#dr. johnathan chase

[bluntshavingrazor]

Just found out that they'd planned a movie reboot of Manimal but it looks like it was cancelled when the creator died in 2014.

[mushies-stories]

involuntary experiment

Jonathan Crane X F!Reader

Summary: Scarecrow uses a new toxin on himself and the reader, a hero who decided to seek him out alone this time in hope of bringing him down. this is literrlly porn and some plot aha

Wanrings: SMUT 18+, no use of Y/N, dubcon, Drugged, Dom/sub dynamic if you squint, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, pnv, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral(Mreceiving), fingering(Freceiving) pet names, over stimulation, No use of Y/N, over all soft Crane? Squirting, mild science experimentation, claiming? Kinda… I think that's it XD

word count: 4564

You had been after Scarecrow for a while now but his dumb little henchmen always seem to buy him just enough time to pull some kind of toxin out, forcing you to retreat or suffer in fear. So you figured this time you would catch him off guard, you knew who he really was and his face wasn't a secret unlike yours. 

Follow him after his deal with some other low life, remember that low life, then follow him back to whatever hole he thrived in. easy.

It really was easy. You followed him down to the basement of some abandoned building on the out-skirts of gotham. You waited silently as he unlocked the rusty metal door and slid it open then made your move. In an instant you were kicking him into the room that turned out to be a basic lab. You thought the kick would have knocked him on his ass, instead he stumbled a little and dropped his briefcase but managed to collect himself rather quickly. Quick enough that when you went to attack again he was swinging his body around and stopping your arm from hurling your fist into his jaw. 

You were stunned for a moment, surprised that he was even able to block you. His henchmen normally did the heavy lifting. His free hand was reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling something out. Shoving him you freed your arm and backed up. You stayed alert just in case but you knew he wouldn't hit himself with his own toxin. His mask was in the briefcase across the room. 

You eyes him as he pulled the canister out, he stared back with a tight smirk. “Oh, you decided to give me a house visit? How special.” He snorted. The liquid in the canister wasn't normal, this one was a pale pink. 

“Well I figured it was time to put an end to your madness, Dr. Johnathan Cran.” you said and shrugged. 

His smirk grew. “That so? Growing tired of chasing me then?” He took a step closer and straightened up in defense. “You know, I was waiting for an opportunity to try this new toxin out.” he said, shaking the canister with another step and taking his glasses off in the process, placing them in his jacket pocket. 

You stepped back, wanting to keep space between you. “That so? How are you gonna do that without your mask?” you said, glancing at the case that sat on the ground between you both. “Because I can bet I'll get to you before you make it to that mask.” you stated, ready for him to make a move.

A low chuckle left the man. His piercing eyes staring into you with no regard to your threat. “See, the thing is.” he began, taking another step. “I don't want the mask this time. I've seen this on people alone, how they suffer alone in their cells at arkham. I want to see what happens when two people are under the influence together.” he said, undoing the cap and tossing the smoking can between you. 

Smoke filled the room immediately and during the coughing fit the smoke caused, you watched him. He was clearly affected by the smoke, coughing along with you but stayed perfectly skill in place. You weren't sure why he wasn't making a move.  “What is this?” you choked out. 

You both slowly composed yourself as the smoke settled and fresh air became available. “It’s an aphrodisiac, laced with a little truth serum.” he said, a grin growing on his face as your eyes winded at his words. “The more sexual desire creeps in, the stronger the effect.” Jonathan said factually.

You shook your head in disbelief. “That's insane.” you said quietly.

He stood straight, cocky. “Perhaps. But tell me this, have you ever thought about how id fuck you? Late at night have you ever thought about how well my cock would stuff your pussy?” His words were sudden, lewd and they had an instant reaction on your body. 

You shook the feeling of heat on your face away. “What are you talking about?”

He chuckles and steps closer, leaving only a couple feet of space left. “Does your pussy ache at the thought of me fucking you?” he stepped closer when you didnt flinch back and then closed the gap when you only continued to stare at him in disbelief. The toxin was making you more compliant, more willing to let him be closer to you. A hand came to cup your cheek, the skin there felt like it was on fire from the contact. “Tell me, how do you feel?” his head tilted with an almost knowing grin as he looked down at you. 

You blinked slowly, your brain starting to fog up. You wanted to fight back, say something to wipe the smirk off his face but those thoughts swirled with the ones just like he was saying. You had the occasional thought about him, knowing what he looks like helps. It was a few times and everytime you felt disgusted by it, he was a deranged madman who drugged people. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, wanting nothing more than to hide as you felt your body tip more into desire for the criminal in front of you. 

“Well? Speak up. Is your pussy getting wet for me right now? Feeling hotter and needier, need me to fuck you all better?” he asked softly, almost caring while his thumb stroked your cheek. 

A small whimper escaped past your lips. Every word he spoke awoken a new spark in your brain that killed off all logic and left only a scorching burn of desire between your legs. You nodded slowly. “Y-yes.” you whispered, eyes barely keeping focused on his own that watched you with eyes that must look similar to your own, blown out and full of growing lust. 

“Good girl.” He cooed. Stepping away he dropped his hand from your face and nodded once. “Undress, and don't forget to take the mask off.” He ordered. 

You hesitated a moment, you started with your shoes but your hands froze before they could move to your shirt. feeling embarrassed now at the order as your brain attempts to wrap itself around what's happening. But he was watching you so intently and the gleam in his eyes was enough to push your brain to move your hands to the button and zipper of your pants and undo them. You slowly slid them down along with your belt and tools with shaky hands and kicked them aside. Then you went for the shirt and tossed them in the forming pile next to you. “Dr. Crane… my head feels…” you tried to express how you felt as your body and mind gave further in, the hesitation leaving you as you exposed yourself to him, now taking your bra off and sliding your panties down and subconsciously rubbing your thighs together. 

He smirks at how you now called him by his title “Oh sweet girl, I know.” his hand came back to cradle your cheek, this time thumbing the hem of your mask. “Why don't you take this off as well, clear your head up a bit.” His smile could have been mistaken for sincere. He slid the mask over your head and his smile grew when he saw your full face. “Well, I've been missing out huh?” 

Before you could even register just how exposed you were, his lips were on yours. The kiss wasn't harsh but it wasn't gentle, it was needy and hungry. His hands found your hips and pulled you flush against him. You clutched the front of his suit jacket as his lips worked against your own and you could feel just how hard he was with his bulge tightly pressed between your bodies. You couldn't help the small gasp you let out that became an invitation for Jonathan's skilled tongue to work its way into your mouth to further the pleasure. Even a kiss was making your sex pulse. You peered over at the canister at your feet but before those thoughts of the toxic’s involvement could form in your head you were swept away by Jonathan biting your lower lip. All desire to fight was lost and replaced by the need for Johnathan to fuck you untill your pussy was ruined. 

When you pulled away with shaky breaths Johnathan didn’t look as composed as he had before. It looked like the aphrodisiac was finally taking its full effect on him as well. He brought both hands up to cup your cheek, forcing you to look up at him. “I want to feel these lips, pretty girl, can you do that?” he asked. You nodded and he let you sink down to your knees. You wasted no time undoing his belt and pants, pulling them down enough to let his cock spring free before you. You couldn't help but rub your thighs together at the sight. You took him in your hands and pumped a few times, causing the man above you to let out a few shaky breaths. Pre cum adorned his cock head and was slowly dripping down his length. “Like it sweet girl?” he asked, looking down at your blown out eyes. 

You nodded and leaned in to lick a fat strip along his cock before slipping your lips around the leaky tip and sucking it like a lollipop. I deep groan rumbled through Johnathan. “Been wanting to taste your cock.” you confessed breathlessly before sliding down his cock and hollowing your cheeks around him, immediately starting a slow pop of your head.

Jonathan brought a hand to tangle in your hair, making sure it stays out of his view as you sucked him off. “Fuck baby.” he groaned “iv thought about your mouth on my cock so many times.” you moaned softly around his cock, continuing to suck him, the need to taste him and make him cum driving you to bob your head faster. “Just like that sweet girl, oh fuck just like that.” he leaned his head back, hand lax in your hair as you worked him. 

One hand fisted pumping his shaft while the other went to gently grope his balls. You moaned around his cock at the heavy set and squeezed them. Jonathan groaned and gripped your hair. He  pushed you down further until you were gagging with the tip of his cock hitting your throat. You struggled around his massive girth and you had to bring both hands up to hold into his pants to keep steady. “Fuck, baby..” he grit out between breathy groans, his seed shooting into the back of your throat. “So good baby, make sure to take all of it.” you struggled to maintain focus while he rutted himself into your mouth. “Fuck this aphrodisiac makes everything so sensitive.” he huffed.

You swallowed and began coughing and gasping for air as soon as he pulled out and released his hold on you to rake through his own hair. Regaining a little brain function you noticed his dick was still hard and still leaking precum. Then you felt the tingling in your core increase and you could feel just how wet you had gotten with hardly any touching. “Dr. Cane… will you fuck me now?” you asked, looking up at him with doe eyes. 

His hair was now disheveled and red tinted his cheeks. He brought you up with a hand on your chin while the other traveled to your hips, rubbing circles on the hot flesh with his thumb. “But I wanted to taste your dripping cunt and taste your cum sweet thing.” He said, his eyes showing how much he really was affected by his own desires right now. Letting go of your hip, his hand traveled to run a slender finger through your folds.

You gasped as the sudden stimulation. His fingers continued to work through your folds and soon started teasing your entrance. “Bu-but I want to feel you inside.” you whined out as his fingers pushed into your tight pussy.

He pumped into you a few times before pushing his palm down against your clit, adding to the stimulation and causing your pussy to clench around his digits. “If I can't now then you'll just have to let me after I’ve cleaned you up and the toxin wears off because if i fuck you now im filling you with my cum over and over until I have nothing left to give you.” he voice was low, filled with meaning and truth.

With the mix of his hand fucking your pussy relentless and his dirty words, you were reeling, hanging onto him as your legs began to shake. You tried to nod between soft moans while trying to keep your eyes open, the pleasure starting to feel too good as heat pooled in your stomach. 

“Tell me sweet girl, want me to fuck you full of my cum, want to wake up still stuffed and leaking all over?” he said, digging his palm into your cunt. “Use your words, let me hear you.” he said, moving closer to your face as you quickly came undone in his hand.

You nodded faster and let out a shaky breathless moan as his motions of pounding his fingers and grinding his palm into your sex intensified. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you tried to maintain focus on his blown out pupils. “Yes, yes please. Just fu-fuck me Dr. Crane!” you squealed out as your orgasm hit you. 

His hand wrapped itself into your hair, bringing you to rest your head against his chest. He let you grind into his hand while you settled from your high.

He listened to your moans dye into soft whimpers as your hips stilled with his fingers still buried in your cunt. “So good baby, you sounded so good for me.” He praised, finally pulling his hand away from your leaky hole. You flinched when he brought his index and middle fingers to your lips. “Open up and taste yourself.” he encouraged. You parted your lips and let him press his slick fingers against your tongue. 

You moaned around his fingers as you sucked your own release off of them. Then you looked up at the mad scientist with needy eyes. “Now? Please Dr. Crane? Will you fuck me now?” you asked though you were already pulling his jacket off his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt. Your brain could only focus on him, your need for him to stuff your pussy.

His eyes softened and he allowed you to tug the shirt off. You began to kiss and bite his exposed flesh along his collarbone and jaw. “Fuck, alright baby. C’mer.” he grunted, picking you up by the thighs and within a few long strides he was laying between your legs on the couch that sat along the back wall. “Gonna be a good girl and take my fat cock?” he asked, rubbing his cock along your folds.

You gasped as he smeared your slick on his cock. “M’ready! Please put it in~” you begged and wrapped your legs around his hips to bring him closer. “Need you so bad, please.” 

His cock twitched against your heat. “Fuck, so needy for me.” he smirked and poked your tight hole with the tip of his cock. “Dripping wet and begging for my dick, what a dirty girl.” He teased and slowly sank into you. His hands held your hips in place as he bottomed out and you shook gently under him, legs squeezing his hips. You let out a loud and needy whine as he stretched your pussy open. He stilled inside and came to lean over you, arm next to your head caging you in. “don't worry, I'll take good care of you.” he cooed, rolling his hips into you and smirking at the face of Ah it caused you to make.

You hadnt had sex that felt this good before, his dick felt like it was made for your pussy. When he started a moderate pace to allow you to adjust a moment you could feel the slight curve of his cock. The veins on his cock dragging along your inner walls had you practically mewling under him with how good you felt. 

He chuckled and started a faster pace, making sure to bottom out with every thrust. Your pussy was sucking him in and squeezing him just right he could tell he was already close again. His thrust picked up so he pounding into you with precision and where it felt best and you were a moaning mess on his cock. Your hands came to hold his shoulders as he fucked into you. With your head pressed back into the couch cushions you lost yourself in his movements, so good you couldn’t tell that you were building to another orgasm until it was right there and the only warning you gave was a desperate moan and jumbled words. 

Johnathan groaned and leaned his head between your shoulder and head, his cock twitched before his hot load filled your gummy walls. “So tight baby, your pussy’s so good baby.” he praised as his hips rocked into you, making sure to fuck his cum deep and keep it there. He leaned up to look at you, a soft smile played at his lips. “Like my cum filling you up?” he asked, stroking some hair away from your face.

You smiled at him. “Feel so good. m’ warm and full.” you admitted. Your legs tugged him closer, not wanting him to pull out, you still felt so needy, you needed more. “Can I have more Dr. Crane?” you asked sweetly. 

His smile turned darker, more mischievous. “Oh baby, do you need me to fuck you tell your little pussy is dripping full of my cum?” He rolled his hips again teasingly. You nodded, breath caught in your through with how deep he was, and again his dick was still totally hard. “You were just begging me so well sweet girl, even calling me Dr.Crane like a good girl. You can do that again right?” he smiled and waited as he continued to roll his hips gently, just enough for a little friction. 

You nodded and cleared your throat. “Please, need you to fuck me full Dr. Crane.” you rushed out. His words had a way of causing the deepest reaction from you. You needed him so desperately you didn't understand anything but him right now. “Please, I need it.”

“Need it that bad? Tell me whose pussy this is then, tell me baby girl who do you belong to?” his eyes were fixed on yours, his face turned more serious. Your eyes widened at what he was saying, he wanted you to be his and his alone. The implication should have probably frightened you, made you struggle away but it didn't. You wanted him to ruin you, have you in every way. “Well?” he pressed.

“Yours, Dr. Crane.” you said softly and pushed yourself against him with a little whine. “All yours.” you conceded. 

With a low groan he slowly began to thrust into you again, pulling back almost completely to fill you up again. “That's it, all mine.” he sank his back into the crook of your neck and littered it with sloppy  kisses and the warmth of his tongue and teeth grazing the now new overly sensitive spot on your body. A hand came to roam over your breasts, squeezing one and pinching at your nipple before repeating the actions to the other. You whined and your hands came to tug at his dark hair. He smiled against your jaw before nipping at it. The thought of his marks adorning your chest and neck tomorrow made you feel even warmer.

You held tightly to him now that he was pounding into you with a firm hold on your hips. Your whole body was  responding to him perfectly and he just knew exactly where to hit that spot that had your legs shaking and eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Fu-ck, gonna cum!” you managed to squeak out, every thrust taking your breath with it. The only acknowledgement from Johnathan was his free hand snaking up your chest and his hand wrapped itself tightly around your through. He pulled back to look at you as his hips snapped into you faster, his eyes transfixed on watching you come undone under him. Your eyes fluttered to maintain focus on his face as the all too familiar sensation took over. You shook as you felt your release practically poor out of you with how stuffed you were. 

“So good, so fucking tight.” he said with a low groans as he thrusted into you, not giving you a moment to catch your breath after your climax. His eyes are fixed where your bodies connect, watching his cock ruin your pussy. “Fucking perfect. My pussy. My girl.” he grunts between thrusts. You held onto him, arms locked around his neck. He fucked into you desperately and he was still hitting you so deep you couldn't help the lewd sounds coming from you. Your sweet little whimpers and moans encouraging him to fuck you faster. He grinned down at your fucked out face, tears streaming down your cheeks as your body became sweetly overstimulated. He could feel and hear your slick coating your lower bodies.

It was becoming overwhelming for you, his cock hitting the right spots over and over without stopping while his ships slammed into you. “To much! Too–aahh much please!” you begged for release, still to cling to him.

“Sshhh baby you can do it, give me one more. Squeeze my cock like that one more time.” he encouraged through low groans. He brought the hand down between your bodies to run fast circles on your clit. “You can do it, cum again for me. Such a pretty thing when you cum.” The sounds of your fluids mixing filled the room along with breathy moans and gasps from the both of you. 

You cried out a moan and screwed your eyes shut. He was going to force another orgasim from your abused cunt and there was no stopping him, you could feel your stomach tighten and pussy flutter uncountably around his girth. “Fuck! Please ple-” you groaned out as another orgasm shook through your body, your pussy spasming around his cock as he continued to stroke your sweet spot through your climax. You felt his cock shoot another full load of his hot cum deep into your waiting pussy.

