#bobby i need you carnally sir

[b0bbynash]

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/1/2021: DRACULA'S DAUGHTER (1936)

Once in a while I pick out a movie about which so much has been said that I feel a little embarrassed pretending I have anything to contribute. DRACULA'S DAUGHTER, Lambert Hillyer's sequel to the 1931 Universal classic, has become essentially synonymous with the concept of the queer-coded villain, and so, many more relevant voices than mine have offered their interpretations of the movie by now. That's your cue to seek out and read any of the many focused LGBT+ considerations of this movie, if that's your bag! Meanwhile...me.

One of the great taglines of all time.

DRACULA'S DAUGHTER picks up directly from the final moments of Tod Browning's DRACULA, with Professor Von Helsing (sic! I assume this had to do with a copyright snafu) coolly explaining to a pair of bumbling bobbies why they've discovered him in the bowels of Carfax Abbey with a freshly staked Count Dracula. As he begins the ordeal of explaining the secrets of the undead to Scotland Yard, the mysterious Countess Marya Zaleska (the glorious Gloria Holden) absconds with the Count's body. A twilight exorcism-by-fire is meant to free her tormented soul from what she calls "the curse of the Draculas", but as her manservant Sandor (Irving Pichel) grimly affirms, it's all for naught. She will have to go on stalking the night...unless she can find a good conversion therapist.

Gloria Holden is unforgettable as the unblinking, self-loathing femme fatale fated to carry on her father's feeding habits. Equal parts Glenn Close and Morticia Addams, she lights up the night with her glittering gaze and hypno-ring, which she uses to seduce and destroy unfortunate souls like Lili (Nan Grey). When Lili agrees to strip for an artist's study of her creamy bust, the Countess drains her of more than her dignity, an indulgence that will be Zaleska's undoing; she turns to smug psychiatrist Dr. Jeffrey Garth (Otto Kruger) for his reputed ability to "release the human mind from any obsession", not realizing that he is already aiding Von Helsing's (Edward Van Sloane) case with Scotland Yard. When Garth is called upon to examine Lili, already having vamps on the brain, he puts two and two together about the guilt-stricken Countess.

Much has been said about Marya Zaleska's apparent craving for female flesh, which is so explicit that it nearly escapes the realm of vampiric metaphor. Her agonized inability to embrace her own outsider nature completes the picture of her queerness, which critic Mark Clark suggests is augmented by Gloria Holden's own ambivalence toward her first starring role. In his book Smirk, Sneer and Scream: Great Acting in Horror Cinema, he remarks, "Her disdain for the part translates into a kind of self-loathing that perfectly suits her troubled character."

But, for my money, just as much of the subtextual heavy lifting is done by the men in DRACULA'S DAUGHTER. By and large, they are either comically impotent, or virulently misogynist, or both, reminding us that the Countess's female troubles are compounded by her disastrously male-dominated environment. Constable Albert (Billy Bevan) sighs and swoons his way through the discovery of Dracula's corpse, and when Dr. Garth most desperately needs help from Scotland Yard, Sir Basil Humphrey (Gilbert Emery) is cocooned in satin sheets sorting out his stamp collection while his long-suffering butler tries to make him take his barley water treatment. Garth himself is a dyed-in-the-wool woman-hater, who we first find on a hunting trip fantasizing about murdering his female patients: "There are a few birds in London I'd like to shoot, and they haven't feathers either!" His ostensibly romantic relationship with his baroness-secretary Janet Blake (Marguerite Churchill) is more hate-hate than love-hate, and her inevitable rescue from the vampire's clutches is more much dryer and chaster than what a distressed damsel can usually expect. Where Bram Stoker's Mina was torn between her earthly love for her fiancé and the supernatural seduction of the vampire, Garth's conflict is between a patient he sees as a prize guinea pig, and a secretary he'd rather shoot to death...but he needs her to tie his necktie for him, something he is not competent to do alone.

DRACULA'S DAUGHTER may not compete with the Lugosi classic, but it has separate virtues that make it worthy on its own terms. Vampire narratives are so often driven by romantic longing, but there is little of that to be found here. Our antiheroine is alienated by her own carnal desires, for which she seeks a shrink rather than a mate, and nothing is to be solved by the power of love, so the creature's eternal loneliness has a different character than what we're used to seeing in these gothic fairytales. That makes of this sequel a much colder dish than expected, and personally, I savor its unique flavor.

If you have not yet done so, you can enjoy this misanthropic monsterpiece right here--and I heartily recommend it:

https://archive.org/details/DraculasDaughter1936

[imascreamerbabymakemeamute]

Her Hunter is Back in Town

DeanxReader

Reader is an secretary in Saint Louis at a high rise downtown, every couple of weeks she returns with a smile on her face.

