#no victim blaming lucy

[picklepie888]

Just got finished watching Count Dracula (1977).

[dathen]

For new readers wondering when we’ll get the iconic scene of Dracula sensually drinking from Lucy or carrying her bridal-style: we won’t. It doesn’t exist. The most contact we see is a shadow standing behind her or a large bird at the window. The book doesn’t sexualize Lucy and Dracula’s encounters at all (ironically, in contrast to his encounters with Jonathan).

We know he is feeding on her—like a leech, like an infection, but everything beyond that is in the mind of the beholder. She’s a woman and a victim, therefore Stoker must be punishing her for her sexuality, therefore she must be responsible for her own pain, therefore we gotta make it Hot.

[fandomshatepeopleofcolor]

Coriolanus Snow is portrayed by a white man and Lucy Gray is played by a woman of colour and Romani coded, so guess what the hot takes are:

Lucy is an evil seductress who manipulated Snow.

It’s Lucy’s fault Snow turned evil, she abandoned him.

Snow was the real victim because he felt bad sometimes, Lucy never did.

Lucy deserves to die for hurting Snow’s feelings.

It actually makes me grateful Katniss was played by a white woman, Lord only knows what awful takes we’d be getting if Shay Mitchell had been cast instead.

ugh I was hoping to avoid the tags (I wasn't going to see the movie in theaters but my family does but I don't think we'll see it until xmas eve) but I guess since Rachel is getting racist hate I should start calling this out.

but just a few things

I knew this was going to be a shitshow based on reading the book alone.

I'm not sure where you're getting that Lucy is Romani coded? Is that coming from Collins?

Coriolanus snow was literally a conniving manipulater/murderer how is this Lucy's fault? (again based on the book).

Not sure where you're getting that Shay Mitchell should have been Katniss (don't get me wrong I love shay she's the main reason I watched so much of pll but like... this fancasting is news to me).

mod ali

[local-redhead-bookworm]

Reading academic essays on Dracula will really expose you to some of the worst literary takes known to man

[fideidefenswhore]

Henry VII had been severely shaken by the death of his eldest son, and even more by the death of his wife in 1503. His third son Edmund had already died, aged 16 months, in 1500. It was at this time that Henry's mounting anxieties led him to impose increasing restrictions on some of his subjects, largely through the use of the system of large suspended fines known as bonds and recognizances. The escalation in his use of these from 1502 onwards suggests a man increasingly apprehensive about security. After Henry VII died, his minister Dudley produced a great list of the unjust exactions he had helped perpetrate in a bid to right some of the wrongs done in this way and secure 'relief for the dead king's soul.'

Henry VIII, Lucy Wooding

[kaiserin-erzsebet]

These tags are exactly why I think it has more to do with Jonathan than the Count. It isn't just that people imagine Dracula to be very sexy and irresistible because of how other media portrays vampires (or that Bela Lugosi set a standard of casting attractive men as Dracula).

Other media practically bends over backwards to have her with anyone but Jonathan too. It feels like it comes down to a shared sense among people adapting the story that Jonathan is either weak or boring or both because he is traumatized.

Honestly, most of my ire towards adaptations comes from how wonderful it would be to see the love Jonathan has in the book as a man with PTSD on a screen or a stage. But it feels like there is a very stubborn refusal to do that.

I was going to try to write an analysis of this entry like I did last year, but I honestly think it comes down to this:

It is very romantic and intimate to trust someone with trauma and have that person prove that they understand the gravity and can be trusted with it. I think that's what Mina's gift really exemplifies.

And also every adaptation that decides to have her fall in love with Dracula and seem to regret marrying Jonathan owes me an explanation on why they think disabled, traumatized people aren't worthy of love and romance.

[snowsinterlude]

overprotective, lovesick, deranged.

(yandere coriolanus x reader)

summary: your ex boyfriend couldn't seem to let you go.

if i can't have you, no one can.

trigger.warning: yandere coriolanus, obslove (obsessive love), stockholm syndrome, drugging (no its not for sexual purposes), pregnancy, marriage, horror, depictions to murder (explicit), dubcon, p in v, cockwarming, extremely toxic behavior, unhinged coriolanus, this fanfic contains extreme toxic behavior and too much blood, if uncomfortable with that content, please, don't read it.

"This might get a little messy, I'm sure.