“Good girl.” he cooed, slowing his relentless pounding as your pussy pulsed around his cock. “So good baby, you did so well, are you ready for your treat?” he asked and you nodded, your chest heaving as you looked up at him and his still hard cock twitched at the sight of tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He smirked at the thought of you being so overly stimulated and crying for him. Then with you still impaled on his throbbing cock, he wrapped his arms around your back and brought you to sit on his lap with his legs now firm on the ground.

Your back arched and you let out a strangled moan as he managed to sink just a little further into you. You could feel his cum leaking from your spent hole and down his dick, your mixed fluids soon began drenching his pants as he bounced you on his cock. “Dr. Crane, so much cu-um.” you whimpered, trying to hold yourself up with shaky arms. “So full, there's so much.” you babbled out between moans. You were cock drunk and it was evident as your eyes streamed with tears

Johnathan couldn't blame you however, he was right there with you, your pussy was constantly clenching around him like you were always on the verge of another orgasm. “You can handle a little more right? I mean look how much has already spilled out?” he said, gazing down at where your bodies connected. You followed his eyes and the sight alone sent a shiver through you. Slick and cum oozed around the base of his cock with every thrust into you. “Your pussy feels so good Babygirl, squeezing me so tight. Do you want to cum again?” he asked, bringing a hand down to rub against your overly sensitive clit as his hips rutted up against your own. 

You whined and your arms folded in on you, no longer able to hold yourself up. You were so tired but he felt too good, your pussy responded so well to his touch you couldn’t help when another orgasm began to wind itself up. “To mu-uch, feels weird Dr. Crane” you practically screeched into his chest and blinked away tears that threatened to fall.

His hips continued to hit your tender bundle of nerves while his hands simultaneously slammed you down into his cock and abused your throbbing clit. “Good, that's it, let it feel good and make a mess for me.” he encouraged, feeling his own release creeping up. His words relaxed you and you soon felt the wave slam into you within seconds. Your body tensed and your legs shook around him as you self liquid drench his lower stomach and under your bodies. You cried into his chest, tears now rolling down your cheeks. “Fu-cuk, that's it. Squeezing me so well to take my fat load.” He groaned, leaning his forehead against your shoulder and rutting into you as he emptied his balls into your sloppy hole.

You pulled back and looked at him, eyes tired and pussy still fluttering around him. Your mind and body were so tired but your pussy shuddered at the thought of him pulling out. “Can we stay like this?” you asked hopefully. 

He smiled softly at you and brought his hands to cradle you upper and lower back. He leaned back more and pulled you to lay on his chest. “Don't worry sweet girl, I got you.” he coles while stroking your back and gently rocking his hips up. 

you whined softly against him. “Some toxin, you can keep coming after all of that.” you noted, almost frightened since your pussy was pusling and raw some rought he was already fucking you. 

He chuckled and rolled his hips gently again, starting a steady rhythm that was actually relaxing and had you curling into you as your eyes fluttered shut. “I know, and thankfully I have you to take it all for me, I did say I’d give you everything.” he held you firmly against him, his hips picking up speed but staying gentle and as calming as he can manage. “I'll take good care of you.” he whispered into your ear. You sighed and gave in, relaxing fully into him as he used your pussy to get off again. You didn’t want to fight it, even this, being a ragdoll for him to fuck into was wonderful. 

To say the mess you woke up to was almost alarming. you, laying on his chest with his soft cock still buried in you with mixed fluids still soaking your bodies.

[inquisitornocturn]

≪─ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴍʏ ʟʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ ─≫

⋟ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Beckett/f! hunter !reader

⋟ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: y/n etc is not used, rating - E, POV second person, vampire vs human, threatening, gun play, humiliation, choking, smut, noncon that turns into dubcon, facefucking, PiV, rough sex, facial

⋟ 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Professor Johansen has been safely removed from his hotel by your fellow hunter, but you and your partner still got assigned with a stakeout. Despite that, your partner is bored and eventually leaves you to do your duty alone. But you're not alone for long.

⋟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9,110 | AO3

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Winner of the last (well, sort of) poll and I decided to go with this plot. It may be not everyone's cup of tea but it sure is mine lol. Anyway, y'all remember how Beckett says he dangled two hunters from the roof to get information on Johansen? Yes, that's the inspiration behind this one shot. Just y'know, with a twist lol. Anyway, enjoy♡

After your colleagues took Dr. Ingvar Johansen away from his room at the motel, you suspected that some bloodsuckers might appear to look for him. This Ankaran Sarcophagus business got entirety of the region chasing ghosts. You don’t believe that it holds some sort of vampiric ancient, but who knows without opening it first. And that’s why the Inquisition decided to take the matter into their own hands. Sarcophagus hasn’t been located yet, but your fellow hunters have been able to easily track down the professor and obtain his peaceful cooperation with only minimal coercion. Still, that’s why you and Johnathan are now stuck on a roof, sniper rifles in hand.

While you do expect some vampires to appear sooner or later, it’s been some time by now and you’re becoming genuinely bored. Johnathan is smoking and leaning against the entrance door to the roof while you lay on your stomach, eyeing the windows to the motel room Johansen occupied just a handful of hours ago, waiting for anyone to appear. Room service has been told not to interrupt, their protests placated by a fistful of bills and so you’re staking out the motel from the top of a nearest building, which seems to be some sort of an office now empty due to late hours.

“Nobody’s comin’.” Johnathan exhales the smoke and you can tell this by the sound he breathes out.

“We’ve only been here for like three hours. Pipe down and do your job.” You retort and the man snorts, then you hear a sound of heel crushing sizzling embers.

“One of us is enough, sugar tits.”

You roll your eyes. It’s always like this with him and why you get paired with Johnathan is an eternal mystery to you. Sure, you two have an impeccable record of missions and hunts finished, but his attitude towards you is getting worse each time you work together. Not in a brawly, kicking each other’s asses way, but Mister I-Would-Rather-Sit-In-A-Bar has been getting into his head lately that you are going to fuck him if he appropriates you just enough times.

“Don’t be an idiot and stop thinking with your dick for once.” Annoyed, you turn away from the scope and glance at him over your shoulder. In the dim light of streetlights from below and nothing else, you can still see Johnathan staring at your ass with undisguised lust. Disgusting.

“Don’t be so harsh on me, sweetheart.” He chuckles stepping closer and in response you turn around, sit up and then stand, leaving your rifle perched on the roof’s skirting.

“I’m not harsh on you, dumbass, I’m being careful. I shouldn’t have to remind you not to underestimate these fuckers. And they will come, you know this. This professor is their only lead.”

“You don’t know that.” Johnathan responds and rises an eyebrow, which turns his expression to a lousy display of a smolder. He does this after stopping right before you and getting into your personal space, at which you frown. “And besides, you’re safe up here and have your gun, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s like shooting chickens in a coop.” He laughs and admittedly, the sound is appealing. Johnathan has a low, rich voice and that’s why he never has issues bedding a new woman every night. Part of the reason, maybe the biggest part, why he thinks that you will fold for him as well.

“So you want me to do what? Issue a permission slip for you to fuck off and rot in some bar while I’m here?!” Against your wishes your voice rises a fraction and Johnathan lifts his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey there, pussycat, all I’m saying that both of us here is an overkill. You can handle it, can’t you?”

“It’s not about if I can handle it or not, you idiot!” Gesturing with your gloved hand you draw Johnathan’s attention to the cross dangling from his neck. “Does this mean nothing to you? Our Holy fucking mission, remember?”

“Chill out! Jesus!” Johnathan scoffs and rolls his eyes, very dramatically too, to emphasize just what of a hardass he thinks you’re being right now. “If you want us both to rot here until the leeches appear, fine, but don’t act like rubbing my ass on concrete with nothing better to do is some sort of higher calling.” Finally his blue eyes fixate on you and your upper lip curls with distain. “I joined the Inquisition to hunt down monsters, not to babysit an empty room in case one of them appears.” He pauses, then with a scoff adds. “I was in a fucking Navy, darling, this is a waste of my time and skills.”

Oh how much you wish to rip his head off. Yet you contain your anger, the only visible sign of it being your balled fists, clenching tightly by your sides. “These have been our direct orders from the Bishop, Johnathan.” With painful patience you remind him of this, together with slow words like you’re talking to a fussy toddler.

“I know, but he’s not here, is he?” Rummaging in his pocket, Johnathan takes out another cigarette and lights it, the flame illuminating his sharp features and multiple scars littering his skin. Shaggy black hair, always cut short, appears near red because of the brief flicker of fire. And then his face is submerged in the shadows again.

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. You are tempted to just let him go, he’s of no use if he’s just going to be smoking and complaining the entire time. Still, you want to follow orders and those have been pretty clear – stake out the hotel, kill any sucker that might come looking for Johansen. It’s not hard even if it’s boring.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s here on not.” You reply in a way Johnathan fully expects you to and he just sighs, sensing a lecture incoming. This man is in his mid-forties but acts like a fresh cadet. Somehow this irritates you even more. He’s a good hunter, but his attitude… “Listen, I get it, it’s boring, but we have to do this.” You gesture to the motel room just across the narrow passageway separating this building and that one, and his eyes follow your arm, then turn back to you.

“Who’s going to know if it’s both of us here or just one?” You open your mouth to argue but Johnathan hurries to speak before you do. “And since you’re so inclined to perform duty best to your ability, I’m sure you can handle it.” He inhales the smoke while watching your mouth close and your brow furrow even harsher. “Fuck, if you handle it well you can say I went for a piss or something and get a promotion. No more rubbing elbows with my splendor. Unless you want to rub something else.” Now he smirks and you groan, rolling your eyes again.

“You know what, fine. Just piss off and get out of my fucking sight because I very much would rather do this alone than listen to your cheesy pickup lines.”

Johnathan flicks partially smoked cigarette from the edge of the roof and scoffs. “They are not pickup lines. I’m just being friendly.”

“Oh yes, friendly, until you’re balls deep in my throat, calling me your good little hunter.” You stare him right in the eyes as you say this and the man chokes a little, shocked by your words. He doesn’t know that some months ago when you two have been stationed near the national forest and camped there, Johnathan spoke in his sleep. And you only know it was about you because the bastard said your goddamn name right after.

“I wouldn’t-“

“Yes, you fucking would. Don’t even dare lying to me.” You sigh and close your eyes briefly, composing yourself once more. “Just go, sit in some shitty bar and I will text you if I see anything, alright?”

When you open your eyes again, you see Johnathan setting his sniper rifle next to yours and for just a moment you think that he will lay prone and take his aim, as he should. But no, instead of doing what he should, he does what he wants to. Typical.

With a click of his tongue and a wink meant for you, he salutes you with two fingers and walks towards the door of the roof access. “See you later, babydoll.”

You almost growl in frustration but swallow your annoyance and wait until the door closes before you exhale really slowly, calming yourself, and rub the bridge of your nose. He’s so beyond irritating. You should speak to the Bishop or maybe Father Patrick who’s your direct superior, about never getting assigned with Johnathan again. You don’t know if a stray bullet from your gun won’t find the back of his head some day. On accident, of course.

But left alone, you finally relax and roll your shoulders, dispersing the tension from your muscles. First you glance at the motel room, which you see clearly through the window across the alleyway, then to the rifles on the ground. Might as well do your job now that you don’t have that annoying mosquito buzzing in your ear.

Laying down on the roof you support yourself by elbows and take control of your rifle again, peering through the scope. Your colleagues didn’t leave Johansen’s room in a mess. If anything, it looks like he just went out for a dinner or maybe to some late party these types of researchers attend – full of sophisticated wine and endless talks about latest archeological findings.

Still, no matter what Johnathan said, that this should be easy, you have a strange feeling about this whole situation. Johansen has been in LA for a while now and yet still no leeches appeared. You can’t help but wonder why. Last you heard, or rather what has been told to you, is that the accursed ones have been kicking quite a fuss about this sarcophagus. So why not attempt to get their hands on the professor sooner? You just thank God that the Inquisition got to him first before they did.

You blink and suddenly something feels off. Nothing has changed in the room and your night vision scope doesn’t show anyone or anything presently there, but there’s something. Like a feeling, uneasiness, a pressure at the back of your head. Moving your shoulders and adjusting your rifle, you look at the outlines in the room, all lit up with a green hue, but nothing moves and nothing appears to have been moved in any way either.

Confusion furrows your brow and you pull back from the scope to look around, glancing to the balcony of the room and those on each side of the target one, then above and below. Lastly you glance at the roof and downwards, into the alley, but there’s not a living soul there. Or unliving one for that matter.

“Hm.”

“Hi there. I suggest you don’t move a finger.” A male voice comes from behind you and you freeze for a moment, but not feeling a barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head or a knife to your back, you move your head slowly to look over your shoulder.

At first you don’t see anything and then a dark shadow begins to gain shape. Not because whoever spoke suddenly materialized, but because they are approaching you closer, footsteps slow and confident. You can tell that even with the distance. And then you notice the eyes. Two crimson embers burning in a face that you can’t make out quite yet.

Seeing how far away the figure is, you swing the rifle that’s still in your hands, trying to aim before he moves, but you’re too slow, far too slow. You don’t even need to blink for the monster to disappear from sight, only to appear by your feet. It’s a man alright. He’s crouching so you can’t assess how tall, but he has longish dark hair and is wearing a dark coat, color undiscernible on the shadowy rooftop.

“That’s very rude of you, I merely said hello.” He smirks, scarlet eyes glowing in the dark ominously and he grabs your ankle, pulling you with him as he stands fast and you scramble, dropping your rifle in your effort to find anything at all to grab onto.

Your world turns upside down and you let out a sound of frustration, trying to understand what’s happening to you. But your clawing at the rooftop soon stops as you are carried over the edge and dangled there like an overripe fruit at the store. You gasp despite yourself and look around, realizing that if he drops you – that’s it, it’s over. A vampire would survive a fall like that, but not you, a mere human.

A moment passes as you gasp for air, looking at the concrete of the alleyway below and you hear a chuckle that makes your eyes snap to the man. “Not asking me to let go of you?” You grit your teeth at this, feeling how your blood is beginning to flow to your neck and head.

“If you want to kill me then do so instead of toying with me.” You snarl at him but you sound less intimidating than you have hoped. However, you’re aware that you only need to distract him enough to reach into your pocket and press one button on your cellphone. One that will connect you to Johnathan. And even if the vampire drops you before he arrives, that’s still okay, as long as the monster gets destroyed. You know what you were signing up for when you joined the Inquisition.

“Why this kind of accusation?” The man laughs and it’s not a grating sound, rather pleasant actually. He’s clearly relaxed and strangely in a good mood if his smile is an indication of that whatsoever. “No, I do not want to kill you, I just want information and I’m sure you have it.”

“I’m not going to tell you a damned thing, leech!” Snarling at him with all the fury you can muster past your horror of being possibly dropped, you dangle there, not moving. Your phone is in your back pocket but if you reach for it too obviously then he might kill you despite what he’s saying.

“Really? That’s so unneighborly.” The man sighs and shakes his head slightly then looks at the second rifle still neatly placed where Johnathan left it. Yours got discarded towards the rooftop door in your struggle to escape the grip on your ankle that is now most likely bruising you even beneath the leather boot you’re wearing.

“Fuck you.”

“How sophisticated. But I would rather prefer to hear where Dr Johansen was taken.” And as if you’re just a doll in his hand, the man gives you a little shake. With terror you realize that the cellphone in your back pocket has slipped halfway out of it and you swallow, albeit with difficulty because of your current position.

“Why do you need him?” You glower at the man, or as much as you can do that while trying to observe his face and emotions. He doesn’t look enraged or annoyed, just mildly bored with the whole situation and ever so slightly amused by your defiance. But as long as he keeps talking, and he will because he admitted needing information from you, he won’t drop you down, letting you die.

“I don’t need him, witch hunter.” With a partially exhausted sigh, the vampire glances somewhere behind you and you only assume it’s towards the room that the archeologist occupied just mere hours ago. “I’m curious about this Sarcophagus, that is all. And no.“ He cuts you off when he hears you inhale in preparation to speak. “It’s not some sort of kindred artefact. It’s a simple sarcophagus even if many of my kin refuse to believe that. I would very much like to prove them wrong. And that’s why I need dear, dear Ingvar to tell me more about it.”

Strangely, you find yourself believing his words. But then your training and lessons that have been hammered into you return and you frown deeply. He’s lying, you are sure he is. “Even if I tell you where he is you will never reach him.”

“How about you just tell me what I want to know and I will figure the rest out for myself, hm?” The vampire tilts his head slightly, like he’s having half a thought to meet your eyes properly but giving up early on.

