#toast dracula

[toaster-trash]

If I had a pound for every time I drew Mina dipping Jon, I’d have two pounds, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird I’ve done it twice

Anyway enjoy these gothic losers (Victorian guys stop getting vampire girlfriends challenge: IMPOSSIBLE)

#classic literature #goth lit #gothic lit #gothic literature #dracula #dracula novel #classic lit #dracula art #dracula daily #gothic lit art #mina harker #jonathan harker #jonmina #bram stoker #bram stoker’s dracula #dark academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #toast dracula

[another-chaotic-bisexual-vampire]

#beautiful cinnamon toast crunch too good for this world too pure #jonathan harker #dracula memes #dracula spoilers #dd september 29 #dracula september 29 #september 29 #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

[my-name-is-not-kimmy]

What do you think our friend Jonathan Harker ordered at the A.B.C. on the way home from work?

#dracula daily #my friend jonathan harker #aerated bread #jonathan harker's food tour of Europe #I'm having toasted scones and jams (various)

[christinered]

"I propose a toast...Here's blood in your eye."

~Red

#christinered #happy Halloween #count dracula #a toast #cheers #love at first bite #george Hamilton #blood bank #only in new york #i love new york

[theglassdragoncollective]

Onion fronting for forty minutes to rant about Dracula before peacing out is very on-brand

#onion #dracula #we've become so fucking blurry since he left #bout to make french toast to see if we can bring mhirodor out #food mention

[toast-notcooked]

seeing so many people being like "how is drac getting to england if he eats everyone lmao dumbass" and "wait is drac just lost at sea now? does he know how to steer a boat?" is so wild to me because like theyd been at sea for weeks before we even heard about them and we've been hearing from them for i think over a week now? im not sure how long people think it takes to get from gibraltar (last place i remember them saying they passed) to england, even in the 1800s, when they've stated having strong wind behind them for a while now. the captain isnt sure where they are because of the fog but that doesnt mean theyre adrift in the middle of nowhere forever, and surely its clear from the sheer amount of adaptations that dracula doesnt just dissapear at sea never to be seen again at this early point of the text?

#dracula daily #toast poast #idk it seems like theres a few unusual conclusions happening here #the memes r great tho #big fan of how funny everyone is about it all here

[pop-goes-the-weasel]

Thomas Bilder becoming the Toast of Tumblr in 3...2...1...

#Tom #dracula daily #dracula #bram stoker #Wolf #Berserker #london zoo #Toast of Tumblr #hellsite #Thomas bilder #september 18th

[hitherepumpkin]

Stream tomorrow, 7 PM EST!

We’ll be catching up on Dracula Daily, because I’ve gotten a bit behind. We all need to see how our buddy Johnathan is doing! How’s his new housemate? is he normal? gosh, i hope so; he’s been so normal so far! (Either that or, as I’ve been doing lately, Splatoon 3 Hero Mode. I’m incorrigible.)

also, I’ve been. Icky. Like, I got exposed to too much direct sunlight, and it’s made me a little gross in body and mind. Like, earlier on I was like “i need some protein, but I don’t want meat. Something eggy. French toast speedrun?” and proceeded to break the egg on the handle of the fridge and dump the egg into the sink. So, yeah, pardon the lack of streams.

But DON’T pardon that we’ve broken  200 USD personally, and that StJudeVtubers have broken $10,000 overall? Hello?! That’s nearly double what they raised last year, and that’s just incredible. Absolutely stupendous. Let’s keep this train rolling! I’ll be over on Twitch at 7 PM EST on 5/21/23! Let’s go!

#dracula daily #st. jude play live #french toast #vtuber #failwomen

[thethirdromana]

You have done cheeses. How about dessert.

Ooh, good idea.

See, the thing about Victorian food is that a lot of it sounds pretty unappealing from the vantage point of the 21st century. There were a lot of overboiled vegetables and stodgy meals designed to get you through winters with no central heating.

But Victorian desserts? Much more reliably delicious. So I can restrict myself to the desserts that these characters might actually have eaten. No tiramisu (1960s) or banoffee pie (1971).

Starting off with an easy one, RM Renfield is the traditional Scottish fruit slice (which I already highlighted in my food guide to Dracula) known as flies graveyard. I'm going to trust that one doesn't need any additional exploration.

Lucy Westenra is light (literally: "Lucy" means light), pretty, and appealing to small children. OK, admittedly the eater-eaten relationship goes the other way around with the small children vs Lucy-as-dessert, but I think it still works. She's a bombe glacée, a spherical ice-cream dessert that first appeared on restaurant menus in the 1880s.

I had a fun browse through Dutch desserts before I found the perfect one for Abraham van Helsing. He's the old man of the story, but he's still a little bit spicy and a little bit divisive - much like anise, which flavours Dutch oudewijvenkoek, or old wives' cake.

For Quincey Morris, there could only be one option. He's from Texas, y'all, he is obviously peach cobbler.

Continuing with the suitors, the obvious answer for Arthur Holmwood would be a dessert associated with wealth and privilege - perhaps Eton Mess, traditionally served at the annual cricket match between Eton and Harrow Schools, and first mentioned in print in 1893. But Eton Mess is a light, sweet, inconsequential sort of dessert and that just doesn't seem right for Arthur. Instead, I'd associate him with a rich, indulgent, traditional, solid plum pudding.

Jack Seward is in some ways the most modern of the suitors. Also the most highly strung. He's cherries jubilee, a brand-new dessert in 1897 as it was (probably) created that year for Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. It's full of liqueur (suitably for Jack, who's full of chloral) and it gets flambéed at the table.

I have to admit that I struggled with Jonathan Harker. Maybe I just love him too much to caricature him, you know? But what I came down is that he needed to be a beloved treat, available on menus across the UK, not wildly expensive, not wildly luxurious. And also, Jonathan goes through a lot of trials and drinks a lot of tea in this novel. Jonathan is a toasted teacake.

