#moted castle

[pippapassed]

I Capture The Castle

Ightham Mote, Kent on 31st May, 2023. An artist I know commented that I looked like “Cassandra Mortmain grown up”. Cassandra is the heroine of Dodie Smith’s wonderful book I Capture The Castle (1948), about sexual awakening, the romance of place, financial hardship and the lessons of young adulthood – and being told that I embody a fictional character even for a moment is the best compliment an…

[rainingincale]

.

[timothyphillips]

(via Life In This Old Castle)

https://medium.com/@timphillips540/secrets-behind-the-stones-725460be16a6

join medium for free let the author and you shine through.

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

No Arthur today other than a brief good morning.

I am staring off for a second though and decide to speak to the bright agent.

*article on deep fakes*

Agent: so they are gonna come out and say it's been analyzed and it's a deep fake.

Me:

*sighs*

Ok, so all TV shows are deep fakes bro

Agent: what do I mean?

Me: Ever since the Honeymooners, bro. All Of Them

Let it sink in

*one punch man emote*

"with my own flavor thrown in"

[normatural]

Echoes of Souls | A.T

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Summary: In the old, abandoned castle, she found a love letter addressed to her, written by someone who died a century ago.

Word Count: 627

A/N: This is going to be a multi-chapter story so let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. Feedback is always welcome. English isn't my first language so excuse any mistakes but feel free to point them out to help me improve.

Prologue

As you ventured deeper into the old castle’s darkened heart, the wooden floors creaked under your weight. Moonlight spilled through the gaps in the boarded-up windows, casting eerie patterns on the walls. Your footsteps echoed in the vast, empty halls - a reminder of the life that once filled these rooms. In its prime, the castle must have been a sight of power and strength but now only its ruins stood with the remains of what it once was.

In a forgotten corner, behind a luxurious, albeit faded, tapestry was a small, concealed door. Intrigued, you pushed it open, revealing a hidden study. Dust motes danced in the beam of your phone’s lantern as you surveyed the room. Your eyes fell upon an ancient and elegant desk, covered in a thick layer of dust. Something gleamed faintly beneath the grime.

Clearing the dust with gentle, careful strokes, you noticed an old, ornate inkwell and an unfinished letter. But it was the sealed envelope that captured your attention. You picked it up, the paper fragile and yellowed with age. You broke the seal with trembling hands and unfolded the letter, eyes scanning the elegant, flowing script.

As your eyes scanned the words, you could scarcely believe your vision. The letter was addressed to you, bearing an unknown name that sent shivers down your spine. It was a letter from Aemond Targaryen, written over a century ago.

"My Dearest, 

Though you may never read these words, I write them with an ardent heart, compelled by a love that defies the boundaries of time. From the moment I first beheld you, my soul recognized its counterpart. In the fleeting, stolen moments we shared, I found a joy that I had never known, a peace that I had never sought.

But fate, it seems, is a cruel mistress, and the duties of our blood have kept us apart. Yet, even as I fulfill these obligations, my thoughts are ever with you, my heart yearning for the day we may be reunited, even if only in another life.

If you find this letter, know that my love for you was eternal and unyielding. The gods themselves could not tear my heart from yours. You are, and will always be, my greatest love.

Yours forever,

Aemond Targaryen.”

Tears welled in your eyes as the heartfelt words sank in. A part of me felt somehow a profound connection to the man who wrote them as if his spirit had been waiting patiently across the centuries for you to find him. To find this letter. It was as if you could feel Aemond’s presence, a gentle whisper in the air, a caress just out of reach. The hairs in your body stand on end.

Memories that were not your own flickered in the periphery of your mind - glimpses of a life filled with passion and tumult, of a love that burned brightly against the backdrop of a world in turmoil. Aemond’s face, stern yet tender, flashed before your eyes, a visage that seemed to bridge the gap between past and present.

At that moment, the abandoned castle felt alive with the echoes of the past. You clutched the letter to your chest, your heart beating faster against your ribcage. How could such a thing be possible?

In the quiet of the night, under the watchful gaze of the moon, you whispered your own words to the wind. Hoping that somehow they’d meet that man just like his had met yours. Sleep didn’t catch you that night. Your thoughts too consumed with that letter and the whirlwind in your chest to fall into a slumber. The fact that you should start planning the restoration of the castle is just as lost.

[see-arcane]

On the one hand, while Dracula seems prepared to play house enough to act as a driver and cook, I have to wonder if he’d relegate himself to taking care of things like dumping waste and filling bathtubs. If anyone would be willing to drop cash on taking care of that particular indignity by hiring professionals to come all the way to the castle just to outfit the old stonework with the novelty of indoor plumbing for at least one (1) sink, flush toilet, and tub, It Would Be Him. Jonathan certainly never mentions Dracula caught in the act of dumping a chamber pot the way he noted the stuff about making his bed and preparing the food. It’s possible!

On the other hand, this is also the kind of mortifying detail that rarely ever gets mentioned in a story for the sake of keeping the thematic flow and not touching on the biological inevitabilities that come with the far end of eating and drinking. Even in a gothic horror, everyone (who isn’t undead) needs to answer nature’s call and wash the usual bodily funk off. Early on we see a hint of Jonathan’s preference for a well-kempt appearance with the shaving bit. It suggests he’s a guy who keeps himself clean. 

(Unless, of course, he knew exactly who would have to come and go to bring hot water to a tub without its own plumbing, and who might be lurking around while he stripped down for a soak...) 

Which is all to say, it’s possible Jonathan is choosing to wholly censor his journal to hide this entire mortifying facet of life in which he’s either

A) Being given the litter box and bath time treatment only out of the courtesy of his captor, ala a cat and his owner, or

B) He is taking care of as much business as he can discreetly ala getting rid of his own waste out a window, while bathing outright may be sporadic...or...

C) Dumped waste and (especially) bathing happens when Dracula decides it happens. I can’t imagine the Count putting up with a pet-prisoner who lets himself fester and reek--it rather spoils the mood for the intimate uninvited touching and mind games--and so Jonathan either wakes to or is otherwise informed that ‘the servants’ have drawn his bath. Which he may or may not have asked for. Or even needed. 

But hot water is hot water and, clean or no, Jonathan knows not to waste the opportunity. (Or get Dracula’s hackles up over daring to waste the menial labor of it all.) So he washes when he’s allowed/told to, and pretends he doesn’t feel other eyes in the room. 

Did Castle Dracula have indoor plumbing before he knew Jonathan was coming to stay?

[see-arcane]

The Harkers have got me fucked up. Not just from how much they're going through. Not just from how well they know each other.

But in how much is not being said. How much that appears to have been missed.

Mina has just made their friends swear to euthanize her. In front of Jonathan, who she knows cannot/will not make said promise aloud, though she tries to fish it out. A funeral service, yes, but no more than that. She takes the wins she can, relying on the others for the sacrificial slaughter while she pries what she thinks is some mote of acceptance of the Worst Case Scenario in Potentia from Jonathan. Perhaps she's read the vampiric vow of his journal by now. Perhaps not. Perhaps she already suspects either way and wants desperately not to see him damn himself, damn both of them, to avoid raising a killing hand to her.

She is going into the dark. What kind, she does not know yet. But she knows--thinks she knows--she has taken some measure to save her soul and Jonathan's. God's will be done. (Piety trembles in her heart, a fear trying frantically to still look like faith.)

Jonathan, meanwhile, is in Hell.

As it was in the castle, there are some miseries too deep to dwell on for him to stomach writing them down. Hence his tapping Jack to record it all. But the silence from him here, bar the dodge of the promise that goes against his private vow, bar the reading of the burial service, sinks deeper than any horror he suffered from the Count in person. What can he be thinking now?

I made this all possible. I opened the door to England for him. Showed him how to spread his poison. Failed to strike a killing blow when I had the chance. Slept frozen and useless beside her as he drank and made her drink. Lost him by inches in Piccadilly. Now I am here, listening to her claim so sunnily that any man of old would murder his woman to save her from the enemy's touch, as if asking for a trifle. All the while I sit contemplating a hellish betrayal, holding my heart over her wishes, over sanity, humanity, Heaven and Hell. Contemplating worse.

(The kukri is very sharp by now. In time it will have so fine an edge that no one would feel its cut before their head toppled off. Be they in a coffin or a friend with their back turned. Sickly, he finds the thought cold and placid in his mind. Is he not already damned for what he's allowed? Is he not already slated for the Count's collection? He knows whose blood it was on the monster's lips on that final dawn in Transylvania. And when he dies...)

I imagine he has to stop himself from making a mirrored request to the others right there. Has to stop himself from handing Mina the Bible and asking her to read it out for him. If she is lost, he is lost. It is not merely undeath that he would follow her into--whatever she is, wherever she goes, so must he be, so must he go.

Read it for me now, darling. You laid it all out so eloquently. I am already lost but for the wait for the grave. Come everyone, while we're here. Two funerals. Two sets of oaths. I can perhaps save you half the work, if I fall neatly enough on the kukri. Pry it from my heart and take my head when the time comes.

But he bites his tongue. Does not touch his pen. Does not risk heaping another weight on his love who is already crushed beneath existential terrors that are being thrust on her by the actions of others. She does not know what he is planning, even if she suspects it by half.

What she knows: Jonathan cannot raise a hand to her. (He would have me as a monster than not exist at all.)