You consider your chances. So far he hasn’t been aggressive in a way most leeches are and just telling him where Johansen is won’t bring any real harm. Most importantly, you can hide the truth and die, or you can tell the location and, hoping you’re not wrong here, if left alive reach out to the monastery and warn them about anything possibly happening. You may be flogged for spilling the beans, so to speak, but you’ll live. And one thing you share with Johnathan is that neither of you want to die for no reason. This situation seems like a reasonless way to die.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. But I won’t tell a damned fucking thing if you keep me dangling here. I don’t trust you.” You narrow your eyes and the vampire chuckles.

“I wouldn’t trust myself either.” He agrees to your surprise and to even bigger shock, he actually steps back, bringing you back over the roof’s edge.

In a matter of moments you can reach down and touch the rough bitumen, and you’re hoping to be dropped gently, but that’s not what happens. Instead of letting you just fall where you are hanging, the vampire scoffs at your pawing on the ground and discards you like a toy doll that lost his interest. With a huff and your teeth nearly clamping over your tongue at the impact of your chest on the bitumen, you skid only slightly, your bulletproof west taking all of the damage. Your tactical kneepads absorb even more of it, scuffing loudly, and thankfully your gloves save your palms from being scraped to blood, but one thing that also falls with you is the cellphone.

You watch it slide past you, rattling loudly on the rough surface and you take a moment to scramble after it, reaching for it despite your world spinning around you in nauseating circles. You hear footsteps. No, no, no, he can’t, you must reach it in time. But as your vision begins to settle and the vertigo starts to fade, you watch a brown, sturdy boot come heel first upon the gadget and crash it, spraying pieces of plastic. You squint instinctively and two pieces hit your face without causing any harm.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The vampire sighs and when you rise your eyes to him you see a partial grin, emphasized so sharply in its cruelness by an inhuman fang shown fully on display. For your viewing pleasure, you are sure. “I need that information, didn’t I tell you so?” He turns, stepping to you and you begin to rise, first on your elbows, then palms, then your knees, thinking, maybe naively so, that you have a fighting chance.

That is until the vampire picks up your very own sniper rifle, laying just a step sideways from his path. You rise your hands just like Johnathan did before with you. Except unlike Johnathan you’re not pretending but actually try to placate the monster from acting rashly.

“Hey now.” You start, watching him inspect the gun with a brief glance, his red eyes ghosting over the details with educated comprehension and then he approaches you, holding it in one hand. “We’re only talking, right?”

“Are we? You tried to call for help, but your buddy is much too occupied at the bar by the corner. Even if you did call him he would not come to your aid in time.” With a smile, the vampire rises the heavy firearm in his hand and points it at where you kneel. “I suggest you start cooperating and tell me what I want to know.” The grin on his face widens.

“What-“ You swallow, nearly choking on your own saliva but you need to stall for time. Maybe you can talk him out of finding Johansen. “What is your name.”

“So that you put me on your little hit list? I don’t think so.” He laughs and you respond with a strained half-smile.

“You know who I am. If not by name then at least what I do.”

“Only partially. I know you’re with the Inquisition. Such a boring group of biblethumpers.” He pauses now, considering you. “However, you seem to be livelier than most. So I will indulge you. My name is Beckett.” Nodding with a strange grace he offers a partial bow and you nod in return, not sure what to think of him. His name, Beckett, doesn’t ring a bell at all.

“Right.” You swallow, not willing to tell him your name and glance to the side, wondering how far Johnathan’s gun is, but immediately as you do that you hear a click of safety being ticked off.

Your eyes immediately flick back to Beckett and he sighs, emphasizing his displeasure with your lack of cooperation. “I do hope you will honor our agreement. You tell me what I want to hear and I do not kill you. Sounds reasonable, don’t you think?”

But now that you’re not being swung over the open air from the rooftop, your willingness to tell him what he wants to hear is fading and fast. You narrow your eyes at him and briefly lick your lips before you speak next. “Shove it, leech. I’m not telling you anything because I know you will go there and slaughter everyone. I can’t let innocents die. Too many already do by the hands of your kind.” With rising anger you spit at his feet to show him just how much you hate the bloodsuckers and Beckett’s grin fades. His eyes, forever glowing red, fixate on you with a cruel coldness that makes your back muscles stiffen with tension.

“Open your mouth.”

You just glare at him and that is enough to make Beckett step closer until the muzzle is right against your cheek, its edge digging into your skin. Yet you don’t move an inch. “I said open your mouth before I blow your brains out.” The vampire repeats, his tone carrying a new current of irritation and you clench your jaw tightly at first, then slowly part your lips.

When Beckett thinks you have opened your maw sufficiently enough, he slides the barrel of the gun right inside and deep enough that you involuntarily gag upon it. Graciously, he pulls it backwards just a fraction and you watch him observe your face with a degree of satisfaction. “There, wasn’t that hard, was it?” He mocks and if your glower could kill, Beckett would be dead instantaneously.

“See, the problem with you religious types is that you just don’t want to work together.” Starting in a casual, yet slightly amused tone the vampire watches you swallow around the gun barrel, your throat working with strain. Saliva begins to pool around your tongue upon which cold metal rests and you attempt to swallow again before he resumes. “I do not wish harm upon you. But I will defend my right to this existence. And you see, it is a right. I didn’t ask to be made this way, just like neither of us asked to be born. Why my existence is seen as more damaging than that of a prey animal?”

Because animals don’t have higher intelligence nor immortality you sick fuck, you think without being able to respond but then with a startle you feel embarrassment when your saliva begins dripping past your bottom lip. Beckett rises an eyebrow and smiles slightly. “Higher intelligence doesn’t always separate us from beasts, obviously.” He mocks as if reading your mind and you flush with fury because that’s the only thing you can do.

Fascinated by the rage in your eyes and your angry expression, Beckett begins moving the gun, sliding the bulbous tip of it over your tongue and you want to turn away. You could turn away, but is a little bit of shame and embarrassment worth more than your life? You could die here or survive and kill many leeches like him. Maybe even him. You know you won’t forget this face, not after this.

“That’s a good girl, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Beckett mocks once more and you focus on him with a humiliated blush coloring your face.

Despite your frowning and your angry stare at him, you do feel degraded in a way that you haven’t felt before. Not because of the gun in your mouth moving like he’s sliding a cock in and out, and not because you’re forced to kneel and obey the monster, but because you let this happen. You weren’t cautious enough, sharp enough, attentive enough and now you’re paying a price that is maybe not as ultimate as death itself, but sure damn close.

What doesn’t escape your notice this time though is that Beckett has gotten distracted by what he’s doing, by what he’s putting you through. Red glow of his eyes, this close evidently having vertical pupils that fill you with both repulsion and a sense of dread, are focused only on the rifle’s muzzle, still violating your mouth with a steadily increasing pace. You just hope that the culmination of such act won’t result in a blast much more damaging than a simple orgasm would produce. Yet he is distracted and keeping your eyes on the monster, you move your hand.

Just one hand, the left, you begin inching towards your utility belt. There are many things attached there: a pouch with extra bullets, holy water, some other bits that you usually need on missions but most importantly – there’s a dagger on your left hip and a wooden stake on your right. Judging your right side to be more illuminated by the low light on the rooftop you try to get to your dagger and just hope that Beckett is focused enough on his atrocious actions rather than you.

“Ah, and what are you doing there?”

Damn it. Damn it all!

Stopping your movement, you pay attention to his face again and notice Beckett’s amused expression. He is not looking at your face, however, and instead tilts his head to the side to observe your fingers that have stopped inching, a stressful twitch noticeable only by him because of the shadows. Then he sees your goal and sighs. “How unimaginative. Give me that.” With free hand he motions for you to take the weapon and hand it to him, and with the barrel pressing to the back of your throat you exhale slowly and take the dagger, careful not to make any sudden movements.

When you hand the blade to Beckett he raises his eyebrows, either impressed or surprised. The dagger has a handle shaped like a cross, gilded with metal melted from an actual blessed cross but that doesn’t appear to bother him in the slightest. He spins the dagger in his fingers once, then moves his scrutinizing gaze back onto your form. “And that one too, dear. We can’t cut our fun short, after all.”

More mocking, more condescending yet arrogant smirks on his face and you want to swear, to yell at him, to leap and attack him with your hands even if it’s the last weapon you have, but knowing that survival is not for idiots, and you’re not an idiot, you reach to your right side and slip the wooden stake out of its sheath.

Before taking the offering from you, however begrudgingly you make it, Beckett slides your dagger under the belt of his pants and takes the stake, flipping it in his hand. “What a nuisance this thing could become.” He says as if he’s scolding a student from bringing a phone to class and with a bemused sigh he chucks it far. With a slight flinch you hear wood smack against the hotel wall and then fall five stories down. You don’t hear when it drops to the ground, but you can almost imagine. Well, that’s another weapon gone.

Now entirely defenseless, you watch Beckett turn his gaze back to you and smile. It would be an almost handsome smile if your life wasn’t on a line and he weren’t a goddamn leech that you were supposed to eliminate together with Johnathan. Goddamn it, Johnathan. If he stayed here with you, you wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. However, the reality is much more unpleasant and you slowly exhale, trying to figure out how can you negotiate your life out of this situation.

“Now, are you willing to talk or do you need more convincing?” He asks and lets the question hang in the air while you two stare at each other like mortal enemies. You, with your eyes full of hate, and him, with still partially amused smile on the lips, but with eyes much less curious now. They still glow the same sanguine hue, but your refusal to give Beckett what he wants has turned them into a sharp, annoyed kind of gaze. He’s losing his patience and that might not be a good sign.

Still, despite you neither confirming or denying your willingness to speak, the vampire slowly pulls out glistening from your saliva barrel from your mouth but keeps it trained on you. Still tasting metal on your tongue you lick your lips briefly and move your jaw before speaking again. “I thought-“ You cough briefly and then try again. “I thought I made myself clear. I’m not giving up an innocent man to someone like you.”

A dangerous flash appears momentarily in Beckett’s eyes, but his smile becomes wider and somehow sharper. Maybe it’s the fangs that he’s flashing you so unapologetically. “And I thought I made it clear that I do not intend to harm to Dr. Johansen. I just want to talk. We’re working towards the same goal, hunter.”

“Are we?” Your eyes narrow and you feel rage stirring in your chest once more. He’s lying, you just know he is. He’s lying like the rest of his kind. Not even one of them know a fraction of what honesty means, or understand what kind of a plague they are upon the world. “You really think I value my life more over protecting the innocents? You really think I would cooperate with a monster like you even if there weren’t lives at stake? You bloodsucking sin, you wretched fucking thing mimicking humanity, you disgrace of a-“

It happens fast, cutting your righteous tirade off. First Becket’s smile completely fades, disappearing in a blink of an eye, and a snarl replaces it, curling his upper lip unlike when a dog growls. Then he moves towards you, one step, nearly pushing the gun back against your face, but instead of waiting for that to happen, instead of submitting to his scare tactic, you drop on your ass and try to lean back. He makes another step and you begin scrambling backwards, keeping your eyes not on the barrel of the gun but on his trigger finger, barely visible with a sharp nail at the tip of it. For just a split second you wonder how many people those nails ripped open, but that thought disappears as quickly as it emerges in your mind when with a gasp you run into something, your back pressing tightly against it. You don’t dare to look, but you can guess that it’s one of the protruding pillar-like vents of the building, topped with a cute roof made out of sheet metal. You saw them when you came here and now your back is firmly against the bricks.

Swinging the muzzle away from your face, Beckett doesn’t hesitate. He sees where you are cornering yourself and it works perfectly for him. So he approaches and leans down, grabbing your jaw with his free hand and leaning to your face with a snarl. “You’re making this very difficult for yourself.” He whispers, words clipped by his irritation for now mainly kept at bay. “Tell me where he is!”

“No.” You respond and feel his nails dig into your skin, maybe even breaking it. That’s not what you’re focusing on right now, but on his eyes, a boiling sea of red that now looks down at you with fury of a beast. He squeezes harder and you wince, the pain hard to ignore, but you just glare back at him, still defiant. You tell yourself that you wanted to cooperate, that you had a plan and it wasn’t half bad, but he’s humiliating you and your pride is rearing its head like a sin that you cannot be absolved of. Sin that might take your life, you are perfectly aware of this.

“I could kill you. I should kill you and get to your dear companion, maybe he would speak. I should-“ Then Beckett stops and his eyes sweep over your face, over your cheeks that he’s gripping and slightly puckered lips from how hard he’s squishing your face. You won’t talk, he finally understands. Not yet. “Have it your way then.” With a sudden smirk, the vampire rudely releases your face, pushing you away as if you disgust him.

While still holding your sniper rifle, Beckett straightens his back and with a slightly raised eyebrow he begins unbuckling his pants. At first you don’t want to look, but the jingle of a belt buckle and then the zipper being drawn demands your attention and so you glance down, watching the waist of his undone pants slip down his hip ever so slightly, sagging with the weight of your dagger still tucked in the belt.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you even think that…” You trail off when without any shame or reservation Beckett digs into his underwear and produces his cock, already hard, with the vein on the side of it throbbing twice as blood gets moved through the vampire’s body to serve another purpose besides nourishing him. “…I will not…”

“You will.” He says without even bothering to wait until you attempt to finish whatever proclamation of duty you have and moves closer, his feet pressing tightly on either side of your thighs. “Open up, hunter.”

With one glance upwards you can see a malicious glee in the monster’s eye, then his shaft is tapped against the side of your face and you look at it, protruding proudly right before your eyes. You gulp down and clench your jaw, not wanting to give him what he wants – easy obedience. It’s thick, it’s demanding, jutting out of a crown of dark hair that is clearly visible through the open fly.

While you get momentarily distracted Beckett scoffs slightly to himself and stoops just enough to jam his knees into your shoulders, effectively pinning you to the brick pillar, then his free hand finds your throat and grips, tightly. So tightly that caught by surprise you part your lips in an attempt to inhale the air that he’s been cut off for you. That’s all he is waiting for and with a satisfied clipped sound, the vampire moves his hips just enough to force the tip of his cock past your parted lips.

He watches your eyes widen with surprise as your tongue gets pushed down by the oddly warm underside of his length. After all, you know leeches to be cold, so why is he so warm? Why the vein that rubs against the flat of your tongue feels so hot, like it has real human life in it? You don’t know, all you can think off is the taste of him, of Beckett. Slightly salty, something earthy, and beneath all that a tinge of decay that somehow, surprisingly, you don’t find unpleasant.

Blushing in your shock, you feel Beckett release your throat and you inhale through your nose right before he grips your hair at the top of your head, clenching it into his fist, then forcing more of his cock into your mouth. Your heels kick at the bitumen and your palms instinctively rise to his thighs, trying to push the monster away, but instead he just pushes in deeper. Your throat contracts and gags but this time the grace with which he treated you earlier is gone. Instead of pulling back, Beckett forces his sizeable shaft deeper and deeper, until you gag on it again and then can’t do even that as your airways get cut off.

With a feral snarl which could be either from desire or anger, or maybe both, Beckett throws your rifle to the side and grips your skull with both palms, beginning to move his loins in sharp snaps. You try to make a sound but nothing comes out and you claw at his legs only helping him drop his pants to the knees. Your gloved fingers do no damage when you try to rake at his thighs, muscles too tense to be damaged like that and all throughout your struggle he keeps fucking your mouth.

Saliva drops down your chin and onto your chest at the forceful invasion and your eyes water, spilling down your face without your say in it. You try to pull back, to struggle, to stop this, but he’s too strong and his cock is far too deep in your throat for you to be able to turn away even an inch. He pulls back just enough to let you inhale and only a second later thrusts deeply once again, using your mouth like you’re just some toy to him. And maybe you are, you realize with a sobering thought while trying to keep your consciousness with you despite feeling increasingly dizzy the longer you can’t inhale, maybe you are just a toy to him. Humans like yourself are usually just discardable pawns to monsters like him.

Yet there’s something more to his rage than just pure lust with which he’s assaulting your face, bruising the back of your throat, shoving your nose deep into the thicket of his hair every time he thrusts deep until his balls slam to the underside of your chin. What that something is you don’t know, or maybe you don’t want to know. And you don’t get to ponder upon it any longer because Beckett suddenly pulls out, leaving you gasping and with thick saliva strands trailing from your mouth to his cock. He smirks and leans down just enough to sink his claws into the strap of your bulletproof west and rip it as you gasp at the sound and brutality of it. He throws it to the side and then your shirt is next, torn open by the vampire’s sharp nails that scrape over one breast before he pulls it out of a bra cup and squishes it.

You wince at the pain, still trying to catch your breath and you swallow with a whine, your throat feeling more than just sore but straight up raw. “I suggest you speak soon, before I have even more fun with you.” Beckett snarls and you glance up at him, but his own animal-like eyes are focused on his fingers, on his hairy hand that is kneading your breast without mercy. If you survive this, you are hundred percent sure that you will have bruises.

“That’s your plan, to fuck me into talking?” You try to scoff but your voice comes out rough and painful.

“I can assure you that this method has worked on stronger enemies than you.”

