#A Quincey that is a little bit supernatural you know?

[immediatebreakfast]

I do have to start this by saying that I fucking despise that literary theory of "Oooooh WhAt iF QuInCey Is AcTuALly dRaCuLa'S sOn 👀👀👀👀" because not only it's not possible in the canon of the book, and it undermines all of the efforts put by our protagonists to end the bastard, but also I personally think it's only pushed by academics that are simply too deep in the (ugh) "Dracula is the only Alpha Male" juice along with being weirdly obsessed against Jonathan's whole character.

But what if, thanks to Jonathan's subtle supernatural changes and Mina's slow transformation, little Quincey Harker ends up being... A little liminal? Not enough to say supernatural, but just enough to go huh? And double check to see if you got confused.

Maybe Quincey's eyes shine a night when the room is completely dark. Sometimes Jonathan and Mina can't keep up with him when he runs despite being pretty young themselves. What if one day someone finds Quincey climbing a wall then falling after being discovered. He always knows where mom is, he is so good at hide and seek. Quincey tells Mina of a pretty lady walking around their home, and sitting on the sofa to simply see them, and her clothes are stained with blood. He sleeps like a rock, yet he immediatly wakes up at the slightest sound. Quincey has the little habit of climbing his dad's back with pure agility since he learned how to walk.

Just a little Quincey that is the king of games with his friends, but always receives double stares by some adults around him.

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

“Jack is so annoying the way he refuses to believe.”

He literally knows.

In the moment he recognises that he’s being unreasonable.

Van Helsing is asking him to believe in vampires.

“Dracula” was one of the landmark works of supernatural fiction. It, along with Carmilla and other works, put vampires on the map. The average Victorian person would never have even heard of vampires, or if they had, it would be — like Quincey — the bat, not the nightmarish horror.

He can’t be genre savvy right now. He’s too busy defining the genre.

Seward as a character is defined by his logic and his emotion. He is a man who strives to be cold, rational, and objective, but who cannot separate himself from his own emotions.

When Van Helsing challenges Jack with all the evidence before him, Seward is fighting everything he’s ever learned, and what his culture has taught him. He is fighting to “not let a little bit of truth check the rush of a big truth.” He wants to be Van Helsing’s “pet student”. He wants to learn. He has immense respect and admiration for his former teacher.

He literally in the moment knows that he’s reacting more on impulse than what he truly thinks. “Once more, argumentative hostility woke within me. I could not accept such an overwhelming idea as he suggested; so, with an attempt to argue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I said:—” (bolded for emphasis by me)

Have you never found yourself grinding in your heels while realising in some back part of your mind that it’s against your interest? But that you can’t back down. To admit that you are wrong — that there is a Big Truth that you must accept at a cost to yourself (to avoid a greater cost later) — is so overwhelming that you reject it before it can have a chance to take hold?

Yes, it is frustrating, but please, spare some compassion for our man, Jack.

He is surely in the toils.

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter One TEASER

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 3.1k

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

**** READ THE COMPLETE CHAPTER HERE! ****

This is a teaser for Chapter One of Trouvaille! The whole chapter will be 20k words and posted on February 7th. If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the first few chapters, let me know. Any comments, questions, and feedback will be lovingly received. Please enjoy!

The place was entirely gray. The walls, the tin desk with an ancient register, the old guidebooks lining dusty shelves, all radiated a depressing emotion. Even the man behind the desk, still watching a noisy pre-season Patriots game, had dull gray hair and a sagging complexion. Stifling a smirk at how out of place ritzy Ben looked, Y/N pressed a hand over her mouth as she sifted through a rack of hybrid-specific clothes that were about as old as she was. Roy cleared his throat, standing before the desk, Ben uncharacteristically silent as the man grumbled with annoyance, peering up at the three of them. 

Setting his phone down, the man stood arthritically before painting on a customer-service smile. 

“And how can I help youse today?” Y/N nearly snickered at the man’s Quincey accent, alcohol making her a little giddy, until she realized this man just might be the saving grace of her Friday night. “We’re havin’ a sale on them jeans over there,” the man pointed to the rack Y/N had steadied herself on.

“Uh, okay, good to know. Actually, we’re here to potentially adopt, if you have any hybrids available, that is,” Roy took the lead, Ben’s eyes glazed over as he stared at a cobweb on the ceiling. The man made a noise of understanding in the back of his throat, grabbing a key ring from the desk drawer. 

“Got just one, follow me,” the man motioned to them with a finger, unlocking the door at the back of the shop behind a shelf of books. Roy looked a bit disheartened, the chances of the lone hybrid at the shelter being a child slim to none. The trio stepped through the threshold anyways, the back room filled with what could only be compared to empty jail cells sans doors, the scent of cleaning products heavy in the air. Y/N was shocked by Ben’s continued silence, analyzing his stony expression as they reached the back of the room. There was a slim hallway to Y/N’s right, dimly lit, but they did not go down that way.

“Got this one in about two hours ago. She’s the smallest of her siblings, apparently��� too hyper for them fancy shelter’s customers, or so’s I’ve been told by the person who dropped her ‘ere. Name’s Daisy, up-to-date on her doctor’s visits, guaranteed,” the shopkeeper rattled off, scratching the back of his head. He stepped to the side, allowing Ben and Roy to peer into the chamber Daisy was in. 

Sat on the little bed in the corner, engrossed in a colorful picture book, was a little girl about four years old. She had beautiful white blonde hair, long white lop ears sprouting from her crown, and was wearing a sundress with strawberries on it. She looked very well taken care of, a teddy bear clamped under her arm and hair neatly brushed. One of her ears twitched at the sound of the man’s voice, large chocolate eyes darting upwards. A tiny, toothy grin stretched across her precious face as she jumped up from the bed, book clattering to the floor. 

“Oh my gosh!” Ben gasped delightedly, the little bunny hybrid gathering a fistfull of his pant leg. Y/N was flabbergasted at the sight of such an angelic little girl in such a drab, depressing place. How in the hell did nobody adopt her?

“Hi! Hi, you’re here! They’re loud…” Daisy practically vibrated with energy, shaking the material of Ben’s pant leg excitedly. Her eyes darted down the narrow hallway Y/N had spotted moments before, one of Daisy’s ears lifting in that direction. 

“She’s beautiful! I can’t believe it – we were looking for a child just like her! Ben, what do you think?” Roy was so happy, his face was entirely pink as he bent down to say hello. The hybrid seemed to not have an ounce of shyness in her body, thrusting her teddy bear into Roy’s hand and telling him the bear’s name. 

“I think that this place was harboring a miracle after all,” Ben said in a disbelieving tone, simply glowing at Roy and Daisy’s interactions. She was chattering on about her morning, what she wanted to eat for dinner, and her new book. 

“I don’ think she’ll be here for very long,” the shopkeeper called from next to Y/N. He looked like he was aching to get back to his Patriots game. “If you wanna adopt, I suggest you do it tonight.”

“What breed is she? How old, and how much, and where do we sign?” Ben asked rapidly, blushing furiously as Roy picked Daisy up when she stretched her arms out to be held. Y/N could hardly believe the events unfolding in front of her; she knew that the couple was prepared to adopt that very night, but she was sure they wouldn’t be able to find what they were looking for right away. Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding on a private moment, no matter how close she was to Ben and Roy. 

“Uh…” the man pulled his eyebrows together, checking a clipboard velcroed to the wall. “She just turned four. Lionhead rabbit, the fancy Latin name ‘ere too if you want it. Adoption fee for her…” looking thoughtfully at Ben’s Gucci loafers, the man smirked. Y/N turned away, feeling ill from her martini, stalking off slightly down the mysterious hallway. “... $2,500. I’ll print up them papers in the office.”

Slinking down the short hallway, Y/N took a deep breath. Daisy was like a gift from some cosmic entity, and it almost seemed too good to be true. She felt warmth spread through her chest as she thought about the spare room in Ben’s townhouse, already decked to the nines with children’s toys and furniture. Daisy would want for nothing, and it was as if Ben and Roy had already fallen in love with her. Dragging her fingertips along the cinder block walls, she made a surprised sound at the heavy metal door a few feet away from her. Further down the hall, there was a normal wooden door left ajar, an office, from the looks of it. Humming, she turned her attention to the safe-like door, a big red sign nailed to the left of it. The sign read: Exotics and Aggressives - Do Not Enter. 

