ranpo’s kingdom it’s not. It might be different in Bram’s considering that they’re all vampires—

Wait.

That’s not right.

Bram’s kingdom is mostly vampires, but there are humans living here too.

Ranpo remembers that some of the people on the boat that night were human.

He shakes his head, stopping himself before he overwhelms himself trying to make sense of everything before he has all the answers.

Hear Bram’s version of events first, question him about the humans later.

“Okay.” Ranpo says after they’ve left the buildings behind and come upon a small patch of grassland, with a single tree providing shade. “Tell me what happened.”

Bram pushes him over to the tree before he stops, letting go in order to take a seat next to Ranpo, and leans against the bark of the tree. A strong breeze blows, bringing a chill that has Ranpo dragging the blanket up just that little bit higher. Despite the chill, Bram doesn’t move a muscle, almost as if a simple chill is nothing to worry over—although his silver hair does move gently in way that captures Ranpo’s attention.

Silence falls between them, but it’s not the kind that is filled with tension, like Ranpo had expected it to be, it’s one of patience; for him, it’s waiting for Bram to start speaking, and for Bram, it’s simply finding the words that he needs to start.

“There has been tension on the border lately.” Bram starts to say, tone even and not at all accusational, because this is the first that Ranpo’s hearing of tension on any border with Bram’s kingdom and that makes his stomach twist. “Men from your kingdom cross the border, cause a little havoc and then flee before my people can get there.”

Ranpo swallows. “What kind of havoc?”

“Setting fires, tearing up crops, just general actions that are meant to provoke a reaction. I set people to the places that they crossed, however your men would just find another place to cross undetected and it was starting to get annoying, so we started patrolling the border at regular intervals.” Bram takes a breath and frowns, that annoyance showing. “Only it seemed to antagonise your people and they started to get violent and cause more problems, and they blamed us for the confrontations.”

Ranpo squeezes his hands together. He had no idea this had been happening, and right under his nose too.

“I joined the patrols then, and we caught the next group that crossed and questioned them. They insisted they were under orders, but would not say more so we were forced to let them go. I had no intention of causing problems and something seemed off about it all.” Bram glances over at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “Something was off, so I reached out to you and got no response, so we pushed back harder to get the crossings to stop. And they did. For one night. Then they crossed over the water, and burnt a local bar down before fleeing. The next night, I and a few men, patrolled the border, only instead of men trying to cross into our country, we find them throwing their own king off a cliff instead.”

“I didn’t know.” Ranpo says quietly.

Bram’s face softens just that little bit. “I had a feeling that was the case, which is why I chose not to retaliate.”

“But—”

“My decisions are my own, Edogawa Ranpo.” Bram says, firm. “I have been alive on this earth long enough to know that people under our rule can go rogue without us knowing. After the burning of that bar, I intended to pay you a visit to see what was going on, but as I am sure you are aware, you ended up on this side of the water.”

Ranpo doesn’t say anything. He can’t. All he can do is be grateful that Bram has all the patience in the world to not just launch attacks of his own. He had every right to after Ranpo’s own men harassed him for months.

“The night you were thrown off that cliff.” Bram continues when it becomes clear that Ranpo isn’t going to say anything. “We did not see much. There was a large group, and then you in a cage, and then they threw you off. You fell, and somehow missed the rocks which would have killed you—that fall should have killed you no matter anyway.”

“You knew it was me in the cage?” Ranpo asks.

Bram nods. “You continued to fight, even as death threatened you. That was how I knew.”

“And you… just came to my rescue?”

“Should I have let you drown?”

“Probably.” Ranpo says without thinking. His knuckles are white where he’s clenching his hands. He stares at the ground, but straight through it. “If Dazai learns that I survived and that you’re keeping me here, he’ll come knocking on your door demanding you hand me over.”

Bram lets out a slow, controlled breath. He’s touched a nerve it seems. “Let him knock then. I have not ruled for centuries just to let some traitorous advisor believe he can come and make demands of me in my kingdom.”

For some reason, a weight lifts off of Ranpo’s shoulders at those words, and he feels a little safer knowing that Bram is willing to risk his own neck just to keep him safe. He knows it’s not really like that, that Bram is doing what any king should and also holding onto his pride, but Ranpo can fool himself into believing otherwise for now.

Mostly, he just wants to stop fearing what’ll happen if Dazai does figure it out and show up.

“You said you’d help me because it would bring you fulfillment…” Ranpo says slowly, “why?”

