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Since I have made this discovery I will also make it everyone's problem.

I don't know if anyone else has done this but like- wtf it's right THERE-

(Maybe that's why I'm so attached to them both but shhh)

We’re so used to the sexual reading of the entire book of Dracula, which takes the sensuality of the early chapters and jams everything that follows it into the same metaphor no matter how poorly it fits, but I feel the segment we’re approaching works much better with a lens of chronic illness and disease.

Vampire legends are inextricably intertwined with disease. Many of them are said to have been birthed by burying victims of disease too soon, who later seem to rise from the dead. But what’s more is that Stoker and his family have deep-seated trauma over disease: his mother had to flee her hometown at the age of 14 because of a horrific cholera epidemic, and Stoker himself was bedridden as a child from an illness that no one could identify.

Found this quote from Irish Historian Mary McGarry:

Bram as an adult asked his mother to write down her memories of the epidemic for him, and he supplemented this using his own historic research of Sligo’s epidemic. Scratching beneath the surface (of this essay), I found parallels with Dracula. [For instance,] Charlotte says cholera enters port towns having traveled by ship, and can travel overland as a mist—just like Dracula, who infects people with his unknown contagion.

I bring this up because a lot of academic analysis insists that Lucy sleepwalking is proof of her being the Slutty Woman archetype that needs to be punished. This suggested symbolism is hilarious when put next to the text saying she inherited it from her father, but I’d like to suggest a different angle from the lens of disease suggested earlier:

Lucy’s sleepwalking is a condition that predates Dracula but makes her an easy target for him to prey on. Through the lens of disease symbolism, she now is someone with chronic illness or disability who is especially vulnerable to infectious disease. This becomes a cross-section of Stoker’s trauma regarding disease: his own mystery illness and his mother fleeing a plague.

To wind down my rambles with a bit of a soapbox, I feel this adds a very poignant layer to the struggle to keep Lucy alive. The COVID pandemic showed a horrifying level of casual ableism vs disabled and immunodeficient individuals, shrugging off their vulnerability and even their deaths with “well COVID only kills them.” There’s something deeply gratifying at seeing the way everyone around Lucy fights to the bitter end to protect her and refuses to just give her up to Dracula, whether it’s Mina physically chasing him away or the suitor squad pouring their blood into her veins or Van Helsing desperately searching for cures. The vulnerable deserve no less than this. They’re not acceptable casualties.

my wandavision loving soul when i heard the theme song start to play

And another thing! Meyers is so weirdly hateful towards Jane, a 12/13 year old that was ignored, mistreated, and almost burned to death…and a lot of fans follow in her footsteps. I HATE seeing Jane as the bad guy.

Abusing Reader for being Alec’s mate?

Never. Hurting a mate is like hurting Alec and she would never do that. I always felt that any lashing out was solely out of fear of being hurt, just attempts to protect herselfI just can’t see her acting like that towards Alec’s mate. Yeah, I think she would need time to accept a new person in her life but she’s a vampire…girl’s got plenty of time.

Give me a Jane that loves her brother.

After all, he’s the one person who has been with through everything. Always. Through the cruelty of the other villagers, the coldness at home, the pain and horror of being turned. Through the anger and the sadness and the fear, Alec has always been there. 

Jane’s felt a lot of things but she’s never been truly lonely.

Give me a Jane that misses her mother. She didn’t understand her children, maybe she even feared them in some way, but she loved them. Yes, she loved them. She loved Alec’s smile and curls, she loved Jane’s soft voice. Their mother told them stories when it stormed and made them little toys out of scraps and held them tight. She loved her children but could not save them. 

They miss her, in different ways.

Give me a Jane that loves music. 

She listens to it, plays it, everything. As a human, Jane would sing made-up lullabies beneath her breath as she and her brother fell asleep…and she still sings to him, even if they no longer sleep, and plays piano for him.

Give me a Jane that RAGES and rightfully so.

After all, does she not have her reasons? This poor child (just a child, just a little girl) was mistreated for something she could neither control nor understand. Was it her fault she was different? Was it their fault that they had magic in their blood and bones?

No, no, the twins hadn’t chosen it.

But the adults, the villagers, they KNEW what they were doing. They had a choice and they made it: 

They choose to burn two children to death.

And for that, Jane has been left with pain and anger and hurt and rage, forever and ever.

Give me a Jane that dances.

Running through the gardens, spinning wildly, roses tangled in her hair. There’s an empty little room in the castle, with shining, smooth floors and faded tapestries on the walls. She dances there, music faintly playing as she forgets everything else. 

Give me a Jane that laughs.