“You fucking asshole!” In your rage you don’t think of what you could do. Like biting him, gripping his balls and squishing them. Anything like that escapes your mind when your pride of being called a lesser enemy gets hurt.

Instead you try to push at him by the thighs where your palms are still gripping onto and you succeed, if only briefly. But that small window of opportunity is enough to make Beckett stagger backwards ever so slightly and give you a gap to move.

Kicking at the ground you turn, dropping onto your palms, and begin quickly crawling away, trying to get to your rifle that is laying askew after Beckett discarded it. You reach for it and it appears so close with its black metal shining dully in the minimal light, now mainly provided by the partially cloudy moon. The strap of your rifle is just two inches away, then you move forward. An inch away. So close, you’re almost there…

But then your ankle is grabbed and you’re pulled back, your gloves uselessly scraping onto the ground as you wince because your naked breast painfully drag over the bitumen.

“If that’s the game you choose, I’ll play it.” Beckett’s voice behind you is no longer lighthearted in its dark amusement, but fully dangerous. Ominous undercurrents in his tone no longer give you an illusion of being able to overpower him or escape.

You woke anger of a monster and you will pay the price.

Gasping and with your heart pounding in your chest, you still try to drag your body away but it’s entirely useless and you only manage to rip fingertips of your gloves open, damaging your skin and bloodying yourself in the process. And then you freeze when you first hear, then feel a sharp tip of your own dagger pierce the fabric of your pants. You know it’s like a razor because you yourself sharpen it every single day. So when it slices through the jeans you’re wearing it barely makes a sound.

It happens so fast that you don’t even have a chance to think of what to do next. Moving on instinct you glance over your shoulder only to witness Beckett slice the seat of your pants open, then do the same with your panties. With eyes wide and your breaths so fast they threaten to choke you if you don’t try to calm down, you watch the vampire smirk the more of your ass he exposes. Like a hungry animal he licks his lips briefly and with the dagger still in his left hand, Beckett easily crawls on top of you, his cock swinging with motion and wetly rubbing against your rear where it presses before he settles.

“No, no, no, don’t you dare, don’t!” You murmur and the words tumble out of your mouth so fast even you can’t truly comprehend them, but Beckett only glances at you, his form now covering yours fully and then some.

You shake your head in disbelief, like it’s hard for you to understand what’s going on despite knowing full well what his intentions are, and you still try to escape. One knee up as you attempt another desperate crawl, but the motion only rips your pants open further, this time the sound loud and recognizable, and you gasp. But before even more sounds escape your mouth, Beckett is faster. He quickly drops onto his right elbow, moving his body to the side of you for better grip before his palm swiftly covers your mouth, striking like a snake from an angle that you weren’t careful enough to pay attention to.

With a squeal against his hand you keep staring over your left shoulder, seeing your very own dagger being used to cut open the fabric covering your left thigh and you flinch when you feel Beckett’s cock press against your pussy. With your leg hiked up like this, with you in a frozen motion of escape, you have exposed yourself to him perfectly. And you hear him let out a menacing chuckle right beside your right ear as he inhales the scent of your hair. “Hold on tight, hunter.”

You make a noise of protest, your face blushing with almost an innocent shade of red and you try to struggle but before you can make an effort of any significance, Beckett thrusts his cock into you, making you cry out into his palm. With a sigh, he can’t help but appreciate how tight you feel, how you stretch to accommodate him. Unable and unwilling to take it slow, the vampire begins thrusting.

Each such thrust is marked by your pathetic mewls, but soon your body responds and while your fingers try to grip over the ground, you can’t help but feel your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s so deep, too deep. It’s deliciously painful and you weren’t ready, but oh God, how does it make you feel. Every time he fucks into you, you hear Beckett let out a restrained grunt against the side of your head and you echo it with a moan, muffled by his palm. And the longer he goes the louder you become.

“You’re too damn loud!” Beckett hisses this time straight in your ear and grunts when startled you tense around him. “Fuck.”

Before you can understand what’s really going on, Beckett pulls out making you whimper despite yourself and he pushes you chest-first onto the ground. You hear momentary clatter, dizzily understanding that it’s your dagger that got tossed and then you wince when your shirt gets unceremoniously ripped off from you. With heavy and quick breaths you try to rise but get pushed down again and then another loud rip as fabric gets shredded.

“Stop, let me go, I will-“ Your promise to tell him isn’t heard when the vampire wraps a thick strip of your own shirt around your mouth and with impatient tugs ties it behind your head. Panting and now reduced to only inhaling through your nose, you try to rise again and move the improvised gag, but instead your wrist gets gripped and pulled backwards until your shoulder strains painfully at the angle.

You whine at the ache and try to blink away the dazed state you’re in, but you’re being handled with swift purpose that doesn’t give enough time to do anything. Trying to speak you only hear your own weak, muffled words that are utterly incomprehensible and then your eyes widen when your hip is pulled with monstrous ease until you’re kneeling, face still down onto the bitumen.

With a whimper you try looking back over your shoulder and cry out into the cloth over your mouth when Beckett thrusts back into you, this time much easier with your pussy as wet as it is. He bottoms out entirely and you stiffen at first then immediately relax and somewhere, very far from your mind, you curse at yourself for complying. But how can you not to. How he takes you, roughly and unapologetically, how he controls your body as if you’re a mere doll. You can’t help but want more, want the pleasure and the pain, and the disgusting realization that you’re being fucked by one of those you hunt.

Your arm is held like a reign by which Beckett is trying to control an insubordinate animal and with other hand you still try to reach for the rifle, but even now it’s futile. It’s too far away, taunting like a promise of control that you won’t get back until he’s done with you. And before another thought enters your mind the vampire begins to move.

This time, with his knees on the ground, your wrist in his fingers and other hand on your hip, Beckett can fuck you much harder and he proceeds to do just so. Sharp snaps against you, skin against skin, are much louder than your cries of pleasure or his satisfied yet somewhat feral groans every time he bottoms out completely, filling you with entirety of his cock that makes you somewhat sore but more than that it makes you want more.

And he gives you more. His thrusts deep, unrelenting, hard and punishing. You hear Beckett almost growl with strain as he fucks you with everything he has and you feel like your spine, bent uncomfortably in this position, is at a risk of snapping. Yet even that doesn’t ring any alarms to you. Instead you sink deeper and deeper into the pleasure that this rough usage of your body is giving you. More, you need more and you shiver when somehow Beckett delivers a particularly hard thrust. Despite him holding onto you, you still slip over the ground and feel skin on your cheek scrape open.

Immediately you smell blood and so does Beckett, yet that only urges him further. Casting a short glance to your face, seeing your heavy eyelids and eyes that show nothing but pleasure, he looks down again at where he’s pounding into your pussy. Your arousal dropping and smearing both of you, making the slams of his thighs and pelvis against your ass ring so much louder.

“Maybe I should Embrace you.” Beckett grunts through labored groans and you vaguely recognize the word, but concerns of your job are now the furthest thing from your mind. You moan and moan, not caring if anyone hears and what this means, the implications of being fucked like this by a leech like him.

Yet how he says it, words clipped because of the satisfaction that he is feeling is what pushes you over the brink. You weren’t even aware that you’re close so when your orgasm hits you - it’s a surprise. You cry out, loudly, despite the gag and your body shudders, spasming again and again as you go through waves of your climax that make you see white and think absolutely nothing. For a sweet, wonderful moment you forget your own name.

Beckett is not immune to your pussy gripping onto him like this but still the vampire doesn’t want to just come inside you. He needs to teach you a lesson and most importantly, he still needs you to talk. But he knows he can combine both and before he spills himself deep inside, Beckett pulls out and easily flips you onto your back. Your eyes are glazed and you’re still flinching with last echoes of your climax, but the vampire ignores it and rips off the gag from your face.

Needing only to make minor movement forwards, he watches you trying to understand what’s going on while you lift yourself on your elbows. Perfect. With a vicious grin, Beckett grips his slick cock and strokes it just a few more times, holding it tightly and aiming it. Then he comes, spilling his cum all over your face and your exposed chest. With a gasp you try to pull back but some of the cum lands on your mouth and you close your lips, swallowing with shock and shame beginning to encapsulate your mind once again. At least he avoided your eyes.

Panting with exhaustion Beckett smiles as he watches his seed drip down your face and chin while you stare at him with those big, shocked eyes. He wonders if anyone ever treated you like this before. He can bet that nobody did.

“Tell me where Johansen is.” He says with his voice gruff and tucks a strand of your disheveled hair behind your ear. You absentmindedly lick your lips, tasting more of his cum while you just look at him for a moment longer.

“M-monastery.” You say with your voice coarse and Beckett’s eyes narrow with satisfaction at your answer. “It’s at the beach, Malibu.”

“Wonderful. Now, this wasn’t that hard, was it? I could say if you spoke earlier we could’ve avoided all of this, but… I don’t think I regret it, do you?” He caresses the side of your face where it’s not drenched by him spilling all over it just moments ago and you lick your lips again, both trying to clean them and to taste him again.

You don’t know what to say. You’re still dazed and out of breath and you’re sore in so many ways you can’t begin to count, but Beckett scoffs at your silence and pulls back, tucking his cock that’s already losing its erection after being spent. “I do not intend to harm the professor.” He assures you and you carefully sit up, then look around at the rooftop littered with your weapons and strips of your clothes.

“I don’t believe you.” You swallow and look at the vampire again, feeling his cum beginning to cool quickly while it still drips in heavy drops onto your breasts.

“You don’t have to.” Beckett gives you a simplest of shrugs, as if you two just had a polite conversation and not… whatever this was.

With a scoff you pick up the piece of fabric that he used to silence your moans and begin wiping at your face. Briefly you remember Johnathan and pray to God that he doesn’t appear all of a sudden.

“Anyway, I should better depart.” He eyes you with satisfaction on his face, the kind that is obvious on a hunter who looks at the trophy mounted on his wall, and out of the pocket he takes out a pair of small sunglasses. When Beckett puts them on, you realize that they are meant to hide the supernatural glow of his eyes and you slightly chuckle.

“Better pray we don’t meet again.” You begin to stand, trying to appear strong and in control but your legs are weak and your knees are threatening to give out. Yet you straighten and look at him in defiance despite the fact that he just had used you for his pleasure. That you orgasmed was just a side product he didn’t plan for. Bastard.

But at your words the vampire laughs and rises his eyebrows slightly, clearly amused again. “I’ll pray we do meet again, hunter. You’re an awful lot of fun.” He chuckles and walks towards the edge of a rooftop, then without looking back he makes a motion of a relaxed wave over his shoulder and steps off the ledge. You don’t need to rush and confirm that he’s not dead, splattered onto the pavement below.

Then, before you move even a muscle, you hear something like an echo that sounds like it’s partially around you and partially in your head.

“Until next time.”

[fixfoxnox]

omg i wanna know behind the scenes lore for something in the orange!! would you be willing to give us some

More bts!

For this last one (unless more people ask lol) I'm just gonna give some little one off things that I think are fun!

Fun times squad, I'll be introducing König into a later chapter. He's a surprise tool thats going to help us for later 😉

Roach's family in the fic consists of His mom (Carol), his dad (Thomas), his oldest brother (Johnathan), and his other brother (Eddie)

Both Eddie and Johnathan are married with children. Johnathan owns a little dive bar. Eddie is a Doctor (also a surprise tool that will help us for later lmao)

Makarov remembering almost didn't happen because I wanted Yuri to live and I couldn't figure out why Makarov would let Yuri live if he remembered. Eventually I figured out I could say he was using him and voila

The chapter of Roach's shoulder injury + Ghost and Soap being over protective was initially only the last bit with the cuddling in bed. I decided to extend it because I felt like the fic needed some fluff and I thought it made sense to have it as a full chapter

When I started writing this fic I genuinely like 100% believed it was going to be a one-shot lmao

Fun fact that I think only one person has caught (or at least mentioned they realized) the guy who helps Roach with his shirt in the arm injury chapter is Frost from Modern Warfare 3!

I really like working in the characters from the og series at some point and the only one I have yet to include (who is seen for more than just one mission) is Rodriguez!

I wrote the entire church torture scene with Makarov while listening to Chase Atlantic and Sleep Token. Its one of the only chapters that I did not listen to my SiTO playlist while working on.

Victor and Vasily from the church chapter were initially named because I was going to use them in following chapters. However I decided to scrap that in favor of introducing Dr. Petrov!

Kinda a self-congratulatory thing here but this is my first fic that has passed 100k words!!

Roach's scarf from Jackson was actually a last minute thing I decided on, but its now one of my favorite things to just casually mention in a chapter as well as picture Roach with

The hotel that the team confront Shepherd at is supposed to parallel the hotel that Makarov is killed at in MW3. Obviously set up by Makarov since the team thought that they were going after him there

The training course that Roach goes through during the tests for the 141 is supposed to be the same as the one that you go through at the beginning of the og mw2

I think that's all for right now. This is really just some fun facts more than bts stuff lol, but still.

New chapter coming out tomorrow 🙂

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Van Pelt

“A hunter from the darkest wild, who'll make you feel just like a child.”

Jumanji is already one of Robin Williams’s most enjoyable films, being a fun dark fantasy adventure film based around a supernatural board game, and while the board game itself is technically the main antagonist, its desire to test its players is given form in the maniacal hunter Van Pelt. And while I certainly would not argue that Jumanji is the deepest film ever made or anything like that, I think there is a bit of unique symbolism and interesting character quirks that make Van Pelt an enjoyable antagonist.

Actor: Johnathan Hyde portrays Van Pelt, and interestingly enough, he also plays Alan Parrish’s father. This bit of casting is honestly brilliant; think of the description of Van Pelt quoted above, used to announce his arrival from the game into the world - he is said to “make you feel just like a child.” And who above all others makes Alan feel just like a child at this point? His father.  Van Pelt thus becomes symbolic of Alan’s parental issues, which makes his overcoming Van Pelt in the end all the more poignant and powerful. On a more meta level, it is an amusing coincidence Robin Williams starred in a film where the father and the antagonist share an actor, something typically the case when it comes to Captain Hook/Mr. Darling in theatrical adaptations of Peter Pan, whose eponymous character Williams had played five years prior to this film. It was likely unintentional, but it is an amusing thing to note.

Motivation/Goals: Van Pelt is clearly a creation of the game, a hunter conjured up by whatever poor schmuck draws his card and given a form that will cause the most psychological damage as well as the most physical damage. To that end, he relentlessly pursues Alan with the intent of killing him, with nothing stopping him and very little actually slowing him down. In fact, Van Pelt seems to be indestructible, likely a side effect of his supernatural nature. Nothing short of beating the game is enough to defeat him, and his goal is just to make that as hard as possible by targeting the one who brought him out. It’s a simple motivation, but it’s pretty effective and allows room for all the other insanity of Jumanji to take the stage without him overshadowing it entirely. He ends up feeling more like an extension of the game’s will than anything, and that’s honestly for the best.

Personality: Relentless, implacable, and clearly very bloodthirsty: these are the traits that define Van Pelt. Considering he’s just another manifestation of the board game, he didn’t even need a personality, but as the game tends to exaggerate real life dangers of the jungle, so too did they exaggerate the stereotypical “Great White Hunter” character into its perfect form. An interesting thing to note about him as that he seems to have a certain respect for Alan, and despite being incredibly dangerous and skilled never seems to land a single hit. An interesting idea is that perhaps he is intentionally missing as part of some ploy on the game to help Alan overcome his father issues and truly mature; of course, it could just be that Van Pelt enjoys the chase more than he does the kill.

Final Fate: Alan calls out “Jumanji,” ending the game and causing Van Pelt to be sucked back into the board. This version of Van Pelt would never be seen again, for obvious reasons; using someone else’s symbolic antagonizing force would be a bit weird, no? Van Pelt does show up in a different form in this film’s sequel, with some more intriguing powers but a lot less plot relevance and personality.

Best Scene: In an amusing and darkly comical scene, Van Pelt decides to forego any form of background checks while attempting to purchase a fancy new gun, instead opting to dump a pile of gold right on the gun shop clerk’s desk. Thankfully it is not this ridiculously easy for mentally unstable lunatics to buy dangerous weapons and perform horrible crimes with them, and this sort of thing only happens in fiction… Ahem.

Best Quote: His introductory quote: First, a bullet from offscreen whizzing by Alan’s head, followed by: "You miserable coward! Come back and face me like a man!"

Final Thoughts & Score: Van Pelt is definitely more of a living setpiece, an obstacle to be overcome much like the other supernatural critters the game unleashes, but he’s one with a lot of dramatic and thematic weight to him, seeing as he represents Alan’s conflict with his father that is set up at the film’s start. He’s quite similar to the T-800 in a lot of ways, seeing as he is a hyper-competent implacable and unstoppable assassin sent by a fantastical force to ensure the continued existence of its creator, with a dash of Captain Hook thrown in for personality and the little bit of symbolism present in theater adaptations of Peter Pan. 