Now that sign certainly caught her attention – all she had to read was Exotics before a happy sensation flooded through her. Giddy, she began to rise on her tiptoes to peek through the small square window of the door, when she heard a throat clear behind her. Startled, she whipped around, guilt painting her features as the shopkeeper eyed her suspiciously. 

“I wouldn’ get too close to them, if I were you, young lady,” the man said, hands on his hips. “They’ll take off your arm in a second.”

Arching an eyebrow, Y/N’s curiosity was piqued even more with this statement. The man sighed, pointing at the window. 

“Go ahead, take a look. They’re all vicious, the jaguar bastard bit me yesterday,” he muttered, tenderly rubbing a bandage on his left forearm. Staring at the man, as if to decipher if he was egging her on or not, Y/N turned back to the window, finally peering in. 

The room was large, but all divided by iron bars, like giant cages they would keep big animals in at the clinic. At first, she had to squint to see anything other than iron, but then she let out a startled gasp as her eyes focused. 

She counted four hybrids, fully shifted into their animal forms. First, her sight landed on a gorgeous, albeit underweight, leopard, laying on its side, asleep. In the cell next to it was what appeared to be a coyote, turned away from the door and shaking like a leaf in the corner. 

“My God,” Y/N whispered, taking in the third animal, a black jaguar, most likely the one that had bitten the shopkeeper. It was asleep, breathing labored, as blood oozed from a jagged cut on his side. 

Anger welled up inside of her, beginning to turn to the shopkeeper in wrath, before her breath was cut off by the sight of the final animal she could see: the biggest Northwestern wolf she had ever seen, and it was staring right back at her. Undoubtedly a male, the wolf’s amber eyes bored into hers, ears swiveling forward in alert and teeth baring immediately. The creature’s expression sent shivers down her spine, even as he was laying down in his cell separated by the heavy door Y/N was pressed against. Unable to tear her gaze away from the wolf, she forgot all about her bed calling her name, about Ben and Roy, and about Daisy. 

“Who are they?” Y/N asked, eventually breaking eye contact with the wolf. Looking at the shopkeeper, who had pulled out his phone to check on the Patriots, didn’t even spare the door a glance. 

“Bunch o’ bastards. We get the unadopted hybrids that are found wandering the streets, the ones that are rejected by other shelters, sometimes from circuses or zoos if they stop doin’ what they’re supposed to,” he replied, sounding bored. He began to walk away, heading towards the office, when Y/N pulled herself away from the door to urgently grab his wrist. 

“Wait! I– oh,” she let go of his wrist, blushing in embarrassment. “What’s going to happen to them?” Y/N asked, fearing the worst. The man scoffed, beginning to get annoyed with her questions. 

“Listen, lady, I’ve got a guy from Manhattan coming in tomorrow morning to pick up them animals. He’s offering seven G’s for all seven of em’... for hunting or something, I don’ really care what for. It’s payday tomorrow. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to send that rabbit on her way with your buddies so I can finish the game in peace,” with that, the man stalked to the office, muttering something about “women”, the sound of a stuttering printer filling the hallway. 

Affronted, Y/N felt her heart begin to race, thinking about the beautiful leopard being hunted down, and the chances of the injured jaguar living past tomorrow evening. Feeling more ill than ever, the disgust for the world she lived in infiltrated every cell of her body. She peeked back into the room once more, immediately searching for the other three animals, but could not strain her eyesight into the far hidden corners of the room. A pained wheeze came from the jaguar, tail limply beating the floor. She looked at the wolf again, but to her surprise, he had turned around from her view and curled himself into a ball. Her heart sank, palms sliding down the door. If she didn’t feel powerless to help animals before, she certainly did at that moment. 

“Y/N? Where did you go?” Roy inquired, voice raised. She blinked rapidly, ears picking up Daisy’s childish giggle, and huffed sadly for the seven hybrids behind the locked door. While her heart was breaking for them, she wouldn’t allow herself to dampen her friend’s spirits on such a wonderful night for the two of them. 

She stiffened as the shopkeeper brushed past her, a packet in hand, grumbling in her direction. Curling her lip up in a snarl of disgust, she begrudgingly followed him, glancing at the metal door once more. 

“The papers. Let’s sign em’ up front, come on, now,” the shopkeeper grunted, stepping into the light of the main hybrid holding room. Roy still had Daisy on his hip, his face confused as it landed on Y/N. She brightened up in the best way that she could, smiling sweetly at Daisy, who had begun to sleepily nod her head against Roy’s shoulder. Ben held her teddy bear and picture book, pacing around the space she was in as if to check for any other of her belongings. 

“Sorry, guys! I had to run to the bathroom in the back,” Y/N lied, watching the shopkeeper carefully to see if he would rat her out. He rolled his eyes disinterestedly, already making his way to the storefront. Roy easily bought the lie, trusting and easygoing, face dissolving into understanding. She felt rotten about the deception, but she would feel even worse if she robbed her friends of the happy glow around them with the news of the exotic hybrids only feet away. 

Ben straightened up from where he was crouched over by the bed Daisy had been sitting on, face a touch melancholy. 

“Honey, is this all that you brought with you?” Ben asked Daisy, brushing a strand of hair away from her cherubic face. She cracked an eye open, peering at Ben’s outstretched hands holding her teddy bear and book. Nodding twice, she buried her face into Roy’s neck, sleep threatening to pull her under. Ben tutted, a look of adoration on his face. 

“I think she likes you, Roy,” Ben whispered with glee. “Let’s go sign the papers and get her home,” Ben took Roy’s free hand, flashing a brilliant smile towards Y/N, face clear of all stress from earlier. She trailed after the new family, no longer filled with exhaustion from her eventful day, but instead was consumed with cyclical thoughts. 

She felt dazed as she watched Ben smoothly sign his name on the papers, eagerly pushing them towards Roy once he finished, nearly tossing the packet off of the tin desk. The shopkeeper went back to his game on his phone, yawning, as Ben excitedly joined Y/N at the front of the store. 

“Can you believe it? Y/N, what are the chances?” Ben gushed, fingers fumbling along the bookshelf stocked with the hybrid guidebooks. Digits dancing along the spines, he carefully selected one while scratching his close-cut beard thoughtfully. The book was specific to hybrid children. 

“I can’t believe it. I also can’t believe it’s this easy to adopt – I mean, there’s no interview? Or background check?” With this statement, Ben turned to look at her curiously.

“Well, I know that the other shelters have at least one quick interview, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Ben said slowly, sensing something off about Y/N’s countenance. “Besides, look at this place. Sadly, I don’t think Belichick over there is very concerned with who walks out of here with a hybrid. What’s up? Why do you look so upset?” 

Y/N shook her head, spotting a rabbit hybrid booklet and pulling it off the shelf for Ben. Her fingers paused, noticing a thicker book for wolf hybrids a couple of spines over. She snapped out of it, sensing Ben’s probing gaze, and handed him the booklet with a grin. 

“I’m not upset, that martini just made me feel a little sick. I think today has just been a little crazy,” Y/N explained. Ben softened at her response and her offering of the booklet, pulling her into his side tightly. 

“I haven’t thanked you yet for coming along with us today. It means more than you know, having you be here for this,” Ben confessed, squeezing her once. 

“Always,” Y/N replied, tears threatening to fall for the second time that day. He let her go, lifting the books in the air, heading to the register to pay the final fee before they could leave with Daisy. 

“That’ll be $3,000 even – with the tax an’ the books,” The shopkeeper punched numbers into the noisy cash register, cursing as the sport’s broadcaster announced a foul from his phone. Ben handed him his thick black credit card easily, and with the flimsy bag for the books in hand and credit card securely back in his wallet, the four left the dreary shelter without any complications. 

Unlike when Y/N left the clinic earlier in the evening, exiting the shelter and breathing in the nighttime air offered no relief to her current anxiety. Roy was busy ordering a cab for their ride back to their townhouse, carefully shifting the sleeping bunny hybrid on his hip. Ben was busy blathering on about what he should whip up for Daisy’s dinner, or if he should call in some takeout. Y/N tried to steady her breathing, checking her slim wristwatch for the time. It was only 9 PM, but it felt like midnight. She considered leaving her car in the spot seven blocks away in favor of jumping on the Red Line, but wasn’t thrilled about a ticket likely being tucked under her windshield wiper come morning. 