Bram lets out a hum, and turns his head towards the sky, staring through the leaves of the tree. “I have learnt a lot over the centuries, seen many different kinds of kings and the way they rule—I have even changed my own way of ruling at times—so I have little patience for those that slink around in the shadows and plot.” The vampire’s eyes narrow in what can only be anger. “Someone once did the same to me, however they failed, and I banished him from my lands.”

Crimson eyes turn towards him again. “So I would say, that seeing you go through the same situation, makes me want to help instead of make it worse. Is that the answer you seek?”

It is, but it also gives Ranpo more questions that he wants to ask, yet holds back because it’s not his business. But it is reassuring to know that he’s not alone in the ‘kings that get overthrown by their advisors’ club, even if Bram did successfully fend off his own coup d’etat.

Ranpo turns towards Bram and smiles for the first time since this entire situation began. A genuine smile too, instead of one of his sardonic ones. “It is, thank you.”

[buildingthegrandtour]

johnny

It’s been a long time since I felt comfortable in my own skin. It has been even longer since I felt comfortable with somebody else. Something about him… After spending a lifetime running out of breath trying to keep up with the pace of everybody else, he moves at a pace I can keep up with. He remains patient as I try to figure out my own pace. I am fascinated by him, the parts send my heart to flutter as well as the parts that make it crack. It’s not perfection but then if he was I don’t believe I would be so fascinated but rather worried.

I asked him to drive. I am in a town that I have not been in since before I was a teenager and he’s lived here most of his life. He knows where he’s going and I told him to surprise me. I want to learn more about him. And I trust him. I don’t bother checking out the scenery I want him to surprise me. I lay my head on the window and close my eyes holding to my consciousness so I can listen to the engine and the wheels as they move along the pavement. Allow myself to be  lulled away from my ceaseless anxiety by The rhythms of the drive and the turns he makes. For all I know he was taking me to the spot where he will murder me. my cats are well taken care of so I’m not too concerned about that. Well, I trust he won’t do that. And if I’m wrong that’s okay. I’m not sure if that’s an optimistic or pessimistic way to look at it.

Sharp turn, and the rhythm changes, the sound is a little rougher. I lived in the country long enough to know what is happening at the moment. We’re on a gravel road now. I open my eyes to see that he has brought me to a cemetery. wavelengths frequencies oh my goodness I’m in trouble. We had discussed this he knows I like cemeteries he knows I find them relaxing.

As he drives along I wonder how does he play it, his time here? is there a particular corner that he is partial to? Or is it like me with my photo shoots where he just picks a spot, as though the dead beneath the ground or calling out to him come visit me today.

Come share this moment with me today.

l get out of the vehicle and he follows my lead. I choose a family tombstone and address them by name, thanking them for their invitation. He just smiles at me and i melt.

I am in so much trouble.

The few seconds it takes for him to sit down next to me stretch out to eternity. I don’t know what happens next and I’m not sure I really care. If he starts listing off movies in his collection I will just be happy that his voice is addressing me. If he sticks to silence I will just be happy that he chose me to keep him company.

If this is my last night on earth, well it’s a good thing I paid my respects before I took my seat. I let out a little giggle at the thought. There’s always that little bit of darkness that wants to come out. But it’s been coming out less and less since he decided to look in my direction. Not since I took theater and my first round of community college did I ever speak to anyone that treated me as though I held any importance. It was always everything and everyone was more important than me.

And my mind is swimming. As George Michael said when a dream comes true what the hell are you supposed to do with it? I think I will take the advice of my company and just see where it goes.

Maybe my bravery bar will level up a little bit. I didn’t have the cheat codes so who knows. Maybe his bravery bar will level up a little bit. Maybe….

Oh that touch. I’m getting that passion stirring up in me oh, the kind I never thought I’d be able to feel or that I’d be able to feel comfortable feeling ever again. That type that comes from Bram stoker’s Dracula. You know the one. Take me because you want me I will never tell you no, I will never turn you down.

He’s tracing my stockings, literally the only part of my outfit that is not brand new. Every other piece was bought and put together for him. I wanted him to be the first to see it. I know he likes reds, deep reds, so that was the accent color of the outfit, along with the little play of my mismatched Harlequin stockings, a crimson wrap around a grey tulle skirt, and it’s been at least a decade since I managed to get myself into a corset and not feel like a fool. I’m getting the feeling he likes it when he moves closer.