Van Pelt is a solid 7/10 for the level of symbolic brilliance he brings to the table, but I can’t justify rating him any higher because, ultimately, he is just another figment crafted by Jumanji to make the game more entertaining, meaning he has no real backstory, goals, or motivation and exists only to cause trouble. Still, for what he is, he’s more entertaining and intriguing than he has any right to be.

But you know who isn’t entertaining or intriguing?

Psycho Analysis: Russell Van Pelt 

Ok, so that was unnecessarily dismissive and harsh. I actually think that the iteration of Van Pelt from Welcome to the Jungle has some pretty interesting concepts going for him. Ultimately though he’s kind of done in by the fact that he is the villain in an 80s video game, albeit a supernatural one. And 80s video games were not exactly known for their intriguing, complex villains.

Motivation/Goals: So this Van Pelt actually has a backstory, and it’s kind of interesting too: he was once a determined archaeologist who just wanted to have some proof of the Jaguar Shrine... unfortunately, said proof was the Jaguar’s Eye, which is the Chaos Emerald seen in the picture above. 

Here’s the problem: as he is a generic antagonist created to oppose our heroes, he has no motivation other than that he wants to use the jewel for nebulous nefarious reasons. He kind of just exists to be a threat, and yeah, it makes sense, but it is a bit of a letdown compared to the original. In fact, he’s very much a non-action villain and doesn’t even really directly confront the heroes until the very end, and even then it’s not like he has some spectacular throwdown. You’d think the guy with the one magical glowy eye would put up a better fight, but maybe Dr. Sivana and Sans Undertale just set the bar too high for glowy-eyed super battles.

Final Fate: The heroes return the eye, and he collapses into a big pile of rats and bugs. Why does he do this? I’ll get into it more below. Needless to say, he’s beaten in a way that lines up with all unsatisfactory 80s video game endings. 

Final Thoughts & Score: I definitely don’t hate Russell Van Pelt, but I think that he ultimately fails to even come close to recapturing the magic the original Van Pelt had. This is despite of, amusingly enough, having just about everything the original lacked: he has a backstory, he has intriguing powers, and he looks genuinely intimidating. The problem is that nothing is done with him and his motivations aren’t explained at all, and he ultimately lacks any sort of personality to try and glean some entertainment from.

It stings all the more because he utilizes one of my favorite tropes: The Worm That Walks. Essentially this trope is when a character is, in actuality, a mass of worms, bugs, or whatever other creepy critters you might want in there. Oogie Boogie is one of cinema’s shining examples of such a villain, and something of the gold standard; these sorts of villains are fun and creepy when utilized correctly. As you might of guessed, with Van Pelt... they don’t. It’s kind of just there to add to his creep factor and doesn’t much come into play very often. When he does utilize this strange power to store animals inside himself and add them to his hive mind, it’s suitably disturbing and eerie, but it’s not a major focus.

Still, I don’t think I’d give him more than a 4/10. Yes, he is a generic doomsday villain, but at least in this instance there’s actually a legitimate in-story justification for that. And even if they don’t use it to its full effect, I do think that his powers are really cool and the backstory he has is pretty neat. I think I would have preferred if they just tossed aside the backstory stuff and go for the more psychological approach of the original, but I guess that wasn’t exactly in the cards. Ah well, you can’t win them all I suppose.

[dinoandrade]

“DRACULA”: BOOK vs. MOVIES

Part 5: The Final Battle & The Death Of Dracula

Welcome to the fifth and final part of my essay comparing Bram Stoker’s novel “Dracula” to those film versions most commonly referred to as those “faithful to the novel.” To understand why I wrote this please check out parts one through four.

BUT FIRST...

As before this essay is NOT spoiler free. And whether you love or hate any of the films being compared here is beside the point and a subject best left to posts dedicated to film critique. This essay is SOLELY about which films are the most faithful to the novel... period.

And one final reminder of those versions most touted as “faithful” that I compared:

“Nosferatu: a Symphony of Horror” (1922) aka “Max Schreck Version”.

“Count Dracula” (1970) aka “Christopher Lee Version”.

“Bram Stoker’s Dracula” (1973) retitled “Dan Curtis’ Dracula” aka “Jack Palance Version”.

“Count Dracula” (1977) aka “Louis Jordan version.”

“Bram Stoker’s Dracula” (1992) aka “Coppola version”.

And now...

PART FIVE: THE FINAL BATTLE & THE DEATH OF DRACULA

Stoker’s novel ends with a rip-roaring chase through Transylvania’s Borgo Pass as Dracula’s Gypsy minions try to spirit the Count away in a large wooden crate mounted on a horse drawn cart. As the sun has not yet set, Dracula is still in a weakened state, thus the Gypsies are desperate to get the Count to the relative safety of Castle Dracula. However, the vampire hunters - Johnathan Harker, Quincey Morris, Dr. Seward and Arthur Homewood - are in hot pursuit on horseback with an assortment of bladed weapons and Winchester rifles. Already at the castle are Mina and an exhausted Van Helsing.

Seeing the approaching Gypsies, Mina arms herself with a pistol. As she is in the growing thrall of dark supernatural power she marvels over the fact that she feels no fear whatsoever over the coming battle she is about to join.

When the Gypsies reach the castle the final battle rages with gunfire and flashing blades. Soon the Gypsies are either dead or on the run but not before Quincey Morris is mortally stabbed.

In a state of mania, Johnathan Harker leaps onto the Gypsy cart and heaves the crate containing Dracula to the ground, then Harker and Quincey rip open the lid just as the sun sets. Dracula’s eyes glow red with triumph as his powers are restored but he’s too late as Harker slashes the Count’s throat with a vicious swipe of his blade, followed instantly by Quincey Morris who, in a final dying act, drives his Bowie knife into Dracula’s heart, which instantly turns the vampire king to dust.

Surrounded by his fellow vampire hunters the Cowboy Quincey Morris lies dying in Johnathan Harker’s arms. His final words are a quiet declaration that he willing dies in the service of saving the life and soul of such a valiant woman as Mina.

Almost every telling of “Dracula” has a more stage-production-inspired traditional ending, usually involving a final confrontation between Van Helsing and the Count, with the Professor delivering the death blow... even four of the five “faithful” versions I’ve listed here. The Count is killed by sunlight in one. He’s staked through the heart by Van Helsing in two others (one with a wooden stake, one with a wooden spear). And one uniquely ends with Harker and Quincey setting Dracula’s casket on fire in broad daylight so the Count cannot escape.

And while no film presents Stoker’s action ending with 100% accuracy, three of the films do make the attempt with varying degrees of faithfulness. I will take each one in order of accuracy.

Christopher Lee Version:

In the Lee Version there is no chase and no battle with guns and blades. The Gypsies just show up at Castle Dracula with the box containing the Count in what looks like a funeral procession. Johnathan Harker and Arthur Homewood... excuse me, Quincey Morris are lying in wait - and that’s it... no supernaturally powered Mina, no exhausted Van Helsing and no vengeance hungering Doctor Seward... it’s just Harker and Morris. The two lone heroes then “battle” the Gypsies by simply dropping huge square chunks of castle wall on them until the Gypsies run away. The rest of the action does not follow the novel at all. So, this finale is only kinda-sorta faithful but at least there was still a confrontation of sorts with the Gypsy minions so... that’s something anyway.

Louis Jordan version:

On the other hand the Louis Jordan version is the very first adaptation to include both the raucous chase and the battle with guns and blades. However composite character Quincey Homewood is shot and wounded instead of mortally stabbed. When he gets to Dracula’s cart he collapses unable to do more, so he has no hand in killing Dracula. Doctor Seward is present and fights. Van Helsing and Mina are also there but Mina is not driven by supernatural power that makes her bold and fearless and she only wields a gun because Van Helsing gives her a rifle and tells her to use it. Though to her credit she does use it once to kill a Gypsy who is about to stab Harker. The rest of the climax does not follow the novel but until now this was the closest any film had ever come to what Stoker wrote. So kudos to them!

Coppola Version:

Coppola’s also has the mad chase and battle with guns and blades. Johnathan Harker, Doctor Seward, Arthur Homewood, and Quincey Morris are all there and fight valiantly exactly like in the novel. And like the novel an exhausted Van Helsing and Mina are also present with Mina possessed by supernatural power that drives her to fearlessness. Though unlike the novel the supernatural power drives Mina to defend Dracula with a gun rather than use the gun against Dracula’s minions - which when you think about it kinda makes more sense as it’s a dark power that is gripping her soul.

But then like the novel Quincey is stabbed, Harker faces Dracula just as the sun sets and cuts the vampire’s throat and in a final dying act Quincey drives his Bowie knife into Dracula’s heart. Coppola deviates from the novel at this point in that Dracula does not die immediately and burst into ashes and Quincey Morris dies in Doctor Seward’s arms and not Johnathan’s as written. But I rather liked that particular deviation as Doctor Seward and Quincey Morris were both failed suitors of Lucy Westenra and driven by vengeance, so I found it fitting that one heartbroken suitor dies in the arms of the other heartbroken suitor.

In the end, all of this makes Coppola’s the only “Dracula” film ever made to not only include all the combatants from the novel, the heroic dying deeds of the American Cowboy, and most amazingly of all, the first and ONLY “Dracula” film to show the precise mechanism of Dracula’s death by way of a slashed throat and a cowboy’s Bowie knife through the heart just as Stoker wrote it.

Sure, ultimately in Coppola’s version it is Mina who eventually drives the Bowie knife home to end the Count, but I have ZERO problem with this embellishment. Purists may get upset, but after decades of Mina being reduced to “Damsel in distress” I say why not let the stout-hearted woman finally be the one to destroy the Count.

Winner: Coppola version

AND THE ULTIMATE WINNER IS...

After 5 days worth of essay, in the end it turns out to be pretty obvious that it all comes down to two... the Louis Jordan version and the Coppola version. As to which is the most faithful to Stoker’s work is up to you as it depends on what is most important to you as viewer and reader.

If it is historical accuracy and strict adherence to Stoker’s plot and overall authentic period tone then Coppola’s version is disqualified for the way it more or less bullet-points the plot to make room for the added subplots, its gothic dream-like tone, and all those wild embellishments this film so gleefully revels in. Thus the Louis Jordan version is the hands-down winner. No question.

However, if adherence to Stoker’s characters is more important to you then one can only favor the Coppola version. What with it’s more accurate depictions of Johnathan Harker, Dr. Seward, Arthur Homewood and Van Helsing. Being the ONLY filmed version to include the complete story of the American Cowboy Quincey Morris. And of course a portrayal of Mina that finally gives her a true arc worthy of the bold character Stoker had written. Add to that the most faithful rendition of the final battle yet filmed and the only film EVER to include the novel-accurate killing blows to Dracula and my personal choice is Coppola’s.

But that’s just me, the ultimate choice...

...is yours.

AFTERTHOUGHT

Two things:

First, here is a novel written in 1897 that ends with a raucous chase, a gun battle featuring Winchester rifles, a fearless heroine wielding a pistol and a Cowboy from Texas who kills the King of the Vampires with a Bowie knife. Frankly, I find it astounding that in the 1930’s, 40’s and 50’, jingoistic Hollywood didn’t crank out a slew of Dracula films that focused mainly on those elements, with brave American Quincey Morris as the central figure. You would think as kids we would have all grown up believing the story of “Dracula” was about a noble Gary Cooper-esque Cowboy vampire hunter vs. the Prince of Darkness. Only to then someday read the book and be shocked that Quincey Morris wasn’t the main hero.

And finally, regarding future cinematic tellings of “Dracula”... sure, the Jordan version sacrificed characters for plot and the Coppola version sacrificed plot for characters so there’s still plenty of room for someone to finally make the definitive faithful version... but, if I’m to be completely honest I am far less interested in that as I am in a version told entirely from valiant Mina’s point of view. Dracula vs. Van Helsing has been done time and time again on stage, film and television. In fact, they just did it again on Netflix. It’s time for a true MINA vs. Dracula movie. Such a film is more than 100 years overdue... and I would love to see it.

To all of you who read some or all of this essay, I say thank you. I hope you enjoyed it or at the very least found it to be a nice diversion. I truly wish I could invite you all over for a “Dracula” movie marathon. For I would then quote the Count:

“Welcome to my house... come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring.”

[insane-control-room]

The Sketch

Chapter four, segment one

Full chapter on ao3 here

Previous Chapter Part One

Previous (segment) - Next 

...

But I’m stuttering.

Henry hated seeing Joey like that. Hollow eyed, jittery, harsh breathing. Still, it was a reality that had to be faced, every now and then. The way that Joey would spill his tea in shaky hands, the way his eyes welled with blazing tears. Henry wished he could just hug him and will it all away, but he could not, so there he sat in front of Joey, his thumb rubbing the back of the younger man’s hand. Joey stared directly in front of them, not looking at their hands or at Henry, rather at a black stain on the table. Henry hated that it was his fault Joey was acting like this, restless and nervous. ‘Something’s wrong in the world, I can feel it,’ Joey had told him over and over. ‘Something is very wrong.’

Joey could not sleep when something was wrong. Henry always joked that of all the members of the studio, Joey should have been the one who slept the best, but it was never so, unfortunately for the lanky chicano. Too much kept him up; stress, memories, worries, inventions, family problems, money issues, so much, too much. Henry was one of those worries, but everyone Joey met became one of his worries. He worried for those he never even met, at that. A sweetheart with the biggest soul Henry had ever met, scattered in the stars and spread through whispers and will o’ wisps, a hushed secret of immeasurable power, the most gentle giant ever. 

Anyone could see it, and yet, he still, somehow, had enemies, those sworn against him by blood. Even his own step father fell into their number. But Johan had a new family now.

Bertrum joined them in the pub room, chatting with Allison. They poured themselves coffee and sat beside the doctor, making idle conversation. Joey had not slept enough to understand the words flowing from their lips with such ease, such grace. His own words were marred by an ugly stutter that chased after his tongue, tripping his syllables and bashing his own melody of noises. So he often preferred to stay silent, though words burned at his throat, shrieking to be let out. Most of the time his will lost against his desire.

He hated the sound of his voice coming from his mouth, and would much rather hear it played back through a recording instead of himself. Not that his voice was bad, no, it was… wrong. Something about it just seemed so very wrong. He, at one point, had attempted to correct it with cigarettes and coffee. The first time he had a cigarette he was very young, what, five or six? Atabulus had offered it to him, and the young boy had taken it out of curiosity, and found he despised it. Atabulus had laughed softly, patting his head, telling him that he might like it one day. And no, he never did get used to it, nor did he ever like it, but he would rather pay twenty five cents for fifty staved off meals than two full days of work for one meal. Yet the same thing that saved him was a vice, his body craving the nicotine within the folds of tobacco, demanding it, forcing him to keep buying until he locked himself in his office for two weeks until the cravings dropped, and by then he was so hungry and sun sick that Henry had to drag him up to his garden where he absentmindedly ate nana as he lay in the heat of day until Henry brought him real food.

And so he sat there in front of his friends and family in complete and utter silence, merely staring at the table as he wished he had a cigarette between his fingers. He flinched, and took a draught of his overly sweetened tea, the honey within bringing him back to the present. He forced himself to calm, then. It was okay, nothing was wrong. Nothing at all. Nothing. At. All.

Keep telling yourself that, buddy.

Johan jolted, looking over his shoulder to see if he could catch a glimpse of… whatever that was. Henry gave him a Look, and Joey shrank back in his seat. Bad look. Questioning look. Questions were bad. They meant something was wrong. 

No, no, no, calm down there. It’s fine. Just a little nerve wracked. Just a little bit.

There was a rumbling in his chest, an ache in his hands. He had to build.

It was an insatiable urge, he had to build it. But Henry! Henry forbid him!

At the thought of Henry’s order, the rumbling in his chest turned into a shocking pain lacing through his lungs.

He calmly realized he could not breathe. 

How very interesting.

His free hand rose to his lips, under his nose, as if to check if he really was not breathing. How odd! No flow passed through them, and his eyes watered slightly. The rancid taste of bile clung to the back of his throat, and he rose, and quietly left to the bathroom, and prompt expelled the contents of his mouth and stomach into the toilet.

Ink.

Huh.

Joey’s head felt very light.

What was happening? Why was he on his knees? Did that come out of him?

Seemed like it.

He shook, but only a little, and rested his head against the rim of the toilet, lest he feel the urge to vomit again. When the need fell still, he got up again, spruced himself up in the cloudy mirror (he would remind one of the Franks to clean it), and made his way back to the conversing others. He sat heavily, Henry’s hand and his meeting silently in the middle. Henry’s expression was nearly unreadable, but Joey could see concern. Then Susie spoke up (when had she gotten there? Probably while he was in the restroom), her voice a tranquil melody. So different to Joey’s, he wondered how she even beard to pretend to date him. And Henry as well, how could he stand to hear his record scratch tones while his lovely baritone ran deep and true?

