#now comes the mist

[scarlet-came-back-wrong]

Continuation of quotes from Julie C. Dao post about Now Comes the Mist:

"Something else that has always bothered me is that even though Lucy is dark-haired in the original novel, every single adaptation — whether on TV, film, or the stage — invariably casts her as a blonde or a redhead, as though only a light-haired, unmistakably white woman could be attractive enough to tempt three suitors and Dracula himself. (And it may also have to do with distinguishing her from Mina both in appearance and personality, i.e. brunette = serious, dreamy, and romantic, while blonde or redhead = sexy, unattainable, and alluring.) Anyway, this made the idea of a Lucy of color, specifically an Asian Lucy, even more compelling to me because then I could play with the angle of exoticism. I could lean into her sexiness and desirability, but with this whole new interesting and unique framework.

In 2017, I began to prep in earnest and do research on everything pertaining to Dracula, though I couldn’t start drafting MIST until 2019 because I was so busy with other books. I kept my pet project a closely guarded secret because I was worried that someone else would get to it before I had time to (a well-founded fear, as it turns out!) and also because — even in its earliest and most nebulous form — Lucy’s story somehow already meant a great deal to me.

Step one was to read the source material over and over and over until I knew it like the back of my hand. I am a fussy and meticulous writer, and intimately studying Stoker’s original story gave me more confidence and a sturdy foundation on which to build my own ideas. I charted every bite Dracula inflicted on Lucy, mapped out the characters’ journeys by boat and train and carriage, and took notes on tiny fun details to include that probably no one but other avid Dracula fans will get.

I also did a deep dive into Bram Stoker’s life to understand his inspirations and was fascinated by what I learned, especially the idea that a stage actor — and Stoker’s alleged lover, according to some sources — may have informed the character of Dracula. I read dissertations from Dracula scholars on how the Victorian era shaped the women in the book and their attitudes toward motherhood, and articles on the supposed link between repressed female sexuality and sleepwalking, both of which affect Lucy.

Over the next few years, as I slowly drafted the manuscript, I also:

-Educated myself on the origin of the vampire myth, especially how it is rooted in the persecution of certain peoples and religions

-Studied the footnotes of The New Annotated Dracula, which was a wealth of information that included Van Helsing’s train timetables and Victorian customs Watched documentaries on everything from:

Turn-of-the-century serial killers

Alleged royal vampires in Europe (one of them had a portrait with the original head inexplicably scratched off and repainted, according to X-ray evidence — so creepy and intriguing! Or maybe they just didn’t like their hair? WHO CAN SAY)

How castles and dungeons were built in the Middle Ages

The beginnings of insidious French occupation in Vietnam and the 1787 Treaty of Versailles

Death superstitions and customs throughout the ages (so many interesting ones, including scrambling a corpse’s bones or burying bodies with a bell — just in case, y’know, they weren’t dead yet and needed to ring for help)

Black American cowboys and their role in shaping the American West, especially around the time of the U.S. Civil War

A family who claims to have been cursed by Vlad the Impaler centuries ago and cannot hike, even today, to his castle ruins without some misfortune befalling them! (One of the travelers in their group allegedly fell down the mountain and broke a leg — their version of Vlad is ultra-petty)

Anyway, all of this led to NOW COMES THE MIST, a book of which I am deeply, devotedly, and wholeheartedly proud.

You will meet my Lucy in all of her infinite darkness, melancholy, and yearning hidden beneath the guise of a flirtatious socialite, along with a cast of characters I loved writing, including my shrewd, handsome, and Asian Dr. Van Helsing and my cheerful and courageous Quincey Morris, a Black American cowboy whose fate brings him from the Wild West to an even wilder Victorian England.

MIST follows Lucy’s transformation from vain society girl to vampire, and then the sequel takes her on a journey from the glittering lights of Paris to the snowy Carpathian Mountains, where her destiny comes full circle. And Jonathan Harker fans, I hope you will like what I’ve got planned for him in Book 2, because I have never been satisfied by his portrayal in any retelling or adaptation, either."

[scarlet-came-back-wrong]

So, Jonathan/Dracula novels:

A Delicious Descent by Amanda Meuwissen, a part of Monsters & Mayhem series that are m/m retellings of classic Gothic novels. From what I've seen, much uwu and takes a "deconstructive" approach to the Stoker's heroes at first (but they get better later? As I said, much uwu)

Dracula's Sex Slave by Grant Holiday. I don't know anything about this one except the name, but probably not much uwu

El otro Dracula by Tony Mark, pretty much a gay porn retelling that exists in Spanish and French languages but may not even exist in English. A lot of stuff is going on besides Dracula/Jonathan but features it prominently

Child of the Night by Scribe Mozell. The published book is a part of the longer online fic based on the 1992 movie and written by the author that apparently was a big name in many fandoms. Very much a slashfic from the 2000s with glaring 2000s slashfic problems, but at least easy to read.