I can feel a little shiver moving down my spine as he moves closer to me, tracing the shape of my body as he works his way up to the nape of my neck. Oh that was a weakness I’m not sure I should have told him about. My head is swimming. Things are moving too fast. Things are moving at the perfect pace. Things aren’t moving fast enough. I’m not sure which because I’m not sure how time is moving, not at this moment.

I reach out to him, touch his face, trace his lips, let my hand rest on the back of his neck and move a little bit closer. His hand is tangled in my hair and his lips beneath my thumb just seconds ago are now gently pressed against mine. We take a second to wrap ourselves up into each other before our lips part and we taste each other for the first time.

The first time. That insinuates there will be a second. And hopefully a third and a fourth and… oh wow he tastes so sweet! And this is such the perfect place, where the world stands still, for that first lingering kiss and the passion that comes with it. Yes darling thank you for bringing me here.

originally posted 22 May 2022

[nopoodles]

I posted 834 times in 2022

That's 717 more posts than 2021!

185 posts created (22%)

649 posts reblogged (78%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nopoodles

@emelkae

@ren-c-leyn

@avrablake

@asher-orion-writes

I tagged 496 of my posts in 2022

Only 41% of my posts had no tags

#guardian cadet series - 50 posts

#writing - 46 posts

#fiction - 44 posts

#short story - 40 posts

#fantasy - 39 posts

#lgbt characters - 32 posts

#hi there potential friend - 31 posts

#merry arlan - 31 posts

#lgbtqia+ - 29 posts

#merry arlan: breaking the curse - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#sometimes i regret naming commander whitclé what i did because i have no accented e on my keyboard so i have to search and copy every time

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

My wife told me that when she first read Dracula she read it at a very measured pace, as if she were someone reading Jonathan Harker's journal and wondering if what he out down was truth or simply a reaction to sleep deprivation. Until the 12 May entry where the belief is suddenly ingrained in the sheer inhumanity of the action.

She told me she finds it interesting that, when I've been reading it aloud to her through the course of Dracula daily, I read it like Jonathan Harker experiencing it immediately, and desperately trying to parse out what happened. As if my reading is happening sometime between the events themselves and when Jonathan writes them down. It's a little frantic, it's at speed, it's with emotional emphasis that she never would have included.

This is not to say that either reading is better or worse, I am inclined to believe I read in a more immersed way because I'm an author so I'm used to putting myself in characters shoes, but it could just as easily be that my wife can't picture things in her mind and I can, or the age at which we have each read it, or my dyslexia, or a whole host of other possibilities.

I just thought it was interesting

24 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

#4

I've been reading Dracula Daily aloud to my wife (who read the novel around 14 years ago and remembers the overall plot and key moments but not much else) and we met Quincy today so I did my best attempt at a Texan accent (you know, from someone who has never been to the continent Texas is on let alone to Texas itself) during Lucy's letter* for 24th.

And then we get to 25th and I read John Seward's diary (audio-note?)° and I scroll down and go "Quincy? Is that the — ah shit I have to do the cowboy voice for a whole entire letter!?" And my wife offers me a grin filled with such schadenfreude-esque glee that tells me she will accept nothing less than my pre-established I-don't-know-what-Texans-sound-like accent.

*am I going to address the painfully casual racism and misogyny in Lucy's letter? Probably only in so far as this note acknowledging it exists and that I was very put off by it but not going into detail I don't currently have the nuance or spoons to handle

° Yeah, also not diving into Seward and his asylum here

45 notes - Posted May 25, 2022

#3

Had an argument with my wife (argument is a strong word) while reading Dracula Daily because I pointed out the Bram Stoker uses an apostrophe-s after names that end in S (Morris's) but she insisted I edit out all my apostrophe-s on names ending in S in Merry Arlan: Breaking The Curse (eg Larrings) to just be an apostrophe.

When I pointed this out with words along the lines of "why can Bram Stoker do this and you made me not do it!?"

She said, "because Bram Stoker is wrong."

The boldness. The certainty. (Also everyone else also said edit out Larrings's and replace it with Larrings' so, like, not just my wife.)

91 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

#2

Dracula Daily thoughts 22 September

My wife said in passing as we finished todays entry: I am enjoying it better this time [compared to when she read it 15-odd years ago]. I think it benefits from being older when you read it.