What he prays she never will: Jonathan will be anything she is. (Mortal. Monster. Dead.)

One last secret to keep.

All the way to the grave.

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

Im Only Gonna Drag You Down

Eris x Reader

Summary: You've been fine, but your depression comes out of nowhere. Now all you can feel is numb as you look for an escape from reality. Eris takes it upon himself to help you through it.

word count: 1.7k

cw: I'm so sorry... the demons told me to write this /s

The morning sun cast a soft glow across the room, illuminating the dust motes that danced lazily in the air. You stirred under the warm blankets, eyes slowly adjusting to the light that seeped through the gap in the curtains.

Your hand reached out automatically to the cold space beside you, expecting to feel the reassuring warmth of your mate's body. But the emptiness only served as a cruel reminder that you were alone.

Eris had left early to attend to him duties in the court, giving you space to deal with your tumultuous emotions.

You hadn't seen him since the night before, when you'd broken down, the weight of your depression finally too much to bear. His eyes had been filled with a mix of pain and determination as he held you tightly, whispering soothing words into your ear. But even his gentle embrace couldn't chase away the numbness that consumed you.

Now, lying in the quiet of the room, you felt the heaviness of your soul pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

You tried to sit up, but your body felt like it was made of stone, unresponsive to your desperate attempts to break free.

The once comforting scent of him on the pillow only served to deepen the ache in your chest. You could almost hear the echo of his footsteps, the sound of his laughter, but it was all just a taunting memory.

With a deep breath, you pushed yourself upright, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Your bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, sending a jolt up your spine.

You knew you needed to get moving, to do something—anything—to keep the suffocating emptiness at bay.

You glanced around the room, eyes lingering on the half-empty mug of tea he'd brought you last night, the candle that had burned down to a stub. The sight of them made your stomach clench, a reminder that even in the midst of your despair, he was there, trying to be your beacon of light.

The sound of a bird's sweet trill outside the window pulled you from your thoughts.

You stumbled over to the sill, gripping the edge for support. The sight of the vibrant world outside was jarring, quite the contrast to the gloom that clung to you.

You watched the sun rise higher in the sky, the colors shifting from pale pinks to vibrant oranges and yellows. It was a beautiful morning, a perfect day that you had no right to spoil with your dark thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, you turned away from the window and reached for your robe. The fabric was soft against your skin, but it couldn't soothe the turmoil within.

You shuffled over to the washbasin, the cold water a shock to your system as you splashed it onto your face. You stared at your reflection, searching for any semblance of the person you once were.

The eyes that looked back at you were hollow, lifeless pools of despair.

What does he even see in you?

The question whispered through your mind, as persistent as the buzz of a pesky fly. You knew you weren't whole, that your shattered pieces were held together by a thread so thin it could snap at any moment.

Yet Eris had claimed you as his mate, promising to stand by your side, to cherish and protect you. The weight of his love was a burden you didn't feel worthy of carrying.

You managed to get dressed, the act of pulling on your clothes feeling like a monumental achievement.

As you stepped out into the corridor, the castle's usual bustle felt alien and overwhelming. Voices, laughter, and the clatter of footsteps echoed around you, each sound a knife twisting in your gut.

You craved the solitude of the library, a place where the words in the ancient tomes had once offered you comfort.

The library was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you could lose yourself in the tales of heroes and myths, if only for a brief reprieve from reality.

As you approached the grand oak doors, they swung open, revealing Eris standing there, a book tucked under his arm, his gaze searching for you. His eyes widened with relief when he saw you, and he strode over, his movements full of concern.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, his voice a soothing balm.

You tried to smile, but it felt forced.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." The words were heavy, a lie coated in a thin layer of hope.

Eris studied you intently, his gaze sweeping over your drawn features. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat like a lump of unyielding ice. But the warmth of his touch was a gentle prod, urging you to open up. With a shaky exhale, you nodded.

"I just...I don't know what happened. I felt okay, and then everything just...crashed."

He led you to a secluded corner of the library, his hand never leaving yours. The scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air, a familiar comfort that did little to ease the storm raging in your chest. Eris sat beside you on the plush velvet bench, his eyes never leaving yours as you spoke.

"It's like...everything just stopped making sense," you whispered, the words raw and painful. "I feel like I'm stuck in a fog, and I can't find my way out."

Eris's grip tightened on your hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles.

"Depression can be like that," he said, his voice low and soothing. "It doesn't always come with a warning. Sometimes it just...appears."

You nodded, his understanding piercing the fog ever so slightly.

"I know. It's just...I didn't think it would come back. I thought I was stronger than this."

Eris leaned in, his eyes filled with a fierce tenderness.

"Strength isn't about never falling, it's about always getting back up." He paused, his expression earnest. "And you will. We'll face this together."

But the words felt hollow, the weight of exhaustion dragging at your very soul.

"What if I'm too tired to keep fighting?" The question slipped out, a quiet admission of defeat that hung heavy between you.

"Then I'll carry you," Eris said firmly.

His hand cupped your cheek, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin.

"We'll fight together."

You searched his eyes, looking for a crack in his resolve, a hint of doubt. But all you found was a steadfast belief in you, a conviction that you were worth fighting for.

"It's not your burden. You deserve someone better."

"Someone better?" Eris's voice was a soft rumble of disbelief. "You are my heart, my mate. There is no one better for me than you. We face this as one, just as we face everything else."

His thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped your lashes, the warmth of his skin leaving a trail of comfort.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease a fraction.

"But what if I drag you down with me?"

Eris's eyes searched yours, full of a fierce love that seemed too bright for the dimly lit room.

"Then I'll fly with you, even into the darkest depths of the earth. I swore an oath to you, and I meant it. Through every joy and sorrow, I am yours, and you are mine."

He took a deep breath, the air in the library seeming to still around you both.

"But I need you to do one thing for me."

Your heart thudded in your chest, hope and fear mingling in an uneasy dance.

"What?"

"Let me help you," Eris said simply, his eyes never wavering from yours. "Allow me to share this burden, to support you when you can't stand alone."

You bit your lip, the tears welling up again.

"I don't want to be a burden."

Eris's gaze softened, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're not. You're my partner, my equal. And in the same way that I would fight to the death for you, I'll stand by you in this too."

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Please, let me in."

The sincerity in his words pierced through the fog, and you found yourself nodding, the first real spark of hope flickering in your chest. He leaned over, wrapping his arms around you in a fierce embrace. You melted into him, feeling the warmth and solidity of his body, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

"I'll read to you," Eris murmured, pulling back to look into your eyes. "You just listen and rest."

He picked up the book he'd brought, the title long forgotten in the face of your pain. As he opened it to a random page, you leaned your head against his shoulder, the comfort of his presence seeping into your very bones.

His voice, deep and melodious, began to weave a tale of adventure and love, the words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The steady rhythm of his reading soon lulled you into a doze, the story's cadence acting as a lullaby to quiet the chaos in your mind.

The sun shone in your eyes as you sat up in your small bed, the light revealing the cramped room you called home.

The smell of burnt toast wafted in from the kitchen, a reminder of your mundane existence.

Your hand reached out to the cold space beside you, searching for Eris's warmth, but all you found was the chill of the pillow.

Your heart sank as reality crashed down on you like a lead weight.

You pushed yourself off the bed, the springs protesting with a groan. Your bare feet hit the floor, the coldness jolting you fully awake.

The dream had been so vivid, so real, that for a moment you had truly believed in the fantasy of a world where you had a mate, a love so strong it could conquer your deepest fears.

But it was just a figment of your imagination, a desperate attempt to escape the loneliness that had become your constant companion.

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[impala-dreamer]

Danger In The Mist

A Supernatural Story from The Kingdom of Moondoor

~ As the fair Princess Y/N races through the woods, running for her life from the evil monster, Margraw the Horrid, she fears that all is lost. Is there anyone who can save her? Will some brave knight come to her aide?!~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

2,400 Words

Warnings: Action, Fluff, Romance, Comedy. 

A/N: Set in the world of Moondoor... A request from a patron and the "hey, you made need to bite on this" square for my @jacklesversebingo Bingo Card. Hope you all enjoy! I must say, I really enjoyed writing this and the voice I found is a lot of fun.

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

A light mist kissed her cheeks as she raced through the woods. Her slippered feet ached with every step as rocks rose up to meet the silken soles of her feet. Her arms were stinging, scrapped by the rough hands of wayward branches and brambles. Out of breath and filled with fear, she stumbled from tree to tree, clawing at the sturdy bark for a moment of support before taking off once more.

She ran until her lungs burned.

Thinking herself safe, Princess Y/N paused aside a large rock formation. Her wind-blown hair created a pillow against the mossy stone and she breathed deeply, slowly. Her heart was pounding and her ears rang, but she listened closely to the forest.

To her left, birds chirped, signaling to others a warning of the approaching storm. Wings flapped against the graying sky as they filled the canopy with urgent alarm. On her right, twigs snapped under the hooves of deer and delicate leaves crumbled in their mouths. All around, wind passed through the greenery and Y/N held her breath, searching blindly for the one sound she absolutely needed to hear. All was still. She was surrounded by quiet.

A few moments later, heavy footfalls broke through the mote of silence and entered her perception. She gasped as the thing approached, stalking at a quick pace that she knew she could no longer keep up with or out run.

It was over.