As for Mina Harker née Murray, it seemed appropriate that she should be a similar sort of dessert to her husband. So he's a bun with dried fruit and she's a bread with dried fruit. Specifically, she's an Irish soda bread (since Murray is an Irish surname) that is known either as Spotted Dog or - more suitably for Mina - railway cake.

#dracula daily

[toaster-trash]

I KNOW I DID NOT SPENT 10 HOURS ON THIS IN MY GCSE ART EXAM NOT TO POST IT HERE holy shit I am dying and I’m going to go make coffee and listen to The Magnus Archives

#dracula (novel) #toast dracula #classic literature #goth lit #gothic lit #gothic literature #dracula #dracula novel #classic lit #dracula art #dracula daily #mina harker #gothic lit art #jonathan harker #dr seward #jonmina #van helsing #classic lit art #frankenstein weekly #re: dracula

[spider-xan]

Now to be fair, the actual procurement of the goods might be difficult in actual historical real life for various reasons, but hilariously, it would not be historically inaccurate in the 1890s for Jonathan to occupy himself with a Nintendo game while locked up at Dracula's castle or the suitors to toast to Lucy and Arthur's engagement with Coca Cola at their camp-fire if a major film adaptation were to do modern product placements, despite being a period film set during the Victorian era.

#dracula #dracula daily #re: dracula

[testingthewatersss]

Halloween Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 5000 words fluff, mild angst, comfort, very light-hearted and mild smut. 18+ MDNI Reader is Tony's sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who reappeared after TWS. The halloween party turns out much better than expected.

It’s Halloween.

Well, it’s the night before Halloween, but it’s also a Saturday. It’s the Saturday before Halloween, which means a party. 

A Stark party. 

This, of course, means that every single person who lives in Avengers Tower is expected to attend. 

Including Bucky.

She had told him that his attendance was not mandatory. Tony had mirrored the sentiment with less interest, too. So he probably could’ve gotten out of the whole affair, had it not been for Steve’s excitement. 

His clear, untempered excitement at the mere prospect of attending a party with his best friend. 

“It’ll be just like the good old days, Buck! Except you’ll only have one dame on your arm this time- I’d hate to see Y/N's face if you asked her to bring a friend for me”

He hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he really, really didn’t want to go.

The idea of a bustling party, full of strangers and loud music doesn’t sound fun to him anymore.

No, now it fills him with dread. Dread that’s only worsened by the addition of the ‘costume required’ rule, and his inability to get drunk along with the rest of the crowd. 

So, he’d nodded along, intending to address his concerns later. 

Maybe offering Steve a night out together instead. Just the two of them. That’d be much more akin to the ‘good old days’ anyway. It’s not like lavish billionaire parties were the kind of things they were doing together before the war. 

Even if he’s been dating one of said billionaires for over a year. 

Y/N is probably the main reason that conversation never happened with Steve. If she hadn’t been going there would’ve been no way in hell that Bucky would’ve even entertained the idea of going himself. 

But she is going. And the idea of a night without her is almost worse than the idea of the party. 

So now, it’s too late to back out. 

He’s dressed up like James Dean because out of all the ideas that had been thrown around, it was the outfit that seemed the least intrusive. It’s basically a leather jacket and some hair gel. Tony had scoffed at the concept, making a ‘Tin-man and Dorothy’ suggestion that had earned a scolding from Y/N, who had beamed at the idea and agreed to go as Audrey Hepburn to complete the look. 

He hasn’t seen her all day. 

He misses her, and it shows. 

Steve is at his side, dressed in an ornate ‘Count Dracula’ ensemble which, paired with the black spray he’s put in his hair looks awful. 

The fake fangs are funny, though. And his excitement had been infectious. The playful chattering and obvious glee had been hard to ignore all day, so, he hadn’t tried. He’d let himself get swept up in the atmosphere;

“She’s running late” Natasha announces, rounding a corner dressed as Marylin Monroe, “apparently there was a change of plan”

“What kind of change?” Steve asks before Bucky can— 

“She lost a bet” Bruce says, also coming into view. 

His costume idea is good. 

He’s dressed as Tony, complete with a fake arc reactor and drawn-on facial hair. 

If Bucky had a better relationship with the man he might’ve considered that one for himself.

“With who?” he presses, curiously spiking;

“Who do you think?” Tony answers gleefully, “You’re goin’ to love this”

He’s addressing Natasha when he says that, which he thinks is strange. But, Bucky purses his lips in silent consideration.

What kind of bet? he thinks, And why is Natasha going to like it?

A few more minutes pass in the same kind of ‘excited haze’.

Everyone is talking and most of them are drinking, glasses clinking in toasts. Steve has a beer in his hand, but Bucky knows that it’s empty now.  

His own is almost drained, too. The taste is familiar and comforting, even if it’s not doing what it used to in regards to calming his nerves.

His nerves are getting more and more frayed with every passing second that she doesn’t arrive. 

Everyone else is accounted for. 

Steve, and Tony. Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Rhodey, Sam, Wanda and Vision- all present, all wearing their outfits. 

God, even Happy has arrived, wearing his usual suit, but with the addition of sunglasses which he says make him a ‘man in black’.

Bucky thinks he looks a bit like a HYDRA officer who he worked for, once. He decides not to mention it.

“Come on, princess!” Rhodey yells, in the general direction of the stairs- “I’m sure your hair looks fine!”

He’s dressed as Fury. It’s funny, but, when no reply comes to his shouting, Bucky can’t help but frown. 

Tony, however, snorts out a laugh that makes all eyes snap at him. 

“What did you bet, anyway?” Steve asks

“That my new gamma-wave equation was compatible with her old nuero-partical theory-” he answers, “-She said it wouldn’t be because she didn’t believe I’d read her paper.”

“I meant what were the stakes” 

“Oh” Tony chuckles, knowing that only Bruce would’ve understood the concept of the dispute anyway, “If she won, I was going to have to cover the internship paperwork for the rest of the year—“

“—And if you won?” Natasha cuts in, suspicious. 