And it got me (Will) thinking. I've seen someone comment on it before and I've shared ideas similar to this in reference to other pieces but, we really don't have the lived experience required for a lot of classic novels when we have to study them, and, ironically enough, the reason is because they're written for people with more lived experience than us.

Most novels will centre their protagonist's age (or ages) around that of their intended reader (obviously there's leeway here, especially in adult novels) and the age of our primary protagonist's in Dracula? Marriageable age. (Which is somewhere in their twenties by approximation).

So when my wife read this as a teen, she didn't have the lived experience of adulthood and relationships to formulate a real connection with the characters the way she does now. She's married now, and an adult, and only a little older than our main cast (maybe not older than all of them). Her link is stronger because that experience is designed to bond you to the characters.

But we read classic novels in school, before we gain these experiences, and we don't connect with the characters because they were never designed with teenagers in mind. And people decide they don't like classic literature. And there's nothing wrong with not liking classic lit, but we're not setting people up for success with them in the first place so.... How can we be surprised?

Anyway, if you've been enjoying Dracula Daily despite not having enjoyed classic lit before, don't be afraid to embark on another trial (whether it be through an e-mailed format or just picking up a copy), find a piece of classic lit you're interested in and just give it a go. If it's still not for you and Dracula Daily is an exception, that's totally cool, and if it's not the exception, you've opened up a whole avenue of literature you might have otherwise avoided because teenage you was too young to find any enjoyment*

(feel free to ask for suggestions, my wife is a font of classic lit knowledge and I can ask my bibliophile mum too)

*also don't at me about how you liked classic lit as a kid/teen. I know there's plenty of you out there. Good for you, that's not what this is about but feel free to share your fave classic lit and why you like it to help other people find the stuff that's good for them.

160 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Not me coming into the Daily Dracula thing late so trying to catch up with the backlog of journal entries and reading it aloud to my wife (who has read Dracula before but not for about 14 years) and coming across a new and strange word: goitre.

So I do what any logical person reading on a tiny pocket computer would do. I look it up.

And I tell my wife, "according to the NHS website it's a medical condition characterized by a swelling if the throat and most cases (90%) are because of a lack of iodine and thyroid issues."

Then idly wondering as I swap back to the text of Dracula, "why do all these people living near Dracula have Iodine deficiencies?" Piecing things together for sure, just not the right things.

"So," I summarise aloud for my wife, "they've all got swollen throats." Relocate myself in the text and freeze.

"Ohhhhhhhh!" With dawning realisation about the fact that peasants living near Dracula's castle all have swollen throats and knowing what I know, that Jonathan Harker does not know, about Dracula and his penchant for necks.

And my wife smiles that slow smile, the one she does when she's proud and amused all at once. A smile that reads like "I think it's hilarious that it took you so long but I'm also really glad I got to see you figure it out, you smart little oblivious bean."

And maybe I'm a bit like Jonathan Harker actually...

232 notes - Posted May 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[embystarr-blog]

It's the first day of spring where I live, but it snowed last night and it's cold and rainy today. Lucy's dead, and I'm sad.

Rather than make 12312 posts talking about today's entry, I've decided to ramble in one single post. Keep reading at your own peril!

"The whole estate, real and personal, was left absolutely to Arthur Holmwood. Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary disposition, and pointed out certain contingencies that might leave her daughter either penniless or not so free as she should be to act regarding a matrimonial alliance."

Excuse me? Did Mrs. Westenra leave everything to Arthur before they were even married?? Am I not understanding this paragraph? Or is this about Arthur possibly not getting Lucy's state? I'm at a loss.

"I assure you, my dear sirs, I am rejoiced at the result, perfectly rejoiced."

NOT the time, the place, or the people, bro. A nineteen-year-old girl just died immediately after her mother, IN THE SAME BED. Please.

"even his stalwart manhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat"

Bram Stoker stop using the word manhood challenge.

"In such cases men do not need much expression. A grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over the shoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions of sympathy dear to a man's heart."

I know this smells of "I'm a masculine manly man", but there's something about the way English people express their feelings that is like a punch in the gut for me. Nothing is too overt, too exaggerated, but it's there. You won't see Elinor Dashwood sobbing her heart out, and her sister (who does these things) is seen as "too dramatic"... but Elinor's pain just shines through, both in the film and in the book. I love that shit, man.

"He fell a-trembling, and finally was shaken with doubt as with an ague. At last, after a long pause, he said to me in a faint whisper:—

"Jack, is she really dead?"