Heads rolling for the one I adore

This may become a little brutal if I'm honest

But it's any-anything for you my dear, I promise"

overprotective.

coriolanus snow was a man of ambition; one of those who won't quiet down until the moment he had what he wanted. this was something that happened to the women he got involved with too.

lucy gray baird was one of those. the moment your now ex-boyfriend was sent to district 12 you could tell something was wrong. you could not care less, though. he wasn't your boyfriend anymore and in your most honest opinion it was something good.

when he came back you were with a different man; one named valentine, who stayed with you when you saw coriolanus kissing lucy gray. who comforted you during this time and who hugged you everynight when the thunders during rain times echoed so hard that made you feel like being killed by one of those.

valentine, who's head was decapitated in front of you.

coriolanus, who was smiling to you as he opened the 'gift' he had prepared to you.

you, who couldn't help but throw up at the sight of your dead boyfriend. you, who passed out by the sick sight of his decapitated head, his eyes opened by strings of a red line, needled carelessly. the same eyes who used to look at you with so much affection and love, now weren't looking at you at all.

when you woke up, your hands were tightly wrapped up in a tight knot that he learned to do as a peacekeeper. strung up reasons.

"good morning, my love." he smiled, kissing your forehead. you were still in the kitchen, dressed in a white dress, you didn't remember putting it on. you didn't like the fabric nor the color of white- it would always get stained too easily. "you finally woke up."

you didn't had to think much to know that what happened wasn't a dream. it was real. he killed your boyfriend.

you opened your mouth, and the scream you left was enough for him to slap you across the face. once you begun to cry, he kneeled in front of you, hands cupping your face as you shaked.

"it's okay baby, snow's here for you,"" he kissed your face, making you melt into crying as hard as you could, sob after sob making your doll heart heavy. "remember you used to call me snowflake?" he asked, and you nodded cowardly, afraid of saying anything that might make him furious. "i'm still your snowflake."

and he hugged you, caressing your scalp as you ugly cried in front of him, but to him, you would never look ugly.

lovesick.

with your face pressed against the mattress, you stared at the gigantic mirror that covered an entire wall, watching yourself.

it's been three months since valentine died, and two months since snow untied you, carried you like a princess bride and bathed you, always murmuring the waltz that played when you both met.

maybe it wasn't so bad after all. he took extra care of you, never slapped you again- it was a relapse. he took care of the red slap mark in your cheek, apploed ointment on you everyday, prepared your favorite meals and left you to your own peace, let you mourn the death of that pathetic boy you decided to date.

it wasn't his fault, right? no- it was. why the hell were you thinking that the victim was the one to put to blame for their own death? are you dumb?

well, you aren't- but you're starting to become.

why were you smiling at him as he showed you the dress he brought you? why did your heart flutter when he made you desserts? c'mon now, he killed your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend?

he wasn't there to protect you now, was he? why would he be important in anyway? of course, he was the sweetest to you, never questioned when you moaned coryo's name instead of his, he knew how hard it was to you.

for fucks sakes, what were you doing? what were you thinking?

coriolanus entered the room he made to you after three knocks, a tray with golden white details on his hand, with two toasts, less than a dozen pancakes that he knew you liked, a cup of strawberry juice and a small bow of green grapes.

once you ate at least half of it and drink the juice, he was by your side, caressing your hair.

"bunny?" he called, taking you off your own state of blankness.

"yes?"

"do you hate me?" you wanted to say yes. wanted to spit on his face for asking such a dumb question after holding you hostage and killing your boyfriend, you truly wanted to.

but you didn’t. "no," and maybe you didn't hated him at all. maybe that juice with the truth-telling pill didn't had much of an effect on you

"hm." he hummed, lips curling into the pretty smile he had. "it's good to know that."

he put the tray aside, laying by your side. why have you been laying like a sick woman at it's death bed? ah. yeah, he didn’t liked the idea of you going away, he said he didn’t want you to leave him. how cute.

you smiled at the thought. then you had to gather all the senses you had left to scold yourself.

it didn't last long though, the moment his hands found your hips and started grinding on you, you felt aroused. you shouldn't be, this was the man that killed your boyfriend. this was the man who slapped you. this was the man who didn't let you go around the house with the excuse that he didn’t want you to leave him.

but of course, your cunt didn't had the same thought that you did. so, by the amount of teasing and the way his soft, slender fingers found your clit almost immediatly, you couldn't help but moan and grind back, feeling as if you were humiliating yourself.

"s-stop that, coryo. please." you said. "i'm still mourning valentine's death-"

"i'm sorry, dove, but your pussy doesn't seem to agree with that." and he rolled your nightgown up, pulled his pants down and finally his dick was grinding against your wetness, the tip teasing your clit as he didn’t went inside, why he wasn't going inside? you needed him in.

your breath hitched at the thought, your hand gripping the sheets as he slowly thrusted, but never inside of you.

"tell me, dove, do you want it in?" he asked, his index finger teasing your clit.

"n..no, i-i don't-" he chuckled at your own lies, you felt like laughing too, the exact moment he kissed your shoulder you had to close your own lips, aware that you would end up smiling at him.

"i don't think you don't want it. tell me, baby, what do you want exactly?"

your breath hitched, you could feel how harder your nipples were compared to before. you shouldn't be wanting this. and you knew that. but you loved him so much.

"y-you. please, i'm sorry, coryo." what were you sorry about? you didn't do anything wrong other than mourn and cry.