“He got to change my costume for tonight” Y/N's voice answers, from out of view.

Any relief that Bucky expected to garner from hearing her voice is dampened by how sullen she sounds. 

It doesn’t suit the usual lilt of her voice. 

It worries him. He feels both of his hands tightening into fists and is suddenly grateful for how he’d placed his beer bottle on the side. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Tony commands, instantly animated, “Back up stairs! FRIDAY- Que the music!”

“Tony!” Y/N objects, tone slipping towards pleading, “Ple-”

Her “please” is drowned out by the loud start of a song. 

A familiar song. 

Steve recognises it first. His eyes widening as every single person that has gathered in the common room moves, all adjusting their positions so that they have a clear view of the stairs.

Bucky is no different. 

He walks a little too fast, the vibration from the speakers filling him with urgency. 

‘Star spangled man, with a plan'

The tune builds, and then he feels his face click with remembrance;

It was the song they used to parade Steve around too. With a haram of women in short skirts-

“I’m going to kill you,” she says, louder than the music, “Tony, I swear to god—”

‘and I tell you there’s no substitute— the Star, Spangled, Man, with a plan’

and then, the venom in her voice makes sense. 

As she appears at the top of the staircase, almost unrecognisable, Bucky thinks it makes perfect sense.

So does her brother's untempered laughter, and the way that he’s snapping pictures on his cell phone. 

Her usually brown hair is blonde. Shoulder length in soft waves, her lips are painted bright, apple red, which, hair colour aside isn’t too abnormal for her, but-

God, she’s… she’s dressed like Steve.

She’s wearing the full Captain America suit, skin tight and colourful with the shield slung over one of her shoulders. 

As she starts to walk down towards the crowd, Bucky realises that his jaw is hanging open, so he snaps it shut. 

“Give us a smile, Cap!” Tony gears, cell phone aimed at his sister's face, “and maybe a salute”

“I will break your fucking jaw-” she threatens.

“Language” Natasha scolds, failing to conceal her grin;

Y/N's head snaps towards her friend, and then, she moves her hand, flipping her the bird before turning to glare at her brother again. 

“Can I at least lose this wig?”

“No” Tony answers quickly, “No, I think it really ties it all together”

“You’re an asshole” she hisses, “You’re not even wearing a costume”

“Yes I am” he retorts, almost offended, ���I’m dad!”

“You’re who?!” she splutters, totally taken aback, “You- You’re going as dad?!”

“Yes” Tony replies with a smirk, ”but, young dad, y’know- not-”

“You haven’t even shaved” she says, pointing at his face, “He had a moustache- not a goatie”

“I couldn’t find a razor” he lies, not even trying to hide his glee, “and all I needed to finish the look was-”

“Son of a bitch” Y/N curses, realisation setting in, “you made me wear this so I could be your accessory?”

and then a ripple of laughter washes over everyone. 

Everyone except for Y/N, and Bucky, who is still staring at her, awestruck. 

“You’re a jerk,” she says when everything settles;

“That’s more like it” Tony says, “throw in a couple of ‘sons’, maybe a self-richeous speech about justice here and there-“

“Hey” Steve objects, suddenly realising that at least part of this might be at his expense, 

Tony beams again, excitement unwavering under his sister's glare.

and then there’s silence. 

The sibling's dynamic is strange at the best of times, and in situations like this, the entire mood of the evening is going to be decided by how well either party decides that they can take a joke. 

“Just wait until next year” Y/N sighs at last, “I’ll get you for this- I swear”

“I bet you will” Tony agrees, looking falsely contrite, “But for tonight-”

“I’m your star-spangled man with a plan,” she says, defeated.

He bursts out a “ha!” and turns to celebrate his victory with Rhodey and the others. 

 Y/N takes the moment of reprieve to finally meet Bucky’s gaze. She takes a few steps towards him, before smiling in acknowledgement of Steve, too. 

“Sorry about leavin’ you in the lurch with the outfit,” she says, “at least you’re basically just dressed as yourself.”

Steve chuckles at her, even though she’d been talking to Bucky, and then he comments on her hair. 

“It’s a wig,” she says off-handedly, “What’s in yours anyway? Shoe polish?”

That makes Bucky laugh for the first time that evening. 

A real, true laugh. 

He’s not even sure why. The jibe hadn’t been that funny. Not really. But he’s giddy with relief that she’s okay. That she’s safe and finally here, and her outfit is… ridiculous, he knows it is, but he can’t help but find himself captivated by it all the same. 

Y/N beams in response to his outburst regardless. Smiling at him with her with her painted lips like he’s the best thing in the world.

That’s how she always looks at him. It’s so familiar that he can almost ignore the costume. 

“It’s not your shield,” she tells Steve, “Or your suit, don’t worry”

“I wasn’t worried” Steve replies, “I was wondering how it fit you so well”

Bucky laughs again, and this time he realises that both of them are grinning at him. 

“You look great, doll” he says when he catches his breath, “I’ve never really been into blondes but I think you pull it off”

“I can’t wait to pull it off-” she mutters, tugging at the fake hair with dismay, “-but, thank you.”

And then, everyone’s moving. 

The room is a blur of motion. Everyone is abandoning bottles and cans and glasses and heading towards the elevators. 

And Bucky is holding Y/N's hand while he lets Rodgers knock against his shoulder and make jokes about candy. 

They have to split into groups for the cars. 

Y/N and Tony have to go together with Happy, so, with a pout and a kiss on his cheek, she leaves Bucky with Steve and Sam. 

Wilson teases him a little about how love-sick he is, but Steve doesn’t let the ribbing go on for too long before he silences him with a fatherly glare that makes him the target of the jokes. 

Bucky doesn’t have to come to his rescue because their car pulls up just after the Starks have left. 

He hates being driven around. 