What Manner of Man by St John Starlink. Not a fic but an original vampire book based on the pairing that was first published online in a Substack format similar to Dracula Daily. Read only a half so far but liked it

Dracula/Lucy:

Lucy Westenra series by J.R. Rain and H.P. Mallory. Vampire Lucy lives to the modern day and works both as a teacher in a magic school and a monster hunter. Crossover with many other classics like Sherlock Holmes and Carmilla. From what little I read, a charming and perky book but also quite gory and horny. Lucy is both attracted and repulsed by Dracula, and also feels a lot of resentment because of him turning her. There will also be Lucy/Hyde further on??

Now Comes the Mist and So Blooms the Dawn dilogy by Julie C. Dao. I had high hopes for these and so far the first book is delivering! If I try to narrow down what it is like, it appears to deconstruct Dracula-the-liberator narrative, but it also a bit more complex than that, exploring Lucy's relationships with death, freedom, society and people around her, and Dracula is also given more depth than in most books and fics. It has complex characterizations and relationships, though Lucy at least at the beginning of the book reminded me more of her portrayals in later adaptations: worldly, flirty and quite jaded about the society (the book doesn't treat these as bad things.) Lucy and some other characters are made POC, but so far I'm not getting certain Vibes from this decision that I often get in the fandom, and the ways in which it influences the lives of the characters is explored more in depth.

Tbf Dacre's book is not the only Dracmina book around. There are also at least three retellings that are straight out bodice rippers (Dracula in Love, Dracula, My Love and the Italian book Our Secret Story) and a couple of sequels that have it (Freda Warrington's and Mina: the Dracula Story Continues.) On the other hand, there are at least 200 Dracula-based books in existence and most of them are even more obscure than Dracula musicals, so. There are also at least four Dracula/Jonathan books and two (very good) Dracula/Lucy ones.

Oh, absolutely, which was why I tried to be. Light on the books mentioned and to try to keep to books that I thought had gotten a bit of press/"legitimacy" over the years, aka being big enough names to be indicative of anything beyond "people really like to reinterpret Dracula." (It's also the problem with categorizing film adaptations because it VERY QUICKLY becomes "Is this Bram Stoker's Dracula or Is This Pop Culture Dracula, And Where Do We Draw the Line?") I also considered putting Anno Dracula and Dowery of Blood for relatively prominent novel adaptations/spin-offs that feature an unromantic/ abusive Dracula (the latter of which, IIRC, Mina doesn't even appear in.) I had forgotten Dracula, My Love, though! (...also, Anon...the Jonathan/Dracula and Dracula/Lucy novels? The villainfuckers of the world want to know!)

I mentioned Dacre's because. I hate this novel with every fibre of my being (...honestly if it'd just been Dracmina, it would have been salvageable, as opposed to the homophobic, sexist mess we were left with...) BUT it has the name "Stoker" attached to it so (I repeat: Dacre when I see you...) With The Dracula Tape, I mentioned it because I think it has a lot of stereotypes people think of when they think of a deconstructive approach of Dracula even though it is. A parody. And is part of this movement in the 1970s that is seriously interrogating Dracula as a text and trying to grapple with it, which includes grappling with Mina as a character and her dynamic with Dracula.

But the point is, thank you, yes!

[lady-quen]

Hello Guild Wars 2 community! A new poll has dropped! 🐦‍⬛

(At least, hopefully new, lol.) I'm curious, which blessing did your Commander get on their first/canon go through the Raven Sanctum in the story mission "The Invitation?" Choose and tell me in the tags why they made their specific decisions :)

Compiled explanations from the wiki below for ease of access:

The trial choices in order:

Save the wounded man or save the healers

Save the spell tome or save the historical record

Save the queen or save the prince

Blessings:

Blessing of Daybreak

"When the fear of beastly claws and a child's pain is made sharp by the knowledge of elders, we make no mistakes. But do we grow?"

Healers -> historical record -> prince

Grace of Dawn

"When wisdom is favored in all things—a healing hand, a text of old, a beloved queen—we lose the sharpened sword of the truly bold."

Healers -> historical record -> queen

Consecration of Morning

"We seek to destroy monsters with sharp claws and icy breath, but do we protect ourselves from the beasts shaped like us, who prey on the young and vulnerable, who seek to rule us?"

Healers -> spell tome -> prince

Invocation of Midday

"When we flee from the things we fear most - the teeth of beasts, the storm of a dragon, a change of power-we risk running backward."