“Guys, I’m gonna get going. My car’s a little ways away, so I should start walking now,” Y/N piped up through Ben’s cooing at sleeping Daisy, both men turning to face her. 

“Do you want me to walk you to your car? I can order another cab for myself after,” Ben offered, ever protective and concerned for her walking alone at night. She shook her head lightly, reaching out to stroke the back of Daisy’s head. She was irresistible and her hair was impossibly soft, and Daisy leaned into the touch even in her sleep. 

“No, no, don’t worry about me. I have a taser and a knife. And my clogs are heavier than they look, for kicking some nuts. You guys should get home as soon as you can, settle her in,” Y/N said slowly, trying her best not to wake the child. Ben looked like he wanted to protest, but was cut off by the pulling up of the cab Roy ordered. Y/N pushed him towards the passenger side door, eager to spend some time thinking on the walk to her car. 

“I’ll call you in the morning to check in, and I’ll even come and stop by tomorrow if you want, and ask my dad to schedule a check-up for Daisy,” Y/N offered, opening the doors for both of them. Roy gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, mouthing a thank you sincerely, carefully maneuvering his way into the backseat. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Text me when you get home,” Ben hugged her once more, folding himself into the passenger seat and closing the door softly. Y/N waved as the cab drove away, waiting until it turned the corner before sparing another glance at the shelter behind her. Brushing a sticky piece of hair from her forehead, humidity pressing down on her, she set off down the street to her car. 

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

[dross-the-fish]

Trying to upload this again. While I wait for an invite for Ao3 so I can start posting the fic here’s an excerpt from the first chapter of my crossover au ...

It was a chilly autumn afternoon when Doctor John Watson heard a knock at his door. Three hesitant taps, followed by a long pause and two firmer knocks. He knew the latter meant that whoever it was, their trouble was urgent, enough so that it was unlikely they’d simply leave if he didn’t answer. With a deep sigh he put down his badly crumpled newspaper, nearly three months old and worried almost to tearing by anxious hands, yet still unread save for the blaring headline:

“STRING OF GRUSOME MURDERS IN SMALL VILLIAGE. SHERLOCK HOLMES INVESTIGATING CLAIMS OF VAMPIRISM AND OCCULT ACTIVITY IN KENT.“

Smoothing down his thinning hair and shaking a wrinkle from his dressing gown in an effort to look presentable, Watson prepared himself to deliver a speech he’d already given more times than he could count. No, Sherlock Holmes is not here. No we are not taking further cases.  No I don’t know when he’ll be back I’m sorry but you’ll have to enlist help elsewhere.

The words never made it out of his mouth, as he opened the door he saw before him two young men who barely looked into their twenties. One, a pleasant-faced stocky man with round glasses and dark curls and the other, a thin, willowy fellow with deep circles under his eyes and the most harrowed look Watson had ever seen on another human being. It was the lean man who piqued his interest for Watson recognized the tell tale signs of an individual broken down by a long strain of illness. Perhaps it wasn’t a detective they were looking for at all…perhaps it was simply the aid of a doctor they needed.

The bespectacled young man spoke first, “Are you Dr. Watson?” he asked hopefully.

“I am. What can I do for you two? Is your friend ill?” Watson asked, already leaning forward to get a closer look. The thin man leaned away; his eyes fixed to the ground as though he were silently asking the earth to swallow him up.

“Yes, he is… it’s a long story,” the stocky boy held out his hand for Watson to shake, “My name is Quincey Harker and this is my friend, Lawrence Talbot.”

“Lawrence Talbot? I see, I’m sorry about your parents. I read about them in the newspaper, horrible tragedy. I hear they haven’t found the killer yet” Watson said, his heart sinking as Lawrence’s face crumpled. He hated to turn away a grieving young man, but without Holmes there was little chance of success and Watson was no longer young or brash enough to take on his own cases without his partner. The kindest thing would be to turn them away now rather than drag out the rejection, “You’ll have to forgive me. Detective Holmes hasn’t returned and I don’t know when he will, I’m afraid I’m no use to you. There is a chap who lives not far from here who might be able to help you. Little fellow, Belgian and a bit of a fusspot but I hear he’s very successful. You ought to try him.”

Lawrence’s friend, Quincey, shook his head, “No good, he wouldn’t take our case. He refused to entertain any consideration of the…supernatural nature of our problem. Listen, Doctor, we know Sherlock Holmes is still missing and, contrary to what you believe, we’re not looking for the, erm, person who killed Larry’s parents.”

The corners of Watson’s mustache dropped in tandem with his thick eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise, “You’re not? What are you looking for then?”

“A cure for lycanthropy,” Larry blurted and Watson winced at the weak, raspy sound of a voice strained by frequent harsh sobbing.

“Lycanthropy,” Watson’s frown deepened as he slowly repeated the word, “Surely, I don’t look like some superstitious backwater hag? I am a medical doctor; I do not deal in curses and witchcraft. I’m sorry for your loss, boys, but I have my own matters to attend to and no time for chasing after werewolves. Good day!” before he could close the door Quincey stuck his foot across the threshold.

“We can prove it!” he insisted, “If you’ll just wait until nightfall, we can prove we’re telling the truth. Just come back with us to Talbot manor and see for yourself.”

“Even if I did,” Watson rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation, “What do you expect that I could even do if he really is a werewolf?”

Quincey dug around in his coat and, after a moment of frantic rummaging, produced a battered, plain, leatherbound journal. He shoved the volume into Watson’s hands with such enthusiasm that he nearly dropped it.

“We’re hoping you can find someone for us…someone who may be able to create a cure. Please, Doctor, we’re out of options! You’re the only hope we have left.”

Watson knew the moment he took the journal in hand that he wouldn’t be able to refuse. He knew it was a terrible idea to get involved in a case this bizarre without Holmes. He also knew, the minute he cracked open the journal and read the steadily more frantic and messy entries, that this was the kind of case that Sherlock would have jumped into feet first and though more tempered in nature than his partner, John Watson was no more immune to the allure of the strange and mysterious. As he skimmed the pages with increasing interest a particular passage caught his eye…

“…I had learned to dwell with pleasure as a beloved daydream on the thought of the separation of these elements. If each I told myself could be housed in separate identities life would be relieved of all that was unbearable the unjust might go his way delivered from the aspirations and remorse of his more upright twin and the just could walk steadfastly and securely on his upward path doing the good things in which he found his pleasure and no longer exposed to disgrace and penitence by the hands of this extraneous evil…”

“I’ve heard of this case; Dr. Henry Jekyll took his own life following some kind of failed experiment?” Watson asked, finding himself eager to know how this could possibly connect to Lawrence’s alleged werewolfism.

“Supposedly he did, but there was no body and no one has any idea where he’s buried. Larry and I think he may have faked his death. In any case, he managed to develop a serum that can separate man’s evil nature from it’s good and we’re hoping, if he can be found, he can find a way to separate the man from the beast in Larry,” Quincey gave Watson a pleading look, “It’s a long shot and I know all of this sounds very strange but please! We need help and we don’t have anywhere else to turn.”

Watson couldn’t help himself but to be moved to pity, though he was still skeptical. It was obvious that both young men were desperate and the Talbot boy in particular, clearly needed some kind of help. Against his better judgement he tentatively offered: “Alright, I’ll go with you tonight and see this werewolf transformation with my own eyes. If you’re telling me the truth we’ll discuss more about tracking down this Jekyll fellow.”

Quincey whooped and grabbed Lawrence in a full-bodied hug, “Do you hear that, Lar? He said ‘yes’! What’d I tell you? That cure’s as good as found!”

Larry gave him a strained smile and patted his back, “Tone it down, Quin, he hasn’t taken the case yet,” he disentangled his long limbs from Quincey’s grip.

“But he will! He just needs to see that were telling the truth and he will! Won’t you Dr. Watson?”