“We need an organist, Mr. Drew, Dr. Stein,” she told them, something Joey knew very well, something he knew would be addressed eventually, but he had always dreaded the moment when the topic would arise. Henry pondered it for a moment, and then spoke, “What about Johnathan Derekson agai-”

“NO!” Joey did not know when he got to his feet, eyes wide and wild, teeth bared, shoulders arched forward in defense. Those around stared at him, and he felt his neck burn with warmth as he sat back down slowly. “S-sorry. No. Not… him. Never.”

Bertrum’s rusty gold eyes pierced Johan’s skin, digging into him, silent questions asked a million times with the mere raise of a thick, dark eyebrow. Johan closed his eyes, breathed in, counted to five, and let the air out. Best not to think of him. Best to remember that… the incident never occurred. It was in the, in a past life. Not this one. Here, now, he could start fresh. No fear in his veins at the thought of going to the music department. For there was no Johnathan Derekson there to prey on him. 

‘I do not mean to interrupt,’ Jameson signed to them after tapping Henry’s shoulder for all of their attention. ‘I know this one young lad, he works at a church as an organist, and he is looking for a better job. His name is Doe. Johnny Doe. An orphan. Good natured. Gentle. Not mute like me, but very quiet. Know how to sign very well. We enjoy each other’s company.’

So, Johnny Doe was called in for an interview, and he played beautifully. Joey was smitten by his stunning melodies and he and Henry hired him on the spot, to which they received a little bow and a grin from JJ. 

Nothing happened for a week, though there was an icy bridge between himself and Henry. They bumped into each other in the hall, and Joey nodded, about to head upstairs, but Henry’s hand caught Joey’s, pulling him into a different room.

“Why didn’t you want to hire Derekson?” he asked, puzzled. Joey felt bile rise in his throat, and his hands trembled. He shook his head. “Jo, you gotta answer me. We’re a team, right? And teams talk things out, together. What’s buggin’ you?”

“N-nothin’,” Joey lied through his teeth. Henry frowned at him, teal eyes roving over him sharply, so scrutinizing, Joey felt completely bare before the angel before him. His eyes were wide as Henry examined him. Be honest, Henry’s eyes chided him. Come on. Be honest. “D-Derekson… he….”

At the gentle but confused look in Henry’s eye, Joey felt a dam in his heart shatter.

Words spilled out of him faster than he could think.

Johnny first locking him in one of the art rooms, the fear that hung around him since that encounter, the meeting before that day, the day Joey broke. The last straw being Johnny on top of him, and he fighting.

Henry listened to Joey’s spill of emotions and sounds and record scratched stories, soaking up every word without a single sound of disgust or hatred for Johan.

Joey stared at his hands as the tirade ended, looking at the scars criss crossing them. He instinctively put a hand to his belt, confirming it were there. He shuddered as he felt Henry’s hand join his on the belt. But it was flat and warming, not gripping and chill. A hand came to the underside of Joey’s face, not quite his cheek, not quite his jaw. Henry guided him to meet his eyes, those gorgeous spheres of earthly glory. 

“I’m so sorry,” Henry somberly apologized, and Joey could see the regret in his eyes. “I never should have hired him in the first place without asking you. And you paid the price. He… he tried to… God, I’m so sorry, Joey.”

Henry could not bring himself to finish the sentence, and he shivered. Joey shivered right after him, but not a full body shiver, but a shudder that ran from where Henry’s hands rested on his body and foghorned outwards.

“Honeybee,” Henry crooned, leaning to rest his forehead against Joey’s. “You work yourself far too hard, darling. Why don’t we take some time to ourselves, yeah?”

“Too much t-to do,” Joey protested, but his body betrayed him, arms wrapping around Henry’s shoulders. Henry smirked, and Joey blushed. “In all seriousness, doc, there really is a lot to do. Paperwork f-for Johnny, storyboards for the next episode, and bills to s-sort thro-ooh, oh, ah, Hen, c-cut that o-out.” 

“Cut what out?” Henry asked innocuously with a smile pressed against Joey’s neck, where he placed little nipping kisses. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You v-very well are doing something!” Joey snapped back, then a hand flew to his mouth to keep himself quiet. As low as he could manage, he hissed into Henry’s ear. “S-stop that or else!”

“Or else what?” Henry questioned, his hands roaming all over Joey’s sensitive arms, making the dark man stiffen. “You’ve got an empty threat there, Jo.”

“I will suspend you in the e-elevator shaft,” Joey seethed, red and squirming. Henry only laughed, and continued. “For three hours!”

“Better make it six,” Henry’s voice so close to his jugular  sent shockwaves through him. “So that I’ll get out when work ends. Mmm, that would be pleasant, and then I’d spend the whole night getting some sweet, delicious revenge.”

“You’re a perverted bastard,” Joey grumbled, wiggling in Henry’s tight hold. Henry chuckled again, “That may be so, but you’re my muse, my sybaritic muse.”

The door burst open, and Jack and Wally ran in. 

“What is it now?” Henry asked with annoyance. “If you broke something, don’t care.”

“No, it’s, uh,” Jack seemed at a loss, turning to Wally, who gravely said, “It’s Sammy. He’s sick.”

[sunflowerroland]

My Nygmobblepot Dream

Since some people showed a bit of interest in this I’ll share what went down in my weird dream a couple weeks ago where I got to interact w Nygmobblepot.

But bear with me because it was a dream so obviously a lot of stuff is kind of nonsensical but basically here is what went down.

(I remembered quite a lot of it so I’ll put everything under the cut)

So the dream started off with me and some people I knew being at this charity awareness meal for some cause I can’t remember and I for some reason I decided to take my shoes and socks off, I put my socks into a shoulder bag I had on and the shoes under the table I was at. Then at some point, as I’m sure other gays have experienced, somebody set up the perfect opportunity to make a gay joke and so I did. The problem was, I wasn’t out to the people at the table and they didn’t take kindly to my joke so I decided to leave immediately.

I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going as I was kind of in a daze and I ended up walking over rooftops and going through back alleys, when suddenly I realised it was snowing and so I said to myself, out loud, “hey, when did it start snowing?” 

Just as I said that, a random man happened to walk past me, looked at me like I was an idiot, and said, “like 5 minutes ago..." in a very derisive tone.

It was at this point I remembered that I had left my shoes at the restaurant the charity event had been held at and I thought to myself “I cant walk through the snow without my shoes and socks on so I'm going to have to walk all the way back to the restaurant to get them!”, the most logical plan of action I could take clearly. 

As I had no idea how I had actually got to where I was, I decided to ask for directions back to the restaurant. I turned to a random person nearby to ask him for help and, lo and behold, Oswald Cobblepot stood before me in all his glory. I asked him for his assistance however, he decided to give me a route that made absolutely no sense whatsoever, saying things like “take a turn around the cat/cow” (I can’t remember which one) and to be honest everything went in one ear and out the next, so I thanked him and turned to another person who was less than a meter away from Oswald, and asked him for directions instead.

The person I asked for help next was turned out to be Ed Nygma, dressed head to toe in green, his usual Riddler garb. He seemed to take slight offense to me not following Oswald’s directions and said “It’s exactly what he said!”, repeated the same instructions and then he told me to “figure it out!” 

Miraculously, I figured out their frankly ridiculous instructions and made it back to the restaurant. As I was picking up my shoes I looked up and saw Ed approaching me and I thought to myself, "oh GOD this cant be good" because he definitely looked like he meant business. 

So, I tied the laces on my shoes together, put them over the bag strap on my shoulder bag and turned to face him as he stormed the restaurant. He then began to taunt me a bit, although he said that I was not completely stupid and also congratulated me for beating his puzzle (despite the fact that it was Oswald who actually said it first).

I’m not exactly sure why, but he suddenly decided he had it in for me, he wanted me for something and so he started chasing me with this mob he had gathered during his tirade. I ended up stuck in this school parade with some cheerleaders, as they were making their way through the streets, trying to get away from Ed. However, it seemed more like Ed was trying to herd me somewhere instead and so I was falling into whatever plans he had for me no matter what I did.

Suddenly, I saw this grassy side path off the side of the road, away from wherever Ed was trying to lead me so I ran down it. There were two ways to go; the path straight ahead was empty but I was worried Ed would still be able to see me running down it if he looked down the turning; and then there was a little overgrown path to my right. I turned to go down the overgrown path and there were goths everywhere, turns out there was a little graveyard, completely overgrown, and I thought it looked cool as hell. I thought to myself "hell yeah, my people." 

But it was not to be. Suddenly, they started saying like "get away from here you aren’t welcome" and generic satanist sayings, turns out it was this big demon grave site. So I decided to promptly get the heck out of dodge. 

I turned to carry on running straight ahead but somehow Jervis Tetch and Johnathan Crane were there blocking my way. I panicked and decided to double back on myself, I turned to run back the way I came from but unfortunately Ed was there, waiting for me. 

He caught me. 

Next thing I knew I was being held in this fancy house, with massive windows. I was held prisoner on the second storey with Ed and a couple of his goons. 

All of a sudden, the phone in my pocket started to ring. I picked it up and the dulcet yet panicked tones of Oswald Cobblepot’s voice rang out, he was saying things like, "are you okay?!”, “Where are you?!?!” and most notably, “Does Ed have you?!"

I tried to talk to him to calm him and tell him what was happening but Ed snatched the phone out of my hand and put it on speaker and started talking to Oswald.

It’s at this point I remembered/realised that I was actually Oswald’s best friend and that Ed was mad for some reason at Oswald so he kidnapped me to get back at Oswald. 

Ed stood there arguing with Oswald over the phone when suddenly Oswald went quiet. Ed began to worry and asked “Oswald?” very hesitantly.

Out of nowhere, a door next to me burst open and Oswald’s strolling through, it turned out he was playing for time until he could bust in and save me. 

Ed was momentarily stunned, so Oswald took this chance to grab my hand and we go to run down the stairs. But Ed lashed out and pushed us over the banister.

Oswald managed to hang on but I had nothing to hold onto and I plummeted downwards. All of a sudden, I appeared to come out of my body and I was just floating in a spirit form of some sort as I watched this unfamiliar woman crash on top of this car that appeared to have been being showcased on the first floor. 

I then looked to see Oswald glaring up at Ed who, in turn, was looking over the banister at Oswald and the woman in shock.

Everything turned to black.

Then illustrations appeared showing what happened after, together with a nice voice over to tie it all together. 

Essentially, what was said was that everybody thought the woman was dead but she wasn’t, as she couldn't die. The illustrations cut to a shot of the car, it was dented but there was no body; it then cut to an illustration of a woman running through the woods. The voice over spoke of how the woman quietly made a life and name for herself. A couple years after this she moved into a new house. She had new neighbours. Everything then faded to black again.  

I then found myself in control of my actions again, I took note of my surroundings; I was standing in a house, a nursery, but I knew I was invisible, like I was just an observer. 

I watched as a dark haired woman, whom I recognise to be the woman who couldn’t die, sorting out a baby. The door to the nursery opened and Ed looked in, the woman looked up at him and told Ed something along the lines of "your daughter needs you to [do something]." I can’t remember what she said the child needed. 

But what I do remember is watching Ed in wonder and also knowing that this was Ed and Oswald’s house, that they ended up getting together even after everything. I also knew that this woman was the surrogate mother for the child, Ed and Oswald were raising the child as their own. It also appeared that Oswald was at work at the Iceberg Lounge and so I was slightly saddened to know I wouldn’t see him this time.

Ed did whatever the woman asked him to do and then he went downstairs and sat on the couch and watched TV.

I decided to approach him, even though I knew I was not a physical being, and I tapped him on the shoulder. He shifted like he felt it and then he looked around but he saw no one so he settled down again. Then I tapped him on the shoulder again and he sat up and said "is someone there?"

I walked around him and knelt on the other side of this glass coffee table that was in front of the couch. I lent forward and tapped him on the knee again. 

He jolted forward and seemed to realise something. He whispered, "is it you?" Then he lent forward and rested his elbows on the table, holding both his hands up as if waiting for a high ten.

I moved forward and placed my palms against his. I stared him right in the eyes. He stared at his hands for a moment in surprise before looking up again, right at me, and in an awe filled voice he said, "this is fascinating, you're not actually gone are you?" 

Just as I was feeling jubilus in this discovery, the woman from the nursery returned from looking after the baby. Ed lent back toward her to talk to her and tell her what was happening. The woman placed her hands on his shoulders, looked at him sadly and she mournfully told him, "you know that's not actually her, it cant be her, it’s Polly (which I now realise was his daughter’s name, who apparently has powers) playing a prank." 

Ed seemed to accept this and I got up to try and get his attention back because it wasn’t Polly and I was right there, I was so frustrated and angry that that the woman had said that and that Ed had believed her so easily. 

And then I woke up. 

TL;DR Ed accidentally killed me and then in the next couple of years he and Oswald got together and raised a kid. And then maybe Ed could see me as a ghost or something.

[writersblockandapotoftea]

A Note

It’s okay to have flat and static characters.

And no, I don’t mean you drop a load a boulders on them, or flat Stanley, those are cool too, but I’m talking about a different kind of flat.

I’m talking about characters who don’t have very much personality, they don’t change, they’re not dynamic or well-rounded. They just exist. They’re the NPCs of your story and you need them to flesh out that world. 

The baker who gives your hero fresh red bean buns every morning can just be a baker. They don’t need to be anything else because they answer one of the fundamental needs of society. Food and where it comes from. They don’t need an elaborate backstory, they can just exist. 

Let’s look at some examples:

Yukio and Kai Hoshina: B, The Beginning

I don’t know how many people have watched this show, but you know what, there’s plenty of static and flat characters in it, so I screen shotted  a picture of  Lily Hoshina’s brother and father from B the Beginning for you guys. 

For reference they’re the guy with glasses (Yukio) and the redhead (Kai), and they are completely flat characters. They work in the violin shop, are related to one of the three main characters, Lily, and employ another, Koku. They don’t change or grow with the series’ progression and mainly serve to humanize Koku and Lily because they seem so normal. 

Yukio and Kai are loving family members and they both enjoy the craft of repairing violins. That’s their whole personality. They joke and tease and are really effective to show that not everyone in universe is a crazy, nightmare-ish sort of monster. 

Lucy Westerna’s Dude Squad: Dracula, Bram Stoker

In Dracula movies, Lucy’s always portrayed as a slut, which bothers the shit out of me because it’s not her fault three flat-ass men who have no character development other than following Johnathan, Mina and Abraham Von Helsing around to kill Dracula propose to her. 

Okay, okay, rant about Lucy’s portrayal over, let’s talk about Quincey, Arthur and Dr. Seward, the OG horror dude squad. 

So, we’re introduced to the trio by a letter from Lucy to Mina Harker, explaining how she was proposed to three times in a single day (And I can’t even get a date? C’mon world) 

Quincey is Texan. That’s it. He’s the quintessential Texan rich guy and evidence that Stoker had never spoken to an American in his life. He dies BTW. 

John Seward is a psychiatrist and is probably the most interesting of the three because he gets to use phonographs to record interviews with mental patients at the asylum he runs.  We also get some ‘science’ for vampirism.

Arthur Holmwood is the plain, white collar Englishman who Lucy actually does want to marry. He’s definitely the most boring and people like to villanize him cause he’s kinda useless.

They all remain bros after the proposal debacle and basically are the muscle, funds and science behind chasing down Dracula after he vampires Lucy up. In modern adaptations, they can be mashed together into an almost well-rounded person. 

Slav: Voltron Legendary Defender

Not gonna lie, this character bugs the shit outta me. Which is the entire point of Slav, the brilliant, but paranoid and obnoxious as all hell, scientist. He’s not supposed to be deep or thought provoking. 

He just exists to bug the crap out of Shiro and build cool stuff. He doesn’t change. He’s not suddenly brave by the end of the series. He’s still a pain in the ass. 

And that’s all he’ll ever be.

In conclusion, just let characters be flat. Let them fufill their role and nothing else. 

[sueboohscorner]

#StrangerThings3 S3, Ep. 8 "Chapter Eight The Battle Of Starcourt" Season Finale Recap and Review #SPOLIERS #StrangerThings

The season finale of Stranger Things 3 didn't disappoint at all but left some questions and grabbing the tissues. Here's a recap!

As El is in severe pain with a piece of the mind flayer in her injured leg. Johnathan uses a knife to cut it out; but El couldn't take any more of that pain and used her powers to pull it out and threw it where the appearance of Joyce, Murray, and Hopper stomps on the sucker. 

The gang comes up with a plan, the kids run to Murray's place while the grown-ups stop the machine. But they're gonna need someone who knows where to go, which leads to Dustin using his Cerebro to stay connected when Hopper, Joyce, and Murray are down underground.  But just as things going to plan, Billy and the Mind Flayer comes to the mall. 

Hiding from the Mind Flayer, the team split up as El, Mike and Max go one way and the others go to another. Just when Johnathan and Nancy fixed the car; Billy is charging with his to ram but Steve stops him just in time and the rest drives away with the Mind Flayer chasing after them. 