"you're forgiven, baby. now, just let me enter you, okay?" you nodded. you were pathetic, that nod was pathetic, looking at you in the mirror was pathetic, seeing how you surrendered so easily to his touch was pathetic- the fact that you were ovulating was pathetic. the fact he knew you were fertile was psychotic, and mostly pathetic cause it was you who let him know about it when you were both dating.

you slurred a long and low moan out of your mouth, your eyes closed shut the second your walls were slowly stretched by his dick, it wasn't as painful as the first time, but you felt like being ripped apart.

dubiously, you let his dick kiss your uterus like never before. you felt so ridiculous when his dick went further into you, when your warm walls squeezed his dick into you, when your pussy felt like gushing and you cockwarmed him with pleasure, and you fucked him back, moving your hips almost like you didn't want him to see you moving.

"you would look so good pregnant, don't you think, baby?" he asked, his hand going upwards and abandoning your clit to pass on your belly. "you'd be so pretty. more than you are already"

you shook your head, panic taking over you.

"p-please, coryo. don't do it, not inside, please. not inside" of course, he didn’t even cared about your mewls, thrusting harder into you, earning a bunch of moans out of your mouth, your voice echoing as he spread your legs and made you look into the mirror to see the mess you were.

your boobs bouncing out of your nightdress, your pussy beautifully welcoming his dick inside your cunt, his balls slapping against your clit due to the pose, and the more you concentreated on the pleasure, you were closer to cumming.

"yeah, keep squeezing me like that, dove" he said into your year, sucking on your neck. you moaned as an answer "i'm gonna fuck my baby's into you."

you squeezed him too tightly, your pussy gushing around him before finally cumming. too good, too good. were all that you could think of.

"such a pretty girl, baby. you will be such a good mom." he said, finally cumming inside of you, the hot seed flowing inside you and leaking a bit.

you turned to see his face, recieving a kiss that you promptly deepened.

you were doomed.

deranged.

his grandma'am was the one to acompany you to the altar. the entire panem was there or outside waiting to see the marriage of the new president snow.

you smiled at him under the veil, your swollen round belly being the one that claimed attention more than anything. you were in fact a beautiful mom, carrying his twin girls in your heart and stomach.

you still loved him after all, who would know?

not even him expected you to say yes, not in the marriage, not at the proposal, and not at any other situation, specially when he was impregnating you.

"do you, mr. snow, accept mrs. y/n as your wife?" the priest asked, a sweet smile on his elderly lips.

"i do."

"and you, mrs. y/n, accept mr. snow as your husband?" he asked to you, and you smiled, cherry lipstick covering your lips.

"i do."

you caved your own grave, and you knew it. but if you died, you would take him with you.

that's what love is about.

[xxchumanixx]

heyy love, could you do a tim bradford x fem reader (she is a officer) where they are married and he is totally whipped for her like he does everything she asked him without hesitance.

like one time (this take place when lucy just had become his rookie not a long time ago) for some reason tim, lucy and reader were patrolling together (lucy or reader was sitting in the backseat of the patrol car) and tim was being kinda harsh on lucy like he always is, so reader told him to be nice and scold him. lucy was trying told back her laugh the whole time.

hope this makes sense 😭

Nice for a price

Tim Bradford x wife!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, Tim being grumpy Word count: 482 Authors note: Hey love, thanks for the request! I really like the idea and I hope you'll like how I wrote it. I'm sorry that it's a little short, but I'm a little sick at the moment and I really did my best.

Enjoy!

Sitting in the back of the shop was... weird, to say the least. But Grey had asked you to accompany Tim and his rookie, Lucy, so you didn't have another choice.

Tim was his usual grumpyness, an attitude that you hated. When you were alone together, at home, he was different, like he was another person.

He would be all fluff and cuddles, doing everything you wanted - you just had to ask. Not that you would have let him do everything, but he would have done it without asking questions.

Now, telling Lucy that she should listen more carefully and not frivolously promise a victim to find the bags that had been stolen from her car - a crime that had a solving rate from 0.2% - his voice rose.

"You can't just tell them that you'll find their belongings!" he told her harshly, all the while looking at the street. "To promise a victim something means that they'll be even more disappointed when you can't actually solve the crime, causing them to blame us for it!"

Rolling your eyes you sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest.

You knew how he was with his rookies - hell you'd been his rookie at some point as well - but that didn't mean that you liked his attitude towards them.

"If you-" he wanted to continue, but you cut him off.

"Tim." you warned him, looking at him through the rear view mirror. "What?" he gave back, brows furrowed, as Lucy followed your interaction with great interest.

Giving him a pointed look you crossed your arms above your chest. "She's new, she can't know everything that we do." you told him, brows furrowing as well.