No one can make her laugh like Alec, no one is allowed to tease her like her can. No matter what kind of mood she is in, Alec can pull a laugh from her lips. like a song of little bells. He teases her about that too, calling her laugh “fairy bells” and laughing along with her (his laugh, she thinks, is wild and soft, the sound of wind chimes).

Give me a Jane that wants more. 

She loves Alec but there are things she wants, other things. The chance to choose her own path. A friend her own age. She wishes she was older, if only by a few years, and she wonders what she would have looked like as a woman. he avoids mirrors now, because the image haunts her, and feels lonely for someone she never knew, for a life that was never lived. 

For herself. 

Give me a Jane that is genuinely happy should her brother find love, though a little angry and scared.

She doesn’t want to share…but she doesn’t want to be selfish either. An older (movie) Alec might find romance but a younger (books) Alec would find a platonic mate, a friend.

And he’s happy, so happy. 

So because she loves him more then anything, she slowly comes to accept this stranger, even if it takes her a long time. She won’t be very welcoming, not at first, but she won’t be cruel either just…awkward. 

Give me a Jane that finds her own happy.

Because you know what, she deserves it!

the fuck was bro thinking?

Creative crushes (part three)

Jinx x fem! kirraman! reader

Gay shit.

Don't repost to another site pls

I really should put out a masterlist, but I'm still kinda new to writing on tumblr so, I'm sorry. 🙇🏾‍♀️

As always, (name) is written to be of any body type, skin color and race.

I tried to establish the two sides of (name) earlier, one (name) kirraman, the spare turned heir, child prodigy, who's lukewarm at best, not very easily impressed, and uncaring of anyone that isn't family. The other, just (name) who's a hopeless romantic, the quintessential little sister, unknowingly crushing heavily on a known criminal, and smiles easily.

I know nothing abt league of legends. And I own nothing, I'm just gay and and a jinx enthusiast. Don't fucking sue me. That's racist.

And this is kind of messily written, and she's a little tiny, I'm sorry.

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(Name) wakes the next morning feeling much more refreshed. No weird pretty girls haunting her dreams or weird monsters just outside her bedroom.

The (haircolored) girl slips out of her bed slowly, a small shiver running through her once her bare feet make contact with the cold tile.

If must've rained in the night, she muses, sparing a small glance at her thankfully still closed and bolted shut foggy balcony door. The girl shrugs on a large bed robe, the fabric blanketing her cold form. She can practically see her breath. Jeez.

Outside the glass door, a golden glint on the ground catches her attention, a twinge of curiosity running through her.

The young woman steps lightly, walking across her large bedroom to the other side and bending over ever so slightly, the gold glint is still there, and apparently stronger than before, it shimmering brightly in the sea of fog and grey mist.

She lifts her hand up to the handle, only needing to tug it once to quietly open the door. The girl stepping down onto her balcony and finding the glittering gold thing still there. (Name) delicately takes it off the ground, inspecting the object.

"A 'flower crown'? " She questions curiously. Not a normal flower crown either, the most beautiful one (name)'s ever seen. Devoid of any flower or leaf, comprised entirely of nuts, bolts and an a metal wire. Some of the nuts had been twisted to look closer to flowers, some of the bolts had in turn took the form of leaves. All of it painted a metallic gold giving off an air of wealth.

Someone had created this. Someone who's hands must've been touched by a goddess at one point in their life. It's so unique and beautifully crafted, name wonders who it would've been for. The storm had been quite huge, it could've blown up to her balcony. That's definitely what she heard last night.

Just then while still holding the crown, her eyes drop to the floor. There's a squared letter.

(Name) reaches over, picking the parchment letter up as well, hoping it's not some poor fools love confession. She sudders at the thought. Not again. She unfolds it, holding it closer to her face and squinting a little to read the note.

Instead, the letter is almost empty, ink used to scratch out any other sentences save for two,as if the poor sap had messed up too many times. Messily written, which (name) would find annoying any other time but is somehow sweet now.

I don't know how to start this, so hi

-nყxιҽ

Nyxie? Who-

(Name) flips over the letter, hoping to find an address for her to mail it too, instead finding her name. Written multiple times, in almost every writing style imaginable scrawled over the back. Oh, name thinks, guess it is for me then. Awe that's kinda cute, they heart their I's.

(Name) looks to the crown once more. The beautiful craftsmanship once again stunning her, the tiniest smile imaginable, slowly growing on her face.

Oh- someone made this, for her and seemingly desire nothing from her in return. Someone who just left it on her balcony instead of using it to get into her skirts, or her sister's or mother's. That's cool- that's so cool. Heat rises to her cheeks and ears the further she thought about the dedication someone had to put in for such a beautiful crown.