The feeling of being forced to be still in the back of a moving vehicle is unpleasant. But not unfamiliar.

Steve is too polite to comment on the way that his flesh knuckles turn white as he makes a tight fist on his lap. Or, how on the way he flinches, hard, when they stop at red lights.

“Easy” Sam chides, ignorant of the reason behind the response, “we’re in an armoured car- relax a little”

“I think Tony called it luxury” Steve cuts in, trying to be supportive and change the subject, “but he’s right, Buck- Everything’s fine- 

“Luxury or not” the other man replies, “We’re still in the billionaire equivalent of an armoured tank—”

“Yeah?” Bucky gristles, tired of the patronising tone, “So was Howard Stark” 

His remark sours the atmosphere instantly. 

Steve goes to put a hand on his knee but he jerks it free before he really makes contact. 

Sam just falls into an awkward silence that Bucky thinks is much more tolerable than his attempt at conversation. 

They arrive exactly seven minutes later. 

He knows because he’s been counting. 

Y/N had taught him to do that. When they’d been talking about ‘coping techniques’ he’d scoffed at the usual suggestion of deep breathing. 

“Deep breathing doesn’t help when you feel like you’re somewhere you can’t catch your breath, doll”

“No” she’d agreed, patient as always, “No, I don’t suppose it does.”

She wasn’t the first person to talk to him about ways that might help him feel better. She was probably the first person to listen to him, though;

“What did you used to do when you really couldn’t?” 

He stared at her blankly for a few seconds before she’d taken pity on him and smiled. 

“When you couldn’t catch your breath.” 

Oh-

“You mean…” he’d gulped, “You mean when I was there?”

“mhmm”

“Whatever I was told” 

That was the first time he’d been really honest with someone who’d tried to ask him about that. The answer had slipped out before he’d had a chance to think about it, but when he’d had a moment or two to process what he’d just admitted, he’d been so embarrassed that Y/N's palm on his cheek had jarred him. 

Jarred him so much that he’d jolted in place, the panic that they’d been previously discussing flaring in an embarrassing display. 

“..Okay…” Y/N had exhaled, “… you’re okay…”

A jerky nod hadn’t reassured her much, but it’d been all he could offer her at the time. 

“What are you doin’ right now, huh? Nobodies telling you what to do now.”

“I-“ he’d stammered, suddenly unsure, “-I’m counting”

“Counting?” she’d pressed, curious “Alright… Let me know how high you get”

And then he’d been crying. He’d broken down and sobbed into her shoulder until his chest had stopped racing. 

Then, he’d been able to explain, very shakily, about how sometimes they’d kept him masked for so long that arbitrarily counting in his head had been his only way of not losing whatever scrap of sanity he’d had left.

He could always count. 

No matter what terrible thing was happening to him. No matter what heinous thing he was being made to do to someone else. 

He could manage counting. 

“So” she’d whispered, stroking his hair back, “That’s what you do… You count.”

and he still counts. 

and, because he’s been doing it for so long, he’s quite good at matching his silent clock to actual seconds. 

and, by the time they’re all exiting the car, it’s only been another 20.

The atmosphere is still awkward. Even with the removal of the car from the equation. 

“You okay, Buck?”

It’s Steve asking. Concerned, now. 

He feels a sharp stab of guilt when he blinks his eyes over to him and sees that it’s genuine. That the playful, childish excitement from before is gone, replaced by fatherly worry.

“I’m fine, Stevie” he replies, deliberately making his tone light-

When he sees that he’s not buying it, Bucky smiles. 

“I’m not a good passenger” he allows, “but I’m fine.”

That seems to work a little. The honesty does, anyway. 

“Look” Bucky sighs, placing his flesh hand precisely on his shoulder, “This is all a little hard on me…even the car rides-”

“-You’re doin’ awesome, Buck-”

“-Give it a rest” he chuckles, jostling him a little, “I’m workin’ on some stuff, don’t worry about me.”

The latter part is what sticks with Steve. 

He looks directly at his old friend, reading his face for a full 4 seconds before nodding in agreement. 

“I can’t take you seriously with that hair,” Bucky says, breaking the tension as they head towards the back entrance, “How did you do it?”

“Natasha gave me some spray stuff?” he says, almost like a question, “Apparently it washes out.”

“I hope it does” Bucky grumbles, flashing his ID at the doorman without meeting his eyes—

The inside of the party is alive.

That’s the only way to describe it. 

It’s like every single person in the building has merged into one singular being. And that being is having a blast.

There’s dancing and laughter and plenty of drinking.

The Stark’s always have an open bar, and it’s clear that this one is being used. 

Custom Halloween cocktails (and the signature glasses they come in) are littering the space, acting as extra decor as the multi-coloured lights dance through them. 

A woman dressed as a cat, holding a tray of neon green shots appears, smiling at Bucky as she offers him one;

“That I’d pay to see,” Tony says, coming up behind her, and drinking 3 of them in quick succession, “Terminator and Captain All-star doin’ jello shots”

Wilson, eye patch and all laughs, mirroring the billionaire and taking his shot with a grin. 

“Play nice” Y/N’s voice inserts, as the crowd parts to reveal her, “They don’t even get drunk from them, T— why would they want to do them?”

“For fun?” Tony replies, doing another 2 shots without coming up for air, “You’re gettin’ a little too into character there, cap”

As if to spite her brother, she declines the waitress's offer before making a show of politely thanking the next server who seems to be busying themselves following the more high-profile guests around. 

Any hopes Bucky might have had about spending the night with her are dashed a few minutes later by the arrival of the other Avengers… and then, a camera crew. 

A camera crew who find Y/N being dressed as Captain America captivating. 

And then, god— 

The addition of Tony’s costume? that’s the nail in the coffin. 

Every single person who doesn’t live with the duo is glued to them all night. 

Snapping pictures and laughing and ploughing them with drinks.

She only manages to slip away to Bucky’s side twice. 