"Maybe, but she has to eventually learn It!" he gave back, shaking his head. "Yes, but you can't expect her not to make mistakes during her first days. So be nice and tell her nicely, to not promise something to a victim and you might get a price for it."

That you meant yourself - naked - as a price, you kept to yourself, even though you knew that he knew what you meant.

Lucy smirked, biting her lip to hold it back, though.

Rolling his eyes Tim huffed and you hit him through the seat. "Ouch!" he made, looking back at you in anger, though it slowly faded at the look you gave him.

"Okay, okay!" he gave in, shooting Lucy a look as she snickered. Covering it up as a cough she tried to avoid another speach.

"But I want my price."

Biting your lip you shook your head at him.

You could see how hard it was for Lucy to hold back the laugh that bubbled up, when Tim looked back at the street.

Smiling you looked out the window, silently laughing to yourself.

You just had to push him a little sometimes.

[teenmaximoff]

Inspired by @piratefalls ‘s post

Buck attempts to shift himself onto his stomach to sneak in ten more minutes of sleep before he needs to shower and get ready for work, but he’s pinned to the bed by an arm splayed across his chest. The muscley arm of his boyfriend. Just thinking about that word causes Buck’s insides to flip. He has a boyfriend. A big, strong, beast of a boyfriend – who looks like a vision as he softly snores next to him.

Buck and Tommy were at the same apartment fire downtown last night. Half of LA’s stations were there. It took all that combined manpower to finally put out the fire that had spread to all twenty floors of the building. Buck didn’t even have time to quickly meet up with Tommy and tell him how hot he looked landing the chopper on a flame-engulfed rooftop. All he could do was wave as he flew away and deal with the (not so) gentle ribbing of his team making whip sounds at him.

A little bit after the fire was put out, the 118 were dispatched to another call. They didn’t need as many stations there for the cleanup and triage. As they were driving away, he saw Lucy loading another victim into the back of Tommy’s chopper – his third trip back from Presbyterian. He ended up making another two before the end of his shift.

Buck’s shift ended first. He changed and went to Tommy’s to surprise him with dinner after a long and exhausting shift. As of late, Buck has been staying at Tommy’s more than going home to the loft. Even though it’s a longer drive to the 118, nothing beats getting to wake up next to (or entangled with) his boyfriend.

Buck wanted to stay up and wait for Tommy, but he was exhausted himself and ended up passing out hours before Tommy got home. Around midnight, Tommy buried his face into Buck’s neck, apologizing for waking him up – not like he had to. Buck will always savor every second he gets with his boyfriend. With the man he’s fallen for.

Tommy was misty-eyed as he recalled his last transfer. They didn’t get to the hospital in time. The patient, a college student, succumbed to her injuries minutes before they landed. Lucy tried to perform compressions, but there was no use – she was gone.

It’s part of the job. Both have lost plenty of people with the LAFD. Doesn’t make it any easier. One of the perks of dating another first responder is having someone who knows exactly what it feels like. The regret, the blame, the what ifs – Buck’s been there. Been there more times than he can count.

So even when his muscles were steeped in exhaustion and he had an early shift the next morning, Buck gave Tommy what he needed. He held him down and sank into him, fucking him slowly and reverently until his mind was clouded with only thoughts of him and their shared connection. He showered him in praise, worshiped every patch of skin he could reach and reminded him of all the good he’s done. How he’s worthy of the pleasure he’s giving him. How loved he is.

It’s an act of service that Buck is usually on the other end of. He’s more likely to bring home the trauma of work – he’s over-emotional, he’s too much at times, he’s exhausting – yet time and time again, Tommy takes care of him. The least he could do was return the favor last night.

Buck watches Tommy sleep for a few minutes. He’s beautiful, a work of art unlike Buck’s ever seen before. His chiseled muscles and cleft chin are so handsome, so masculine – it takes his breath away watching him. Sometimes Buck feels like he needs to pinch himself. He still can’t believe this side of himself was hidden away for so long. How he couldn’t see who he was after years of searching for it. But, if he came out before, who knows if he would have met Tommy? Who knows if he would have happiness like he’s found with his boyfriend? He’s right where he’s meant to be, when he’s supposed to be.

Buck turns his alarm off before it wakes Tommy. He kisses the top of his head and slides out from under his (beefy) grip to start getting ready for work. He does his morning routine, basking in the smell of Tommy’s shampoo and soap on his skin. He’s never going back to his old brand. Not when he can have Tommy’s signature cedar scent on him all day, reminding him who he’s going home to at the end of his shift. He throws on one of Tommy’s hoodies (for the same reason) and a pair of dark jeans.

When Buck makes it back to the bedroom, Tommy is still fast asleep – snoring louder now that his mouth isn’t muffled by Buck’s neck. He kneels on the bed and lays a quick kiss to Tommy’s bare shoulder. He really wants a proper goodbye kiss before work, but he’d rather let his boyfriend sleep.