Healers -> spell tome -> queen

Supplication of Midday

"We favor the skill of healers and the wisdom of elders over the uncertainty of the future. But the young take chances, and the young push us forward."

Wounded man -> spell tome -> prince

Consecration of Evening

"We long for the comfort of a healing touch, an ancestral word of wisdom, a leader we know and trust. But comfort is fleeting, and with it comes inertia."

Wounded man -> historical record -> queen

Grace of Dusk

"We sacrifice so much—safety from the claws of death, knowledge of the ages, a steadfast reign—to propel ourselves forward. But if we move too fast, do we risk the inability to stop?"

Wounded man -> spell tome -> prince

Blessing of Twilight

"We try so hard to do the right thing. We heal, we protect our people, we preserve stability. But we cannot control how the winds of fate may shift, and a tight grip can sometimes hurt more than it helps."

Wounded man -> spell tome -> queen

[sageofthestarz]

Some sad kinda fucked Ifrit thoughts because I woke up and they came

Cw; Substance Abuse, Sex as a coping mechanism, and just kinda general sads.

Nothing graphic said but still putting those ^

Ifrit

Big, Strong, oh so stupid Ifrit.

That's what was thought of him. A muscle head who fucked hard, partied hard, and got fucked up without a care.

An easy fuck and go without connections, without having to stick around after sorta thing

That isn't who he was though.

This was all learned behavior because it's what got him the attention he craved, any sense of being useful, cared about even if it was only because his body was useful

He loved and hated every single second of every single hookup, high, and any other thing that got him out of his head

If he wasn't happy he wasn't useful, if he didn't stay the persona they all knew he wouldn't be liked, if she showed just how broken inside he truly was he'd lose everything and everyone he had, no matter how superficial he needed the attention

It didn't matter if it was a vicious cycle of regrets, and horrible sleepless night, bad highs and.. thoughts he shouldn't have. Couldn't have

It was all he had now

His pack was broken.

His pack hated him after he left.

He never bothered to try and reconnect, why would he.

Aether, Mountain, and Dew stayed with the band, Zephyr never spoke to him, Mist was long gone to be with the lake.

He couldn't bother any of them with this.

With him.

He left the pack, he left the band, that was his choice. He left the only people who cared about him and for what? To go and be whatever he was now?

Yes.

Even when he knew he could possibly rekindle something he didn't. Shoved those feelings down and shoved more substance down his throat.

He didn't deserve it.

Didn't deserve to have that happiness.

That comfort.

Ifrit used to be the most caring, lovable golden retriever there was.

Always following someone's trail, loving on them, and doing every favor he could

His pack loved him

He loved his pack

Now a days he's nothing more then an old dog owned by a family long since grown.

One that's waiting for the first excuse to be put down despite all the love it has left to give.

He thinks it's what he deserves.

A life of misery, and pain without comfort.

He watches his old pack in longing, the only happiness coming from seeing how happy and healthy they are

He'd do anything for them even now

He's so happy to see them thrive and love each other

Even if it also breaks his heart.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Alright everyone, this prompt is done! I couldn’t help myself, or was just too cute a scenario

Whenever Sierra grumbled in that adorable way of hers, Scotch‘s heart simultaneously softened and sped up.  He loved her in a way beyond words, and as for the coming child — it was impossible to say who he loved more.  “Hungry again?” he asked softly, sliding gently to Sierra’s side.  She nodded, placing her hand over her rounded belly before glancing discreetly at him.  “I know you’ve already gotten me so much..”  With a small smile, Scotch slid her hands into his own, and this time her gaze alighted on his.  “Just tell me, sweetheart.  Whatever you want, I’ll go find it for you.”  A gleaming smile immediately brightened her features.  “Well, since you offered, it’s pickles and peanut butter this time.”  Scotch‘s face scrunched up at the thought.  “Hey!  You promised not to judge!”  He chuckled, “I didn’t say anything!”  Sierra smirked, giving him a light shove, “Your look said enough.”  

After a few goodbyes and a kiss, Scotch picked up his pack of supplies, and headed uncertainly out the door.  This was what put him on edge.  Both he and his wife are borrowers, a species of creature similar to humans — though their range of adaptations differs greatly from their larger, more well-known counterparts.  Their ears are slightly longer and rounder to pick up on acute noises, and their limbs are naturally double-jointed to give them better maneuverability while escaping danger.  However, their most noticeable difference is their height.  The average borrower only grows about four to five inches tall — six at the most.  To survive, many live off of what humans have, simply because it’s easier for them to steal what’s already been made then make it themselves.  Between fending off danger around every corner, and trying to stay hidden in a large and unforgiving world, making anything beyond necessities is only a fantasy for most.