She would soon be captured, taken away and shoved back into the dank, cold tower at Dunshire Castle to await her terrible fate. She exhaled and a hot tear trekked down her flushed cheek, mixing with the cool drizzle as it settled upon her skin.

“Come out, Princess!” The monster yelled as he sniffed the air like a dog. “I know that you are near. I can smell your sweet scent!”

A howling roar erupted from its maw and Y/N shivered. In her mind’s eye she could see the terrible creature clearly - a giant, thick body covered in the harsh gray fur of a wolf, fangs like a venomous snake that curved beyond its jaw, digging into his chapped lip. His piercing eyes like glowing rubies, seething with dark magic. The stank of him struck her senses and Y/N tried not to wretch.

She wanted to run but her body was weak. She wanted to scream, but she could not allow her voice to betray her location. She needed but a little more time to feel the dying sun on her face, to inhale the fresh air, to feel the soft ground beneath her feet before she was snatched back to the hell of the towering prison. She would not be taken so soon!

Another roar made her jump. It was closer this time and Y/N’s skin crawled. She had to run. She had to try.

She took a breath and then a step, moving away from the safety of the overhanging rock.

The moment she was free, a giant hand wrapped around the nape of her neck, yanking her backwards with ghastly power.

She screamed and the winged flock above scrambled to fly away from the echoing noise.

“Please! Help me!”

Y/N steeled herself for a blow that never came. As she took one final look at the forest, saying goodbye to the deer and the yapping birds, a strapping figure appeared a few yards away. The man was tall and handsome, with cropped brown hair that stood up a bit at the crown. His lips were full and pink, and his eyes matched the surrounding forest. He wore tights and a simple shirt of russet orange with silver chainmail covering his broad shoulders and chest.

“Unhand her, you fiend!”

The man’s deep, booming voice shook the trees and wrapped around Y/N with all the comfort of a heavy woolen shawl. She was saved. She was safe. She’d soon be free.

The monster pushed Y/N aside and she fell into the grass, watching as the war for her freedom began.

“How dare you,” the thing spat. “Do you have any idea who I am!”

“No introduction is needed, Margraw the Horrid! Though, I would like you to say hello to my little friend.” The man smirked and drew his longsword from its sheath. The metal gleamed in the dimming light and the crest of the mighty House of Winchester shone brightly upon the hilt.

Margraw hissed. “Winchester!”

Dean smiled proudly and turned the sword in his hand. “The one and only.”

A cackle left the beast’s lips. “Indeed. E’er since I slaughtered your baby brother those many moons ago. He truly was a delicious feast.” Margraw licked his hairy chops and stared the knight down. “I wonder if you’ll taste the same or if I’ll have to boil you with mead to enhance the flavor.”

Dean’s upper lip curled into a sneer and he raised his sword high. “Sorry to break it to you, Margraw, but I am the tastiest snack you’ll never have!”

Y/N was taken by the handsomeness of the brave knight and the way he bit back with his words. It was as if he were cutting Margraw down before even swinging his blade. Her heart raced once again, but she knew from the building heat betwixt her thighs that it was no longer from fear.

“You’re cocky, Winchester,” Margraw hissed.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Dean replied with a wink towards the Princess. “Now, just hand over the girl and we can all be on our way.”

Margraw laughed viciously. “The Princess is mine. Her father signed her life over to me before she was even born. I am her destiny.”

Y/N cringed, shuddering on the cold ground.

Dean looked at her, brows creased in curiosity. “Is this true, m’lady?”

When their eyes met, Y/N swooned and the forest grew light around him as if the world were highlighting his chiseled frame.

“Sadly, yes, sir, but-”

A fresh tear fell and the knight nodded in understanding.

“Fear not, Princess,” he said boldly. “You shall not be dinner for this monster tonight.” He took a step forward, sword ready for a fight. “But perhaps you can be my desert.”

He winked once again and Y/N’s stomach flipped. Her right hand reached for her heaving breast and she watched in awe as Dean, brave knight of the House of Winchester, defended her honor against the dreaded beast, Margraw the Horrid.

The fight was fast and fierce. Dean dodged blows from Margraw’s massive paws and jabbed with his trusted blade. The beast moved slower but with much force, continually blocking Dean’s attacks and sending the knight toppling over his own feet.

Y/N viewed the malay with a hand clutched over her heart, praying to the forest gods that all would be well. When Dean cried out in pain, she nearly lost all hope. He fell to one knee and held his leg as blood leaked from his thigh. He’d been struck by Margraw’s poisoned claws and fire seeped into his veins.

“Dean!” Y/N cried, her voice saturated with grim pain. “No!”

Green eyes swept lovingly over her face and Dean found the strength to carry on. With one swift motion, he stood and swung his arm, deftly delivering a final, deadly blow to Margraw. The monster fell with a sickening howl and the forest was still once more.

Finally free, Y/N scrambled to her feet and swept the dirt from her skirts. She took a deep breath and walked toward the corpse, looking down at the empty eyes of her captor.

She spat in his ugly face. “You shall never again haunt my nightmares, you beast!”

Satisfied and at peace, Y/N closed her eyes for a brief moment and let the cool mist wash her past away.

Behind her, Dean collapsed. His longsword fell to the ground, coming to lay beside his bloodied body. He gasped as a rock dug into his broken rib and Y/N spun around, rushing to his side.

“Dean!”

Down to her knees she fell and Y/N looked him over, her eyes heavy with worry.

He looked up and managed a smile even as the monster’s poison worked its painful magic, pulsing through his bloodstream.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Her cheeks flushed but there was no time to attend to her blossoming need. “You’re hurt,” she said, hands hovering over the wound in his meaty thigh.

“No big deal,” he joked, holding back a harsh cough. “I’ve had worse.”

Carefully, she examined his leg and saw the purple streaks expand across his freckled skin as the poison moved about.

She shook her head. “No. Margraw’s claws are tainted with the Poison of Aragrog- enough to kill an army of thousands. We must draw it out before it takes your heart.”

Dean tried to sit up, but he faltered and landed on his elbows, his long legs stretched out before him. “I don’t think it can,” he teased.

“And why not?”

“Because, my heart has already been taken,” he whispered, “by you.”

Y/N’s bosom swelled and her mouth dried, demanding a drink from his lips. “You are quite smooth, Sir Knight, and I do owe you my life. Will you not allow me to attempt now to save yours?”

Dean sighed and then twitched as pain spread up his side. “Do what you must.”

Quickly, Y/N grabbed hold of her innermost skirt and ripped a long strip of the airy fabric free. She looped the frayed white hem around his upper thigh and then reached for a fallen branch. She twisted the thin bit of wood into the fabric and prepared to tighten the tourniquet.

Dean watched with wide, nervous eyes as she worked.

“That’s not gonna hurt, is it?” he asked timidly.

Y/N smiled as kindly as she could. “It will,” she answered truthfully. “But I need to stop the poison from spreading any further whilst I prepare a healing salve. I believe I spied a patch of yarrow over yonder.”

Dean’s expression was worrisome. Hesitation creased with suffering. She took pity and snapped the tip of the twisting branch off, handing it to him.

“Here,” she told him, “you may need something to bite on.”

As her hand lifted the bark to his lips, Dean snatched her wrist and tugged, yanking the Princess down into his arms. He kissed her sweet lips and nestled a hand against the small of her back. She meant to cry out, to protest his rash decision, but the pressure of his mouth upon hers, the feel of his fingers splaying across her back, the taste of his tongue all conspired to wipe the worry from her mind. She melted into him and kissed him back, hoping beyond hope that he would be saved from the poison so that she might be granted a thousand more kisses just like this one.

While she prayed, Dean wrapped his arms tight around her and rolled with her, claiming the top space and pressing her soft body into the earth. He dipped his tongue into her mouth as he bunched up the mass of skirts covering her sex. He pressed his knee into her heat and she moaned loudly into his mouth.

“Thou art quite the kisser, Sir Winchester…”

Dean grinned and flexed his thigh, pushing against her pussy again. “Ya know, I’m kinda loving you calling me Sir, Y/N/N.”

She grabbed at the rough collar of his shirt. “That’s Princess, to you, peasant.” She tugged and he fell back to kissing her, captivated by the pull of her mouth and the heat of her writhing body.

Sneaking a hand between them, Y/N reached for his cock and rubbed her palm over it. He shivered and bucked his hips, helping her along.

“Fuck, I wanna fuck you right here,” he growled, lips dragging over the shell of her ear.

Y/N closed her eyes and spread her legs wider, lifting them to wrap around his trim waist. “You should…”

He let out a sexy huff that made her nipples tingle and her pussy leak. She licked at his mouth and lightly squeezed his sack.

“Now you’re askin’ for it,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I literally just asked for it.”

He nibbled at her throat. “Well, I’m gonna give it to ya.”

“Are you? You’re taking forever.” She pulsed her hand over the tip of his cock.

“Oh, I am.” He pushed up on his hands, hovering over her.

“Good,” she beamed, “give it to me, big boy.”

“It’s coming-”

“Not before I do,” she warned.

“Never,” he smirked. “You know how I roll.”

“I sure d-”

“Hold!”

A voice cried out and Dean’s head snapped back to look over his shoulder.

Patrick, the IT tech draped in Margraw’s costume and covered in fake fur, stood with arms crossed and a sour expression.

“You two know I’m still here, right?” he asked, eyeing each in turn.

Y/N could feel her cheeks burn and she dropped her legs from Dean’s ass and less than gracefully rolled out from under him.