Watson wasn’t eager to make promises but something about this case was drawing him in. With all the rumors of occult activities cropping up he couldn’t help but wonder if there was some connection between this matter of the werewolf and the claims of a killer vampire that Holmes had been pursuing. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to the world than either of them had anticipated. He could practically hear Sherlock’s voice in his ear, encouraging him: Come on, Watson. Be bold! You were born to be a man of action. Your instinct is always to do something energetic, seize the moment.

“If Mr. Talbot really is, as you say, a lycanthrope, then I will take the case. We may not have the benefit of my partner’s genius but I will give you my best efforts and with luck they will prove fruitful. Allow me a few moments to make myself presentable and I’ll accompany you back to the Talbot estate.”

[aion-rsa]

Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist

https://ift.tt/39I2zkp

This article contains huge spoilers for Midnight Mass. So help me God if you read this without watching the series first…

The version of Midnight Mass that Netflix advertised still would have made for a compelling horror series. 

An isolated, insular island community? Great. A young, charismatic preacher suddenly coming to town to shake things up? Perfect. That preacher proving capable of performing minor miracles? Love it, no notes! 

Of course, as viewers who have watched at least four episodes of the seven-episode series now know, Midnight Mass has one extra supernatural twist in mind that elevates an already interesting story to true mind-blowing status. Critics were understandably asked to keep this aspect of the show a secret before it premiered. So please indulge me as I finally slay these embargo demons and get it off my chest.

Vampires. Vampires! V-A-M-P-I-R-E-S. VAMPIRES! VAMPIRES VAMPIRES VAMPIRES! Literally like Dracula. And Nosferatu. Anne Rice’s Lestat. Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot. Vampires. VAMPIRES, BRO, VAMPIRES.

For creator Mike Flanagan, a filmmaker influenced by all manner of classic horror, bringing the fanged bloodsuckers to life was a long time coming.

“My favorite vampire movie is (Werner) Herzog’s Nosferatu,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to the premiere of Midnight Mass. “That film is the vampire story as high art. I also adore From Dusk Till Dawn. I read Dracula young enough for it to really burrow in for me. And I read ‘Salem’s Lot early enough to color an enormous amount of work that I’ll do for the rest of my life.”

Midnight Mass’s depiction of the mythological undead beast and how it can neatly fit into Christian dogma is one of the most satisfying horror twists in years. Now that the truth is out, let’s discuss Midnight Mass and how it conflates vampires and biblical angels. 

Mistaking a Vampire for an Angel

The interesting thing about Midnight Mass is that it clearly takes place in a universe where the average person has no knowledge of what a vampire is. Even Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), arguably the most well-read person on Crockett Island, has to do some research into “porphyria cutanea tarda” (a.k.a. the real life “vampire disease”). This is similar to The Walking Dead’s approach to zombies, in which the “z” word and George A. Romero’s name are never spoken. This strategy in Midnight Mass allows for a truly fascinating case of mistaken identity.

While viewers immediately know that the creature Monsignor John Pruitt (Hamish Linklater) encounters is a vampire, he believes it to be an angel. Given how studied Pruitt is in the Bible and Cathloic theology, it’s entirely understandable why he would think a tall, muscular, bald-headed beast with fangs and leathery wings is an angel. As it turns out, the angels of the Old Testament can be truly terrifying. 

Not all angels are soft-featured human-like creatures with fluffy white bird wings. Some, like Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones are designed to intimidate God’s enemies. In the New Testament’s Book of Luke, an angel visits Zechariah and immediately asks him to “be not afraid” because the angel can see the poor guy absolutely shaking in his boots upon his arrival. Angels being terrifying is even something of an Internet meme, with users contrasting the phrase “be not afraid” with images of truly monstrous beasts. 

Not only does Pruitt’s vampire have the vague appearance of an angel, it also apparently holds the secrets to eternal life as promised in the Bible. By merely drinking some of the “angel’s” blood, a good Christian can live forever just like God says. Does that blood-drinking sacrament sound familiar? It did to Mike Flanagan.

“In Bible school I used to say ‘if the wine turns into Jesus’s blood literally and we’re drinking it so that we can live forever … that seems like a short leap to vampiric myth.’”

Of course, drinking the angel’s fluids in the case of Midnight Mass also leads to some unwanted side effects like a thirst for blood and extreme sensitivity to sunlight. Thankfully, good ol’ Bev Keane always has a Bible quote ready to go for that. When read through the proper perspective, the Holy Bible may as well be the original vampire story. 

The Rules of Vampirism

“The thing that I love about the vampire as a cinematic tool is how malleable it is,” Flanagan says. “We all agree that there is no canon. There are no rules. In fact, part of the joy is seeing what rules people cherry pick as they approach a vampire story.”

All depictions of vampires are indeed quite different. Vampires can range from the classic Stoker-ian monster to Twilight’s nigh-invulnerable sparkle bois. Midnight Mass’s version of the vampire leans towards the classic, albeit with some tweaks. In terms of appearance, The Angel (as we will be calling Midnight Mass’s O.G. vampire for simplicity’s sake) has a more bestial look like Nosferatu rather than an aristocratic one like Count Dracula or Anne Rice’s creations. 

“We winked at (Nosferatu the Vampyr actor) Klaus Kinski a few times when we designed our guy,” Flanagan says.

Though the Angel resembles Nosferatu in appearance, its vulnerabilities owe more to Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. Religious iconography does not appear to hurt the Angel nor its thralls. Traditional human weapons like bullets or blades also do no harm (at least not mortally). These vampires are, however, tremendously susceptible to both fire and sunlight. Exposure to the latter for even a few seconds is enough to kill the Angel and his many acolytes. 

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Like in Rice’s works as well, the path to creating a new vampire is quite simple. Step 1: Drink its blood. Step 2: Die. In Dracula and ‘Salem’s Lot, the method of vampire creation is merely being bit by one, zombie-style. Rice and Flanagan’s approach is quite a bit more intentional and interesting. It also opens the door for perhaps Midnight Mass’s most ingenious storytelling quirk: communion. John Pruitt is able to get nearly the entirety of Crockett Island to become a vampire by spiking the communion wine with his buddy’s blood. Then, all that remains is for them to poison themselves to death, Jonestown-style. 

The mass “resurrection” scene in which the congregation awakes as their new vampire selves also provides some insight to just how hard it is to contain the vampire’s overwhelming hunger. Riley Flynn was able to resist it when he turned because John Pruitt babysat him like a psychedelic mushroom guide. The plan for the rest of the congregation was to have their babysitters as well but that didn’t quite work out. Still, Riley’s dad Ed makes it clear to his wife Annie, that even if it’s hard to resist the call for blood, it’s not impossible. 

“When I saw them at the church, I thought it was something they really couldn’t help. Like something impossible not to do. But it isn’t, Annie,” he says.

Maybe if more vampires were like Ed Flynn, a whole island full of vampires wouldn’t be too bad of a thing in the first place. 

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How to Defeat a Vampire

While every vampire story presents its own unique take on the creature, the answer on how to defeat a vampire is usually the same: by doing it together.

“We poor humans only have so much that we can give,” Flanagan says. “We’re ill-equipped as individuals to make any kind of meaningful stand. The only way evil in the world can be brought down is through collective effort. That’s something Stoker understands inherently. It’s clearly something King understands.”

Alongside the aforementioned Bram Stoker and Stephen King, Flanagan presents a small team of humans at story’s end who will do what it takes to defeat evil, even if it means dying in the process. Erin Greene (Kate Siegel), Dr. Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), Annie Flynn (Kristin Lehman), Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney), and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are the six residents of Crockett Island brave enough to try to take down the Angel. All but two (Warren and Leeza) die. They do succeed in eliminating the immediate threat on Crockett Island but it’s possible the Angel made it away to suck blood another day, damaged wings and all.

What’s interesting about Midnight Mass’s “final crew” is that six appears to be the magic number when it comes to taking down a vampire. Stoker’s Dracula has six heroes: Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker nèe Murray, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), John Seward, Quincey Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing (of which, only poor American cowboy Quincey Morris dies). King’s ‘Salem’s Lot also has six: Ben Mears, Matt Burke, Susan Norton, Mark Petrie, Jimmy Cody, and Father Callahan (of which, decidedly more than one of them die). This strange bit of arithmancy is something we asked Flanagan about.