Scotch shuddered at the end of his route through the walls.  He and his wife had more than a few scares over the last few years.  The old house’s cat was by far the most terrifying.  It was the reason they’d moved away, after all.  He and Sierra could barely consider themselves safe around such a dangerous creature, nevermind a child.  The layout of this new place still confused Scotch some, but he’d quickly put to memory the layout of the kitchen after all the times he’d come for yet another random piece of food.  What did she ask for?  Pickles and peanut butter?  He felt his face scrunching up a second time.  “I have to get into the fridge again?�� Great.”  

The last time Scotch tried opening the fridge, it took him nearly all night.  A whole leverage system had to be set up just to pry it open.  Tired, but determined to get what his wife asked so sweetly for, he made his way down the kitchen counter, across the floor, and back up to the fridge.  From there, he had to set up the pulleys and whatnot to actually open the thing.  After that, he had to get in and out as quickly as he could — quite a tedious process.  The fridge sets off an alarm when the temperature rises a few degrees too high, meaning the door could only stay open for so long before attention was drawn to it.  If he really had to, Scotch figured he could leave the door open to give himself a bit more time to escape.  The humans would deal with it once he was gone.  

Neither borrower knew much about the humans of the new house.  They had only lived there a little less than a month.  From what Scotch had seen, there seemed to be only two of them, and at least one of them was always in the house.  Beyond that, they knew very little.  Not that it mattered much; a borrower wouldn’t be caught dead with a human so much as looking at them.  

With the fridge finally open, Scotch rushed into the frigid interior, scouring the shelves for a pickle jar.  Luckily, he found it quickly and began yet another ascent.  Using a handmade grapple — a trademark tool of all borrowerkind — Scotch pried off the lid and reached into the jar, knife at the ready.  THUD THUMP THUD  What?!  How-?  No!  The sounds of a human walking towards the kitchen startled Scotch so badly that he dropped his knife into the jar.  That was the least of his worries, though.  Haphazardly throwing the lid back on, he rushed to get out of the fridge.  Sure, he could hide in the racks upon racks of goods, but the human would undoubtedly close the fridge the moment they found it open, leaving him trapped inside.  There really was no other choice, he had to get out.

Winding up the grapple into his bag, Scotch hurriedly jumped down onto the shelf from the top of the jar.  This was a major oversight on his part.  The shelf was made of metal wiring, which left gaps in its surface.  They weren’t wide enough for a borrower to fall through, but a leg or an arm could certainly get stuck between them, and that’s exactly what happened to Scotch.  The footsteps only grew louder as he desperately struggled to free himself, but he could already tell that there wouldn’t be enough time.  The human would find him, and who knows what they might do then.

Scotch‘s heart stung at the thought of Sierra waiting for him back home.  How long would it take her to realize he wasn’t coming back?  She’d have to move again, alone.  And raise their child alone.  He couldn’t let that happen to her, he couldn’t.  But when it came down to it, there wasn’t much he could do to stop the inevitable.  The thought only worsened the pain in his chest.

In the blink of an eye, the refrigerator door was opened wider by someone who was easily thirty times Scotch‘s size.  The human’s eyes wandered sleepily through the contents inside, but when they landed on Scotch, they lifted wide open in shock.  “What the hell?!” Bryan yelped, jumping away from the strange creature in his fridge.  He regarded the little thing for an astonished moment.  It could be a weird mouse or rat, but it almost looked like…  No, it couldn’t be that, could it?  Bryan hesitantly reached for the thing, but just before his fingers made contact, a small choked voice rang through the kitchen.  “Please-  Please, don’t do this!  I- I have a wife and a child on the way; I’m begging you!"  

Bryan’s heart practically dropped out of his chest.  That-  It is a tiny person!  They have.. oh.  What does this little guy think I’m gonna do to him?  Slowly, Bryan moved his hand from the tiny person to the shelf where they were stuck.  Gently, he pressed their leg out of the wire shelving.  Scotch could only watch in frightened awe as the human freed him from the metal wires.  Very briefly, he thought the human might snap off his leg, but it wasn’t any more painful than it was when he got it stuck there to begin with.  Both beings stared at eachother in silence, confused and dumbstruck by the other.  They were both about the same age, and even wore almost identical expressions.  In a moment, the refrigerator alarm sounded, startling them both.  