But then Tommy turns over on his side, pulling Buck into a patented Thomas Kinard bear hug. “C’mere.” He grumbles, barely awake. His eyes are still closed.

“Babe, I have work.” He whispers into Tommy’s jaw. Tommy’s lucky enough to have today off. “I’m coming over later.”

“You’ll be coming alright.” He smirks, still in a sleepy daze.

“Okay old man.” Buck laughs, prying himself from his boyfriend’s grasp. He kisses Tommy again, this time on the lips. “Get some rest so I can hold you to that…” He can’t help it - He kisses him again, this time lingering for a few seconds.

“Mmm hmm.” He burrows his face further into the pillow, falling back asleep. Buck stands up and checks his watch, seeing he’s officially running late. Great. “Stay safe, love you.”

Buck freezes. He turns back to see Tommy is out. “Babe?” He questions. He doesn’t get a response. He’s not sure if Tommy was even awake when he said it. But he definitely said it. Said that all important four-letter word. A word they had yet to say to each other. Until now.

All Buck can think about is another four-letter word - Fuck.

[treespen]

When Westenra questions why she can’t marry more than one man in a letter to Mina Murray near the start of the novel, it makes her fit into being seen as a Pandora figure. In Greek mythology Pandora was the first woman to be created by the gods, and was a part of the punishment of humanity.

I fail to see the connection.

In context, which actually is important, Lucy says that in order to show how much she hates making people disappointed and sad. The narrative does not show this as being lustful.

If there is a Pandora figure at all that would be Mina Harker, the character who chooses to break Jonathan Harker journal's forbidden seal and to read it.

And it's shown to be a GOOD thing.

This can fit into the character of Lucy Westenra because at first she is in a state of plenty and ease only to later become into a state of suffering and death, by her own doing.

"By her own doing?" How is Dracula drinking her blood by force "her own doing"? Why is there victim blaming that is nowhere to be found in the text?

Westenra going against patriarchal norms is an immediate need for correction, it is something that the readers have to expect to happen throughout the novel.

How, exactly, in the text, does Lucy Westenra "go against patriarchal norms"?

The exact opposite is true: Lucy conforms REALLY well. By staying silent about her illness not to bother mother and fiance, by her own admittance.

And silence and isolation are constantly what aid Dracula throughout the novel. Until they all decide to never keep anyone (especially women) in the dark again. The characters get punished when they are being too conforming to patriarchal norms.

This scene as a whole is a gothic version of a biblical reference, Westenra violates sexual and social ideas and therefore has to be saved.

Which Biblical reference? Because Mary Magdalene never seduced anyone. Vampire Lucy was attacking children and drinking their blood, the favorite of vampires. Those children were going to turn into vampires if they didn't kill her, just like why they had to kill Dracula after he bit Mina later.

When Westenra is impaled she is ultimately saved and Dracula becomes more of a heroic novel than a horror, she is saved in the sense that she had been resorted to her original beauty and had become silenced, which is more emphasised by the fact that her mouth has been stuffed with garlic, it is to make sure she can never speak again.

Staking a vampire, cutting the head off, and stuffing it with garlic is the only way to destroy a vampire in eastern european folklore, which is what Van Helsing follows. Garlic stuffing is what they would have done for Dracula too if he hadn't dissolved into dust due to being centuries old. The garlic is to never rise again, not to never speak again.

Lucy didn't even speak unless spoken to in life, most of the time. Because she was a proper Victorian girl.

If there is a woman who speaks a lot and is consistently opinionated till the end, that is, again, Mina.

Vampire Lucy's staking and beheading is seen as a tragedy, not a heroic triumph. The reactions of the characters who did it to save her soul and the children she bit is mourning and pain.

A Critical Appreciation of Lucy Westenra

The character of Lucy Westenra as a whole can be regarded first as a part of the ‘femme fatale’, in the view that she falls away from patriarchal norms, and is first seen when she states in a letter ‘why can’t they let a girl marry three men’ this shows that her character must be punished later on in the novel. According to Hollinger, when Westenra gets impaled with the stake by her fiance, her ‘reactions are described as in terms reminiscent of sexual intercourse and orgasm’ further showing how far she is from the ideal victorian woman and how corrupt she had become, it becomes clear to the reader at this point that Westenra must be killed off in order for her to cause no more disruption and to stay silent.

When Westenra questions why she can’t marry more than one man in a letter to Mina Murray near the start of the novel, it makes her fit into being seen as a Pandora figure. In Greek mythology Pandora was the first woman to be created by the gods, and was a part of the punishment of humanity. The myth has it that she was not allowed to accept any gifts given to her, but had one day given in and opened a jar, releasing all ills and evils into the world, leaving only hope inside. This can fit into the character of Lucy Westenra because at first she is in a state of plenty and ease only to later become into a state of suffering and death, by her own doing. Westenra going against patriarchal norms is an immediate need for correction, it is something that the readers have to expect to happen throughout the novel.