“The number was certainly not intentional,” he says. “Once it was clear that Riley was not going to be carrying the torch to the end it really was about asking ‘who are the characters who seem in the very beginning to be at a disadvantage and how do we empower them in the end?’ This was gonna be played out by Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan, and everyone else who would get to just give a little piece.”

Considering that Erin and company were outnumbered about 117 to six, it was a pretty good showing for Crockett Island’s last humans standing.

All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3CPaitL

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (10/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : Graphic descriptions of violence, Viewer discretion is advised (short paragraph)

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 10/? (2730 words)

Author’s notes : Beware ! A Dracula-less chapter (-ish) ! I promise, he’ll be back soon, he really wants to go to that Renaissance fair... (Also yay, part 10 !)

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Mary Van Helsing.

I asked Leah if she hadn't made a mistake. She almost took offense. I sat back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. What ? How ? Van Helsing ? I mean, that could just be a freaky, freaky coincidence. I laughed nervously to myself.

“Hah, you gotta admit that's funny the Van Helsing kid wants to study the Balkanic middle ages”, Leah laughed. Ditto.

Seeing as I didn't reply, she asked if I felt alright. I took a deep breath.

“Leah, there's something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah, of course, what's- Oh, fuck.”

She turned back to her laptop, and started frantically typing, cursing under her breath as she did.

“Someone got my position. Jeez, whoever those guys are, they really don't want anyone finding out they exist !”

“What do you mean ?”

“I mean there's a very good chance we will have an unpleasant visit pretty soon.”

She sounded nervous, which was a strange color on her. She activated an emergency shutdown, and closed her computer, taking a moment sitting still, eyes staring into the void. She then stood up decidedly.

“We don't know who it was, could be nothing”, I tried to reassure her.

“Yeah well, not to boast or anything, but if they got through my defenses, I really don't wanna know. Listen, let's just crash at my place, there's a chance they pinged on the VPN and actually here.”

She was so determined, I didn't even think to contradict her. She left her laptop there, only taking her bike helmet. I grabbed my bag, and followed her out of my office. Even though she was tiny, I had trouble keeping up with her fast paces. As we sped through the corridors, I caught a glimpse of dirty hazelnut hair, and grabbed Leah's arm to take a hard right into another hallway. Felt like running into Helder right now wouldn't be the best turn of events. Plus, I was supposed to give a class he was attending, so, that.

“Thinking back exit ?”

“What else ?”

We kept half-jogging to the end of the corridor, turning a few curious heads on the way, pushed on a service door, and slipped outside. The sun blinded me a second, as we made our way to the parking lot. Leah dug her keys out of her pockets, and unlocked the pad on her motorcycle, cursing a few more times every time she ripped around the keyhole. She turned to give me her helmet, and stopped halfway, wincing. Ah.

“Eris Cetero and Leah Fox. I'm going to need you to come with us.”

A very sharply dressed woman was standing a few paces away, icy stare and tightly pulled dark hair. She looked composed, unyielding, and was flanked on both sides by two men built like wardrobes, poorly dissimulating a handgun under their suit jackets. Not the kind of person to try to run away from, then.

“Listen, we didn't mean any harm. We could all just forget it.”

Sometimes, her bluntness had some perks. She had moved over in front of me, her hand grasping mine.

“You are not in trouble. At least not with us”, the woman continued. “We thought we would wait more, but you forced our hand.”

“We have no idea what you're talking about”, Leah kept going, still on the defensive.

I said nothing, trying to keep a straight face.

“My name is Mary Van Helsing. I work in the Murray Institute for the Neutralization of Abnormalities. We have a lot to discuss, especially with you, Miss Cetero.”

Ah shit. Let's think about this rationally. There was no way I could escape that situation. I also didn't want Leah to get in trouble, and I started to see she was about to keep on going if I didn't do anything. I took a deep breath, which had her stop.

“Alright. We have crossed a line digging into things we shouldn't have. You are entitled to some explanations, and if you feel like this can't be done in a parking lot, so be it. Lead the way”, I declared, trying to be as calm and composed as I could.

I was met by a look of disbelief on Leah's face, and an emotionless nod from Mary, who turned on her heels without a word. Can't believe my incredible charm hadn't worked on her yet. Leah's hand softened, and I took a hold of it as we walked to the intimidating sedan waiting for us.

~ ~ ~

The ride took a bit longer than I thought. From the moment Leah started going deeper in her search, and the moment they arrived, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, and yet, it took well over half an hour to get to our destination. Maybe they were already close, and we just got unlucky. Seemed about right.

We remained silent the whole car ride. You couldn't have hacked through the tension using a damn chainsaw, at this point. Leah and I held hands, so tight I saw her knuckles going white. She was shaking a little, and I hated myself for putting her through this. If only I weren't a nosy fucking idiot.

We arrived to a decrepit-looking building, most likely turn of the 19th century architecture. Above the entrance, the stone looked like it had been engraved, a while ago, but the script was almost completely worn out. Inside, the emptiness gave an echo to every step, the ground overrun with cables coming from other parts of the house. We kept on going straight forward, went down a slope, and arrived to a huge freight elevator. It made a shrieking noise as it went down for a while, so deep we might as well have gone straight down to hell. If you believe in that sort of thing.

The elevator shook as it stopped, opening on a surprisingly high-tech complex.

“Ladies, welcome to M.I.N.A.”, Mary told us as we stepped off.

The first room was a large hall, open on two more stories, visible through balconies, on which were plastered neon lights. In neatly aligned cubicles, employees worked on god knows what, piles of paper cluttering all desks, the intermittent sound of phones and the indistinct chatter of radio making the noise almost unbearable. Mary kept on walking, some people greeting her as she passed them, and giving Leah and I the strangest looks. Ooh, boy. That was about to be fun.

She opened large fire-breaking doors, and we went on a corridor, making a few turns. As I had learned by now, I memorized the turns. Right, left at the weird plant, another left at the water fountain. She opened a door for us, leaving us to enter before her. That looked awfully like an interrogation room, with one table at the center, and two uncomfortable chairs. The double sided-mirror occupying one of the walls was also a dead giveaway.

One of the guards stopped Leah as she went after me. As she protested, they told us they would explain the situation separately. If they actually knew anything, that might be the smarter option. I reassured her, smiling, and went into the interrogation room. One of the guards came with me, and closed the door, only to stand in a corner, silent. I dragged out a chair to sit, waiting for anything to happen.

“Not really talkative around here, huh ?”, I asked, knowing I wouldn't get an answer.

Moments later, Mary came back into the room, holding a few files, one distinctly bearing my name. It does something to your ego, to have your name on a secret society's secret case file, in their secret underground bunker. The woman sat on the other side of the table, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Miss Cetero, do you really have no idea why you're here ?”, she asked.

Of course I know why I'm here. You know I know. You saw me try to fly into the wind with my partner in crime as soon as we knew you found us. I just had to put my best performance on. Tremble, Hollywood.

“Well, we did hack into some pretty secure servers to get information that we weren't supposed to get”, I told her, and shrugged. “That seems pretty clear to me.”

“There's that, but I want to talk about something else.”

Her face was completely unfeeling, yet her voice was soft, a bit too maternal for my tastes. I had a little smile, encouraging her to talk. There was no risk if I wasn't talking.

“Do you believe at all in the, quote-unquote, supernatural ?”

If she kept talking to me like I was a particularly simple child, I'd show her something supernatural pretty damn soon. I worked to keep down the wave of righteous anger crashing against the insides of my chest.

“Do you mean... ghosts ?”, I ventured.

“Among others. I'm talking more specifically about vampires.”

Her eyes were gleaming behind the rectangles of her glasses. I didn't react, other than a little laugh. Alright, keep it up, play dumb.

“Vampires ? Come on, is this a joke ? Did Leah put you up to this ?”, I giggled.

Not that dumb, fuck's sake. Nobody was this stupid. I actually wanted to kill myself. I was so in character my voice went up an octave all on its own. Repressing a shiver, I kept on smiling like a brainless fish.

“I'm afraid I'm dead serious. As... Phantasmagorical as it may seem, such creatures exist, and we believe you, and your friend, may be in grave danger.”