“Here, let me.. let me close the door for a second.”  Bryan offered an outstretched hand to the smaller man, and he reluctantly climbed on.  Scotch didn’t quite trust the human, but he was afraid of being shut into the cold space, so he went willingly.  After closing the fridge, Bryan set him down on the island counter a few steps away.  He turned, glancing at the contraption still hanging from the refrigerator door.  “What were you looking for in there?” he asked questioningly.  Scotch stayed silent.  “I’m not mad if you’re taking things,” he amended, “I just wanted to know.  Maybe I could help get whatever it is you need.”  Scotch gawked up at the large human.  “You.. You would do that?”  Bryan nodded, “Why not?  What is it you want?”  “Well,” the borrower rubbed the back of his head nervously, “Pickles and peanut butter, for my wife,” he added.

To both of their shock, Bryan suddenly belted out a laugh.  “No way!  My wife gets the same craving!”  “You.. She’s..  You’re having a kid too?”  The human nodded enthusiastically, “I’m Bryan, by the way.  It’s nice to meet you.. tiny.. person.  Sorry if that’s offensive or anything, I just- I have no clue what you are, man.”  A relieved breath of air escaped Scotch‘s lungs.  The human, Bryan, didn’t seem nearly as malicious as he first thought.  Rumors are slow to pass around the community of borrowers, mostly due to their separated, secretive lifestyle.  However, that didn’t stop hundreds of variations of tortuous human stories from passing from household to household.  Humans are known by borrowers to be unnecessarily cruel and overly curious, but Bryan seemed more confused than anything else.

“I’m.. Well, I’m obviously not human, and that’s all you probably need to know.”  Bryan’s eyes narrowed in thought and Scotch hastily added “I- I didn’t mean to be rude!”  “Naw, that’s alright,” the human shrugged, “Clearly you guys aren’t very fond of us, though I don’t really understand why.  I know we’re obviously bigger, but I don’t think either of us have done anything very scary.”  Scotch sighed, “It’s just humans in general.  My wife and I moved in recently, so we haven’t had the time to learn much about you two, specifically.”  Another shock to the borrower: the human agreed with his secrecy.  “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.  I know a few people I definitely wouldn’t want to be, like.. five inches tall around.”  

Bryan returned to the fridge, grabbed a few different items, put them all down on the counter beside Scotch, then went to the pantry and pulled out even more.  “Here, take whatever you want, for your wife and you.”  “R- Really?” the borrower stuttered, amazed at the sheer amount of options spread out for him.  “Of course, dude!  It’s not like you can go to the grocery store and pick stuff up.”  A human pacifist was one thing, but a human who was willing to let a borrower take from them was unheard of.  “And you’re sure you don’t need any of it, yourself?” Scotch asked.  Bryan chuckled, “It's not like you’re taking the whole jar with you!  Just.. think of it as a belated housewarming present or something.”  

At that point, Scotch was shocked he was still surprised by the human.  “You mean we can stay here?  Usually we leave if someone sees us…”  “No, please stay!  I’m gonna need someone else to talk about dad stuff with!  I could introduce you to my wife, and maybe she can meet yours-“  “Woah, woah, one thing at a time!” Scotch cautioned, “Let’s just keep my existence a secret for now, ok?”  Bryan felt it was such an awkward topic between his friends, all of which weren’t even married.  Meeting someone in the same situation as him — or at least a similar one — was beyond exciting.  He couldn’t help it if he was rushing the borrower some.

“Alright, sorry.  You’re right.  I got a bit carried away there.”  Scotch stepped up to the pickle jar and peered in, finding his knife stuck in the middle of it.  “My uhh, my knife is actually in here.  I dropped it when you came over.”  Bryan dug in and pressed it between the tips of his fingers, dragging it back out.  Once that was taken care of, Scotch got to work slicing the tiniest bits of pickle to take back with him.  As he worked, he gestured to a few other items he thought he might need.  “Dude, will you be able to carry all of this?”  Scotch shrugged, “I have to stock up while I can.”  “Or you could just take it whenever you want,” Bryan offered, “I told you that you can have whatever.”  “It’s still a hike to get it, though,” he countered.  Bryan agreed.  “So, are you as nervous as I am?” the human asked after a brief silence.  Scotch glanced up at him.  “About.. what?”  “Your kid, man!  God, I’m kinda freaking out about mine!  They haven’t even been born, and I’m already having doubts whether I can raise them.  I don’t know..  Do you think I’d be a good dad?  It’s just.. a lot.”