Stoker also creates Westenra as an Ophila figure, which is only seen through her death. To be seen as an Ophila figure, the character must have a tragic but beautiful death. Ophila’s death from Hamlet, though having a harsh truth, is described as being beautiful and lady-like, the tragedy of it being that she died of a seemingly innocent accident. Westenra’s death the first time round, doesn't count as being overly tragic because it is stretched out, she doesn’t die straight away, or out of nowhere, and whilst it is sad that she got sick and blood transfusions and treatment don’t help her, many wouldn’t class that as being tragic. Those who do class it as being tragic are counteing in the fact that she feasts upon children at night, and the destruction she befalls upon society with the threat of a ruined generation, however, that isn’t seen as a tragic death, because Westenra isn’t silent nor beautiful in death. Her death the second time round, does fit the profile of an Ophila figure, because not only is she dead for good and can cause no more destruction, it fits with being tragic through the fact that her fiance was the one who had to kill her with a stake through her heart. And through this second death, Stoker intends for us to see her as an Ophelia figure and therefore tells us that she is now beautiful again, which we further see when it is quoted ‘death has given back part of her beauty’ also telling us that she is now silent and malleable. 

Just before Westenra’s death it is signalled to the readers that she is also to be seen as a Mary Magdalene figure. This is more prominent when Westenra is trying to seduce her finance by calling him her husband, which makes her be seen as a temptress. It is widely believed that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute before Jesus saved her and she became one of his most devoted disciples. And so in the terms of Lucy Westenra as a character she is also meant to be seen this way, she is tainted and then is saved, but the way she is saved is by death. This scene as a whole is a gothic version of a biblical reference, Westenra violates sexual and social ideas and therefore has to be saved. It is widely known that vampires are repelled against religious relics, memorabilia and beliefs, and so by adding this biblical reference onto a vampire makes it more known to the readers that she is going to be corrected and saved from her ways. When Westenra is impaled she is ultimately saved and Dracula becomes more of a heroic novel than a horror, she is saved in the sense that she had been resorted to her original beauty and had become silenced, which is more emphasised by the fact that her mouth has been stuffed with garlic, it is to make sure she can never speak again, and is a sign that she is absolutely human.

(I don't expect people to take this seriously or give it any thought, this is just my English homework that I had to do, and I thought I might as well post it onto here.)

[drac-kool-aid]

Y'know, something that gets me, is that in the book, Dracula's intentional predation of Lucy starts off with an accidental meeting. Sure, Lucy slept walked, and an argument could be made her path might have been supernaturally influenced, but I say she'd already been a known sleep-walker, and she went directly to a place she was familiar with.

Her stumbling onto Dracula's hiding spot in a very vulnerable state was just an accident, and from there, he intentionally set out to harm her, and through that, everyone around her he could get.

This is sort of related to Jonathan, too. Had Mr. Hawkins not come down with a bad case of gout, Jonathan wouldn't have been sent to Castle Dracula in his stead. Sure, Dracula probably would have had his fun with Hawkins before inevitably killing him, but I doubt he would have drawn it out so long or taken so much delight.

Dracula never sets out with a master-plan to attack Lucy or Jonathan. They just end up in his path and spark his interest. We know that if he isn't interested in you, he'll kill you. He'll, he breaks Mr. Swales neck doesn't even bite him. But the two victims he decides he's going to make suffer the longest he possibly can, he just stumbles upon and goes "oh this will be fun". Later, we see him start choosing victims as a way to retaliate, but for the two inciting incident victims upon which the rest of the story hangs...its just wrong place wrong time.

The reason this struck me is that I was misremembering. For some reason, which I now believe due to thinking about the *through gritted teeth* Coppola film, is that Lucy is sort of hand-picked by Dracula to be his victim. And yeah, the fucking film ain't subtle in its blaming of Lucy's victimization on the fact that she was Too Pretty and Too Flirtatious and Dracula psychically drew her into the garden in a flowing diaphanous dress, but it's really her fault....I hate this movie.

Like, i just read the films Wikipedia plot synopsis, Dracula "psychically seduces" Lucy before biting her. He chooses her out of everyone in England deliberately.

And just...no. That's not what happens. Lucy got so stressed from her wedding that her latent sleep walking started again. Mina gets so tired from the constant stress she falls asleep without meaning to. Lucy went to their favorite spot...Dracula just happened to be there and took advantage and both Lucy and Mina weren't floating along softly into a garden with a fan letting their hair blow, but cold, scared, and covered in mud and blood, and forced to sneak back to the house that way, facing not only the supernatural but the very ordinary horrors of being caught outside at night by a strange man.

Idk. The tragedy is that Dracula didn't set out to fuck with these people. It's just that they were the ones who crossed his path that he took an interest in, and he decided to draw it out as long as possible.