“Sorry…”

Dean, however, was tickled pink about the whole situation. He laughed and pushed himself up to his feet. He turned to his fellow LARPer and shrugged.

“Maybe if you switch sides and play the hero for once, you could get some too.”

Patrick tapped an annoyed boot and sighed. “There are rules, ya know.”

Dean turned up the charm and threw his arm around the costumed monster. “I know, bud. Why don’t we go back to camp, hit the tavern, and you can tell me all about them.”

Y/N stood back a bit, fixing her skirts and pushing her boobs back into her corset. She watched as her knight in cheap armor and her attacker set off into the misty sunset.

Sure, maybe it was cheesy to some, but fighting a monster that definitely was not going to actually kill you was rather fun. There was plenty to do in the Kingdom of Moondoor, lots of adventure and pageantry, feats of skill and laughter. It was a relaxing weekend away from the real world, and Y/N loved sneaking away to enjoy it. Especially because she always got to go home with the handsome knight when the day was through…

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @rosecentury @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05  

[mikkomacko]

Thinking about the rare occasion when mob Nico lets loose and has fun with reader! He’s just so smitten with her!! They are so cute

Omg imagine reader like requesting Nico take a day off or something for a beach day and she asks if the boys can come to because it’ll be like a fun family outing

And when Nico tells everyone about it they’re all like 🤨 wtf does he mean beach day??

But reader puts together a whole lunch picnic and games for them to all play, and she bought extra sunscreen for the younger ones who forget. She’s so happy everyone is there!

And because she’s happy, Nico is happy! They get see him play beach volleyball and throw a football around (turns out he’s a really good running back) and he settles down on a towel with reader to build sand castles.

The sun is setting and they’re all watching him build a mote around the giant castle reader has made, saying “that’ll be our house right?” He gets so smily, his nose and cheeks red from the sun and then he’s making a bunch of small sand castles around it like a village.

“For the boys, of course.” He explains, glancing over at the group of them. “Can’t have them too far away right?”

You’re beaming at him, tilting up the edge of his bucket hat to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. You taste like watermelon and he chases your lips for another kiss or two.

“Boss!” Jesper calls from the group gathered around the picnic table turned beer pong table. “You’re up! Time to show off for the missus!”

So you follow him over the table, acting like a cheerleader for him when he makes you blow on the ball before every shot for luck or when he and Timo get balls back and he’s scooping you up like he just won gold.

The boys have never seen him like that. And they owe it all to you.

[pippapassed]

I Capture The Castle

Martin Hübscher Photography © 31 May, 2023        

[lilacmingi]

PLAYTIME

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you are under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Moondrop!San & Sundrop!Wooyoung x fem reader

Word count: 4,092

Note: This was published on Wattpad October 2022 and since the FNAF movie is coming out in a couple days I’m sharing this one on Tumblr! It’s one of my favorites and I feel like it’s so unique. There will not be a part 2. Also if the cover looks bad pls ignore it :P

You huffed as you pushed up the metal garage-like door just enough for you to get through. You didn't really care where it led to, you just wanted to get out of the main area of the mall and away from those incessant staff bots.

You just started working at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex. In fact, it was your first day on the job and you somehow managed to get yourself locked inside. You were so busy with all your work that you lost track of time. When you finished, you found that you had been locked inside.

The area you just entered was the daycare.

The first thing you spotted was a huge golden statue depicting a sun and moon character, both dressed in attire that resembled that of a jester. Glancing around the room, you saw round tables scattered about, each one with a number on it. You were quick to figure out you were in some sort of reception area of the daycare.

You peered out into the netted area beyond the reception hall, inside were two large, multicolored play structures with cartoon faces of the glamrock mascots from the Fazbear franchise stuck on them and a massive ball pit designed to look like a mote. Your gaze was drawn to a platform a few feet above the play area, made to look like the outlook on a tower, a bright spotlight shining directly on it. Red curtains draped over an arched doorway that led to what you could only assume was a room.

The daycare area appeared to be a safe and vacant place for you to lay low for a while.

Your eyes searched the area for a moment before you spotted a colorful rainbow sign that read: SLIDE INTO FUN! leading directly into the daycare area. It appeared to be your only way inside, seeing as the security bots were patrolling the staircase that led to the second entrance for adults.

Without any other option, you got in and descended down the slide, falling right into a ball pit. You waded through the colorful spheres and stepped out of the pit. Now that you were inside the netted area, you were able to get a better look at everything.

The place seemed to be empty and free of any bloodthirsty animatronics.

Surely, you'd be safe.

Suddenly, your attention was turned to the castle up on the wall. A man suddenly emerged from the arched, curtain-draped opening and stepped out onto the platform. His blonde hair was pushed back away from his face, tousled in a way that made it look a bit spiky. He was dressed in jester attire, the collar ruffled as well as the top of his yellow and red striped pants. Tied on his wrists were red ribbons with bells that jingled when he moved.

The man lifted his arms into the air, chuckling gleefully before diving into the ball pit you were just in moments ago. You watched with wary eyes as the man never came up. Hesitantly, you stepped closer, peering into the ball pit. He emerged abruptly, causing some of the colorful spheres to fly through the air. He made his way out of the ball pit, a bright smile on his face.

"Hello, new friend! You're a bit big to be in the daycare." He tilted his head. "That's alright! We can still have fun!"

He didn't give you a chance to speak as he continued talking.

"We can finger paint, tell stories, drink Fizzy Faz until our heads explode and stay up all night!" He exclaimed, giddily as he pranced around.

"I was actually just hoping to—"

"What's your name, new friend?"

"Uh... Y/n." You answered.

You were wearing a name tag. Did he not notice it?

"Ah! Y/n. What a wonderful name! I'm Wooyoung, but my friends call me Woo. Hey, do you like glitter glue?"

"I-“

"If you like glitter glue, I have glitter glue, and lots of it!"

"I'd like to just stay in here for a while if that's okay."

His eyes sparkled as an excited gasp left him.

"Of course! There's so much we can do! We could play hide and seek, have a puppet show, make macaroni art." He listed enthusiastically.

This guy didn't seem so bad and the daycare appeared to be the safest place for you. Perhaps you could stay.

"Oh, this'll be so much fun! There's one rule, however. Lights stay on. On." He punctuated the last word, his voice sounding ominous when he did.

"Uh. Yeah. I can do that."

"Wonderful!" He clasped his hands together. "Come here! I have some fun activities planned."

He grabbed your hands, yanking you forward. Because of that, you stumbled and accidentally knocked over a stack of cylinders that had crescent moons and music notes on them, the objects making the sound of a party favor as they tumbled to the floor.

Wooyoung came to a stop, turning to see the shapes that had toppled over.

"No, no, no, no! What a mess! Oh, which was the bottom? Where is the top? Clean up! Clean up!" He stressed, hurrying to stack the musical cylinders back up.

Once the stack was back the way it was, he let out a sigh.

"There. Good as new."

"Sorry." You apologized even though it wasn't really your fault, but it felt appropriate.

"It's alright, friend." He beamed. "I get ahead of myself sometimes and I can be a bit clumsy."

He continued to pull you towards a tiny table where he ushered you into a small chair that you barely fit in.

"Look at all this neat stuff!" Wooyoung beamed. "Here."

He placed a piece of copy paper in front of you and began talking about all the different arts and crafts materials he had.

You opted for the colored pencils, grabbing one of them while Wooyoung started grabbing paints.

"What are you gonna draw?" Wooyoung asked, giddily. "I'm gonna paint a sun."

"I'm not sure what I'm gonna draw yet."

"That's okay. Just wait for inspiration to strike!"

As you thought about what to draw, you noticed a black cord stretching across the play area.

"What are those cords?" You asked Wooyoung.

"Oh. Those lead to generators in the play structures. There are five of them and each connect to a light on the outside of the structures." He pointed.

You noticed a few lights here and there attached to the plastic grate walls of the structures. You wondered why there were generators in a play area for children, but chose not to ask questions.

"So, you mentioned Fizzy Faz earlier."

"Uh-huh." He nodded.

"What does it taste like?"

The paintbrush in Wooyoung's hand fell, as did his jaw.

"You've never had it?"

You shook your head.

"We have to change that right away! What flavor do you prefer? There's orange, pink lemonade, cherry, lime, and grape."

"I'll have (your choice)."

Wooyoung immediately got up from his chair and started to hurry off only to stop and turn to you.

"You won't run off, will you?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go." You shrugged.

Minutes later, Wooyoung returned with a can of the fizzy drink and a small paper cup.

"Here you go, friend." He beamed, placing the small cup down on the table.

You thanked him, trying some of the soda, the tiny cup already nearly empty.

"Are you hungry? I have all sorts of yummy snacks. Goldfish crackers, cookies, potato chips, gummies." He listed.

"Now that you mention it, I am kinda hungry."

"Great! I'll be right back."

He hurried off somewhere while you stayed in your seat, working on your drawing.

Moments later, a paper tower was placed on the table as Wooyoung started putting small piles of assorted snacks onto it.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted, so brought everything." He paused for a second. "You don't have peanut allergies, do you?"

Before you could answer, he spoke up. "It's fine. None of these snacks are made with peanut products anyway. Gotta stay safe for the kiddos." He gave a bright smile, his head cocking to the side. "Here you go, friend."

