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@panthermouthh

Hey I’m Panther || gothic enthusiast || Irish || 20+ || lover of all things spooky || I’m also on instagram @panthermouth
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Screeeeching at this meme a girl I went to high school w posted recently

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weaselle

story time 

they used to give us 15 minutes to do the mile, which meant you could walk it and still qualify if you watched your pacing

one time we were doing the mile and my buddy (a japanese-american goth music nerd guy who wore fishnets and stuff to school) ran by me, huffing and puffing, which was weird because he usually did it in a half hour walk

i was on pace to finish in 14 minutes 30 seconds, walking in solidarity with my friends even tho i grew up playing all the sports and could have easily run it, because fuck school and fuck gym class in particular

Anyway i see my buddy (we didn’t hang out much in school but we grew up playing together because we lived on the same block) i see him go by hauling ass, high-key unusual, so i cranked up to a run, caught up to him, and asked him what the hell

So he tells me (in a gasping sort of way) that the gym teacher, a terrible bully who was always riding me and my friends, was once again giving him shit about never qualifying on the mile and my friend reminds him that he’s excused by a doctor, and the gym teacher basically called him a faker and threatened to fail him if he didn’t run

“so i got a couple of us witnessed that…. and now i’m gonna give myself a fucking asthma attack… because i’m fucking sick of this shit all the time… fuck that motherfucker… i hope i goddamn die on him”

the school wound up having to call an ambulance, he coughed up actual blood and passed out

the gym teacher got suspended over it, when he came back he stopped fucking with the un-athletic students. And my buddy didn’t even have to show up at all for gym class for the rest of the year. School legend

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Thank you @re-dracula for giving me permission to do this, and also for creating the best adaptation of Dracula

I don't think it can be seen but underneath piss I did yellow first and then black over the top

Original post can be found here

I have done an image description in the image, if there are any issues please let me know

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kyleehenke

Sharing this from my twitter because I think a good amount of artists can probably relate to this, ADHD or not ö

For those of you who are on mobile (or.. y’know, have ADHD): a small selection of excellent tags from this post to help you feel Less Alone

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Aight fellas here’s my takeaway after reading through these individual accounts:

1) HORRIFYINGLY, we are not bored enough. The onset of adulthood comes with more freedom to AVOID boredom, and all the instantly-accessible, hyper-stimulating technology & entertainment available to us probably doesn’t help us seek out activities that are less immediately rewarding… aka, our chosen crafts.

2) Now that we’re AWARE of this, we can begin to figure out which environments help us each to thrive the most creatively, & try to replicate those circumstances in our adult lives! 

3) NEURODIVERGENT CREATIVES STOP BLAMING YOURSELVES WHEN PASSION ALONE ISN’T ENOUGH 2K21

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reblogged
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lady-arryn

BRAM STOKERS DRACULA costumes appreciation: ― Lucy Westenra’s lace dress (costume design by Eiko Ishioka)

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dathen

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.

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petitelappin
"For a moment or two I could see nothing, as the shadow of a cloud obscured St. Mary’s Church and all around it. Then as the cloud passed I could see the ruins of the abbey coming into view; and as the edge of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along, the church and the churchyard became gradually visible. Whatever my expectation was, it was not disappointed, for there, on our favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white."

Mina and Lucy in the kirkyard at Whitby, August 11th.

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love people referring to the dracula offseason. i can't stop picturing exchanges like "well, we're in the offseason" "the Superbowl is literally this weekend" "no, not football. dracula"

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if you want me to consume a new media you MUST catch me at the exact moment when the stars are aligned and the air pressure is equal to the current degree of the sun’s peak against the horizon and all the cosmic energies are perfectly unified (aka my old interest is fading out) or i will nod and say “im adding that to my list!” Knowing theres no chance i will check it out

“unless its a book!” “unless you tell me it has gay people in it!” “this but only for live action shows” “theres a good chance i’ll get to it eventually” no wrong this post is not for you this post is ONLY for bitches who could have a treasured friend recommend them something that sounds grown in a lab to be your personal catnip and, with no choice in the matter, immediately know it will never be the right time to watch/read/listen to it

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It is November of 1893. You have just killed a vampire. Exhausted and worn, you close your eyes and rest.

You wake up. It is May of 1893. You are on a train en route to Transylvania. Your diary says you have had queer dreams lately.

You try to believe it.

(An old woman puts a rosary in your hands. You accept it without question.)

You are a guest in a castle you have never been in before (you recognize every hallway and know without trying that every door is locked). Your host is a man you have never met before (you killed him you killed him you killed him he had turned to dust and there was blood on the snow).

One morning you cut yourself while shaving.

There is nobody behind you in the pocket mirror’s reflection.

You turn fast, and the razor is like a Kukri knife in your hand.

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