Scotch stopped working for a moment.  Setting down his pack and tools, he turned to examine the human in front of him.  He couldn’t deny he’d been thinking very similar things over the last few months.  “Just don’t mess up and you’ll be fine.”  Both of them laughed loudly through the quiet house.  “I’ll sure as hell try.  When’s your kid-“  “Bryan?  What are you doing down there?  What are you laughing at?”  His wife called from the bedroom upstairs, still waiting for the bottle of water he’d promised to bring her.  “Oh shit; I forgot she’s waiting for me,” Bryan whispered quietly to Scotch.  “Nothing hon!  I just remembered something funny!  I’ll have your water in a sec!”  “Thanks!”  The moment his wife called back, he began gathering everything into his arms.  “I gotta put all this back now, but if you want anything else, feel free to get it.  I just don’t want to leave it all on the counter.”  Scotch nodded, “I think what I have is enough.  Thank you, though.  Honestly, I thought you were going to hurt me when you found me, for stealing from you”. 

Bryan gave him a saddened look.  “Naw, I wouldn’t hurt you!  But.. you are still staying here, right?”  “Yeah.  I don’t think you’re a big enough threat to have to move for.”  “Oh,” Bryan said with a tinge of shock, grabbing two water bottles from a package in the pantry.  “What was such a big threat you had to move here?”  Scotch shuddered, “The other humans bought a cat.”  “Geez, that’s definitely not good for the kid,” Bryan remarked.  “Well, I’m gonna head back to bed.  Good luck getting everything back.”  Scotch scoffed, “The bigger problem is going to be hiding it all.  I think my wife would be a bit suspicious if I came back with all this.”  Smiling knowingly, Bryan made his way to the hall leading upstairs.  “See you soon?”  Scotch nodded, hefting his back over his shoulder.  “I’m here practically every night.  Come down and talk about ‘dad stuff’ with me.  Or help me with the food.”  “Or both?”  “Or both.”  

Confirmation settled, Bryan headed upstairs and Scotch headed into the walls.  It had been a strange evening of events, but both were grateful for the companionship.  It was only a matter of time before the kids arrived, and Scotch had the feeling he would end up needing the human’s help with a few things.  Even if he didn’t, it was still nice having someone new to talk to.

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Saw someone in youtube comments say something like "on the map Czechia and Slovakia are two separate countries, but Czechoslovakia is in our hearts" and yeah. yeah that's what it's like

[starlit-lion]

Doodled Martha casting Armor of Agathys

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

alright. know what? with Secrets of the Obscure right around the corner and plenty of new Mists-related sky island settings coming with it, I'll just bite the bullet and interest-check a little something I've been turning in my head for a long, long while.

would YOU be interested in a Mists-based GW2 roleplay guild that uses a lore compliant multiverse system to allow canon, canon-adjacent, lore-breaking, and otherwise 'contradictory' muses to coexist in the same setting?

simply put: every writer's cast would be set in their own self-contained universe. as such, everyone could bring whatever muses they want with their own personal headcanons, and no one could dictate what is or isn't canon for anyone else. so long as your muses are GW2-based, you're good to go! bring your Commanders, bring your canon-divergent OCs, bring your canon muses-- and yes, even the ones that are 'supposed' to be dead. who can say what might have happened in a strange world far across the Mists, after all?

neutral hubs and in-character safety guardrails would be in place to keep all muses on a relatively even playing field regardless of their power, history, and prestige, too. play hardball if you like, but it might not end quite the way you'd hope. the main rule would be to maintain good OOC etiquette at all times: no godmodding, no metagaming, no theft, don't blend IC and OOC, and so-on.

if that sounds like something you might have interest in, please interact with this post! and if you've got questions or concerns, I'd love to hear them; feel free to send an ask or a DM, or just reply to this post!

[lottaham]

urgfkh .

[networkunsupported]

stanley parable bible symbolism (the crowd goes wild)

honestly i put too many details into snookie9 over here look at the fact their headphones are unplugged cause their ass is not listening look at the fact theyre uhhh apple headphones (im so funny) and the cookie and eveyrhting just look at them

also the snake, thats,, not subtle of me in any way

[cookie9 design by tumblr user pilksus!! as per use khdg]

i couldnt resist drawing a lil 432 so. you get him too. my love. hes john-the-baptist themed (what if you wanted to prelude the main guy and do some cool stuff and be associated with commonly sacrifical animals but then you get wiped out the story like a loser) except hes no animal handling training so pls ignore how terrified the sheep seems

i would be too honestly

also this is the first time i think ive ever posted a proper drawing of him!! and this is what you get! wow thats memorable huh

[scarlet-came-back-wrong]

From Julie C. Dao post about her novel Now Comes the Mist:

"I was immediately drawn to Lucy after seeing Frank Wildhorn’s “Dracula, The Musical” on Broadway in 2004. The show . . . didn’t do as great in the U.S. as in other parts of the world, like Japan (where the role of Dracula has been played by a woman!). But I loved the music, and the best songs — the showstoppers, in my opinion — were reserved for the minor characters. I like “The Master’s Song,” a delightfully creepy waltz sung by Renfield, a patient in an asylum who forges a connection with Dracula.