You chuckled at the setup before you. A small, paper cup with soda and a paper towel with little piles of snacks on it.

"What's so funny?" Wooyoung asked.

"This just reminds me of when I was a kid." You smiled softly at the nostalgia. "This was the usual setup for special snack at school."

"Ah, that's right. You're not a kid." He chuckled. "Sorry, friend. I'm used to being around children." He slid the can of Fizzy Faz to you before sitting back down in his seat to continue his painting.

"That's alright." You waved it off, taking a drink of the bubbly soda. "You're trained to handle kids. You're used to that, so I don't blame you for being on autopilot."

"Thank you, Y/n." Wooyoung gave you a gentle smile before turning his attention back to his artwork.

"So, you work here?" He asked.

"You just noticed?" You chuckled.

"Yeah. I was so excited to have a visitor that I got carried away."

"Well, I only just started working here today. I don't know too much about this place and I had so much work I got distracted and when I finished, the doors were locked."

"So you're stuck in here until morning?"

You nodded.

"You can stay in here with me until 6am! You'll be safe here."

"Thank you."

Things were quiet for a few moments. The only sounds were the music playing in the daycare accompanied by the soft noise of your colored pencils against the paper.

"New friend, Y/n. Can I tell you something?" Wooyoung asked, cutting through the silence.

"Sure." You hummed, painting away.

When he didn't say anything, you looked up at him. His cheeks were tinted pink and he was holding back giggles.

"What is it?" You urged.

"You're very pretty."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Only children come into the daycare, and parents, of course, but I'm not used to seeing someone as pretty as you." Wooyoung was blushing like crazy as he spoke. "The teenagers and young adults usually spend their time elsewhere like Roxy Raceway."

"Right. I'm sure this is weird for you."

"No, actually. It's a nice change. The limited non-robot staff we have here don't really come into the daycare, so I'm not around older people that often. But, again, it's a nice change."

An hour or so passed and you were having a wonderful time with Wooyoung. Making crafts and painting really took you back to your childhood and helped to distract you from worrying about animatronics. Wooyoung had even made a cute little drawing of you with crayons, which you found endearing. He was very enthusiastic and bubbly, asking lots of questions about you and your interests. Whenever you'd give him your answer he'd watch you with wide eyes, taking in every word.

The two of you were having a blast when all of a sudden the lights shut off, surrounding you in near total darkness. You let out a gasp, the bright and sunny man's stern words immediately replaying in your head.

"Lights stay on. On."

He was so serious when he said that.

What happens when the lights go off?

"Oh no." Wooyoung muttered. "Oh no. Oh no!"

He stood up from his chair abruptly, causing it to fall over as the panic in his voice rose.

"What's wrong?" You asked, worriedly.

"Not good! Not good!" He put his hands on his face, staggering backwards as he screamed in agony.

Lost in his hysterics, he tripped and fell behind a stack of large, foam blocks sitting about the daycare, the atmosphere becoming eerily silent.

"Wooyoung?" You called out, shakily.

To your shock and mild horror, a completely different person emerged from behind the shapes. This one had dark hair with a white streak in his bangs. His attire was similar to Wooyoung's, but instead of stripes, this man's pants were a dark blue color with yellow stars all over them. He donned a night cap on his head with the same pattern.

"I'm not Wooyoung." The man responded with a sinister grin. "I'm San."

"What happened to Wooyoung?" You asked, taking a step back.

"He's not here right now." His red colored irises that seemed to glow raked down your body. "You're up a bit late, don't you think?"

"No." You answered, taking another step back.

"You should be sleeping. Naughty, naughty." He shook his head while wagging a finger at you.

"I'm not a child." You responded.

He let out a tsk as he leaned in close to you, tilting his head. "Daycare rules."

You took a step back, stumbling when your foot hit something. You had accidentally knocked over the same stack of cylinder shapes that you'd bumped into earlier.

San growled angrily, bending down.

"Clean up! clean up!" He repeated in a seemingly annoyed voice as he began stacking the objects back up.

You then realized Wooyoung reacted the same way and perhaps you could use that to your advantage. You took that as your chance to try and escape, bolting directly for the play structures, crawling up the slide, opting to hide there for a moment.

"Oh~ you wanna play hide and seek?" San chuckled, the sound coming out in a rasp. "I think I can manage."

It sounded like San was on the opposite side of the daycare, which put your nerves at ease, but only for a moment.

Afraid to stay in one place for too long, you

shimmied up the slide and started crawling around in the structure.

What do I do? What do I do?

Would you have to spend the rest of the night hiding from this San guy?

You advanced further into the play structure, moving up a bit higher, taking a moment to peer out into the daycare. It was dark except for the giant screen at the front of the room depicting a sun character that resembled Wooyoung.

Using the light from the screen, you looked around the area from above. You didn't see San anywhere, which terrified you. Instead of staying in one place for too long, you continued on your way, slipping through a colorful tube and into another section of the structure.

As you crawled ahead, you felt your foot catch on something, instinctively flinching before turning around to find a generator. The relief you felt when you saw that it wasn't San was immeasurable.

That's right. There are generators inside the play structures.

You shuffled back to the generator, a red light shining. Feeling around, you managed to find a switch of some sort, your fingers curling around the handle. You pulled up on it, a light on the outside of the structure coming on shortly after.

A quiet sigh of relief leaves you.

One down, four to go.

"You can't hide forever, dear." You heard San's voice from somewhere below.

Taking one last look out into the daycare, you spotted San creeping across the bridge above the ball pit.

You needed to find the other generators, and fast.

You crawled through the top area of the play structure, not finding any. As much as you hated to, you knew you'd have to go back down to the lower level.

Taking in a deep breath and gathering all the courage you could muster, you headed down until you got to the bottom level. You glanced around, checking for San before sneaking your way into another section of the play structure. It didn't take long for you to come across a second generator. You flipped it on and were on the move once again.

The floodlights didn't illuminate the area very well, but it was better than nothing. You hoped turning on all five would somehow bring Wooyoung back.

You continued searching the play structure, opting to follow the cords throughout the area, hoping they would lead you to a generator. Sometimes they would lead to one you had already turned on, while other times they led to a light attached to the outside of the structure.

You hadn't spotted San for quite some time, which gave you a sense of relief. Maybe you got lucky and he forgot about you.

Just then, you spotted him clinging to the outside of the play structure. A scream tore through you as the man leaned close to the grates.

"It's past your bedtime, my dear." He said with a sinister smirk.

You scurried away as quickly as you could, wanting to get as far away from him as possible, your knees becoming sore from crawling around so much.

You had already turned four generators on. There was only one left, but you couldn't seem to find it.

I've searched this entire structure. You thought to yourself. Where could it be?

Just then, you spotted a second play structure on the other side of the daycare, your heart dropping in your chest. The last generator is over there. You're certain of it.

You would have to find a way over to it without getting caught.

Moving silently throughout the play structure, you made your way to the bottom where you slowly began to lose your nerve. Your mind began to fill with petrifying thoughts, wondering what ghastly things San would do if he caught you.

You have to get to that last generator, Y/n. You told yourself, trying your best to psych yourself up and gather your nerves. Getting the lights back on was the only way to ensure yourself safety.

Taking one last look out into the daycare, you got ready to make a break for it, checking for San. When you didn't see him, you took off across the colorful foam flooring, skittering towards the second play structure.

Dark chuckles echoed through the vast room.

"Run run as fast as you can."

Hearing San's taunting frightened you and had you shaking like a leaf, but it also gave you that extra rush of adrenaline you needed, helping to get you safely to the second structure where you momentarily felt safe.

"I can see you." He sang creepily, prompting you to scurry further into the structure in an attempt to get away from him.

You hated this. Why did the lights have to go out all of a sudden? That was the one thing Wooyoung said not to do and now look where you are. It's your first day on the job and you're going to die by the hands of some psychopath in star pajamas. The mere thought of being caught made the panic within you rise tenfold.

You creeped through the structure, hoping San doesn't find his way inside. Little did you know, your fears would soon become a reality.

As you're crawling, you feel someone's breath fanning against your neck.

"Knock knock." He whispered.

You let out a terrified yelp, continuing to move forward at a quicker pace, but you didn't make it very far.

A gasp left you as San grabbed hold of your ankle, jerking you backwards until you were underneath him.

"Caught you."

His hands held you firmly against the flooring of the play structure, preventing you from escaping. You were just a foot from the last generator—so close, yet so far away. San moved in closer, his sharp eyes gazing down at you as a wicked smirk played at his lips.

What do I do?

You were panicking, your heart beating so fast you could hear the pounding in your ears. Fearful of what he would do with you, you shoved him away with your knee, pulling yourself closer to the generator, stretching your arm out, your fingers reaching for the switch, just barely brushing it.

"Wait!"

You paused after hearing San call out to you.

"Don't. Please."

The desperation in his voice caught you off guard, making you hesitate in your actions.

Your brows pulled together in confusion. Did he just ask you not to flip the generator on?

"I thought we were playing hide and seek." He continued, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth downward.

"Hide and seek?" You parroted in disbelief. "I thought you were trying to kill me!"

"Kill you? No. I thought we were just playing a game."

He pout in his voice almost made you feel bad for him. Almost.

"You didn't exactly make that clear."

He sighed, his head dropping in disappointment.

"I'm turning this on." You told him. "I want Wooyoung back."

"You don't like me?"