She steps into her room quickly, locking the door and letting out a semi sushed girlish scream into her newly acquired crown. This crown is now the most important accessory that she owns. She will protect this thing with her life.

The girl runs back out quickly after wards, scribbling out an acceptable reply.

The (haircolored) girl tucks the letter under her pillow. Getting dressed quickly after, flower crown still perfectly balanced on her head.

The kirraman girl walks out of her bedroom happy, running into a grouchy looking Caitlyn.

The younger girl stops at the sight of her sister, giving her a long once over, tiny teasing smile growing on her face.

"Not a word." Caitlyn scowls, holding her hand up as if she could silence (name)'s words.

"I didn't say anything?" (Name) smirks, lifting her hand to her lips as if she could conceal the smirk on her face as she further took in Caitlyn's appearance. Is that a hickey? Scandalous.

"You don't need to." Caitlyn snarks. Catching (name)'s roaming gaze and slapping her palm to her neck.

(Name)'s eyebrows practically shoot to her hairline. "Oh?" A huff of laughter leaves her.

Caitlyn quickly changes the subject,not wanting a round two of 'Let's tease Caitlyn'. "The crown's new." She acknowledges, the beautiful craftsmanship intriguing her. A small wave of familiarity washing over her... Huh. Could be nothing.

"Oh you noticed?" (Name) lifts her head impossibly higher. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She's obviously proud. Cait rolls her eyes.

"Yeah." She admits, taking another beat to admire the impressive crown. "Where'd you get it?"

"A gift." (Name)'s face lights up when she speaks, her nose scrunching a little when she does so. An authentic smile. Caitlyn is surprised to see it, it's been awhile since she'd seen (name) exhibit anything other than her three main expressions. Sardonic, calculating and reticent.

Much less, pure unabashed joy. She likes this look on her. Her sister being her warm sillier self instead of the cold kirraman heir she was known for. It's been years since the younger girl had done so. Having to regrettably grow up so fast.

Caitlyn almost wants to take a photo, she doesn't know when it will happen again. Though the bluenette decides against it quickly after, she couldn't make it to her camera in time anyway.

Because of this, Caitlyn doesn't really think to question the statement. Instead assuming (name) had found a friend who's rather skillful with their hands and had simply made her something.

Caitlyn shrugs, dropping her hand back to her side.

╾დ╼

The following week, after finishing her morning routine, the (haircolored) girl notices something fluttering in the wind of her balcony. A leathery paper, of some kind.

The youngest kirraman slowly walks outside towards the paper, leaning down once again and picking it up. A letter? Once again, folded into fours. She of course, unfolds it.

-ɳყxιҽ

(Name) flips over the letter, once again, finding a beautifully detailed drawing of herself staring back at her drawn in a dark colbalt blue. Whoever did this put an impressive amount of thought into it, looked as if it was an actual candid of her. It had gotten everything right on her face, from the slope of her nose, to the curve of her brow. If it hadn't been for the entire art piece being in blue she definitely would've been worried. So they have an artists touch as well.

And they've been watching her.

Nyxie.

(Name) quirks a small smile at the note, whoever this person was is swiftly climbing the ranks of a lot of the people she knew. And she hadn't even seen their faces, or talked to them.

The woman quickly rushes inside her room, running back out with only a pen and her own parchment. Quickly scribbling a small '𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾.' Furthering by asking if they wanted anything of her in return, not wanting to or feeling comfortable with taking without giving. Hmm, maybe that's the business woman in her.

She leaves both the parchment and pen on her table, placing the stunning drawing on the dresser closest to her, afraid to sleep with it and smudge the lining.

Leaving her room quickly after, wanting the week to go by much quicker.

╾დ╼

The next week, a gift rests on the note (name) left.

The girl had been 'subtly' checking out her balcony window for any sign of her mystery person or the pleasantries they left. To no avail, sadly. But today, there's a glint of something outside her glass door.

A bronze rose this time. Gorgeous as all of the other gifts she'd received, painted a stunning metallic gold in color, laying straight across the parchment, sharp golden thorns and bronze 'leaves' still attached.

How could something have been so beautiful? How could someone have created something so beautiful? She found herself asking that question a lot more recently.

There's no letter that came attached with it this time. But (name) doesn't need one to know who it's from. Nyxie.

There's writing that (name) hadn't done just under her new gift. The girl picks up her metal flower gently, holding it to her chest subconsciously while she reads the note.

You don't have to give me anything,

your attention alone is enough

-ɳყxιҽ

(Name) is positively giddy at the response. Laughter almost bubbling from her chest. God, if Cassandra could see her then. Blood rushes to her ears at the thought, but still, the smile can't be wiped from her face. She covers her curled lips with her fingers.