Inspiration: Cowboy’s Back in Town by Trace Adkins

Tags: @annie-marie94

Her Hunter is Back in Town

Y/N slowly made her way into the office, trudging in her low flats to the elevator. She smooths out her black knee length skirt and brushes the scone crumbles off the ruffles of her blouse with her left hand as the right clutches her coffee cup tightly. Enid holds the elevator for her.

“So there’s an office party for Patty’s retirement, are you coming? It’s at that little diner down the road you love to go to!” Enid asked quickly, before punching the correct floor and the doors slide closed. Y/N thinks about it, and nods slowly, a non-committal expression graces her face for a little longer than three nods before falling flat, as she sips at her still too hot coffee.

The elevator dinged and Enid slipped past her on her way to her desk right there by the elevator on the fifteenth floor. The doors slide closed and the elevator moves up a couple more floors to where the door slides open once more, she stepped out slowly, sipping her still piping hot coffee as she made her way past the balding man that was rounding the corner waving a file in the air. With practiced ease, Y/N plastered on a smile, and grabbed he file.

“Yes, Mr. Moore, I know, I need this typed up, notarized, signed by all parties, and sent in to the Washington office. Coffee was necessary. I’ll have this sent in by the afternoon, I assume the others are on my desk?” the man, Mr. Moore nods, and Y/N sets her coffee down on the coaster on her desk. “Your first meeting is in ten minutes, Sir, and your face is as red as a beet, head to your office and I’ll bring in a nice, cool glass of water as soon as I log my computer on. It’s no use getting upset, Sir, I hardly ever come in late and I never leave early. Cool off,” she made a shoo-ing motion with her hands as she reached to take her light jacket off her shoulders and hang it over the back of her desk chair. She pushed the power button on her tower and headed to the break room to start a pot of coffee for the meeting. She bent over her desk chair and typed in her password with a sigh.

Letting her eyes slip shut flashes of blue shone, her fiance held up by an invisible force, and the glint of a blade. She shook her head quickly and rumpled her shoulder length H/C hair, bringing some of the curls forward as she made her way to the kitchenette again. Getting a couple cubes of ice and pouring some water out of the Brita into the glass before hurrying back out to her desk to nab yesterday’s file off the corner of her desk with things that she finished after Moore had left yesterday to go to his daughter’s softball game. She briskly walked the last few feet to the break in the frosted glass wall into Moore’s office.

“Mr. Moore,” she announced herself as she stood just outside his office, she used an acutely trained eye to notice that his office was covered in a layer of dust that meant that the cleaning crew hadn’t dusted last night, as well as vacuum she realized as her toes crunched over something as she entered the office at the silent beckon; a finger crooked at her. She quickly set the glass down on a coaster and slid it close, but not in the way. She laid the file on a chair before hurrying out of the office and to a small supply closet where she retrieved a dusting rag and a roller from restaurants. She wiped down the desk and close furniture, and as quietly as possible ran the roller over the whole floor before returning as Moore finished his phone call.

“Five minutes until your meeting,” she curtly picking up the file, “I will have to speak with you about these contracts afterword.” She turned on a dime and made it to her desk, opened her emails, and picked up her coffee as a tall man in a suit, with black hair in a short crew cut walked in. She repressed the urge to roll her eyes, the representative came again instead of the president of the company. Moore will not be happy.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” she asked cheerily.

The meeting went as well as it could have, the tall man left in a huff, no deal. The rest of the day was spent as usual, here and there she would get to close her eyes for a second and see those green eyes glint, he would be back this Friday.

Shaking her head she would move on with her day, sipping coffee and then hot tea throughout the day, staying later than everyone else to get ready for the next day until Friday.

“It’s my weekend, Ms. Webb,” Y/N smiled.

“But what do you do? I’ve never seen you with anyone else,” Ms. Webb asked accusingly, she was an elderly woman, looking for a good woman to give her son away to. She means well, but when Y/N blinks that smirk lights up her world.

“I’m fine, I don’t need anyone else,” Y/N sighs, not out of boredom as Ms. Webb assumes, but out of memory of how he loves her. Friday, her inner monologue chants, Friday.

Years ago when he started stopping by, it was less frequent, it wasn’t this every other week, it was when jobs pulled him close enough to Saint Louis. Then it was every time he was in a fifty miles, a hundred, and soon enough he started coming every other weekend. Things have been working out well, he shows up, there are things that happen that no-one would understand, there are things that are of a more carnal intention, and then he would leave, pull that sleek black car away from the curb and be gone for another couple weeks.