Your hand froze once again after hearing his words. He sounded hurt. Pitiful, almost. Turning back to him, you saw the expression on his face. His bottom lip was stuck out in a pout, quivering slightly as his red eyes appearing glossy with tears.

Your hand went limp, abandoning the the generator and silently hoping you weren't about to make a mistake.

•

Your heart thudded against your rib cage, your knees hitting the plastic flooring of the play structure as you crawled as fast as you could through the narrow passageways, getting lost in the maze once again.

I can't believe I let this happen again.

You barely made it out the first time and now you're stuck here once more. That all too familiar feeling of terror was beginning to build inside you as you hurried to hide, ominous chuckles from San echoing down the tunnel you were crawling through. Your body shook as you hurried through the endless labyrinth that was the play structures. The raw panic and trepidation that ran through your body was the only thing keeping you going. Your trembling hand grabbed onto the switch on the third generator, flipping it on.

That's when you heard San's dark chuckling behind you, causing you to gasp.

He was inside the play structure.

Crawling as fast as you possibly could, you turned a corner, shuffling through a tube, coming out at the bridge that connected two of the play towers. You hurried across into the second structure in search for the next generator.

"You're getting better at this, darling." San's voice emitted from across the bridge.

He was right on your tail.

You followed the twists and turns of the tunnels and platforms, not realizing you'd somehow gotten turned around.

Panicked, you changed directions and shimmied down a nearby passageway, narrowly escaping. You arrived at a small ramp that led to a lower level of the play structure. From what you remember, there was a generator nearby one of the ramps, though you weren't sure if this one was the right one. There was no time to think it over as you took the chance.

Just when you thought you were about to find the next generator, you ran into San who had a wicked smile on his face, his eyes flickering with mischief.

You yelped in surprise, which only made him grin wider. In one, swift motion he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you.

"Gotcha."

"You promised you wouldn't chase me this time." You frowned.

"Sorry." He giggled. "It's just so much fun."

"I've had enough hide and seek for the night. I wanna hang out with Wooyoung."

"You got to hang out with Wooyoung earlier." San whined.

"Alright, fine. But I don't want you scaring me anymore."

"No scaring. I promise!"

After that first night at the pizzaplex, you learned San wasn't so bad after all. He just had an odd way of interacting with people sometimes and tended to come off a bit scary. He wasn't nearly as terrifying as he appeared. In fact, he was actually rather adorable.

His counterpart, Wooyoung, had apologized profusely to you once the sun had come up, worried that San had spooked you. Being honest with him, you explained what happened, but assured him that San wasn't a bad person and you actually enjoyed your time with him—when he wasn't chasing you, that is.

From then on, you would drop in and visit Wooyoung during the day while working and stay after hours to spend a little more time with him before bringing San out. Something fishy was definitely going down at the mega pizzaplex, especially with the glamrock animatronics, but with San and Wooyoung around, you felt safe. You found yourself looking forward to seeing them every day, wondering what new shenanigans would ensue once the pizzaplex closed for the night.

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

[vickyvicarious]

Today's entry is full of Lucy/Jonathan parallels. It's so many throughout... I can't possibly quote every single one, but here are a few big things.

I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact record of what took place to-night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing.

vs

If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. (5 May)

+

These may be the last words I ever write in this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready. (30 July)

Lucy is writing with the specific intent of keeping anyone else from getting into trouble through her - in other words, so none of the maids or her doctors or whoever will be blamed for her murder if she dies before the night is through. The first quote from Jonathan is not really a direct match to this sentiment, of course. But while I couldn't remember a perfect quote to compare, we see hints throughout his journal that Jonathan is writing in the hopes that someone else might someday see it. Perhaps Mina, perhaps some other guest to the castle... he hopes that the explanation of what happened to him, and detailing of what Dracula is, will prove useful. Perhaps it will help someone else protect themself - just like Lucy hopes here. (This is of course not his only reason for writing. Another major reason why is how it helps to keep him sane and helps him plan escapes. Still, it is one of his reasons.) And certainly, the sentiment that the record is important to keep even at risk to oneself, is a shared link between them. Both of them also show a determination to face their death directly.

This line is also an echo of the various times Jonathan (and, more recently, Jack) experienced something seemingly impossibly horrific, and made a big point that they were writing things down exactly as they happened.

The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling; the dogs all round the neighbourhood were howling; and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing.

vs

Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take new shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling to awake to some call of my instincts; nay, my very soul was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised! (24 June)

Lucy awakens after the first attack of the night to the sound of dogs howling (amongst other things). Jonathan too has been saved from a trance by this noise, though in his case it was a close call. Dracula certainly seems to have successfully hypnotized her and most likely did drink from her between his arrival in the room (the dust swirling in) and the maids'.

What am I to do? what am I to do? I am back in the room with mother. I cannot leave her, and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the broken window.

vs

I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place. (8 May)

+

What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful thing of night and gloom and fear? (24 June)

+

Suddenly it struck me that this might be the moment and means of my doom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at my own instigation. There was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, and as a last chance I cried out:— "Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!" and covered my face with my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. (29 June)

These are only a few of the lines that Lucy's quote reminds me of. This is the big one, there's so much to connect in it.

Like Jonathan, Lucy is alone with the dead. Dracula has sabotaged her only chance of reaching out to other people for aid (drugged maids = workers in the yard, people who saw Dracula dressed as Jonathan). She also feels duty-bound to stay by her mother's side, in a way which reminds me of Jonathan's feeling of obligation towards Mr. Hawkins (all the more as Mina's letter today emphasizes how familial their relationship has become). Like Jonathan, Lucy cannot see any options to escape from the living nightmare she is experiencing.

Like Jonathan, Lucy cannot leave because if she does, she fears a wolf will get her. (Much like Jonathan, she is earlier in her memorandum able to distinguish a wolf howl from a dog's, despite never hearing one before.) Even though she does not really expect to live through the night, she cannot make the choice to go out and face almost certain death. She's even recently seen the wolf kill a mother, to really drive the comparison with Jonathan's experiences home. (A contrast between the two is, of course, the mother he saw die was trying to rescue/avenge her dead child, but was too late. Mrs. Westenra seeks comfort from her daughter tonight, and as she dies unwittingly steals away Lucy's protection (garlic), thus holding true to her role of accidentally endangering her further.)

The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!

vs

Then I began to notice that there were some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way. (24 June)

+

God help me in my task! Good-bye, Mina, if I fail; good-bye, my faithful friend and second father; good-bye, all, and last of all Mina! (25 June)

(I've run out of new colors and am recycling. These aren't meant to match to the above instances of these colors.)

Like Jonathan described his experience being hypnotized by the vampire ladies, Lucy too sees Dracula's form as circling specks (twice, in fact, the other quote being above). The lights going blue and dim are also reminiscent of the various times Jonathan describes moonlight at the Castle. I especially think of just before he meets the vampire women, when he muses about the powers that modernity cannot defeat, and his modern lighting is contrasted to the moonlit room. Here, Lucy's modern lighting is going out as the supernatural invades her bedroom.

Lucy bids her final farewells to her mother and her fiance. In the quote I gave, Jonathan does the same for his father figure and his fiancee. Both of them invoke God for help. Both of them end their entries with this thinking of the one they love most. Jonathan of course does this multiple times, but I'm only quoting this one instance as it feels like the closest match overall.

And once again, we also see multiple comparisons beyond what I directly quoted. Lucy reiterates her expectation of death as in the quote at the top, and even chooses to hide her memorandum in her clothes, much as Jonathan hid his diary on his person at all times. (The difference being, he wanted to hide it from Dracula; she wants to ensure hers is seen by someone.)

[firefly-ghoul]

BEACH DAY WITH THE GHOULS + COPIA!

I have been so excited to share this! It took waaaay longer than expected the write. I’m so sorry for the long wait but here it is!

Rain

This fish is running to the water as soon as they arrive at the beach. He is so excited to be at the beach seeing how he in a saltwater ghoul. He also brought his surfboard with them, eagerly anticipating riding the waves. After he gets his fill of surfing he heads to deeper waters. He dives down and just chills on the sea floor for a few minutes. They find all sorts of stuff on the sea floor like kelp, starfish, urchins, crabs, fish and sea anemones. Eventually he returns to the shore with many shiny stones. He gives everyone these little stones

Phantom

Phantom Is just digging giant hole. Not a small one inch deep hole, it’s one that you can full on climb in. Phantom’s got a shovel and a dream of finding treasure and that’s all he needs. And the shovel isn’t one of those dinky little plastic shovels He actually stole one of the real garden shovels from the ministry. Phantom does eventually have to stop digging for treasure after copia got on to him about the giant hole being a safety hazard. He sulks for a few minutes before joining Sodo in making a sand castle. His off getting buckets of water whenever sodo needs some for the castle mote and building material such as shells, sea weed, and rocks.

Sodo

Sodo is here for one thing and one thing only, and that is to build the perfect sand castle. He has a tiny shovel and a bucket beside him, and his focus is unparalleled. He even built a big mote with the help of phantom. Soon he and phantom noticed cirrus and mountain building a sand castle not too far from them. The second sodo sees them the competition is on. He starts making a hole ass sand kingdom. The war is vicious as the two sand kingdoms fight vigorously.