When El, Mike, and Max get outside, they spot Billy and make a run for it. But they couldn't stop Billy and not only took out both Max and Mike but a powerless El and took her in the middle of the mall for the Mind Flayer. 

Just when the Mind Flayer gets back and is about to take El; Nancy, Lucas and the rest us the high power fireworks to hurt the creature. Billy holds on the El but El figures out the key to stop him and bring the real Billy back, memories of his mother. Soon after Billy sacrifice himself to save El and dies. 

As Hopper and Joyce await for Murray to shut down the power; Joyce sets up a date night with Hopper. When Murray shuts down the power, Joyce and Hopper tried to get the keys from the safe but the codes weren't accurate. But that's where Dustin's girlfriend comes into play but before getting the code that they need, Dustin and Suzie must sing their song. They got the code and got the keys and just when they are about to shut down the machine; the biker comes in and they two go at it. 

They fight near the machine; he stops the biker and tosses him into the machine. There Hopper is stuck and Joyce turns both keys and stops the machine that explodes taking not only people that came in, the mind flayer and also Hopper too. 

Just as everything is over, Dr. Owens returns with reinforcements, but it was too damn late. As Joyce reunites with Will, El was looking for Hopper and sees Joyce and knew that he didn't make it. Three months later, Joyce, Johnathan, Will, and El move away but making some emotional and funny moments. El tells Mike that she knows what he said to Max and tells him that she love him too. Dustin gets made fun and Mike and Will not only forgive one another but will not play D&D with anyone else. 

But the hardest scene comes when Joyce found Hopper's speech and El sees her reading. El reads the speech that not only talks about how to grow up and all; but how she has helped him see the light through the darkened tunnel. As soon as she's done reading the message, everyone gives their tearful and laughable goodbyes. 

Steve and Robin get a job at Family Videos, but Steve needed a bit of help from Robin to get the position. Back to the Future is not about a son going back in time to sleep with his mother. 

The episode ends with a mid-credit scene in a Russian prison and two guards who takes someone else to battle with the Demogorgon. But also they have an American too! HOLY SHIT!!!! Could Hopper be alive? Who's the American prison in Russia? 

The season finale was every bit amazing with its intense and emotional writing and performances. The moments that shine with Billy sacrificing himself to Joyce and Hopper and even El, Mike and Joyce. That speech that El reads was literally the tear-jerking moment of the season. I had to grab a coke cola. Not only does Millie Bobby Brown gave a great performance but also Wynona Ryder and David Harbour as well. I do believe that this was the best season finale scene Season One and probably the best season so far. 

Which leads me to my next question: will there be a season four? Netflix has a horrible track record for canceling shows after three seasons. I do believe that Netflix will give Stranger Things a season four and this could be the final season; with what the Duffer Brothers have mentioned about a four-season plan. To all the fans out there, we must keep the renewal hopes alive. 

Overall, I give this episode a 10/10. and the Season a 9.5/10.

You can catch Stranger Things 1, 2 and 3 on Netflix now.

[fordarkisthesuede]

At the Brink of Midnight - Prologue & Chapter 1

Category:  M/M

Rating:  M (subject to change)

Fandoms:  Batman: the Telltale Series, Batman - All Media Types

Summary:

When Bruce receives a distressing call from the institutionalized John Doe, the billionaire-philanthropist is thrust back into the darker side of Arkham Asylum, where his strive for the facility's improvements are null when faced with a new threat from the inside. Bruce swore off Batman after seeing what it did to those he loved - will he have to put the cowl back on to save the day? Or can he do it as Bruce Wayne? 

<Next> <All>

(read on Ao3 or continue below cut:)

Prologue

[You have:  (ONE) new message. First message: ]

Bruce! Buddy! Uh, it's me, John. I-I know you're busy - it's why you haven't come to see me in the past two weeks, probably.

Look, it's-it's okay, Bruce. I get it. It’s water under the bridge…okay? It has to be, because I... I need your help, Bruce.

Please... I need you to trust me on this.

BAM.

I don't have to time to explain-

"Damn it, ram the door!"

Dang it - Crane, Bruce, Jonathan Crane! I thought it was just the meds they put me on at first, but -

CRASH .

Gotta go.

[End of message. There are no more messages.]

Chapter 1:  The Sign Forward

Important Spoiler Warning:  use of slur - f*g (mentioned)

Bruce pulled the phone away from his ear, barely feeling the weight in his palm. The people walking down the hall - past him, towards him, down the corner - seemed to be moving at a snail's pace. There should be sound, from the footsteps on the tile and voices and doors swinging open somewhere, but it was like there was nothing at all in the world but Bruce's breathing and the whispering echo of John's voice in his ear, so close and yet so far away.

The transformation of John's voice from nervous to hurt to rushed and desperate chilled him in the same manner Bruce might discover a body floating in the Gotham River.

His phone buzzed, a reminder for the meeting he had in ten minutes sitting above the display for his voicemail, and sound came rushing back all at once.

The message had lasted thirty seconds, from an unsaved number that Bruce had a feeling registered to the old landline in the hallway of John's floor at Arkham. The echo of the bangs and crashes were probably from the orderlies trying to open the hallway door, which miraculously had gotten stuck - John probably locked it, probably caused a distraction in another room to get their attention for the precious seconds he had to dial and pass the message along, tell him to come help...

Bruce felt heat burn his stomach. He should have picked up when it rang, damn the fact that he'd been in the lavatory and damn the way it looked so like the auto-dialing spam he'd been getting for the past few months. He could have picked it up on the second ring, saved Joker some time -

No. Not Joker. John.

Joker was the vigilante, the persona hung up for good like the bat-cowl of the person he was modeled after.

Bruce felt a light pang in his side where the latest scar sat, a twinge that seemed to come and go at odd intervals. There he was, thinking about John like they were still working together in the cover of that warm night several months ago, where things had gone from good to bad to absolutely terrible, where Bruce had decided that the crusade had to stop. Their partnership had been like a dream, too fast and too short, a taste of something that, with time, could've been wondrous.

It was nothing more than a dream of a dream, now. Batman was retired, Joker with him, and now the both of them were trying desperately to get back to a normal life. John's would just take longer. A lot longer.

The air in the hall seemed stifling all of the sudden. Bruce walked as quickly as he could to his office, tempted to break into a run.

The office was cool and bright, but even as he shut the door behind him and let the air conditioning wash over him, the guilt and anger and worry that bubbled under his skin didn't fade. His eyes automatically went to the chessboard - one moved piece and he could just fire up Lucius' old computer, slip right back into the old ways and try and get one of Tiffany's drones over the asylum as he dug into Arkham's files...

Bruce shook his head.

John needed his help. It just couldn't be Batman that helped him. Bruce was an ordinary civilian now - well, a civilian with more money than was sensible and an unusual drive to fix the city's problems in any way he could, but a civilian nonetheless. He could still look into Arkham, into this Johnathan Crane, before things escalated out of hand.

Bruce tried to concentrate on his breathing. John was intelligent and surprisingly strong; even if he was put into isolation as punishment, John would be alright. He hadn't been hurting himself or causing trouble for a couple of months, anyhow...

Bruce paused, staring at the vent on the ceiling. He had tried to see John every Wednesday at the very least, but two weeks ago he was told that John didn't want any visitors, and Bruce had regretfully let it slide, thinking that their argument a few days prior still weighed on his mind. (It wasn’t improbable, what with his tendency to hold grudges, but it had seemed strange.) Last week John had twice been put under observation for some kind of medical testing, and thus was not allowed to be seen under any circumstances, despite the drastically different times Bruce had shown up.

Each time, though, Bruce was under the impression that John would at least be told about his attempted visits. The young doctor-in-training from last time had given him a sympathetic smile and said as much herself, along with a clumsy attempt at flirtation Bruce had played along with for his image's sake.

The thought that John had been left hurt worse than before because of a misunderstanding like that didn't sit well with Bruce. It made him feel like he’d been hit with a burning punch.

His phone buzzed at him, and Bruce glanced down at the calendar notification with annoyance. It was tempting to blow the meeting off, just make up some excuse and head home so he could start digging as much as his civilian identity would allow, maybe make a phone call to Arkham and see if he could get a word out to John under the guise of looking into the progress on the asylum's improvements he was sponsoring.

He breathed deeply, going back into the hall and telling himself that John would be alright for a little while longer - Wayne Enterprises came first in the day, regardless of whether or not a cowl was involved.

Bruce apologized for his tardiness and sat at the too-long table with the rest of the board, his phone practically burning a hole in his pocket as he tried desperately not to think about flipping the table and running out the door like he was giving chase in amongst the humid smog of Gotham's nights.

As per John's voicemail (which Bruce thought he must have listened to half a dozen times), any spare moment Bruce had at Wayne Tower was spent looking up Jonathan Crane. There was no telling who was trying to keep tabs on his phone, so he resorted to double-hopping on his VPN in a private window.

There were a few Jonathan Cranes in the state, spelling considerations included, but only two stood out - one was several cities away, working as the head of a generic-replacement pharmaceutical company, and the other was working right in Gotham, a former professor of psychology at Gotham University who was added on to the Arkham payroll not long after the incident with Lady Arkham.

While the pharmacist had several photos on the company website and a seemingly normal (if seldom used) Friendbook page and several mentions on the company's Chirper, Professor Crane had no social media accounts whatsoever and only two photos, one of which was a tiny faculty photo obviously used on his university I.D. However, he did have several published articles in psychology journals, the last three dealing with the subjects of treating fear and anxiety and how it manifested, the last two of which had rebuttal articles from other doctors listed.

At least some of his courses were listed on RateTheProf, and while many of the higher-rating students listed him as incredibly knowledgeable, they and the lower-rating students warned about his seemingly abrasive personality from over the years:

(*) queenofdiamonds

creepy know-it-all fag kept giving me ds and didn't allow me to do the extra credit!! he likes ds so much??? he can eat my DICK!!!!

(***) vintage-or-die

I swear his office hours are ridiculously tight. Make sure to arrive to class on time and take REALLY good notes - I missed a day I regretted it ever since, he gets the point across so well that the only way you can really copy it down for yourself is to hear it firsthand... Seriously, record the lectures if you suck at writing, it'll save your life.

(*) BigD@ddyy

Fucker put down my final paper so hard i think it broke my ribs. He thinks he knows everything, he doesn't take two words against anything he talks about. I don't know why GU keeps his emotionless scrawny ass.

(****) itty bitty pumpkin pie

Great teacher, but not very personable; he doesn't talk much out of lectures. Make sure to ask before using your phone to record lectures, he'll kick you out if you don't. Also I SWEAR he uses a cell blocker, I can't get any tower or wifi signal in his classes even if we change rooms...

(****) dank memes only

He kicked me out for taking a picture of him once. He's lucky he's such a smart silver fox or I might have quit right there. Learned loads tho.

(*****) dr. psychosubb

Amazing. He gave me a C on my final but his comments on it were so good I can't be mad, I learned so much!! Also if you like hot stern daddys that's a big plus. Hard to hate a face like that!!

(*****) the-night-falls-hard

Seriously the best teacher I ever had. Pay attention and you'll feel like you could take on anything.

Bruce breathed through his nostrils. Professor Crane was critical, solitary, and stubborn, but he clearly left an impression on those who he came into contact with.

While there wasn't many mentions of the professor in news, he managed to find a letter to the editor in the last psychology journal that Professor Crane contributed an article to, aimed at the rebuttal to his last paper - and Bruce figured by the language that it was Crane lashing back:

My Dear Editors,

I'm surprised that such an acclaimed journal of psychology would sink so low as to publish the distasteful words of the so-called Dr. Strange. His work - if you can even call it that - is pure fantastical speculation when it is organized enough to be decipherable. Not only does he genuinely believe in the concept of telepathy, but he is under the childish delusion that he can devise a way to see thoughts put into visual form as if it were something to be filmed. Tell me:  do you think someone with such an obvious deficiency of realistic thought could provide any kind of counter-argument to any sane research? I don't believe he's sound enough to comment correctly on the weather.

If you continue on with publishing the work of people who earned their doctorates by shelling out thousands of dollars to a fly-by-night online institution, you will lose more than just subscribers with half a brain more than you.

Regards,

A Competent Doctor

Bruce read over the last paragraph twice:  it could be read as either a warning or a legitimate threat, and it was impossible to tell which one it was without even knowing what it was that John suspected Crane of doing. But considering the rebuttal in question was published over a year ago and the editor at the time was still in alive and in charge, at least Bruce could say that Crane didn't have that murder in mind. Dr. Strange, however, had no other work published since, either in Psychology Now or any other reputable magazine.

Naturally, he could find nothing on the current work of the former-Professor Crane in Arkham. That would require a hack of the asylum's systems, and even though Bruce knew Tiffany would be up to the task, he decided against it. He knew it would tempt him to go back to his old habits, and that was strictly a no-go.

He'd have to pay Arkham a visit, see what he could figure out from the inside - and hopefully, talk to John.

A/N:  Here we are, just as I promised! I got super into TellTale’s Batman universe last year, and like many fans, S2E05 hurt so bad and so so good that I immediately wanted more. Before I knew it I was already crafting a potential season 3 storyline! I’ll try to update this weekly, since I already have a lot done and I can’t stop thinking about it! (ღ✪ｖ✪)｡o○

Also I seriously try to put any trigger/squick warnings in the front of chapters. If you need something tagged, please say so!

If you’d like to give kudos or comment (or just read all the story’s tags), my ao3 is here, but I really appreciate feedback in any form! 

[spruce-button]

BRO I JUST WANT TO TALK ABOUT HOW MANY TIMES REX SPECIFICALLY COULD HAVE DIED.

He’s around dinosaurs all the time which includes being around carnivores- the Alpha Gang has a T-Rex and a Spinosaurus.

He got threw out of the time travel space ship thing as a baby. Very low chance of survival and he had a flashback in an episode in front of his best friends big sister.

Dude fell down Niagara Falls and survived cause his dinosaur loves him and his best friend got him down safely.

Seth exists and really doesn’t like Rexes existence

In an episode him and Max had a battle with a Acrocanthosaurus on a Volcano while it was erupting. They didn’t end up getting the card cause Maxes dad is the best anime parent

The D-Team got kidnapped by robots in an episode and was trapped in the Alpha Gangs base

Rex did a move while in the water and I’m surprised that he didn’t die- plot armor :)

In an episode a dinosaur threw fire balls at him and his friends and Johnathan got in front of them and saved them

After finding out that his parents where thrown out of a spaceship by Dr. Z and Seth Rex still risked his life for Dr. Z and jumped on him while the Black T Rex was chasing them

And this is a kids show smh rex should be protected and loved

[hongkongdramas]

Forensic Heroes IV

oh my god... Lemme just say the part which I was very happy about and it was seeing GHONG ZAI!!! Not like he is playing the character ghong zai but seeing Fred Cheng as a familiar face on FH was such a throwback to FH I and II. Making me miss the Spanish background music, Linda Chung and all the funny things going on in FH I and II. 

So I’m till episode 9 and.... it wasn’t going too good in my opinion. Firstly, I don’t know if whether it was because of Rosy Business I and II. Having watch Rosy Business immediately before this FH is a little anti-climatic because I was so used to the fast-paced story line from RB and having start on FH which goes on a case by case (a tradition of FH series) made me feel a little sleepy watching..(Oh and speaking of RB, I thought that the next drama before watching FH is going to be Rosy Business III but nope. Bad casting (Myolie Wu replacing Sheren Tang?! Seriously...?!), super low ratings, bad reviews (from online and people around me who was watching) and story going very slow are the reasons why I decided to throw that out the window and skip it.. Yup..)

I guess one element that they sort of REALLY missed out in FH IV is simply the fun part to FH. Now I take back the part I said about FH III that lost its humorous element to make the entire story lighthearted and fun. FH IV really lost it TOTALLY. I still remember FH I being funny with Madam Leung’s underlings, Ghong Zai having a crush on Ding Ding and we have FH II having the underlings funnily bitching about Madam Ma and those parts they gather and have their friendly banter. FH III still had its fair part of fun such as Amy Chan and Edwin Siu’s toilet moment and Kate Tsui’s awkward relationship with her boss. FH IV really was just about work, work and work. And I was a little bored out looking at them swabbing blood, picking clues, looking cool with sunglasses and 3D scanners etc. The first few times was okay but the more they repeated it for every case was boring for me. They also go super fast about the case and it became a little information overload but I just let it pass because I was losing interest... But anyway, cool technology they have there. Really shows the upgrade in technology from FH I to IV. 

Watched till episode 21 and I realized that I find myself enjoying stories that were related to main cast more than some random cases they had. The drone thingy that wanted to bomb Dr Man was entertaining and now the complicated case with Queen and her friend who betrayed her. The other random cases was just meh and I find myself just trying to get over them just for the sake of trying to finish the drama.