The first time is because she catches him looking forlorn by a window.

That he’d been watching her reflection in but, still—

She’d nodded, making an inane excuse before crossing the room to press a kiss against his cheek. 

“Are you okay, handsome?” she whispers, directly into his ear.

“I’m okay” he replies, meaning it. “Waitin’ for Steve to get back with the drinks- Couldn’t face the bar.”

“Smart move” Y/N murmurs, tangling her fingers with his metal ones for a moment, “If you need me, come find me.”

“I haven’t lost you, doll” is the reply he gives her, nodding towards the window in half admission, and half explanation.

She laughs, kisses him properly and then, she ducks out of view with the playful salute that makes him very grateful for the privacy the party lighting provides.

The second time, they’ve been there for hours.

Steve is having the best time Bucky remembers seeing him have in… well, decades.

and frankly, it’s infectious. 

Bucky is laughing. Laughing, lips grazing a beer bottle as Natasha tells another embarrassing story about Rodgers that sounds strangely familiar.

He’s telling her that things haven’t changed that much in the past hundred years when he catches her. 

She’s stood, arm draped over her brother's shoulder with her head turned just slightly towards where he’s sat on a high stool that’s draped in fake cobwebs. 

She’s watching him. 

She’s just watching him with this, adoring look on her face that makes him blush even though he’s not meant to know that she’s looking.

Her gaze doesn’t linger. He never actually meets her eyes. She’s way too good for that to happen.

But his moment of distraction is noted by Natasha, who makes a jibe about him focusing on the wrong Steve. 

When Y/N separates from Tony to head towards the bathroom, Bucky makes his excuses as well, suddenly unable to bear another minute apart.

She actually does use the bathroom, which makes dread stir heavily in Bucky’s stomach. 

You’re acting like a stalker, Barnes, he thinks, hiding in the dark—

“Hey, Buck” Y/N greets, in a half-hearted impression of Steve, “You doin’ okay?”

The second part of the attempt is much better. 

So much better that he can’t help but laugh;

“That-” he chuckles, “is scary, doll. Please don’t do that again.”

She nods, beaming at him again. 

“You havin’ fun?” she asks, in her usual lilt, “You look like you are”

That almost sounds awed. He’s blushing, and her hand is reaching out to stroke his cheek and god, he’s leaning into her fingers;

“You were watchin’ me?” he murmurs, shy.

She chuckles, leaning in to kiss his brow. 

“Of course I was” she purrs, “seein’ you smilin’ like that, it’s the best part of a night like this.”

“A night like this” he echos, utterly entranced, “You mean Halloween?”

She shrugs and he can see the flush of alcohol in her face.

It’s beautiful. 

She’s beautiful. 

“See?” she murmurs, thumb on his lower lip, “You’re perfect…”

and, he thinks he might actually be melting. 

He’s pressed into the corner that he’d put himself in, and she’s wearing that stupid suit, and she’s blonde and for some reason, it’s not funny. 

Even though it should be.

It should be hilarious.

But, it’s… it’s not.

“That hairspray really has hold, huh?” 

He chuckles at that, as her fingers try and run through his hair. 

She gives up quickly, not wanting to risk pulling on the strands.

No, she wouldn’t ever do that.

“It’s yours,” he tells her lamely—

The spray… the hair— me…

The laughter she treats him to is nicer than the music that’s been playing all night. And the look of love on her face is sweeter than the bright red ‘blood’ orange cocktail that Natasha had made him drink. 

“I love you,” she tells him, “Sweetheart”

“I love you” he echos, “and I’ve been watching you too…”

“I know,” she says with a smirk, “You’re not half as subtle as you think you are, Soldier.”

“Maybe not” he agrees, leaning obviously towards her now, “but in my defence- everyone’s lookin’ at you tonight”

“Everyone” she agrees, a little grumpily, “I was really hopin’ that Tony was going to steal the spotlight, but I guess I can let him have this one.”

“People are lookin’ at him too,” he tells her, “if that helps”

“It does” she sighs, knowing that she has to get back to her brother soon, “It’ll help a whole bunch more when people aren’t calling me Cap’ and making jokes about blondes having more fun” 

He can’t help but chuckle at that. At the pout she’s wearing, and the way that there's a stubborn crease forming between her brows. 

“Are you?” 

“Am I what?” she asks, expression softening when she looks at him, again. 

“Having more fun?”

“Not yet” she replies, “but, if the way you keep starring at my ass in this suit is anything to go by then there’s still time for that to change”

That makes him flush hotter than he thought was possible;

He squirms a little. Embarrassed by the fact that he can’t deny the accusation behind her little joke. 

“I…uh—“ he stutters, trying to explain himself, “— um, I…I- di-“

“You don’t like the outfit?” her brow raises in a challenge.

Again, he can’t say that. It’s not true.

He toes at the floor, embarrassed by just how much he does like it.

“I better stop torturing you” she sighs, tone reluctant, “Let you get back to enjoying yourself with Steve.”

“I’m enjoyin’ myself with you,” he says, a little breathy.

“I know” she agrees, smoothing her hand down his front, straightening his shirt, “I know but Natasha has been watching us for 3 minutes, and I think she’s drunk enough to make jokes about us hooking up in the bathroom like high schoolers.”

“and that’d be bad,” he says lamely.

“That’d be bad” she agrees, playful laughter back in her tone, “Because while I’m stuck with Tony, you’re the one that’ll have to hear them all night.”

He nods, before pulling her in for a kiss. 

And then, she’s gone. 

And he’s back, ignoring the one sly dig about how long he spent in the bathroom, and how Y/N has also only just reappeared. 

She was right, he thinks, they’re lucky to get away with only that one dig. 

The rest of the night is fast. 

It’s loud and full of friends, laughter, and music. 

and a never-ending stream of drinks which Bucky can almost trick himself into believing are getting him buzzed. 

The routine of drinking them is calming if nothing else. 