Cirrus

Cirrus originally was swimming / floating with the other ghouletts sitting in matching tubes, fruity drinks in hand, Just chitchatting. But then out of the corner of her eye she noticed sodo and phantom making a sand castle and thought “I am going to go cause chaos”and immediately got to work. Cirrus now is building an elaborate sand kingdom with Mountain who she somehow convinced to help her. She lays out the plan for their kingdom and they are determined to outdo Sodo and Phantom.

Mountain

Don’t get mountain wrong he loves beach trips, he really does! He however doesn’t like all the sand that sticks to his skin. He does enjoy seeing all the other ghoul having a blast. Eventually though the sounds of the beach make him sleepy. he closes his eyes. He listens to the waves cashing against the sand. The sounds of his pack mates excitement, the birds chirping. But soon his peace is interrupted when cirrus walks over where he is lounging. She asks him to help her make a sand castle. He tries to turn down her offer until she uses his weakness against him…forehead kisses! so after that he reluctantly joins her in the sand war. After an hour and a half of non stop kingdom building they get bored.. yeah they get bore! It’s the mont anticlimactic end but you can’t blame them they don’t have that good of a attention span, it’s lucky they even made it this far. but eventually they come to a truce. And after the all that hullabaloo mountain finally can take his peaceful beach nap.

Aurora

She starts out the day tube floating with the ghoulettes until cirrus left to start some drama. The rest of the group dissolve not long after that to do there own things. Aurora ends up doing all kinds of crafts. She brought paint with her and is painting on sea shells that a given to her and, ones she finds. She’s making cute little sun catcher with sea glass, sea shells, and driftwood. Aurora also makes some seashell candles with the help of sodo once he’s done with his sand war. She’s got him to heat up the wax while she put wicks in the shells. Ones she crafts till her harts content she gets in the water again and starts playing Marko polo with the other ghouls.

Cumulus

Cumulus brought a hand full of books and has layed out a beach towel in the perfect sun bathing spot. She made sure to bring a horror mystery book that cirrus lent her earlier that week. She lies on her towel, occasionally glancing up to enjoy the view. She especially loves listening to an ocean waves as she reads. After she fishes the book she goes and takes a dip to cool down. She later joins Aurora in collecting sea glass and shells, contributing tidbits she finds interesting to Aurora's crafts.

Swiss

Swiss is playing volleyball with anybody who joins. Multiple ghouls throughout the day play a couple of games before needing a break from the direct sun. All except sodo (when he joins him) who is enjoying the sun just as much as Swiss. Once he gets bored of volleyball he’s running to the water and challenging anyone to a chicken fight. Eventually he convinces sodo rain and cirrus to join him. Rain on cirrus shoulders, and sodo on Swiss’s shoulders. It was a vicious battle but eventually he and sodo won three out of five. They both were super obnoxious about their win the rest of the day.

Copia

Copia is siting on his beach chair under his umbrella relaxing with big shades on. Every now and again a ghoul will come bring him a trinket and he’ll obviously act like . He’s got a pile of shells painted and not, sand dollars, sea glass, driftwood, pretty rocks and a couple small fish rain hunted for him. He also has a trash bag full of plastic and other litter the ghouls had picked up. He periodically look up to make sure the ghouls haven’t gotten them selfs in to trouble. And he most certainly will have to get the ghouls out of trouble, be it phantom and his treasure hunt, or rain catching to many fish. But overall copia would say is was a successful beach day

[nvthedasmode]

The Dread Wolf's Grave

Notes:

Very short one-shot fic inspired by the quote; 'They asked "do you love her to death?" I said, "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.'

Lavellan's name is Harellan, 'Raven' is Varric's nickname for her.

One of Harellan's nervous habits is rolling coins over her knuckles.

Set sometime during early Veilguard, Solas presumed to be at the Lighthouse rather than in a separate prison.

First ever fic! I am not a writer! I am just a lil guy with a lot of feelings!

And I am so sorry I have no idea how to write Solas and Varric lol.

-----

To say that Varric was uncomfortable was an understatement. It was one thing to ask a dwarf to live on the surface, another thing entirely to ask him to make himself at home in the Fade. Unfortunately, he had little say in the matter. The Veilguard had settled themselves within a deep pocket of the Fade; a safe haven from the blighted elven gods now roaming Thedas, and thus far it had proven to be a wise choice.

Their new home was where he emerged from now, and the morning silence (save for Bellara’s excessive snoring) was a welcome indication that everyone was still fast asleep. Or, at least, everyone but the one elusive elf he was looking for. Once he was confident he had not woken anyone up with his heavy dwarven tread, Varric’s footsteps established a leisurely pace as he descended the stygian steps weaving from the gilded door of the Lighthouse to the shifting island below.

The Dread Wolf’s corner of the Fade expanded before him, shimmering masses of Fade-touched rock floating across the enchanted vista as unhindered wisps of magic soared above him like stars against Kirkwall’s night sky. It was brighter, warmer, but still as commanding as the area of the Fade the fear demon had ruled. Some of the silhouetted islands in the distance would have been large enough to cast a city the size of Starkhaven into complete shadow, and some dipped deeper than even the oldest of thaigs. Smaller rocks housed old and ruined walls, frescos of the fabled wolf glowing faintly from the veilfire sconces and causing him to appear equal parts treacherous and feeble.

The littlest cluster of rocks presented an assortment of ancient elven … trees, Varric assumed. Their metal base gave way to a spherical head that sprouted sharp, golden branches. They wove intricate shapes that moved to shelter a gleaming emerald centre, glinting like fire. This group veered closer to the island he now trudged along, glittering vines with blossoms as large as ponds wrapping themselves around the jagged surfaces and reaching out to grasp their neighbour - a complex walkway of mystic bridges that connected the islands, forming an imposing jungle that served as a shrine to what once was.

Far above him, when he thought to look, Varric could have sworn he could make out the slightest shape of an azure city, light refracting across the landscape as if it was pouring through a window in a Chantry cathedral. The sight was often cloaked in a calculated mist, as though his eyes were intruding on an intimate scene between two lovers - but every time he rubbed his eyes to see it clearer, it had vanished.

Varric had learned that the island he had called home for the past few weeks could shift its appearance depending on his old friend’s mood. While the Lighthouse remained the same, often the Veilguard would wake up to see their interim home had a different garden to explore, each one shaped from Solas’ lonely library of memories. Sometimes there would be luscious fields of green, emerald blades swaying to a song none but they could hear as perfectly round drops of dew dissolved into dazzling specs of light. Other times there were seemingly never-ending pathways; rivers of crystal gems creating a map upon the island, waterfalls replacing cities and curious wisps building toy castles from motes of magic. Once, when Varric awoke in the dead of night (or as close as one could get to that, in the Fade), he peered out his window to see Solas strolling Skyhold’s grounds, his tired eyes never leaving the figures of Cole and the Inquisitor as they helped to soothe a dying woman lying by the campfire, clutching a fatal wound. Had Solas reached out to them, Varric did not know, for he had quickly retreated back to his bed to allow his old friend his privacy.

Today, as Varric disembarked the steps, the soles of his worn boots met an impossibly soft sand that shifted gently beneath his weight. Something resembling seashells dotted the ground, their surface gleaming and moving in a way that made them look more like creatures than collectible souvenirs. Out of baseless paranoia more than respect, Varric carefully picked his way across the fabricated beach to the towering figure in the distance.

Solas stood at the end of the beach, the ripples of the ocean creeping along the sand to stop just shy of the tips of his feet, as though magic itself dare not disturb him. He stood tall, gazing across his domain with an expression befitting his name as the manufactured breeze lifted the ends of his coat. Hands clasped habitually behind his back, a single gold coin rolled lazily across his knuckles, causing tiny spurts of reflected light to shower across his long fingers. Any reasonable dwarf back under the surface might have mistook it for magic.

“Good morning, Varric,” came his familiar voice. He spoke in barely more than a murmur despite Varric still being numerous paces away, yet he heard it as though they were standing next to each other.

“And here I thought it was only Rook who had to listen to your voice inside their head, Chuckles,” Varric shouted back, scowling half-heartedly when he saw Solas’ shoulders betray a small laugh.

Solas patiently waited until Varric had made it to his side before speaking again, finally turning his gaze to his friend with a playful smirk on his lips. “Ir abelas, I did not want to deny you the pleasure.”

Varric let out an indignant snort. “I’m starting to understand why so many dwarves stay below the surface.”

“To avoid speaking with me?”

“Now, now, I didn’t say that.”

“You did not need to,” Solas responded curtly. Varric was glad to see the smile still lingering.

At least he hasn’t lost his sense of humour.

The two fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves crashing a few hundred yards ahead of them filling the space. Had he let his mind tune out for a moment, it would not have been unlike the mornings they had spent waking up to the sounds of the Storm Coast - Solas casting a protective barrier over the campfire before the Inquisitor burst into tears at the idea of going a single moment without her tea; Cassandra cursing from the edge of camp as she tried and failed to prove she could in fact approach a nug without scaring it away; Lace and Varric placing bets on how many more days it could rain before they all lost their minds. He wasn’t sure which put his back up more; being surrounded by suffocating grey and rain, slipping on lethal cliffs that never seemed to dry - or being in the Fade.

It was Solas who broke the silence first, as if sensing Varric’s unease. “How are you adjusting?”

Varric shrugged, stalling as he measured his response. It wasn’t in the nature of their relationship to lie to one another (or so I thought, he corrected himself), but he wasn’t about to start tearing apart his friend’s home either.