Then he started talking, sometimes it was easy; he had a brother, Sammy, he was always so worried about him, and about this father figure Bobby, how he was better than his real father. But Bobby died, and that hit him hard, then Sammy was coming and going, and there was this Cas in there too. Apparently there were some trust issues all around.

Then, he said he had found a home, a bunker, where he and Sammy lived, and he wanted to move into it. He wanted to take her with him. Kansas was so far away, but it’s harder knowing he’s so far away for weeks.

Friday.

Friday.

Tomorrow.

The morning came and went, slowly Y/N’s mood became better and better. By the time she finished her work, and got home, there was a sleek, black, four-door in the parking lot. Her apartment lights were on, and a window open. A small smile spread and broke into a large grin, spreading her bright red lipstick, that he absolutely loved, around pearly white teeth.

Walking into her apartment she was greeted by the smell of home cooking and the sound of low classic rock pumping out of old speaker system that he had to drag out of the closet every weekend. Soon enough his low tenor rang out around the apartment, singing along with the song, Ready For Love by Bad Company. Y/N shuts the door and he turns around quickly, spatula in hand, a look of fear passes over his perfect features before it softens up considerably and he lowers his spatula, setting it down aimlessly on the counter.  Rushing toward her he scoops her up, lacing his fingers under her ass, she places her hands on his shoulders as she rides to her counters where she placed primly. Leaning forward she captures his face in her hands, kisses are pressed all over his face, before finally settling on his plump, pink lips. Soon enough, he sweeps his tongue across her lips and she opens her mouth, inviting him in with a quick lick of her own.

Dinner almost forgotten he pulls away slowly, his hands which were on her hips drag down her thighs before he picks up the spatula and begins again with his task. Y/N scoots off the counter and slips into her bedroom to shower and change for the night, a pair of yoga pants and one of his old tees ought to do just fine tonight, not that she would stay in it long after dinner anyway. Sitting at the small table against the wall, she propped on leg up on the chair with her and watched as he cooked for her. Pulling food and utensils from their proper places he flitted around her small kitchen, tasting here and there and bringing her spoonfuls to taste. When dinner was finally ready, he brought it over.

“So, Y/N, have you thought about it?” he spoke suddenly, staring at her with those pure green eyes that she dreamed about.

“Hm? Thought about what?” she asked innocently, flicking her E/C eyes up him, locking his gaze. He licks his lips to get the pasta sauce off before speaking.

“About leaving, come back with me, to the bunker.”

“You know I have a job and life here, in Saint Louis! And you and Sam travel the country, hunting monsters, it’s no fair for me to live with you all and crash the party.”

“I drive seven hours every other week to come see you. I could just roll over in bed every morning,” he says the last bit quietly, reaching across the small table to lay his hand on hers.

“I know, I know, but I would need to turn in my time sheet, tell them I’m leaving, and pack my desk. I would have to sell my apartment, and all my stuff. It will take months to get it all sorted out. I can’t come with you this time.”

She looks away from those piercing green eyes and pulls her hand out from under his only to lay it back on top and grip his hand tight. Dinner is finished in almost silence, the sound of forks scraping the glass plates, and glasses clinking on the tabletop are the only sounds in the room. With dinner finished and a somber mood to boot, the lovers gravitate to the living area, where the couch is plush and inviting for some cuddling.

Television forgotten in the background, hungry lips devouring the others, and hands skimming under each others shirts; feeling hard muscle under polished fingertip she clutches tightly, digging in slightly. He whispers in her ear, low and sultry, but not what anyone would have expected from the passionate forms on the couch.

“Djinn, Omaha, Nebraska. Three days ago. Sammy, he shot it, right through the head,” his voice breathy as she nipped at his neck with her teeth.

“Webb, company luncheon, five hours ago. Tried to set me up with her son again,” she whispered in his mouth. Licking his lips with the very tip of hers and he chuckled, “Little does that old hag know..” she trails off slow with a little giggle.

“Haunting, Reno, Nevada, last Tuesday. Caught the little bastard with a right hook with skeleton key ring instead of brass knuckles while Sam did a salt and burn of the doll.”

“Big Pharma Rep, last Wednesday. Grabbed my ass,” she whispered, her hand slid down his arm and brought it to her plump ass, he gripped it tight, digging in and pushing up with his hips. “Asked if I needed a new Daddy. Took all I had not to wink and tell him I had one,” she cut off her sentence with a low and throaty moan as he pushed his arousal up into her own.

“Cursed object, a pair of kitchen shears in Austin, Texas. The damn things reanimated the food they cut up. Took a sledgehammer to the blades that one did,” he groaned as his hands travelled down her sides to the top of her yoga pants to tug at the stretchy fabric, “I burned it myself, crazy grandma used it to cut up a chicken, scared Sammy shitless.” He finally gave up trying to pull the fabric away and made a dive with his right hand down the front of her pants slipping beneath her panties in one swoop.