The fruity ones are sweet, and the beer is classic and the shots, he finds out, aren’t that bad either. 

Even if he can’t taste them as they slip down his throat. 

He thinks he might’ve liked jello-shots, before. 

When they’d have actually served a purpose. 

The way that Steve is beaming at him is a purpose on its own he supposes. And they’re serving that one, so, he keeps drinking them. 

It’s not exactly like the ‘good old days’ but it’s nice. 

It’s very, very, nice.

The only thing that would make it nicer would be if Y/N had been able to escape the spotlight of everyone else for long enough to join him.

But, the way she’s smiling at him whenever he catches her eye across the crowded room takes the edge off.

The distance feels playful, not painful.

The glances and winks are flirtatious, and Bucky is loving it. 

He’s loving every single second of it. 

and then, it’s winding down.

The guests are leaving, pressing gracious kisses against Tony’s cheek, and then Y/N's and then it’s back to Tony—

He disappears before the room clears, arm in arm with a very female-looking Hulk.

There’s green paint all over his neck already, so it’s hardly a surprise. 

Banner hasn’t been drinking, and although he grumbles a bit about Tony’s choice of companion, when the fact that he’s dressed up as the man is highlighted, he realises that he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. 

When it’s time for the remaining Avengers to head home they separate into groups organically.

Somehow, Bucky winds up driving. 

He doesn’t complain about that, though. He prefers it. Even if Steve is a nightmare for interfering from the backseat. 

Wilson is black-out drunk. His speech so slurred that they’re not even pretending to understand him; and when they eventually pull up into the underground garage, Steve’s big brother complex fires up into high gear and he takes full responsibility for taking him inside and seeing him safely to his room. 

Bucky is thrilled by this. He doesn’t hide it well. Steve slaps his shoulder in mock scolding before he ducks away into the stairwell. 

He doesn’t know why he’s giddy on the way to his room. 

Well, he does. 

But he’s trying not to focus on it because it’s embarrassing.

It’s embarrassing because he’s excited by the idea of his girlfriend waiting for him in their room-

-Dressed as your best friend, he reminds himself, Dressed as Steve-

The feeling of wrongness only makes him more excited.

God, that’s sick, he thinks, hand on the door;

“About time, Sarge” 

Her voice makes any shame melt away from his core. 

and then he’s walking towards her. He’s pacing towards the bed, where she’s leaning against one of the mahogany four-poster posts, with the shield propped up against her bed frame.

When he realises that he’s looking at that, it doesn’t take long at all for his gaze to jump to her boots. 

They’re red and knee-high, and then he’s starring at her ass in the suit again-

“Shall I keep the wig on?” 

He’s caught, again. 

His mouth opens to…Well, he’s not exactly sure of what he intends to do, but, nothing wasn’t the plan;

“Or is the blonde too weird?”

This whole thing is weird, but he likes it.

He’s still just gawking, so she beams at him before kicking a leg up onto the bed, to better display the boots. 

“I think we should make Steve wear these,” she says, “I think they’d really set-”

“Can we not talk about Steve right now?-” he asks, chuckling, “Please?”

“Yes, sir” she replies, straightening back out and offering him a salute, “the bedroom is a Steve free zone.”

and then, he’s kissing her.

He’s kissing her, and she tastes like cocktails and his hands are on her waist, and god, she’s perfect-

“Y’know, I-” he pants, lips barely leaving hers, “-I always liked the outfit.”

“Wanna know a secret?” she whispers, hands moving up to cup his jaw, “So have I”

Oh, god- he’s laughing. 

They’re both laughing, and kissing, and then they’re on the bed. 

And they’re still kissing—

She loses the wig quite quickly. 

Bucky tugs it free and launches it across the room where it knocks over an empty vase with a dull clatter. 

The boots, however, stay on. 

Even when the suit eventually comes off, the shiny red boots remain. 

and the next morning, when she wakes up, she kicks them off, letting them fall to the side of the bed. And then, as she turns to fully admire him, she finds herself laughing quietly at the stains of red that smeared across his cheeks, and his neck, and his mouth. 

“I made a mess of you, sugar” she murmurs, thumb brushing over the curve of his jaw, “I’ll help you clean up later— I promise.”

“I’ll hold ya’ to that, doll” 

Masterlist

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #oneshot #female reader #fluff #drabble #x reader

[another-chaotic-bisexual-vampire]

if a filmmaker ever makes a book-accurate adaptation of Dracula, the only right way to dramatize the night of September 17 is to cross-cut between Lucy's experience and Mina's experience - like so:

Mr. Hawkins, raising a glass in toast to Jonathan & Mina: My dears, I want to drink your health and prosperity; and may every blessing attend you both. Lucy: *waking with a start, dazed, in pain, bloodied, finding her room smashed-in and her maids come in screaming* Mr. Hawkins: I know you both from children, and have, with love and pride, seen you grow up. Lucy: *her maids lift her dead mother off of her, lay her on the bed, cover her with a sheet, and Lucy lays flowers on her mother's chest* Mr. Hawkins: Now I want you to make your home here with me. Lucy: *hearing THUD THUD THUD outside her room, going out, finding all her maids on the floor unconscious beside a decanter of sherry, calling out but hearing only her echo down the halls* Mr. Hawkins: I have left to me neither chick nor child; all are gone, and in my will I have left you everything. Lucy: *wandering her empty manor in tears, calling for help, hearing only low growls, returning to her dead mother's side, shaking with fear and weakness as she looks for pen and paper* Mina: *bursting into tears of joy, kissing Jonathan, shaking hands with Mr. Hawkins, and excusing herself* Both Mina and Lucy: *in their rooms writing, looking out their windows at the same night sky, thinking about each other, and hoping they're both okay*

#thinking about this made me cry so now you need to cry too #sorry not sorry #dracula daily #re: dracula #dracula #dracula september 17 #september 17 #dd september 17 #dracula text post #dracula fic #dracula thoughts

[see-arcane]

"a century and a half of him being a cowardly weakling who sometimes cheats" - about Jonathan Harker in one of previous asks I'm sorry, but that's not even true. Jonathan wasn't always some cowardly weakling in media. He wasn't a cowardly weakling in 1970 Count Dracula adaptation or in 1977 BBC adaptation or in that Czechoslovakian 1971  adaptation or in 1953 Turkish one - he was brave and badass in those. And even if you don't like 1992 version, Jonathan was not weakling there either - he was brave, he was badass chasing Dracula across snowy Transylvania with others and even cut his throat, mortally wounding him. It's an exaggeration to claim Jonathan has always been a cowardly weaking in media.