My favorite song, however, is “The Mist.” I fell in love with the eerie music box melody and Lucy’s opening lyrics: “My soul was floating above a moonlit sea / At the same time, I was drowning yet felt somehow free.” The song has stuck with me for twenty years, as a girl who loves me some dark sketchy monster man romance (paging Beauty and the Beast, Hades and Persephone, and Phantom and Christine!). There’s also a great Lucy/Dracula duet (“Life After Life”), but “The Mist” has had my heart since day one.

If you haven’t seen my book trailer yet, you can watch it here and listen to a clip sung by Lauren Kennedy as Lucy. (Kelli O’Hara, one of my favorite musical theater stars ever since the gorgeous “Light in the Piazza,” played Lucy on the Broadway stage.)

Lucy has yet another great song that you can listen to in the German production of “Dracula, The Musical,” performed in Graz, which is on YouTube. It’s called “The Invitation” (or “Die Einladung”). Lucy is alone in her room, torn between wanting to retain what’s left of her soul and also yearning for the freedom Dracula can give her, until at last she throws open her windows with wild abandon and welcomes him in. It gave me chills and serves as major inspiration for my book!

As you can see, MIST has been forming roots for a long time. But it didn’t blossom until 2016, when two friends and I were having a fun conversation on Twitter. We are all BIPOC women and all fans of Dracula, and we were thirsting (pun intended) over some of the actors who had played this iconic role in film and TV. “The three of us could be Dracula’s Brides of Color,” I joked. One of my friends responded by creating the hashtag #BOC, and then a lot of other people jumped in on the discussion with their own funny anecdotes and ideas.

That chat, as lighthearted as it was, got the wheels turning in my head. What would it be like if Dracula’s brides were primarily women of color? After all, BIPOC most certainly existed in Victorian London. Wouldn’t it be fascinating to explore vampirism as a type of colonization? And how might being a vampire affect BIPOC differently?

I enjoy and respect Bram Stoker’s novel, but I have always wanted more for some of the characters in it, particularly Lucy Westenra, who was Dracula’s first victim on English soil and the best friend of Mina Murray. Mina is much better known because every adaptation insists on portraying her as Dracula’s love interest (for which we likely have Francis Ford Coppola to thank, as this romance does not exist in Stoker’s novel).

It has never sat well with me that beautiful, vivacious Lucy, who has three men vying for her hand in marriage, was forced to succumb to vampirism as punishment for being too sexy. She has a line of dialogue in Stoker’s novel where she jokingly contemplates marrying all three of her suitors at once, so as not to hurt or reject any of them, and that has always been misinterpreted and blown out of proportion, in my opinion, as “proof” of her promiscuity and desire for bigamy."

[spotimy]

Old piece I made for one of my many Curse of Strahd characters that I've played. They're called Dima, and they were a gun slinging drunk rogue (they/she/he).

[itspileofgoodthings]

I love Midnights and also she’s struggling so so much and I can hear the pain so clearly.

[grimxark]

How come Prowl never got his eye fixed. Did he think it made him look sexy and mysterious

[ace-malarky]