“I can’t exactly say I’m keen to settle down and start a family here, but I’ll give it to you - it’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” Solas sighed heavily, his eyes focused on something in the distance. “Imagine what it would be like without the Veil.”

“Chuckles, not now.”

“So, when would you propose-”

“I came here to talk to Solas,” Varric said morosely, feeling a pang of regret as Solas’ shoulders stiffened. “Not the Dread Wolf. How about you humour me, just this once? Then I promise we’ll go back to the uncomfortable ‘Child of the Stone’ and ‘Ancient Elven God’ dynamic.”

Solas silently met his eyes then, and the coin in his hands stilled as white knuckles wrapped around it tightly. Just like the painted walls on the islands floating around them, Varric could see his were tall but crumbling. Exhaustion and pain had sunk their bloodied talons into his sharp features, but under the wolf there was still the man. A friend that desperately wanted to get out.

“I’ve never been good at this sort of stuff,” Varric muttered, turning his gaze back toward the ocean, “but you left a lot of people behind. Good people, that missed you.”

“I am not unaware of that, Varric,” Solas replied. Varric could hear the sharpness to the tone, a warning that he should drop the subject immediately.

They both knew he wouldn’t.

“I mean, even Buttercup seemed upset - although she tried her best not to show it. With you gone, Cassandra became her next target for pranks, and we both know pissing off the Seeker is a dangerous choice at best - lethal at worst. I mean, I’m speaking from experience here.”

A quick glance to his right told him Solas was also very pointedly staring out at the ocean again, doing his best to look the picture of disinterest, but the ironclad set of his jaw gave him away. It always had.

“And Ruffles! I thought she would never stop accidentally adding your frilly cakes to the Val Royeaux order list each month. Eventually, me and the Kid-”

“Did you come out here with the intent to torture me, Varric?” Solas snapped, his proud mask melting away to pained anger as he pressed his eyes closed. His nose scrunched as he breathed through it, the waves that stretched before them stuttering and turning a sickly green. “Do you see me as so many of my People do? Do you also think me a heartless monster with no feelings?”

Against his will, Varric’s mind recalled his friend’s broken sobs as she read Sutherland’s reports about the monstrous demon that had plagued Skyhold. Her heart’s deepest regrets ravaging the place they had once called home, the scars of his past forever embedded in the old Inquisition fortress.

“No,” he sighed. “I don’t think that at all, Chuckles.”

Another deep breath from Solas. The water slowly began to settle once more, melting back to a cool, pure cerulean that would have made the painters at Halamshiral turn crimson with embarrassment.

“Then what can I do for you?”

“Remember,” Varric said shortly.

Solas opened his eyes to peer at Varric with confusion, and he could see the purple storm deep within them threatening to pour out and engulf the island they now stood upon.

Silently, Varric nodded to Solas’ hands, still held tightly shut as though he were frightened of dropping whatever was in them. Solas slowly unfurled his fingers, the gold coin nestled innocently in his palm, small dents pressed into his pale skin from clasping it so desperately. The purple storm observed it silently, eyes barely blinking as they stared.

“I saw you playing with it,” Varric said gently, feeling his friend was more a terrified Halla than the dreaded wolf in that moment. “Raven used to do the same thing, when she was nervous. Ruffles had to pry it from her hand when we went to the Winter Palace.”

Solas continued staring at the coin, his expression unreadable. “She gave this to me on the way to the Temple of Mythal,” he said tentatively, as though testing out the words in his mouth. Varric supposed this was the first time he had allowed himself to speak of her in years. “She said she had no need for it any longer, since she had …”

“Since she had your hand to hold,” Varric finished for him. “She said it loud enough for the entire camp to hear.” The memory almost made him smile himself.

A ghost of a smile tried to lift the corners of Solas’ mouth, but it faltered before it even began.

“I remember.”

Varric did smile then. I knew you were still in there, Chuckles.

“Do you still love her?”

There was barely a heartbeat before Solas tore his eyes away from the coin, wrapping his fingers safely around it once more before straightening to his full height and turning to look along the endless sands.

Varric felt the Fade change before he saw it. The sands before them rippled and swirled, floating smoothly into the air to reveal the harsh black rock of the island below. A deep shadow lurked over the area, a stark contrast to the vivid, colourful sky behind it. The sands shifted and formed a familiar image; tall swaths of darkness encircling a small enclave while a suffocating green mist rolled along the floor, catching Varric’s ankles and sending small tendrils up his legs that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. Paltry red spirits skittered around nervously, as if they were constantly running toward - or away from - something.

This was the graveyard from the Fear demon’s lair. Or - more accurately, Varric supposed - Solas’ memory of it.

There was a slight adjustment, however. Only one, solitary gravestone sat in the enclave. The stone it was made from looked sick, brimming with fear and unspoken terrors, its aura almost oppressive.

Varric approached it wordlessly. The words upon it were the same and yet not as he remembered - the elegant, smug carvings of the fear demon were gone, replaced by hurried, almost infantile writing that looked as if it had been carved with a very sharp claw.

‘Solas,’ it read. ‘Dying alone.’

It was only then that Varric saw them. A spectral version of Solas - his friend, Solas - appeared slowly from the darkness, smiling as he offered a gloved hand to the second figure that manifested. Harellan met his smile with her own, eagerly gripping his hand and laughing as he twirled her into his arms. The scarlet spirits, appearing to be calmed by the two newcomers, turned to watch, sweeping closer to the radiant scene that seemed to consume the darkness around it. Varric could hear the faint sound of a band playing from - somewhere? Nowhere? The memory of his friends didn’t seem to care, nor did they notice him or the cruel grave at their feet. They danced and looked at no one but each other, and Varric was irrevocably certain that they would dance forever if the world would let them.

The lonely voice came from behind him then. It was so thick with immeasurable pain that Varric could not bring himself to turn around.

“Speak of her over my grave, Varric,” Solas murmured, “and watch how she brings me back to life."

[see-arcane]

One last thing I’ve been poking at today regarding the issue of the letters. A small glimmer of something other than miserable to take away. 

It’s not a whole silver lining. A copper one at best, and barely there. But the fact of Jonathan’s cleverness with this attempt at sending out a message and the shorthand itself was a small victory.

The big spotlight is on all the defeats in this entry. The foiled attempt at sending private messages. The ruined hope that Jonathan can rely on his fellow human beings for help. The mockery and crushing of spirit in the burned letter to Mina along with being forced to reseal Hawkins’ now-pointless note and being locked in the room for misbehaving. It’s nothing but endless salt in too many wounds. Jonathan is in no state to harvest anything but despondency from the night’s display.

But.

There is something here that is worth noting. And that’s Dracula’s reaction to that shorthand note itself. What are the exact words? The exact actions?

“--one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other"—here he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly—"the other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us." And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed.

Now obviously, the whole show of waving the letters in Jonathan’s face was a sadistic power play. Just proof positive of his influence and Jonathan’s uninterrupted helplessness, plus an extra dash of renewed hopelessness. All good fun. Right up until he opens the shorthand letter and sees those strange symbols. He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t feign being puzzled by a stranger’s letter--so it must be!--getting in with Jonathan’s letter to Hawkins.

Just like the moment with the mirror and the bloody cut, just like the surprise of the ladies moving in on Jonathan without permission, Dracula is confronted by something that makes a big ugly crack in the careful masquerade he’s been enjoying so far. He likes this game. He likes being literal king of the castle and playing the host and pulling Jonathan’s spirit apart like so many loose unhappy threads. Most importantly, he likes being the one holding all the cards. All the information. We’ll see later in the book just how well others’ ignorance is used as a cudgel to beat any of his would-be obstacles into paste.

But now, here’s the shorthand. A thing Jonathan knows and he does not.

And Dracula is trapped by the performance. The letter’s already assigned as a prop, a stranger’s note, it cannot matter to them, Jonathan’s letters are sacred to him, blah blah. But if the shorthand is a stranger’s, he can’t even wheedle Jonathan to divulge it for him. So it’s stuck as a surprise mystery. Small as it is, ultimately futile as it is, it’s still A Thing Dracula Did Not Plan. A Thing Dracula Does Not Know. A Card Dracula Does Not Hold.

And Count Dracula, as will be revealed, is many things in addition to being a monster: including an utter control freak. Classic gothic edition mastermind. Every t crossed, every i dotted, every detail and solicitor in their proper place. Now here’s his pet-guest-prisoner not only doing a no-no by trying to reach out to others behind his back, but flaunting some 19th century secret cipher right under his nose! The nerve! Granted, he did tear open the letter to snoop on it, but such trifles don’t matter here. 

What matters is Dracula’s reaction being one that briefly breaks through the guise of the game. A genuine sour note that nettles him into burning the letter outright with a sneer and then, happily, steering immediately back on track with Hawkins’ letter and Jonathan’s timeout. Again, it’s a small thing. A mere mote.

But I’d bet money that part of Dracula’s ‘many labors’ ahead of him now include an almost petulant scrounging through his books for any mention of those odd symbols so he can snap it up too. Research he must do alone, at a loss, because Jonathan unwittingly arranged his writing in such a way that it endangers the Count’s game if the latter has to admit the writing was Jonathan’s after all. So he’s left to huff and puff over it in private. Because all the information under this roof is supposed to be his, damn it. 

And Jonathan, trapped and cornered and bereft prisoner that he is, proved that it isn’t.