I don't know what specific ask you're referring to and I don't like my odds of sifting through the pile to find the exact quote, but it's a sentiment that's appeared in a few of my rambles before, so I'll take your word that it's floating around somewhere.

First, thank you for bringing up four whole Dracula adaptations where Jonathan Harker is done some justice that have never crossed my radar. The 1970 version has Christopher Lee himself as the Count, so it seems like a promising watch on principle, and I think I vaguely recall the 1977 BBC being mentioned as a hidden gem adaptation that actually brushed closer to the book's canon. The Czechoslovakian and Turkish versions I will trust you on, as my media saturation is drowning in 'murrican schlock. I will even give the 1992 Jonathan credit for letting Keanu have a fraction of Jonathan's character in Coppola's laughably named 1992 fanfiction.

But the thing is, those are five movies. Five whole movies you could point to in a very very very long list of Dracula media. Five where Jonathan is allowed to possess one sliver of his canonical self's character, courage, strength, and ability. I will say the line you picked is one to be rightfully upset about, if only because it isn't right to be angry over 'a century and a half of him being a cowardly weakling.' Fear is part of Jonathan's character.

Jonathan Harker was terrified for his entire stay with the Count. That is in canon. Then he escapes, goes through his magical girl transformation in reaction to Mina being attacked, and winds up beheading the Count. Him starting out afraid is key to his character arc and the catharsis of the climax.

An arc that is--and I will bet money on this--almost entirely gutted even in the four adaptations I wasn't aware of. I know it for a fact in the 1992 film. Keanu was given the same acting directions and script in the movie as you'd give a slice of dry toast or a broom.

Because, as has been the case in far more movies, shows and books with Dracula as a starring role, Jonathan Harker may not necessarily become a coward, but he is always, always gutted. Dracula becomes the dark seducer, now with Coppola's rendition becoming the norm ala 'blaspheming for love,' courtesy of stealing Jonathan's driving passion in the third act. Van Helsing becomes Dracula's badass personal nemesis, courtesy of robbing Jonathan and Mina of that co-owned role.

Yes, Jonathan is sometimes remembered, but it's a coin toss as to whether he gets to A) Participate in the narrative beyond filling screen space, B) Be interesting, C) Be faithful (and not a cookie cutter Victorian Man (c) cliche to poor Mina who needs a REAL VAMPIRE MAN, D) Have any of his importance as one half of the protagonist team with Mina acknowledged without handing everything to Van Helsing. You can only ever have one. If you're lucky.

When people think of the Dracula media of today, or last decade, or the decade before that, and before that, who besides people who have actually read the book would think Jonathan Harker matters as a character? As the guy who opens and closes the story? As the guy who spent two months in captivity with Dracula, as the only person to have actual dialogue with him beyond a single villain rant? As the guy who did not just scratch Dracula's throat, but actively sent him running for his unlife in Piccadilly and ultimately chopped his head off?

The most he's gotten in recent years are the scraps that Moffat tossed him in his latest self insert OCified take on Dracula in his 2020 series, if we ignore the massive middle finger of a send off he gets in the first episode. Or we could look at the 2013 series' lovely depiction of Jonathan (now a jealous prick) and Lucy (an unfulfilled lesbian) having angry-cheating sex about Mina not being into them. Or 2022's The Invitation, featuring Count Ken Doll and his helpers, the elderly Harkers who are also his minions who attack and offer up an innocent girl to his Bride-cult. Or the 1999-2007 comic series of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen by Alan 'lol Jonathan Harker is a milksop' Moore, who wrote Mina has his own personal SA fetish stand-in while Jonathan is mercifully off-screen, having ditched Mina because he thought her vampire bite scars were ugly. Or we could give Anno Dracula a read and see Kim Newman's special warm welcome and farewell to the Harkers within the first few pages.

Or we could go back to the beginning. All the way to Tod Browning and F.W. Murnau.

Browning's Dracula of 1931 is, like Coppola's 1992 flick, one of, if not the most immediately recognized version of Dracula there is in cinema. Its climax features Jonathan Harker prancing around a crypt looking for Mina while Van Helsing stakes the Count. (I am being literal. The man is practically skipping. I know, I know, film acting wasn't at its peak back then, but come on.)

Murnau and the very definitely for sure not Dracula with its serial numbers filed off 1922 film, Nosferatu, has Orlok being appropriately menacing and weird at the Jonathan Harker stand-in of 'Thomas Hutter,' who is theatrically terrified--but at least one half of an earnestly loving couple with Mina Ellen Hutter!--and then gets sent away by Ellen on a ruse so she can die tricking Orlok into his death by sunrise.

Jonathan Harker mincing uselessly around while Van Helsing gets the work done.

Jonathan Harker quailing and afraid, contributing nothing to the Count's (or doppelganger thereof) destruction.

Jonathan Harker, however effete or earnest or able, loses the girl to the dark dramatic seducer.

This was the foundation people were given for this character well before anyone bothered to pick up the book. And much of that audience didn't bother. Same for the generations to follow. There's a reason the Dracula Daily wave has surprised, enthralled, and enraged so many new readers who thought that 126+ years of multiple mediums had to be working from some bedrock of comparison in the book, only to find how much had been erased or warped out of recognition.