(Oh fuck, this is the crew of the Demeter too. It isn't like Draculas got some big plan. He just decides he's going to play with his food. Had he boarded any other ship it would have ended up the same way.)

I guess in conclusion, I find it odd that adaptions seem to need to find a reason for him doing what he does. Like, Coppola has to conjure up a whole reincarnation backstory at one point, but I don't understand why!! Let Dracula just be an opportunist, his casual cruelty knowing no reason. That makes him scarier.

[dathen]

Okay now that we’ve beaten the point of “the text doesn’t portray Lucy as deserving her death or a whore/madonna dichotomy with Mina” to death, now we can actually address what IS in the text: the vampire as the corrupted woman, a whore/madonna dichotomy contrasting with Lucy when she was alive.

Jack’s narration today is a bit “saying the quiet part out loud” in this regard. We drag him for how many times he says ‘voluptuous,’ but almost as many times he mentions purity in contrast: the blood staining the ‘pure white lawn’ of her burial grown as a vivid example. Over and over her corruption is described as a horrifying sexuality, fascinating and attracting and repulsing the suitors much like Jonathan was fascinated and attracted and repulsed by Dracula or the vampire women.

In the rush to victim-blame Lucy for her own death, critics miss the crux of the symbolism, and leave the xenophobia largely unaddressed. It’s especially clear when looking at Lucy’s plot as a whole: threatened by the dark, exotic and dangerous East, which is temporarily held at bay by Strong Western Blood which is praised for its quality of breeding (😬), and how she is unrecognizably evil and twisted once the corruption takes root.

[bethanydelleman]

Writing Villains (Advice from Jane Austen)

One of the reasons that I find Jane Austen's novels so wonderful is that they have amazingly realistic villains, some that are fully fleshed out characters. Austen's biggest strength is that she gives her villains clear, logical motives. In fact, for many of her villainous characters you can turn the entire story around and see a rational story from the other side.

For example, Lucy Steele. She doesn't attack Elinor out of mindless evil, but because Edward Ferrars is her golden ticket to wealth and she knows that Edward loves Elinor. Lucy might twist the knife a little on Elinor out of sadism, but generally she attacks Elinor in an attempt to secure Edward. When it comes to other characters, Lucy is overly sweet if she wants something from them, otherwise she acts normally. As an example, she leaves Marianne alone because Marianne is not competing for Edward and also can't do anything for Lucy. Anne, Lucy's sister, likes her. Lucy has friends and family she stays with, she's a fairly well-rounded person.

You can put yourself in Lucy's shoes, you can turn the entire narrative on it's head and play it out from her perspective and it would make complete sense. You could even make Lucy sympathetic! She probably sees herself as a hardworking underdog, trying to wrest her one chance at prosperity away from the conniving Elinor Dashwood. I'm sure she thinks the pain she causes Elinor is justified.

If you can't do that with your villains, then there is a good chance they are just evil for evil's sake. I picked Lucy Steele on purpose because I hate when the entire motivation for a antagonist female character is "bitches be crazy". Bitches may be mean, but almost always for a good reason.

Even Mrs. Norris, who is probably the most cruel of Austen's female villains, can be perspective switched. Her life is about being useful to the Bertram family so she can feel important because her married status/wealth is lower than she wished. As she must always be deferential towards the Bertrams, she takes out her negative emotions on those below her, the servants and Fanny, while also showing off how good she is at "managing" those people. (And yes, she is your childhood bully)

We often hear her perspective and she clearly sees herself as a useful part of the family and a defender of Sir Thomas's wealth. She thinks she's a good person! Which is also an important point: most people doing wrong do not believe that they are doing wrong. That is what really makes a villain scary. Mrs. Norris thinks she's helping Fanny in a very twisted way by teaching Fanny her station in life. If you asked her, she'd give you a self-justified answer and she'd probably actually believe it.

Another way to do a good villain is to just make a person very selfish. Henry Crawford doesn't sit around all day laughing about how much pain he causes women, he doesn't think about it. He only thinks about the fun of flirting for himself, not the harm to others. The glimpses we get into his perspective are not cruel at all. It's the same with Willougby, he thinks only of his own pleasure and tries very hard to ignore that he has crushed Marianne and destroyed Eliza Williams. When he is forced to accept that people were hurt, he blames everyone but himself.

Wickham thinks that he's a victim, Caroline Bingley is ambitious and doesn't care who she steps on to get to the top, Mr. Elton is insulted that Emma could even dream he's a match with Harriet but he can't touch Emma so he punches down at Harriet. They all make sense, they all probably believe that their actions are justified.

Also, imagine taking the heroine/hero right out of the story, would the villain still act the same way? If Anne didn't exist, Mr. Elliot would still try to bring himself into the Elliot family because he was afraid of losing the title. If Elizabeth didn't exist, Wickham would have had another favourite in Meryton. If Fanny didn't exist, Mrs. Norris would have found some other puppy to kick. The villains don't just appear for the plot of the main characters, they have their own reasons for moving around and messing shit up.