Oh, god this is so sad. He's so shocked, I need to wrap him up in a blanket and let him cry it out.

""No, no, not that, for God's sake! Not yet at any rate. Forgive me, sir: I did not mean to speak offensively; it is only because my loss is so recent."

Arthur, please, you're killing me. :(

""I only used that name because I was in doubt. I must not call you 'Mr.,' and I have grown to love you—yes, my dear boy, to love you—as Arthur."

I think Van Helsing here was thinking that perhaps Arthur had started to hate him somewhat, and he wanted to respect his feelings. Arthur's response is so warm and kind-hearted, poor dude.

[head-empty-just-sigma]

so after using my few remaining brain cells to analyze Bram’s ability a bit, i got a little idea in my mind that i absolutely need to theorize about. so here i am.

essentially i just want to ask what kind of effect Dazai’s ability would have on Bram, if any at all. so i’ll be looking at how Dazai’s gift interacts with large-scale abilities that effected multiple people or powerful ability-created weapons. i will also be talking about the sword stuck in Bram as well given what’s revealed in the latest manga chapter (102)

🔺spoilers for the main manga, 55 Minutes, Dead Apple, one scene from chapter 1 of Stormbringer🔻

a tldr is directly under the cut with less spoilers and a short to-the-point theory. also all lowercase is intentional

too long don’t want to read it:

Dazai’s nullification won’t have any effect on Bram himself, it won’t turn him human again, but it’ll make it so he can’t command his infected vampire army. i think Dazai will have to touch each individual vampire in order to nullify the infection, comparing it to how his ability functioned in Shibusawa’s fog. with the sword, i think Dazai wouldn’t have much more effect on it other than removing the engraving on Fukuchi’s hand and allowing Bram to control his ability again while Dazai holds the sword and renders it a piece of metal in his hand.

everything else in this post is talking about evidence for my theory & then my theory about their abilities interacting at the end. i hope you enjoy!

what is Bram’s ability?

Bram Stoker in the bsd universe is a mutated human who’s ability caused them to turn into an immortal/undead vampire. he’s been alive for several centuries without much change in appearance, leading me to believe the concept of age doesn’t apply to Bram anymore after becoming a vampire. not to mention he’s a head on a sword

since his ability isn’t named (although it’s most likely Stoker’s Dracula) i won’t be using that as material in my analysis, i want to focus on how his ability functions in the bsd universe alone.

so far from what we’ve seen, the usage of Bram’s ability requires that Bram or another infected vampire ingests the victim’s blood through biting the victim in order to infect them. infecting them causes them to turn into a vampire that has no will of their own and instead acts on the will of Bram, who gives orders to his brethren. the infected vampires are shown to be aggressive towards any non-infected human in the nature of wanting to bite them to infect them, not outright kill them. every infected vampire is loyal to Bram no matter who they got infected by, making it easy for Bram to build a large army using just his underlings without needing to bite each individual himself. this ability can also bring the dead back to life, which we see Bram do with Akutagawa as his first victim.

in one scene we see Bram use his influence as the so-called Lord of the Undead to scare an infected vampire when Aya gets attacked

we can assume that while he’s incapable of actually issuing commands to the infected because of the sword, he still has authority that can be sensed on an instinctual level by the infected vampires.

that’s pretty much all we know about his ability for now, so i’ll leave Bram’s ability explanation here.

let’s gloss over Dazai’s ability

he nullifies any ability through physical touch. he can either touch the person using the ability or the ability itself for this to work.

nullifying Q’s ability by touching the doll

nullifying Corruption by touching Chuuya’s arm

lol

the only time Dazai’s ability doesn’t work is when it’s not an actual ability, i.e. Lovecraft being a Great Old One (a Lovecraftian god-like being) and not an ability user as well as some other times in the light novels. which i’ll get into right now

55 Minutes

seriously, this man is a piece of trash (affectionate)

so i’m going to ignore the entire plot of 55 Minutes but in case you’re wondering why Dazai is in a trash can well you’re just going to have to read the light novel to find out pffft

there’s a quote early on that i want to bring up considering the context of Dazai’s ability in regards to time-manipulating abilities

“‘Those thieves are nothing but a small part of the catastrophe that’s to come.’ All of a sudden, Dazai wasn’t smiling anymore.”