I would be here all day if I threw myself into all the comic book adaptations. All the spinoff novels. The entire filmography and its neighboring heap of TV series. Even I'm not dedicated enough to comb through every single page and scene just to be reminded of how routinely snubbed or bastardized this character--and, honestly, the whole cast--is as time marches on and the writers and directors behind new Dracula media become increasingly detached from the actual content of the novel, relying only on pop culture osmosis and Wiki pages for Coppola's movie.

Anyway. I suppose it isn't perfectly fair to say Jonathan Harker has been portrayed as a coward through the century and a quarter of Dracula film, TV, and print in every single depiction.

But there is enough saturation in the trends of contemporary media that any crumbs the 20th century offered to him are drowned out to the point that we need a microscope to find them. And even if we're not talking contemporary?

I think it's telling that the examples you gave, bar what I can't not read as a hell of a stretch with 90's Keanu, form a list of four examples out of 126 years' worth of media.

#hope you guys like text walls #in all honesty I would love for some surprise Jonathan Harker-friendly recs to come out of the woodwork #I will try to find those four unknown examples if I can #or at least some synopses to see if I need to brace for some BS foisted on the rest of the cast #but yeah #I have Feelings about my good friend Jonathan Harker #jonathan harker #dracula #adaptation

[nrhshm]

Hi Nour! May i request a headcannon where reader is the exact opposite of mihawk (kinda like shanks) but he's head over heels for her? (: Thank you!

It's more of a scenario than a headcannon. Srry😅

.

Mihawk's S/o being his complete opposite

.

. S/o taken female

. Spoiler free

. SFW

.

The clock striking 1:30 am, a loud crash shot the hawkeyed man awake immediately. He barely had time to register the fact that he had dozed off waiting for your return. Which you eventually, did.

A bottle of booze now in pieces, splattered on the entryway, with it's owner on the ground, darkness covering their features. You look up at the said man and a blushy grin overtakes your complexion.

"H-Hello DRACUOOLAA, here toooo... suck my blood?" You blurt out stupidly, the said "Dracula" deadpanning at your lousy state.

Mihawk furrows his eyes in frustration, already despising the idea of dealing with this a fourth time. He silently picks you up bridal style, somehow tolerating the strong smell of alcohol against his senses.

"Just how many bottles did you drink?" He's already aware of your annoying passion with parties, and with parties come heavy dozes of sake contests and games. And YOU- confidently knowing your victorious drinking record -participate in such activities.

"Oo! Oo! W-What do you call a blwood-drwinking deerww..?"

" *sigh* ... what?"

"Vlad... the Impala! BWAHAHA-!!" You cackle loudly at your so-called "pathetic joke". Mihawk ont the other hand, lets out a loud hopeless sigh knowing how stupid you sound. And maybe, MAYBE, if you had a clear view of his face you would have noticed his mouth corners slowly curving up.

Unknown to you, Mihawk finds your laugh pacifying, somehow. You've always been that one ray of sunshine illuminating the void in his heart, always laughing, smiling, so carefree about everything. Even the toughest things don't shake you, holding a motto to never act on things unless absolutely necessary.

Yet he never seemed to understand your approach. Someone once stole your wallet and you kept laughing about it for the rest of the day. It makes him worried sometimes, how careless things could get, and you'd be waving your hand in a dismissive manner, calling his behaviour "un-chill" and "grandma-like".

The raven haired halts at one of the hallway doors, putting his daydreaming to a stop. His bedroom door... The said man blinks several times. He's sure he was walking you back to YOUR room! Then how did he-?

"... Oi... Don't go.." You, now asleep on his back, tighten your hold around his neck. Mihawk's grip seemed to have loosened along the ride, in which he immediately secures you back before you fall off.

"Curse this." He mumbles, a bit embarrassed by the series of mistakes he's already done. As far as he remembers he's been a man of total composure, not a single mistake have been made throughout his swordsman years. It's only around you, YOU, that he manages to flunk up so clumsily.

Where you influencing him so much?

Mihawk lets out one last sigh, taking a break from his barrage of memories. He delicately twists the doorknob, and with a slight creek, makes it in.

He makes sure to place you as careful as possible, despite knowing how much of deep sleeper you are. Not to mention how soft and ravishing the bedsheets are, of the finest quality across the world, thus your entire body relaxes onto the matress, a smile creeping along the line of your lips. Now standing at the other side of the room , Mihawk watches you fondly, giddy feelings surfacing back again.

He loves you, surely there's not a single sentence in the entirety of the world's books that could describe his level of attachment to you. Back then he thought he'd achieved his dream, his purpose in life, everything was done after that. But then you came in the picture, his total COMPLETE opposite. Messy, rambunctious, carefree, expressive... you name it. To summarise, he found you darn annoying and an after-thought. Despite his dry treatment, you always stuck to the man, inviting him to toasts and parties that he never wanted to involve himself in. Your cheeky demeanor, and a stacky bonus of charm and beauty, he found himself lost in his own emotions.

Maybe this is what led him to that... unfamiliar situation. The term "Opposites attract" never appealed to him till now, and it just seems too good to be true. From an annoying loud brat, to a partner he couldn't have asked for any better.

.

.

" My hopeless darling... just how much longer will you make me worry...?"

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece fic #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #mihawk headcanons #dracule mihawk #mihawk fluff #mihawk #shanks #mihawk x you #requests are still open btw #asks open #op mihawk #op imagines #one piece imagine #op scenario

[forthegothicheroine]

Late Victorian Gothic is much less things-that-go-bump-in-the-night-y than 18th-century Gothic, more raped-by-monsters-and-burned-alive-y. If you like your sexuality horrific, your identities multiple, your boundaries between science and supernatural penetrable, and your humanity contaminated both physically and morally—all of this strictly in the sense of your reading preferences, of course—then fin de siècle Victorian Gothic fiction is absolutely the genre for you.** Enter The Beetle!

#the beetle #the beetle weekly #rape cw