Welcome

in which the one and only phoenix of the mist worlds finds a new home after definitely not running away from her old one on account of the Changes

~~~

 She hadn’t fled, is the thing, but she couldn’t stand the pitying looks from her friends and family, those that knew her before she changed.

 Before she saved the world. Back when they didn’t think she’d lost anything.

 So she’d left, but she’d told them and maybe she’d be back, but there were whole worlds out there where they didn’t know who she was and what she’d done.

 She flew through the Mist, its cold burning off against her wings. Chose a gate at random, dived through above the line of travellers waiting in line.

 Suckers.

 The world beyond the Mist was a sprawl of a city that petered out into fields as far as the eye could see. It was different from her home, and that was a delight.

 At the edge of the city was a tent, all white and red stripes, and vehicles parked around it. A circus?

 She dived, curiosity getting the better of her.

 There was a buzz of noise about it. Animals and people, all shouting back and forth, running between the tent and the caravans, setting up yet more tents and enclosures.

 There were creatures – Beast, really, with a capital B – that she’d only ever read about in stories and folklore.

 Like she was now, really.

 She landed on a post by one of them that mostly looked like a horse with wings, a bird’s head, and talons on its feathered front legs rather than hooves.

 It cocked its head to inspect her with one bright eye.

 She folded her wings tight against her back and didn’t quite meet its gaze.

 “Is that one of Fen’s constructs left lying around against?” said someone behind her. “I didn’t think she was working on anything like this.”

 The creature clicked its beak, partially unfolding its wings.

 She turned her head to see a woman standing there.

 “Oh, you’re not – Fen!” The woman turned to yell for someone.

 “I’m not a construct,” said the bird.

 “What are you, then?” To her credit, the woman didn’t seem too startled by her talking.

“The phoenix. Where is–”

 “What is it, Hunt? I’m fine-tuning some really delicate – oh you’re a beauty, aren’t you?” Another woman poked her head out of a nearby caravan, welder’s goggles over her eyes. “Oh, you’re a real spark of genius, aren’t you? I bet they’re kicking themselves for losing you.”

 “It’s not–”

 “No one made me,” said the phoenix. “Except maybe I made myself.”

 This one jumped, pushing her goggles back into her hair. “Well fuck.”

 “I’ve never heard of a phoenix sighting,” said the first.

 “Only kid’s stories. Damn, and it was just out here?”

 The phoenix spread her wings, readying to take off. Maybe this wasn’t a good spot for a break.

 “No – wait, wait, sorry. Let’s start again.” The woman with the goggles held out her hands as if to stop the phoenix from leaving. “I’m Fen. This is Hunt. What can we call you?”

 The phoenix hesitated. Her old name was – not known out here, but if people came looking…

 It was also a name for the person she had been, not the being she’d become.

 “Spark,” she said. “You can call me Spark.”

 “Delighted to make your acquaintance.” Fen smiled. “What brings you to our circus?”

 “Curiosity,” Spark replied, folding her wings back in. “I don’t remember the last time I went to the circus.”

 “Well, you’re in luck, my friend, because the Everrin Circus is the finest that travels the Mist.” Fen spread her arms to encompass it, bowing.

 Spark laughed.

 “Would you like a tour?”

 “Aren’t you fine-tuning something really delicate?” Hunt asked, sounding gently amused.

 “That’s not needed until this evening.” Fen waved her off. “Now.” She held out her arm, which was wrapped to keep her sleeves tight against her wrist. “Or you can walk, but riding in style?”

 Spark hopped from her perch to the ground and didn’t grumble as she barely came up to Fen’s waist. This new form was ridiculous.

 Hunt stayed behind as Fen led Spark into the chaotic noise and bustle of the circus.

 “We’ve only just pulled up here,” Fen said. “Normally it’s a little quieter of a morning, but this is also our first day here so it’s all the set up.”

 Spark craned her head to see what she could. “It seems so chaotic.”

 “It is. Organised chaos, but all the same. You’re lucky to have found us here, actually, this is our last stop before entering the Mist again.”

 “You travel it a lot?”

 “Sure do. Which world are you from? We might have been there before.”

 “I don’t know its name.” Spark shook her head. “But it only recently joined the Mist.”

 “Oh, wild.” Fen was silent as she thought that over. “So – are there other Phoenixes there?”

 “No, I’m the only one.”

 “Oh.” Fen fell silent as she led Spark nearer to the side of the big tent, down an avenue between the fabric of it and the ropes holding it in place. “That must be lonely.”

 Spark blinked. “I – I guess so.” It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered it, exactly, but it was definitely something she hadn’t been intentionally thinking about.

 “Sorry,” Fen said. “Didn’t mean to send you–”

 “Fen!”

 “Asin! Fancy seeing you here!” Fen looked up, grinning and spreading her arms wide in welcome. “I’ve made a new friend.”

 “And the drones for tonight? Are they – oh that is cute.” A woman – shorter and curvier than Fen, white and blonde and harried looking, a tablet in her hands – blinked down at Spark.

 “I’ve never been called cute before,” Spark said, spreading out her train a little. “Not looking like this, anyway.”

 “Fen?” The woman tensed, a crackle of electricity playing at her fingers. “What have you done?”

 “I – nothing!” Fen laughed. “Asin, this is Spark. She’s a phoenix from Off-World. Spark, this is Asin, my cousin.”

 “… Sorry,” Asin said. “You said phoenix?”

 “Yup. She can stay with us for a while, right?”

 Asin shrugged faintly. “Sure, why not. Welcome to Everrin Circus, Spark.”

 “Thanks?”

 “It’ll take her a minute,” Fen said in a stage whisper. “Now come on, there’s so much more to show you.” She ushered Spark past Asin. “And yes, Asin, I’ll get everything finished before opening.”

 Spark followed her, bobbing her head to Asin. She hadn’t meant this to be ore than a brief visit, but… well, if they were going to be so welcoming…

 She might as well stay for longer.

[daughterofsarenrae]

God jay had the worst shed of all time bc im still fighting extremely low humidity where i live i feel so bad