so the ‘catastrophe’ is a large-scale weapon called Code: Shell or ‘Annihilation’ made from an ability that’s hidden on the floating island that they’re on that’s going to be used to destroy Yokohama. and like half of Japan i think. idk 55 Minutes was a ride

so i have a personal theory that Dazai was originally sent to the island by himself to stop the weapon before it was used but he failed, which is where 55 Minutes begins with the random description of Yokohama being obliterated. then we see the rest of the ADA also being sent to the island because Atsushi needs to save Yokohama (again) because Dazai wasn’t able to do it by himself. he also knows who Wells is already, giving Atsushi a description of her at the beginning of the novel during the trash can conversation. Dazai also blatantly tells Kunikida and Atsushi that he knew they’d be caught up in some trouble, so he snuck into the jail room in order to help them escape. however, H.G. Wells (the ‘terrorist’) had set up that trap to get the ADA off her heels so they could get to the weapon without interference, so Dazai had to send Atsushi after her. Dazai also reveals he was sent there by the government, not Fukuzawa. i personally think that somehow Wells was capable of using her ability on Dazai, like we see Nikolai do when he uses his overcoat to teleport Dazai out of his cell. however, the time stopping ability that the cat lady has doesn’t effect Dazai? so it’s really up in the air here. there’s no solid proof Wells used her ability on Dazai anyway besides him knowing about some of the events that occur on the island, but that could also be left to Dazai being the genius that he is.

anyway so lots of plot happens & Atsushi ends up failing to stop the weapon from being used after finding out Wells wasn’t a terrorist (and getting a scene of her taking off a fake face Twilight style) the weapon starts destroying everything it touches.

Dazai and Kunikida witness this after escaping, with Dazai stating that he knew Code: Shell was an “ability weapon”. keeping that in mind, however, Dazai is still killed by the ‘plasma vapor’ created by the weapon boiling the ocean to the point of evaporating. now, i’d like to take a moment to mention this scene from Stormbringer:

“It was strange, because despite the abnormal gravitational field surrounding them, the figure just leisurely stood there.”

(credits to Chibikko_Chuuya, TsubakiHana2, and hktrsdc on twt for the translation)

so after Chuuya’s ‘gate’ is opened for the first time by Verlaine and the equivalent of a black freaking hole melts the corners off of buildings and some nearby lampposts, Dazai is able to just waltz up to Chuuya, who’s at the epicenter of an irregular gravitational field, and nullify Chuuya’s ability without so much as a scratch on him. he doesn’t even break a sweat despite literal metal lamppost melting just feet away from them. does this mean that Asagiri-sensei is inconsistent in how Dazai is affected by ability-based catastrophes? well, no. Chuuya’s phenomena is just his ability, but Code: Shell is a weapon of mass distraction created by an ability, which is the difference. Code: Shell is also probably much more powerful than Chuuya’s ability, including Corruption.

so i think we can assume that while Dazai’s ability is strong enough to nullify most abilities, it doesn’t work on weapons like Code: Shell even though an ability created them.

moving on

Dead Apple

Shibusawa is a King and i will not be taking arguments at this time thank you. also, the name “Tatsuhiko” uses the same kanji characters as ‘dragon boy’. just thought that was cool

so i’m ignoring the plot again and i just want to focus on how Dazai effects the fog

while Shibusawa’s fog is spread over Yokohama and causes abilities to be separated from their users, Dazai, Dostoy and Shibusawa are in some building that i can’t find the name of ANYWHERE that seems to be above the fog. while that’s well and good, we actually find out that the fog does reach them when Dostoy has his monologue moment with his own ability just outside the Draconia room in the tall building. so we see the first instance of Dazai’s ability not affecting the fog just from him being in it.

the second instance is one of the best soukoku moments when Dazai is putting Chuuya’s face in his crotch to keep him from moving, stating he ‘doesn’t want to have to protect him from his own ability’ while they’re in the fog. so here’s proof that Dazai can’t nullify the fog itself despite being within it, but he can nullify the effects of the fog on whoever he’s touching, stopping their abilities from separating. even when the fog turns red and grows, Dazai’s nullification has no effect on it. therefore, large-scale abilities like the Dragon’s Breath from Draconia (Shibusawa’s ability) can’t be nullified by Dazai as a whole and he instead must touch each individual who’s effected. keep that in mind

so now i’m moving into the theory/speculation part of this so please keep in mind that Asagiri-sensei may prove me completely wrong in a future chapter but this is my personal headcanon/theory for how Dazai’s ability would effect Bram’s ability

so i’m going to ignore the sword sticking out of Bram and pretend like he’s a full-bodied vampire capable of controlling his own ability for a minute. i’ll include what i think about the sword later.