“Wish I had seen that,” she groans, sliding her hands up under his shirt, nails skimming over hard muscles and smoothing over taught pectorals, pushing the shirt up as she goes. She then drags her nails down the taut stomach, bumping into the button of his jeans, holding herself up on her knees straddling his hips. Rolling her hips a touch she grappled with the button furiously, with Dean’s arm in the way and her precarious perch on the couch. Leaning forward he pushed her onto her back, circling her clit quickly as he gently sits her back against the other arm, her yoga pants bunching under his hand. The quick breaths she panted out reverberated around the room, as one hand reached for remote, mashing buttons until the machine clicked off.

“Good Girl,” he praised her and as a reward he surged forward, kissing her lips. A mashing of teeth and lips ensued as he viciously rubbed her little nub, knowing full well that wasn’t anywhere enough to get her off.

“Bed,” she begged,  her breath coming hard and fast now as he smirked down at her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, diving into his mouth again, as his fingers left her core to grab her ass tight, lifting her up and responding in kind with the rough kisses. He found the bedroom with little issue, as he had every other time he stayed in the last few years. He flung her down with a predatory glance, his hands flew to his jeans as he unclasped them and shoved them and his briefs down in one swoop. Y/N copies his movements, pulling off his shirt over her head, and yanks down her yoga pants. Her panties and bra still in place although a bit askew.

He pulls his shirt off over his head and tosses it toward the pile of clothes in the corner. She backs up on the bed, to sit in the middle, he follows, crawling up to her core before blowing hot air on the wet spot forming in the panties. She pressed her fingers back through his soft as butter hair, running her fingers through it over and over as he laved up and down the outside of the panties. Her heels digging into the fluffy comforter, and nails digging into this scalp; only egging him on more. One of his hands slid up and pushed aside her panties, delving into her core as she ground down into his face, his nose bumping and pressing into her clit, blowing twin jets of hot air down her lips.

Suddenly, as she begins to clench more and more, he pulls away. Wiping the wetness from his lips and nose with his hand before wiping it on her mid section. A low and throaty moan of desperation escapes her, as he climbs up her high strung frame. Thumbing the edge of her panties he gives a little tug. With a shimmy of her hips and a little more tugging they are low enough that she can kick them off without any more assistance and sees them arc through the air behind him. He falls to his elbows and worships the edge of her bra, his hands wiggling behind her, pushing and pulling at the fabric until the front goes slack, he pulls there and there, before nipping the edge and pulling one cup down enough to tease the swell of her breast. Sucking, nipping, and tugging on her hardened nipple while his hands come back to pull the fabric from the other side. With a flick of his well trained wrist, he launched it across the room aimed at my laundry basket. After a very thorough teasing of every little ticklish or pleasurable spot on her body he slides home. Filling her completely in ways that she can’t remember from this time to the next.

“So good, so beautiful, so tight, Y/N,” he groaned out between thrusts. Quickly coming to his completion and circling her clit again with his thumb as he finished mere moments from her own completion.

“You drug that out longer than usual,” she breathes once her racing heart slows.

“I had to leave early last time, had to make up for lost time,” he says cooly.

She rolled to face him, snuggling close, totally prepared for next several hours of various positions and speeds; but for right now she focused on how his heart slowed to a normal beat, how his breathing slowly evened out, and how his hot skin cooled but would heat right back up when she touched it.

As she drifted on the precipice of sleep a rumble from the chest underneath her ear brought her attention back.

“Hmm?” She asked as she sat up, leaning on one arm, looking up at him.

“I said I love you, Y/N.”

~~Two Weeks Later~~

Y/N peeked out the apartment window, her bags were sitting on the counter, nothing left in the apartment except what was there when she moved in. She had broke down and given up on her hopes of staying at her job, things were too crazy, and she didn’t have the heart anymore.

Her front door opened up and the look of fear that graced his face for the second it took for him to realize where she was was absolutely priceless. His eyes raked over the whole apartment before settling on her sitting on the counter by the stove. She was dressed in an old shirt of his and one of his stolen flannels with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of dirty jeans from helping him with Baby, and her old cowboy boots from her days as a farm hand in college.

“What did you do?” He asked as he surged into the apartment to press her up against the cabinetry and kiss her.

“I sold it, I sold it all. I have cleaners and painters coming tomorrow, the apartment has been sold to my replacement. As has the car. It’s just me and my duffels,” she said between kisses and gasping moans

“I love you, Y/F/N Y/L/N. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Dean Winchester.”