Had this 'nyxie' person said anything besides 'attention', (name) definitely would've been insulted. But they just wanted her attention!

The woman picks up the pen, another wave of giddyness running though her. Nyxie touched this.

Quickly writing her answer down and running back inside her large room. '𝓐 𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓱𝓾𝓱?'.

She finds a pretty porcelain vase soon enough, setting the precious glass onto her dresser and gently placing the bronze flower in it.

╾დ╼

Jinx didn't know why she developed such an attachment to the kirraman girl. Why she why she stayed up past the hours of her 'normal' —albeit irregular— bedtime to work and craft small, non-lethal works for the enforcer pilties sister. Her sister of all people!

The irony of the situation isn't lost on her, she may be crazy but she isn't dumb. She's aware that she's being hypocritical. She's too stubborn to admit that to anyone besides herself.

The only reason she was on that balcony in the first place is because she thought it was her traitorous sister's precious-piltie girlfriend's. She wasn't aware miss 'cupcake' had a sister. And such a pretty one at that.

What was supposed to be just a fun night of casual hazing snowballed into what ever the fuck it is now. But she had just been so cute!

With her pretty little book and shiny (colored) eyes. Taking in all of jinx's jinxness, the zaunite only raised an eyebrow. She had expected the girl before her to scream. To run, to hide, she was used to it. Hell, she reveled in it, the fear that washed over a person when her name would be mentioned. She anticipated this girl to be the same.

But she wasn't.

Instead, she stayed. She kept her eyes on jinx's intense blu –pink– stare, and her lips seemed to tilt upwards where the the blue girls drifted down into a confused frown. Why isn't she running?

In that small, unique period of time, she felt seen. Like really seen. Borderline seen through. It scared her. It excited her. It was overwhelmingly exhilarating.

So, she watched. She watched as her (colored) eyebrows rising a little while she struggled to say something, subtly opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Jinx could almost breath a sigh of relief at that, normalcy resumed, she'll clutch her pearls and run away screaming. Jinx waits for that moment. Waits for a long time in fact. For her to recognize those long blue braids and run for the hills. She never did.

Instead, she called her pretty. Jinx snapped her head back to the girl on the ground quickly. Small blush rising to her cheeks. How long has it been since she was called pretty?

Sure, the bluenette was hit on quite regularly and propositioned for rated-r idea's. But, they never made her feel pretty though, just indifferent on a good day. This girl had such a sincere deep stare that jinx herself almost believed her. Almost.

The way the (haircolor)ette said it wasn't done before either. The kirraman having looked to her as if she hug the moon and stars. This piltover girl looked at her like the zaunite was the most beautiful person she's ever seen. Like she was absolutely stunned by her.

Affectionate words don't come easy in zaun. On a good day she might've gotten a small, 'you look nice.' From Silco but those were rare.

It was so obviously genuine that jinx for a moment, was stunned. How could someone have such an effect on her?

A bashful look crawling over the girls (skincolored) face the more jinx didn't speak. Mylo in particular started getting louder the deeper she thought about the girl. A sliver of vexation running through her the louder his annoying voice got.

Her fingertips started to trace the just-modified pow-pow on her hip. No. She takes her hand away. You can't shoot her balcony.

She'll get scared. "She's already scared. She hates you." The girl runs her tongue over her teeth subtly, frustration building.

"I didn't ask you." She mumbles, keeping her voice low aware she could actually scare the girl.

"Why were you so mindful of her? She's just a privileged piltie."

Jinx sets down the wrench. Picking up another doohickey that she might've forgotten the name of and begins to crank the delicate object in her stained, overworked hands.

The bluenette lifts the dainty little butterfly up to her admiring pink stare. It's beautiful.

"No it's not."

"Could be better." She chucks the piece over her shoulder. The loud clink! Of metal hitting metal when it touches the growing pile behind her chair. Music to her ears.

Nothing's is good enough. "I can't believe I care so much." The bluenette mumbles underneath her breath, picking up another shiny object and slamming it against her table, slipping the safety goggles back onto her face, already imagining the smile that (name) would give her work this time.

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So, where are the Victor Hargreeves x Reader HM????

charithra chandran icons

like/reblog if saved © maddiesflame

(Name) and jinx's first meeting;

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Jinx: *talking about (name) * I can take them.

Vi: In a fight, right?

Jinx:

Vi: *visibly concerned* In a fight right?!

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Alternate

Caitlyn: Don't worry (name), I know she might seem intimidating but just, imagine her in her underwear or something.

(Name): Oh I already was.