Well, that seemed to actually work pretty well. Not really trying to think of the reasons why I had so little trouble passing as brain-dead, I had a nervous laughter, and kept going.

“Do I have to look around for a man in a black cape next time I leave my building, Mrs. Van Helsing ?”

“Doctor Van Helsing, actually. And rather, you should look around for the man you know as professor Vlad Balaur.”

Ah, direct, I see.

“I'm not sure I get your meaning.”

“We have good reasons to think Vlad Balaur is a vampire, trying to pass himself up as Vlad Dracula Tepes, a character you of all people know well.”

I didn't say anything, but my heart sank to my stomach.

“In what I will tell you, I want you to assume everything I say is true”, she started, leaning back. “In 1896, a team made up from Jonathan Harker, Quincey Morris, Mina Murray-Harker, and Abraham Van Helsing, put an end to the reign of terror of the vampire known as Dracula. It seemed he was no other than Vlad Tepes, the Impaler, who supposedly had, quote-unquote, “died” during the 15th century. At his return to London, he decided to create this institution, to be certain that should such a horrific event happen again, people would have the knowledge and resources to deal with it.”

She took a pause, gauging my reaction. I tried to keep my innocent façade, but has strictly no idea wether she could tell I was faking. The feeling of dread creeping its way into my mind didn't help either.

“Bram Stoker was an accomplice to the whole ordeal, and published his book, which was explicitly branded as fiction. You know the rest, concerning the sometimes questionable turn of the theme into popular culture. However, vampires, among other numerous creatures, are still a threat on humanity today. And a lot of them take inspiration from ancient figures, like Count Dracula. This would not be the first time one of them fashioned himself the Dark Prince Returned.”

“I'm sorry”, I interrupted, “But how can you expect me to believe any of that ? Do you even have any proof ?”

I tried to keep my panic out of my tone. I didn't want to believe it, but what if she was right ? She couldn't be, right ? He knew so much about everything, and... I tried to calm myself down. Just need to get through this, I'll talk this out with the man himself. All would be well.

“Even if you were right, even if professor Balaur was a vampire”, I began as she only kept staring at me. “He never tried to hurt me, or had any reprehensible behavior toward me or Leah. Why would I need to be worried ?”

She looked at me for what seemed like hours, and finally pulled a file from her pile, and slid it towards me. She then sat back, and lit a cigarette. She offered one, and I declined politely, asking what was in the file.

“All around the city, for the last month, we had a count of twenty-four murders”, she declared. “Look at the pictures, and you tell me what kind of person could have done this.”

Shaking a bit, I opened the file, and instantly had to put a hand over my mouth. You can watch hours and hours of horror movies, and never get used to anything like that. Everything was red. Seeping into the fabrics, clothing, mattresses, drapes. Splattered on the walls, dripping from the ceilings. Body parts, bent in impossible angles, flesh frayed, shredded in long clawing marks, leaving the internal organs and their contents spilling out of the deformed corpses. Throats. Open. So torn apart it just looked like a bundle of rubber tubes. On one of the victim's descriptive notes, I glimpsed the word “pregnant”. I closed my eyes, looking away. There were hundreds. Mary offered again, and I took the cigarette. I closed the case file, taking a long drag.

“What happened in Romania, Miss Cetero ?”, she asked, a bit more softly.

I raised my head to meet her gaze. “I... Nothing happened. I- I visited some museums, hiked a little, why do you ask ?”

My eyes welled up with tears, and keeping on a neutral smile was a physical effort at this point. I kept seeing flashes of teeth, the horse, inside out, bled dry.

“We believe he might come from there, which is why he would identify with Dracula. He could have taken a liking to you there, and followed you here.”

“I think I would remember an encounter with something that does... that does this on a daily basis”, I snapped, fighting through tears. That couldn't be right. It couldn't.

“Your memory could have been wiped. It's not uncommon, once again.”

I started to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the cigarette. I didn't smoke very often, so that was probably that, right ? I must have remained silent a while, because Mary leaned forward, putting back the file on the pile.

“Listen, I will make this as clear as possible”, she snapped. “If we are to stop this creature, we need your full support. For some reason, he trusts you more than most. You cannot tell him about your knowledge of this place.”

She slid a card across the table.

“If you are ever in danger, or need any information, call us. We will call you if necessary.”

She put out her cigarette on a portable ashtray, and I did the same, mechanically.

“What did you tell Leah ?”, I asked.

“Nothing more than she needs to know, which does not include anything about Vlad Balaur. We think the less people know, the safer it is.”

I nodded, and slipped the card into my pocket. Nothing about this felt safe, or right, or anything but confusing, and nauseating. They escorted me out, and I still felt engulfed in cotton, everything muted, even when Leah nearly jumped into my arms as I got out. I barely realized I walked, or the time spent in the car, until they dropped me off at home.

I dragged myself to my apartment, and went straight to bed, half expecting to see him there, on the balcony. Instead, I found a note. I opened the window, and took the folded sheet of paper. The same he used back in Romania, and the same fine, elegant handwriting. It was weighed down with a polished rock, which I noticed, upon further inspection, contained a multitude of little fossils.

I have heard historians like old things, here is one.

For another, I will be back soon.

All my love,

Vlad.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

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[airmidtheawakened]

Sharp, Pointy Things, Part 3

Welcome back to the clusterfuck! Now that I’ve had that drink I promised myself (well, several drinks. It’s been a bit) we can get back to what is probably one of the worst jobs my cabal as ever worked. We didn’t stay at the bar long; Abraham came to pick us up before the police got there. We all went back to his place, Dave in tow, to try and figure out just what the hell was going on.

I tried getting information out of Dave. He kept talking about wanted to talk to a “Matthew.” He said that “Matthew would fix this. Matthew would protect him.” Whoever this Matthew guy was seemed like he must have been in charge of the meth thing, and thus a good candidate for having offed Dead Big Bro. Here I was hoping this would just be a normal, mundane, non-supernatural druggie dispute. But then we saw a tattoo on Dave’s back that proved otherwise. It was some sort of insignia that belonged to a vampire… group, I guess? Some sort of social club or whatever.

At that point I was absolutely done. Fisher and Aces showed up, so I left the rest of the interrogation to them while I went outside for some air.

I felt so… so helpless. I’d worked my entire life to be the strong one. The one who works hard, takes care of herself, doesn’t need help from anyone. And all that meant jack when it came to keeping Saki safe. I should have been keeping a better eye on him. We should have stuck together.

Lipsy came out a few minutes later. I don’t like people seeing me when I’m upset. I tried to pull myself together but it didn’t work. I ended up sobbing into his shoulder for a good five minutes. It was nice. I mean the situation sucked, but having someone there for me when I’m an absolute wreck is something I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Of course the moment was ruined when Fisher came storming out of Abe’s shop, murder written all over his face, Aces and SiSi hot on his heels. Fisher took off in En’s car. Aces was shouting in our heads that he was gonna kill En. I was so confused. Before I knew it I was being dragged into Abe’s car, then we were speeding out of Quincey towards En’s place… Really the whole night was a blur after that. I’ll try to remember as best I can but we were all so caught up in everything going on that nothing really stuck, you know? Your brain can’t commit anything to memory if it doesn’t have time to actually process what’s going on.

We got to En’s place just after Fisher, who had our dear professor pinned against a wall and was shouting at him. Lipsy and I tried to get him off and failed miserably. I don’t know what spell he threw at us but it made our limbs stopped listening to our brains. SiSi seemed to know what was going on and told us to back off, but we just wanted to find Saki and the whole situation was NOT helping us find Saki. Aces was having a breakdown on the sidelines, I was shouting at Fisher, Lipsy was… you know what I don’t remember what Lipsy was doing. Probably still being discombobulated from whatever spell Fisher used to keep us off of him. And then somehow another lady showed up to take En away to the Consilium. I think Fisher summoned her out of a book? Like I said, it’s all kind of blurry.

It was at this point that Fisher agreed to help us look for Saki. Finally. So off we trot (well, drive, actually) to Dreamboat Vampire’s club because we’re convinced he knows who took Saki. Fisher explained what was going on with En on the way there. Here’s the cliffnotes version:

1. En was like, hot shit it his youth. A bonafide magical genius from a long line of magical badasses.

2. En got cocky and tried to become an archmage. A word which here means “force your way through the Abyss until you kick in the gates of the Supernal Realms and make reality your bitch.” The Consilium tried to forbid him from doing that cuz it’s suuuuuper dangerous but he went ahead and did it anyway. In a theater. With witnesses.