Ended the drama and I was so so glad that it turned out slightly a lil’ better. I am still sticking to my stand on how they lost the humor part of it but by saying it turned out for the better was because of that very last case. I realized that the cases that I enjoyed were the cases that involved “better” and more “famous” (more like well-known) cast. Just like the cases involving the main cast and the very last case (with Sharon Chan, Kelly Cheung and Johnathan Cheung) were more interesting and exciting. I was indeed chasing the last 4 episodes...

As for the pairings... unpopular opinion here so I was skipping the entire part between Selena Lee’s character (Ka-Hei) and... who was that..?! Sorry but that Stan guy was a little turn off... I literally just fast-forwarded their part.. so yahhh. I dunno it just didn’t feel interesting to me for this pairing. Another unpopular opinion for the next pairing by Alice Chan (Queen) and Shaun Tam (King Sir)! Even though I was still not impressed by Shaun Tam, I was excited to see how this pairing would turn out but yet they left it all till the end (or technically the last episode)... I was indeed rooting so much for them. And I see what they did there with that King and Queen naming... Following that was the pairing by Raymond Wong (Ko On) and Yumiko Cheng (Monique)/ Roxanne Tong (Tsui Yi). It was just a simple and normal relationship between Ko On and Monique but I find it seriously abrupt at the end for Ko On and Tsui Yi. There wasn’t much development between these two in terms of personal relationship but yet they just match these two up at the end. Like what..?! Also for Ko Zing and Tsam-Ting.. Abrupt and random.

The ending was o..kay.. because it ended traditionally like how they did it for the first 3. The link between FH and clowns weren’t lost. The cast was......o..kayyyy..... I rarely say this for HK drama because I was usually very impressed with their acting but here.... ermm I don’t know how to put it but I don’t think Raymond Wong was the best candidate for the role.. He had this standard face everytime. Shaun Tam.. same monotonous straight face like in 天命 which I didn’t like his performance there... Selena Li... okayyyy not bad (the crying part for Chau sis)... ughhhhh enough of those average ones but I want to applaud YUKI JEH!!! (from twilight mansion) okay sorry, her name is Akina Hong! Omg I totally liked her acting where she portrayed the delusional friend suffering from some depression. She was totally amazing and really look as if she is going out of her mind. She totally outshone Alice Chan as a main and simply just wow!   

In my opinion, FH IV was the worst out of all the FH. Cases were like... meh. (Seriously, looking at a wound and being able to decipher it from a thermoflask cap and being able to google which actual one was used..?!) But again, still watchable for me... (at least still exciting at the end..)

OH OH OH and i cannot imagine that Tsui Yi which is supposedly to be played by Jacqueline Wong is going to be paired up with Ko On played by Raymond Wong?! No wonder Raymond Wong got annoyed at the entire scandal and that he had to reshoot part of the drama.

[catherindonald]

Holly, Ivy, Mistletoe, and Other Christmas Greens

By Susan Anthony

 Holly, ivy, and mistletoe are common additions to our Christmas decor.  Read on to learn more about the very interesting meanings some of these traditional greens have.

The Romans first, and later the Christians, began to deck their halls with boughs of holly as it was believed to have protective powers.  Dr. Leonard Perry explains the traditional use of greens at Christmas time in his article “Holiday Greens and Their Traditions.” He said, “Holly was often hung on doors to chase away evil spirits, or else to catch them with their prickly leaves.  The Romans also considered holly sacred, a good omen, representing immortality, and sheltering elves and faeries. This latter belief may have come even earlier from the Teutonic tribes to the north.  Romans gave holly as gifts during the festival of Saturnalia– a week-long party based partly on earlier Greek and Egyptian solstice festivals.

The early Christians in Rome decorated their homes with holly as well, and it gradually became a Christmas symbol as Christianity became the main religion.  To the Christians, the holly with its prickly leaves represented the crown of thorns on Jesus, and their red berries the blood he shed.” (Perry, 2019)

Commenting on ivy, Perry said, “The song “The Holly and the Ivy” has its roots in an English tradition from the Middle Ages.  The soft ivy was twined around the more prickly holly in arrangements.  Not only was this for aesthetic purposes, but also the holly symbolized males and the ivy females, and their combination represented a good-natured rivalry between the two.

The use of ivy as a decoration once again dates back to Roman times, when it became associated with Bacchus–the god of good times and revelry.  It symbolized prosperity and charity, and so for early Christians, it was used during Christmas– a time to celebrate good times and to provide for the less fortunate.  If ivy was growing on the outside of houses, it was thought to prevent misfortune.  If it died, though, this was a sign of approaching financial problems.”

Perry goes on to explain that “Mistletoe occupies a fascinating place in the folklore of many early cultures, especially those of northern Europe, Scandinavia, and the British Isles. A botanical curiosity, mistletoe is the only complete plant that is a true parasite, often killing the hardwood tree it infests.  For this reason, it was credited with magical properties by ancient societies and held sacred.”

The Druids associated mistletoe with luck and good fortune and used it in their winter solstice celebrations and ceremonies. One ceremony involved Druid priests climbing into trees, cutting the mistletoe and letting it fall to the people below. If the mistletoe hit the ground, it would bring bad luck. It was believed that catching it would ensure fertility for the animals. One can only imagine the scene below as robe-clad people scurried around to catch the falling mistletoe.

“In ancient Scandinavia, mistletoe was believed to symbolize peace.  If enemies happened to meet under trees with mistletoe, they would disarm and call a truce for the day.  With our images of rough Norse soldiers, this paints an interesting and seemingly unlikely picture!” (Perry, 2019)

Perry states that “Mistletoe also grows in the warmer climates, and was used as medicine by the Native Americans.  Also known as “allheal,” it was used to treat dog bites, toothache and measles.” He goes on to explain where the custom of kissing under mistletoe comes from. “Many believe it is an English custom, which dictates that after each kiss, one of its white berries must be plucked from the bunch and discarded.  When the berries are all gone, the kissing must stop.”  Mistletoe bunches with the most berries must have been eagerly sought after by young men and women.

The custom of kissing under mistletoe dates back much further though, once again to Scandinavian mythology, Dr. Perry claims. “An arrow made of mistletoe killed Balder, the son of Frigga who was the Norse goddess of love.  Her tears, falling on the mistletoe, turned into white berries.  In her sorrow she decreed that mistletoe would never again be used for death, but rather for love. Whomever should stand beneath it should receive a kiss.”

Regarding the use of evergreen branches, Perry says that “It was perhaps during the Victorian era in America that the fir and pine we commonly use today became popular.  These, together with hemlock, yew, bay, and the more historic greens, were made into lavish arrangements.  Another tradition of the 19th century was to use these to form wreaths, stars, and crosses to decorate graves at Christmas.  These greens were later brought home to enjoy through the rest of the winter, just as we do now during the holidays.”

“Rosemary is another plant with extensive holiday traditions, symbolism, and legends. Associated with remembrance, friendship, and fidelity, rosemary was used extensively during the Medieval Period. An altar decorated with rosemary ensured special blessings and protection to the worshipers. Floors of churches and homes were strewn with the herb. The traditional boar’s head for the Christmas feast was decorated with rosemary.” (“Holiday Legends,” 2003)  And there is also the legend that when Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were fleeing Egypt, Mary placed her blue cloak on a rosemary bush and the flowers turned from white to blue.

I hope these stories will add to your enjoyment of the Christmas holidays.

More information about legends surrounding the use of Christmas greens can be found online on these Internet sites:

Briggs, Johnathan. “Mistletoe Legends.” Available at http://mistletoe.org.uk/homewp/index.php/traditions/

“Holiday Legends.” 2003. University of Illinois Extension. Available at https://web.extension.illinois.edu/hortihints/0312c.html

Perry, Leonard. 2019. “Holiday Greens and Their Traditions.” University of Vermont Extension Department of Plant and Soil Science. Available at https://pss.uvm.edu/ppp/articles/greens.html

  Susan Leigh Anthony is a longtime member of the New England Unit of HSA.She runs a garden design business named Doveflower Cottage and is a perennial buyer and expert at Kennedy’s Country Gardens in Scituate, MA.

  Holly, Ivy, Mistletoe, and Other Christmas Greens published first on https://marcuskeever.blogspot.com/

[0netravelsfar2]

Synopsis: Dracula

Wednesday 24th June 2019

Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’ is the story of an Undead Count, who plans to move to England and spread his curse. But after he imprisons his solicitor and takes a young women’s life, their friends come together to destroy Dracula completely.

The Count has his solicitor, Johnathan Harker, stay in his castle and after Johnathan realises his plan and tries to kill him, The Count promises his life to his three UnDead mistresses. Whilst sailing into England he drinks the blood of every man aboard the ship and becomes young and more powerful. Continuing to kill the men in the town he becomes stronger and calls upon his first victim, Lucy Westenra, as she sleepwalks to the top of a cliff. Her friend Mina Murray, Johnathan’s fiancée, chases after her and brings her home discovering minor neck injuries.

News reaches Mina that Johnathan has escaped and is being healed in a church in Transylvania, she leaves immediately and they get married. Unfortunately, whilst Mina is gone she becomes gravely ill and with the help of Dr Van Helsing, Dr Seward, Quincey Morris and her fiancée Arthur Holmwood is given multiple blood transfusions. However, much unsuccessful treatment Lucy dies and Van Helsing understands what she will become. Proving to the other men Lucy is UnDead they visit her tomb, drive and stake through her heart and cut off her head, destroying her completely.

Coming together the group share diary entries and information so that they may create a plan to destroy The Count. Whilst this happens Dracula also attacks Mina and kills his most loyal follower, Renfield, one of Dr Seward’s mental patients. Striking back the men destroy the earth boxes that Dracula needs for survival, forcing him to flea back to Transylvania. However the group do not give up there and in an intense race to the castle manage to stop and destroy Dracula, freeing Mina from his curse.

This fearful story is written as a collection of diary entries. Each chapter gives small parts of information, adding mystery, suspense and fear to Dracula’s character. As well as this, Dracula says the least throughout the book, hiding his perspective from the reader. If Dracula did write his perspective would the reader still view him as the villain?

[twilidramon]

My JoJo (anime) Thoughts

So I got caught up on JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure and finished the Part 4 anime last night, and I just felt like writing down some of my thoughts. I’ve never read the manga so this is purely about the anime. There will be spoilers but I’ll make it as brief as I can!

tl;dr - I liked the series and can’t wait for Part 5, I am now in JoJo Hell

-----

Subbing / Censorship

I just wanted to put a quick, tiny note of this. Obviously with a series like JoJo, where characters are named after pop culture icons/songs, there’s gonna be some censoring of their names. Thankfully, most of these instances were spoiled for me due to the Best Friends’ Eyes of Heaven playthrough, in which they just spew spoilers for all Parts from their mouths like crazy. I don’t really care about spoilers so this wasn’t an issue for me, and it actually helped. My ears were able to pick up on the characters’ real names that weren’t spoiled for me (because I was expecting it) so I was able to autofill them in.

Some of the censored violence bothered me to a degree - it was annoying seeing those black bars everywhere; but most especially in scenes containing nude little boys running around with impunity with no censorship to be seen. Like, what? 

Part 1, Phantom Blood | Part 2, Battle Tendency

Just gonna lump these two together, since they’re pretty much lumped together on Crunchyroll, and I don’t have too much to say on them. 

Phantom Blood was a great introduction to the series, illustrating the conflict between Dio and the Joestars which would last a lifetime. The characters were... good: watching Speedwagon narrate and freak out to Literally Everything was hilarious and Zeppeli was fun, but Johnathan felt flat and very Typical Protagonist - there wasn’t much else that seemingly piqued his interest in the show other than Honor, Erina, and Killing Dio, aside from his majoring in archaeology which barely came up except for the Mask. The fight scenes were gory and great and the show did a good job at showing how frightening of a creature Dio was and became.

Battle Tendency was fun and full of humor, and I really like young Joseph Joestar. The characters were much better this time around imo and the dynamic between Joseph and Caesar was Good Stuff. Also each time Joseph said oh no it gave me a year of my life. Lisa Lisa was badass but I wish we’d gotten to see her actually fight Kars or the other Pillar Men, who were great villains as sort of stand ins for Dio. The final battle felt perilous and exciting, and Caesar’s death (though entirely preventable, because come on Caesar think for two seconds) was heart-tugging. Especially Joseph finding out. I didn’t cry, but that hurt.

I liked both these parts, but I liked Battle Tendency more. I might give Phantom Blood a re-watch, since my boyfriend joined me mid-BT and never saw that Part. We’ll see.

My boyfriend’s favorite joke by the way: “How did Joseph lose his arm? In a Kars accident.”

Part 3, Stardust Crusaders

Okay, so, there’s a bit to say about Stardust Crusaders.

Firstly, the negatives - characterization kind of takes a backseat on Jotaro and Kakyoin, and Avdol for pretty much the entire show. Avdol probably gets this less due to his importance to Iggy, Polnareff, and Old Joseph. But Jotaro being the main character... he doesn’t get much. Which sucks - because Stardust Crusaders ends up feeling more like its about Polnareff than a JoJo at all, until the end that is. Also the villains are more one-note and flavor-of-the-week because there are so many villains. They have to be in and out in the span of an episode or two (or three, in rare cases) because there’s a whole Tarot deck and Egyptian pantheon to get through in the span of ~40 episodes.

This is also the Part where the censoring of both names and gore/violence begins to stack up heavily. Jotaro’s smoking is censored for heck’s sake (just the part where his lips and the cigarette meet, not the whole cigarette) and there’s a scene where Polnareff is being eaten by the clay dolls of his sister and Avdol that is just. Really bad. But baby Polnareff can run around with his bepis hanging out so...????? I don’t know.

But I liked Stardust Crusaders - it’s a really fun globetrotting adventure story of this group of dudes just trying to reach DIO, and a lot of my gripes are tiny in comparison to that. Jotaro doesn’t feel like a main character because he doesn’t get a lot (Kakyoin gets far less, lbr) but when Jotaro does get something, holy shit is he a badass! He can do things!! He’s smart and crafty and kind of an asshole, and he really cares about his grandfather and his mother even though he takes any chance he can get to badmouth them. And his fight with DIO at the end? No other character could have done that - that fight was made for Jotaro and DIO. Literally.

The Stands were interesting to me, because there’s just so much that can be done with them. Every Stand is unique (except Star Platinum and The World, hueh hueh plot stuff) and it felt like a natural transition from Hamon - which returns in this! Old Joseph still uses Hamon, and in conjunction with Hermit Purple at times! The introduction of Stands make for an odd thought when you realize that Joseph had Hermit Purple even in Battle Tendency but, whatever, things get retconned all the time. I’m sure its fine.

Like I said, my gripes on Stardust Crusaders are small and have a lot to do with how the story is structured as a whole. JoJo hasn’t really dealt with this many main characters yet and of course some are going to get shelved, which is why...

Part 4, Diamond is Unbreakable

... Which is why I like Part 4 so much. The animation style has changed to a much smoother look, which helps a lot and the color palettes are weird and crazy and it works. DIO is dead (for good this time, right guys??) and the story focuses on a more compact narrative, in the town of Morioh, the people in it, and how a great big mystery can go unnoticed in a small community if you’re not looking for it.

Our heroes this time are Josuke and his group of friends, which slowly grows as the story goes on. Mainly, it focuses on Josuke, Koichi, Rohan, and Okuyasu (who gets the backseat too much, honestly) - but there are plenty of side characters like Yukako and Jotaro - yes, Jotaro is a side character in this and he’s better for it imo - to use now and then.

The story first focuses on the discovery of the Stand Arrows, and how they give people pierced by them Stands. Josuke and his small crew chase down Red Hot Chili Pepper throughout the town and deal with the Stand users that Okuyasu’s brother created with the Arrow - which sounds a lot like Part 3, right? Well yeah, it does - but there’s something else to it that I really liked. It wasn’t always the main focus of the story to fight the Stand users. There are joke episodes! Episodes where Stand users aren’t even bad guys (Shigechi and Tonio)! And these characters come back - Rohan is one of them, and he’s important in the second half of the Part.

So they defeat Red Hot Chili Pepper and his user and on to part two of DiU - Kira. And boy, is Kira a doozy. His Stand power is a foil to Josuke’s - destruction versus restoration - and he’s just. Good. A really, really good villain. He’s smart and deceptive and Not At All There and he’s good at what he’s doing - and its only when Rohan and Koichi meet Reimi, a ghostly girl killed by Kira and Rohan’s childhood friend, that they even know something is wrong in Morioh in the first place.

So they chase Kira, and they find him after the death of a friend makes the group emboldened. Kira gets away, but the hunt is on. Everyone is looking for signs of Kira, and he gets cornered again, which leads to even more shit. There are more Stand users but this time they’re more disposable, as they’re assassins more than just people hit by circumstance. The final fight of Crazy Diamond versus Killer Queen was great and the Bites the Dust episodes were heart-wrenching to me. 

There’s just a lot that I liked about DiU and I could talk for a while, lol. But I won’t, this is long enough as it is.