first thing: Bram’s ability caused him to mutate into an undead vampire himself. what happens to him if Dazai touches him?

i personally believe nothing would happen to Bram if Dazai touches him. he won’t die, nor will he turn back into a human. i think using the context that his ability caused him to mutate into a vampire, and he can’t change himself into a human at will or anything, Bram is stuck forever as an undead vampire. also considering that if Bram is powerful enough to be called one of the “Ten Calamities”, Dazai’s ability won’t have an effect on his vampirism. obviously Bram can’t infect Dazai, but Dazai can’t make him human again either. i also think it would be a subtle narrative add-on that Dazai’s ability No Longer Human can’t give someone their humanity back.

next: if Dazai touches Bram, would it un-infect all of the other vampires?

no.

in the same way that Dazai didn’t have an affect on Shibusawa’s fog unless he touched the individual person, he can’t un-infect the other vampires unless he touches each individual infected person. of course, i think Bram (again, without the sword) would be able to deactivate his ability and turn them all back to humans, Dazai has to work way harder to nullify everyone separately. which is what he has to do canonically anyway considering Bram can’t deactivate his own ability.

i think at most it would make it so that Bram can’t command his vampire army while Dazai is touching him. the only one who might be un-infected is maybe Akutagawa considering Bram bit him himself.

next: will the infected vampires remember the events that happened while they were infected?

probably not. considering they have no will of their own and act 100% on Bram’s orders as mindless subordinates, they probably are in a state of unconsciousness while infected. they might have like flashes of memories, but i don’t think they’re fully aware of what they’re doing. they are considered undead after all.

well, then will they die when they’re turned back into humans?

as for dying i think there’s too many important characters who are infected right now for them to all die when their un-infected. i think this includes Akutagawa, he’s a very important character that had been showing major character development in the story and i think he’s going to be fine. plus, there’s no way Asagiri-sensei would create such a complex character for Chuuya and go into detail about his backstory with multiple light novels just to toss him in the trash like that.

i suppose there’s a small possibility that Aku will die after he’s un-infected but i want to believe Asagiri-sensei has other plans for him…..

final part: Dazai’s effect on the sword

so the Holy Sword was made after an ability user died, was turned into gold and silver by a different ability, and then forged into a sword. the dead ability user’s gift was one that fused an ‘ability’ with a ‘body’, creating an ultra-ability that transcends the principles of ability usage that we’re familiar with.

Bram describes the ‘body’ and an ‘ability’ like this: an ‘ability’ is a metaphysical concept, like their soul. and the ‘body’ is the physical vessel that houses it.

therefore, this sword that has the ability to fuse an ‘ability’ with a ‘body’, is currently lodged in Bram and is fused with Fukuchi through an engraved mark on his hand. this is what allows Fukuchi to manipulate Bram’s ability while he’s holding the sword.

now, i think Dazai won’t be able to use the sword obviously, in his hands it’s nothing but a piece of metal, but i think that him nullifying it will remove the engraving on Fukuchi’s hand. i’m not sure if it’ll also make it so the sword can be pulled out of Bram, considering it’s rooted in his brain and is a powerful weaponized ability similar to Code: Shell, so maybe Dazai won’t be able to effect the sword itself really, but he’ll remove the mark on Fukuchi and potentially allow Bram to control his own ability again.

however, i’m not entirely sure if this level of Dazai-ex-machina is something that’ll happen in the story considering he’s in Europe while Bram is in Japan

anyway that’s the end of my theory and personal headcanon until i’m proven otherwise lol. thank you for reading! if you have other ideas or noticed something i missed feel free to put it in the comments!

mini theory: can Chuuya use Corruption even though he’s infected?

my opinion is yes, yes he can. if we go by the context that Corruption can be triggered either intentionally after his chant, or forcefully triggered by emotions or opening his ‘gate’, i think that the distress of Chuuya’s current situation may actually trigger Corruption on its own without Chuuya willing it to. i kind of hope we get like a flashback scene of Chuuya at 7 when he’s still being tested on and stuff (i still need to read all of SB sorry i don’t know everything) but yeah. i think Dazai utterly wrecking Chuuya’s trust in him would be a cool plot moment for the story right now lol i’m sorry

[spacerangersam]

Ghosts vampire/werewolf au lore??? 👀

I did write a bit about it here, in case you haven’t see it ( https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/spacerangersam/689661464978604032?source=share ) but like, always happy to talk more about my aus asdfgh.