I’m going to take a moment here to ask why the fuck didn’t the Consilium actually stop him? Like, it’s gotta be within their power to do so. It’d be one thing if En did it in secret but COME ON. He made a damn spectacle of the thing! There were some serious levels of incompetence going on there, if you ask me.

(Also let’s just keep that little aside between us, okay? My master would have my head if he heard me talking like that. Who’s my master? You’ll find out soon enough, darlings, so sit tight.)

Anyways, cliffnotes:

3. Predictably, En fails. He becomes an magical monster fueled by Abyss and Hatred. Slaughters almost everyone in the theater. 80 people in total.

4. Unpredictably, the part of him that was still En beat back the Abyss and un-abominationed himself. Which has like, never happened in the history of magic ever. Color everyone who was not dead super surprised.

5. Instead of killing him for fucking up so hard, the Consilium decided to put En under house arrest instead. They assigned Fisher to be a glorified babysitter and make sure he didn’t fuck up any harder. Oh yeah, Fisher’s a sentinel by the way. That’s gonna be important later.

6. En spent his remaining days helping wee babby mages like me and my cabal find our place in the world, hoping to make up for all the people he killed.

Which brings us to Sam. That poor, vengeful, lost little soul who just wanted to find out what happened to his brother. See, En wanted to help the kid, but he couldn’t do so directly without violating the terms of his house arrest. So he went and made a psychic manifestation of Sam’s desire for vengeance so the kid could get results himself.

Talk about stupid.

So yeah, Sam was the one who killed his brother’s friend and attempted to kill Dave. At the tender young age of… eleven? Twelve? Whatever. He was in middle school at best, and sending a mental projection called an Esoteric to take the shape of his victims’ worst fears as it killed them.

 But we’ll get back to that later. We’ve got to finish up with the vampires first.

We weren’t sure how we’d get Dreamboat Vampire to talk to us again, let alone in a situation where we’d have the advantage. I volunteered to lure him out with my feminine wiles. SiSi and Lipsy weren’t too keen on the idea, but neither had anything better. So we’re sitting there for like… three or four minutes trying to hash this out when Fisher decides to make a suggestion. He gave us a token of parley that Sentinels use with other supernatural types. Lipsy asked why he didn’t suggest that to start. And what does Fisher say? What does he say?

That he wanted to see how far I’d go with my “slutty” routine.

What. A. Dick.

I responded by jamming my knee into his groin. Was it smart? No. No it wasn’t. But was it satisfying? Hell. Fucking. Yes.

While Fisher was on the ground nursing his injured manhood, SiSi and Lipsy and I made our way into the club. It was clear pretty early on that we weren’t getting past the bouncer – Dreamboat Vampire had told him we weren’t allowed upstairs. Fortunately, there’s one of us who doesn’t need permission to get from one place to another.

Edgar’s such a good doggo.

We decided it would be best if we skedaddled outside once we heard the screaming and barking coming from upstairs. After a few minutes, Dreamboat Vampire came down looking considerably unhappy but willing to parlay. He and Fisher exchanged the formalities and we showed him the picture from Dave’s back, telling him that we needed to find Matthew.

Oh, also, turns out Dreamboat Vampire totally wears these old silver-rimmed glasses to read. Ugh.

Anyway, long and the short of it is Dreamboat Vampire was willing to take us to Matthew, who he already had in custody. He was being kept under the same fucking club we were in the first night we went looking for answers. Matthew was about as freaky a dude as you might expect. He looked almost feral and acted the same way. We asked him about Sam’s brother and he told us the truth: he was the head of the meth ring and recruited this group of morons to help him push it. Turns out, Sam’s brother got a taste for the junk and Matthew went over to his place to straighten him out. The brother got enraged and charged him and Matthew grabbed the first thing he could to defend himself with.

And what was that thing, you ask? A barbecue fork. A fucking. Barbecue fork. So it turns out Sam was right: a vampire really did kill his brother. But these particular sharp, pointy things just so happened to be attached to something that anybody could have used. After the brother died and was bleeding all over the place, Matthew drank from him, I guess not to let things go to waste. We left, pretty disgusted, and Dreamboat Vampire told us that Matthew was going to be taken care of and that we were, under no circumstances, ever to go to his bar ever again.

So now we had two problems. Saki was still missing, but we also had to deal with Sam, who had all these really intense powers and was still trying to off all his brother’s friends. It turns out earlier while I was questioning Dave, SiSi and Lipsy talked to Abraham about the tarot card Saki left behind, asking if it was possible to use that card to track down the rest of the deck, which presumably would lead us to Saki. Abraham said that it conceivably could be possible: the card was one of a deck and the deck wanted to be together, so we might be able to trace it to the origin.

The problem became how to figure out what we needed to do to actually make that tracking possible. The deck wasn’t actually alive, but it wasn’t really dead either. To top it off, we had to figure out what we needed to do to locate the rest of the deck. After some trial and error, we came up with something that worked. So sit back for a second while I learn you a thing. When you start to understand the very basics of a certain arcana, you learn how to see the world in a way that filters other things out and just focuses on that particular form of magic. As you advance, you gain the ability to grant that sight to others. I was able to use my Spirit sight to see the spiritual energy of the cards, so then I had to grant that ability to SiSi. Once she had it (“This is really weird,” she said. Hmph.) she was able to use her Space magic to scry and figure out where the trail was leading. She figured out it was somewhere in Quincy, which meant Saki wasn’t too far away.

Pretty cool, huh?

Lipsy wanted to drop everything and go find Saki. He was really anxious the whole time about Saki – we all were, but he really was. The problem was it was getting really, really late and a couple of us had been without sleep for close to 48 hours at that point. As much as I wanted to go find Saki, I knew if it was a dangerous situation we had to be completely at the ready, and if we went in half-cocked, we might end up just making things worse. Lipsy didn’t really want to hear it, but eventually he agreed that we should get at least a little sleep before we try to find Saki.

We got back to En’s house, where Aces had managed to calm down a bit. She’d been doing some research herself and found out about how to deal with the Esoteric. The first thing we had to do was somehow get Sam to get near us and destroy this form of the Esoteric. Physical damage, like what I did to the mummy in the bar, would be totally fine. Then we had to knock Sam out before he could summon it again, and then we had one of two bad options.

The first option was to kill Sam. It was certainly the simpler option, but all three of us felt sick at doing it. No matter how much trouble he’d been causing, he was still a kid trying to avenge his brother’s death. The second, much more complicated option, was for us to enter a trance state and actually proceed through some magical realms. Once we did that, we’d be able to properly destroy the Esoteric and stop Sam from summoning it in the future.

I’ll be the first to admit I know jack about meditation. Even if I’ve done it several times by now I can never remember the way the astral realms work. We had to go like, three or four levels deep or something? To the collective dreaming consciousness of the world.  

At any rate, we were just completely spent and weren’t in any shape to go diving into it that night. Aces said that if we wanted to try the second option, the meditation room in the house would be the best spot to do it. That meant we had to lure Sam to En’s house no matter what, and then, because none of us felt like murdering a sixth grader, knock him out and try to banish the Esoteric, and then wake up and find Saki.

No problem. Noooooooooo problem.

We got a few fitful hours sleep and in the morning (Lipsy wanted this done fast – “We’re done with this by lunch and then we find Saki”) we decided to try and get it taken care of. I called Sam at the number we had for him. It took a few rings before someone picked up and I didn’t hear someone on the other end. I tried talking anyway and he asked me what I wanted. I told him that we had some information about who killed his brother and that we wanted to talk to him. He asked where we were and I told him En’s house. He hung up right away and we tried to get ready. We didn’t know what was going to happen.

Turns out, none of us could have quite prepared for it. About 15 minutes after the phone call, we heard the sound of breaking glass. But it wasn’t Sam. It was this tall, creepy dude with black, black hair, a white, white suit, and the blankest, creepiest expression I’d ever seen in my entire life. The same one Sisi saw raising a knife over an unconscious Saki when she was scrying in the sports bar. We’d met the Esoteric.