Lastly, explaining but not excusing (though unfortunately some people will excuse anyway but that's not your fault). Mary Crawford is mercenary and doesn't seem to believe that love is even a real thing. It's pointed out several times in the novel that her defects have to do with being raised in an immoral environment and a broken home. She was taught by her aunt to marry for wealth and disregard love. Austen doesn't excuse Mary, she doesn't give her a happy ending, but she does explain how she came to be. She's not just greedy, she has been taught that wealth is the best recipe for happiness. As an adult now, it is her responsibility to question that maxim or remain a villain.

Austen wrote amazing morally grey characters and "villains" (a term I used a little liberally here, some of them probably only count as antagonists, not full blown villains). I love how real and human she made her characters, it's something I aspire to myself!

Linking my Caroline rant because it's related, people remove her motives so often and flatten her into a "bitches be crazy".

[yallemagne]

why does sleepwalking women and gothic horror go hand in hand

You asking me?

The answer is voyeurism.

Here's the thing about gendered horror: the goddamn eroticism. You can't escape it, people want to get their rocks off even when they're terrified-- especially when they're terrified! It's such popular imagery because of the intimacy of a woman with all her hair let down in only a white nightgown highlighted by the pale moonlight. A nightgown is very innocent in its intimacy, there's nothing inherently sexual about it, but that just gets people even more horny! No structured garments underneath-- she's wearing breeches obviously but shhh no she's totally naked save for some sheer billowing fabric.

EDIT: oh my god blah blah blah "breeches! actually she wouldn't be wearing those!! oh my god, they got it wrong, just shoot them in the streets, your honour!" FINE SHE'S NOT WEARING ANY PANTIES UNDER THERE, GOOD FOR YOU YOU GOT ME.

Gasp! Unprotected purity! I sure hope no dastardly villain tarnishes this woman! (they do. they do hope for that actually)

This isn't a very fun answer, is it? But it's worth saying. Horror explicitly involving women tends to be very visual with plenty of (arguably) sexual imagery. Men get the mindboggling horrors inconceivable to the human psyche while women are limited to being eye candy who faint before their minds can even be boggled (no that isn't a euphemism). Even when the women in question previously had a larger role in the story than "sexy lamp", pop culture will be quick to reframe it in the way that has the most sex appeal.

But like... let's take the woman's perspective: you're in a state of undress and completely unaware of your surroundings. It's dark and anyone lurking around at this time might very well have bad intentions, and they might turn those bad intentions on you. And you'll be blamed for being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, in the wrong dress. Terrifying. And people don't really appreciate the terror of it because... it's pretty, isn't it?

But then Lucy is weeping in her sleep, and Mina is covering her feet in mud for propriety. Because who knows what a man will do to them if he sees her naked feet? They're both cowering in fear hoping a drunken man doesn't take notice of them. Because who knows what he'll do to them if he sees two young ladies out at night? They're sweating from not just exertion but stress, and their messy hair clings to their frightened faces. They cannot tell anyone. Because who knows what toll this night might take on their good reputations?

It's not pretty. There's no see-through dresses (seriously their nightgowns are made of fucking linen, not organza), no flowing locks, no full faces of makeup, just pure society-ingrained horror.

But cis men don't typically understand that horror because they aren't usually victim to it. It honestly makes me sad and angry that the imagery is so prominent (and in such a watered-down and bland "sexy" way) because it reduces the actual horror these two protagonists face to nothing more than an audience's voyeuristic fantasy in which the women are only objects to be gawked at. The danger is reframed as tantalizing and enticing "ooo good girls (unknowingly) being bad in their sleep!" rather than... they could have fucking died. Or worse.

... But I still want to draw my girls (Jonathan, Mina, and Lucy) in cute nightgowns, so I'll bite my tongue.

[barnesafterglow]

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become. 

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

-

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

-

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha. 

-

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then. 

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

-

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

-

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

-

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

-

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

[kaiserin-erzsebet]

While I think there are many many issues with adapting today's scene into a sultry, "Lucy invites him in because she wants it" scene (the victim blaming being a big part of it)....

I also think it fundamentally shifts the tone of the whole story. Lucy's memorandum feels like one of the key moments of actual horror up to this point.

It isn't an implied sort of horror that we've had so far (even the Demeter deaths happen off-screen). it's the wolf breaking through her bedroom window. It's her dead mother's body on top of her pinning her in place. It's finding the maids drugged and realizing she's alone.

It's seeing this young woman utterly convinced that she is going to die and writing out one last note for whoever finds her.

Changing this scene really blunts the horror of the book on the whole because it takes away the pure, unadulterated terror of being alone in a house with the dead and a mysterious thing that wants to kill you.