Also, I don’t know if you mean lore about how specifically vampires/werewolves work in this au or just, general info about this au, so I'll give you a bit of both. Sorry in advance for how long this is.

So, for the world itself, I imagine it's one where all humans know that supernatural beings exist, but it's like, generally hard to find them

It's like spotting a wild fox- very cool, but mindblowing. Certainly, no one's bringing out their pitchforks to hunt them down

Well, some people are, but that's a very small minority, and it's universally considered a bit of a dick move

And there are plenty of supernatural beings who live in human cities and whatnot, but it's not common

Especially with vampires

Speaking of: vampires don't turn into bats, they turn into a pile of writhing leeches. I remember someone telling me that was an idea Bram Stoker originally had before the bats, and while I can't find a source for that, I love it so it's vampire canon to me now

Alison is horrified when this first happens

Vampires can be seen in mirrors/photographs, as long as there's no silver lining/or silver in the film.

They can go in the sun with a lot of sunscreen on, but it's still a big risk. it's best to be careful and get a skincare potion from a witch

And with the Buttons specifically - the reason there's only that small handful left is simply that most Buttons, when turned into vampires, immediately leave the manor

Who can blame them? being stuck with your entire family for all of eternity sounds horrible

George did try to kill Stephanie like in canon back when she was still human, but either Humphrey or Kitty found and turned her just in time

Later down the line, she returned the favour to Captain, who was using the house as a base during WW2 but became incredibly ill

But was it a normal illness, or something else? Who knows.

There's no a/b/o stuff with the werewolves, I cannot stress this enough. Packs are either family groups, or like, a group of friends. If there are any leaders, then they're the parents or the most parent-like

Sort of on that note, Pat still does scouting, but his group is pretty much exclusively made up of cubs from the plague pack, named as such because they were all turned during the black plague

Werewolves turn you through scratches, vampires through biting, but it has to be intentional. A werewolf can scratch you, but unless they’re doing it with the aim to turn you, the only thing it will do is hurt

Why? No one knows. It’s magic

Unlike vampires, werewolves can be born. So Pat, Daley, and Robin were all born vampires, whereas Mary, Thomas and Alison were turned

I'd like to think it was Robin who turned Mary. Maybe she tried to help him when he got injured in his wolf form once, so when he saw the witchfinders coming, he ran ahead and offered to turn her to save her

She agreed, and they made their own little two-person pact

Skip ahead a few decades and after Thomas is turned, the Buttons essentially demand that they take him in

Skip ahead a bit further and the trio meet Pat wandering the woods sadly, fresh from his divorce, missing his pack

He joins the group they become a proper pack.

Daley visits, when his mum lets him

Pat and Cap definitely have like, a frenemies to lovers thing going on. Everyone is aware of this except for Pat and Cap

And despite the tension between the Buttons and the Pack, plenty of them are still friends. Julian and Robin still play chest together, Kitty and Marry hang out a lot- it’s mostly Stephanie and Cap causing the tension

Every full moon werewolves are forced to turn into their wolf form, but they don’t lose control. That’s only for red moons and eclipse, and even then, it’s more like…you know in H20 how the girls would get kind of loopy around full moons? It’s like that

But on normal full moons they have a movie night and just like, pile up on each other and cuddle

Kitty and Julian are sometimes invited

The Pack all live together in a house nearby to the Button’s manor, but it’s a lot smaller and in the woods.

Pat bought it because before then they were just sort of, roughing it in the woods. Not because they couldn’t find/afford somewhere, but because they just didn’t think to

You’ve heard of Alison seeing Cap as a father figure, now get ready for her seeing Pat as a father figure

And oh yeah of course he sees her as a daughter. She's a young fatherless person in his pack? No, he's her dad now, end of. And Daley definitely sees her and Mike as his older siblings.

Mike and Daley would definitely get into a lot of hijinks…definitely

Uh, this is getting long so I better stop, but before that, one last point: since Humphrey is connected with his body here, and to make up for the no turning into bats thing, Humphrey has a pet bat called Body. It’s a Salem situation, you know? A bastard that’s been stuck in the form of an animal to pay for his crimes

But the only one who pays is Humphrey

…okay, think I’m done for now