Lipsy sent Edgar after it, and because he’s a good Doggo, Edgar fucking demolished the stupid thing. He charged, sank his teeth into it, and before you know it the Esoteric went *poof!* and started fading back into the Astral Plane.

As he disappeared, however, the Esoteric turned to us and said something that chilled us all, “If you want your friend, come find me.” We didn’t know what to do – did he have Saki? Was he responsible for Saki disappearing? Was Saki dead and he knew where his body was? We didn’t know, but it made the knot in my stomach even tighter.

After we dispatched the Esoteric, we heard someone screaming, “NO! WHAT DID YOU DO?!” We turned and there was Sam. By this point, we’d all had our fill of that little shit, so we quickly turned to him and pinned him down. He was raging at us and let slip that he sent the Esoteric to kill Saki because he thought we were double-crossing him. He’d been following us the whole time we were trying to help him and thought that since we were meeting with the vampires and his brother’s friends that we were going to betray him. Saki could have been dead and it would have been his fault.

So the next part, I took particular pleasure in. I hit him in the head as hard as I could and used my Life magic to explode melatonin in his brain while I yelled, “Sleep!” It took a couple tries, but eventually worked. I got a little magic blowback – the universe doesn’t like it when you use obvious magic in front of Sleepers – but it was well worth it to knock out that stupid little twerp.

The only thing to do at this point was finish it: go meditate, find the Esoteric, and finish him off. But I’m starting to feel a little too sober right now, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to get another drink and then when I get back, we’ll finish this. Next time, you’ll find out just what happened to Saki, but I’m warning you: just like we weren’t happy when we found out, you’re not going to be happy either.

Airmid, out.

(I’d like to extend a heartfelt “Thank you!” to Saki’s player for helping me with the recaps for this chapter. Give him a hand, will you?)

[airmidtheawakened]

Sharp, Pointy Things, Part 2

Saki wonders why I asked him to write the first part of this chapter in our lives. Well let me tell you: It’s because misery loves company. If my cabal had to suffer through the rest of this goddamn murder mystery then so do you. And that means endearing our precious Acanthus to you so the events hit you just as hard as they did us.

Me, petty? Whatever do you mean. I’m just aiming for emotional authenticity here. You should be thankful I’m so dedicated to realism.

I believe Saki left off when he and Sisi dragged me away from Mr. Dreamboat Vampire. And after the description of it that Saki gave, I feel I must defend myself. You have to understand that I’m from a rural town in the middle of Nowhere, Vermont. There is NO ONE to bang. NO ONE. I’ve known them all since childhood and that’s just weird, you know? Plus my dad was suuuuuuper protective the entire time, so it wasn’t like I could head out to the city for some fun or anything. I love my dad but he can be… smothering… when he gets worried.

Anyways.

We went back to En’s to rest up for the next day of investigating. When we got back Fisher told us a friend of of the victim had been killed too, apparently by a large wild animal. Or at least that’s what people assumed when they found him shredded to bits in his backyard. Of course you and I and everyone else who’s clued into the supernatural would think “werewolf.” Except what’s the likelihood of vampire AND a werewolf fatalities in the same city within 24 hours of each other? Not very high.

I thought that maybe someone was staging the deaths to draw attention to Quincey’s supernatural community. The others seemed to think it was a good idea. Lipsy decided to spend the rest of the night researching other possibilities. I actually joined him, and through our combined efforts we eliminated some possibilities and found others that were more plausible. Lipsy found out that through a combination of the Prime and Matter arcana someone could make tangible illusions, which was as good a thought as any to work off of.

The next day we headed off to the home of the most recently deceased to see what was up. We couldn’t find much with our mage sights, but then the house was in a tidy little culdesac and we couldn’t actually get close without raising suspicions. We had a hard enough time pulling the “group of friends out for a walk with their dog” image we were using as a cover. One of the dead guy’s friends actually showed up and called us out. We managed to avoid a confrontation. Barely. So instead of scoping out the house, we took a side road that went behind the houses so Lipsy could works some magic of his.

Lipsy did the same thing here that he had with Dead Big Bro’s ghost: used some funky death arcana ritual to summon it and make it talk. Lipsy had no trouble with this one; he spilled the beans about his woefully short life pretty quick. Apparently he, Dead Big Bro, and the friend we met outside the house were all part of the same meth ring. If that doesn’t scream “reason someone might off you” I don’t know what does. It didn’t get us any closer to the killer, but it was finally a solid angle to work.

Seeing as we’d heard what we needed to from the ghost, Edgar decided to have it for lunch. Apparently that’s how he sustains himself. Eating souls, I mean. It’s creepy, right? Not that I’m judging or anything. Edgar is a good boy (even if he hates that phrase), and he does right by Lipsy. I think the two of them worked out something where Edgar only eats the really evil souls. I don’t know for sure though, since it’s not something that’s really polite to ask about.

Our next order of business was tracking down the rest of Dead Big Bro’s meth slinging friends. After some stellar e-stalking on Lipsy’s we managed to find pictures of them all. He also found out where they all like to hang out - a sports bar in a busier neighborhood of Quincey - so we headed there to try and pry more information out of ‘em.

Seriously, Lipsy is a fucking champ. We’d be lost without our precious little anger baby. He wasn’t feeling so hot after all that though. Apparently Edgar eating the dude’s soul really took him by surprise. I honestly thought he’d stay back at En’s place, but Saki managed to talk him into coming with us.

So to the bar we went. And here, friends, is where things went totally south.

First of all, the place was packed to all hell and back. We decided to split up to look for the meth dealers. This was our first mistake. We couldn’t really keep an eye on each other. I managed to find one of the guys we were looking for. We’ll call him Dave cuz I can’t remember his actual name. So I’m there with eyes on Dave, trying to find the best moment to approach him. Meanwhile, Lipsy and Sisi are on the opposite side of the bar, where who should appear but Mr. Dreamboat vampire. He started getting all flirty with Lipsy, so SiSi stepped in to tell him to back off. I managed to notice and went to check on them both. Lipsy was fine.

So I’m sure you’re thinking “What about Saki?”

What about Saki indeed.

SiSi tried to scry for him. She saw him in the bar’s basement, with a dark haired man in a white suit stalking behind him. The vision only lasted a second. We made a break for the door to the basement. I wish I could describe the fear that we all felt in those moments. It would pale, though, in comparison to what we felt when he burst into the basement to find Saki gone. There was nothing in the room but a few specks of fresh blood and one of Saki’s tarot cards. Sisi tried scrying again. She couldn’t find him. It was like he’d vanished not just from the room, but from our plain of existence entirely.

I don’t know if any of you have ever lost family like that. Suddenly, with no warning or reason. I hope you never do. You know it occurs to me I was complaining earlier about my dad being overprotective when I went back home…I probably shouldn’t have said that. Hindsight, I guess.

The worst part is that we didn’t have time to search for him. A fight broke out upstairs. We ran to see what it was about and found a motherfucking mummy strangling Dave to death. It was like something out of an old horror flick. I leaped at the thing and gave it a good, solid punch. It flew backwards and crumbled to dust when it hit the floor. I had no clue what was going on. Next order of business was bringing Dave back to consciousness to find out. I must have caught him just before he snuffed it for good. Thank god for healing magic, man. That stuff’s the shit.

When Dave came too he was staring behind me, totally freaked out. Which was fair. I mean, I’d be freaked out to if a giant bandaged corpse tried to crush my windpipe. But he wasn’t looking at the mummy. The mummy was gone. I turned to see what he was actually looking at, and standing there in the crowd of screaming bar patrons was the fucking little kid. Sam was there, glaring at Dave and me. After a few seconds he booked it. I sent Lipsy after him, but he got away. Slippery little brat.

Talk about a shit show. The kid we were trying to protect, trying to help, was out trying to off people with some sorta magic. Saki was missing. All we had was a half dead meth dealer who was too scared out of his mind to be anything resembling coherent.

So yeah. Things were looking pretty bad. They didn’t get much better, either. But that’s a story for another night. Remembering this makes me all sorts of depressed and I think I could use a drink.

Peace out, friends. See ya next time.