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*opens the oven after preheating to 400*

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i want a dracula adaptation that fully embraces how horny jonathan and mina are for each other. i need a good screenwriter with contacts and access to so much money to clock how, towards the end of the novel, she almost exclusively refers to him as "my husband" or "my Jonathan" with what i can only interpret as barely concealed and utterly primal levels of possessiveness and desire

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April 28, 2024 - An unintentionally funny video by a zionist propagandist shows off some good organisation and discipline at the UCLA encampment for Palestine.

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I think that adaptations who leave Quincey out or make him a horrible person (see 2020 Dracula) miss the point. He's not just a comic relief. he's the oathmaker. He swears to Lucy when she rejects him he'll always be her friend, and he follows through. He swears to Mina he'll not rest until SHE rests, and he follows through. He swears he will kill Dracula to Jonathan, and they shake hands, and he follows through. He gives Dracula one of the two fatal bows, and bleeds and dies, like he swore he would, for those he loves.

Wow, Anon. That was beautiful. You came to my inbox, absolutely destroyed me, and I'm thanking you for it. /pos

You're so right, though. He is the oathmaker, he follows through on his promises no matter what. Also, the Oathmaker is such a cool title is that a thing I missed?? Can that be what we call him forever now if we don't already??

But here I am, doing the exact same thing as the producers/directors, writing him off as comic relief (I did a little more than that, but still)!! I am truly sorry to Quincey, he is not just that and he never was. So thank you, Anon, for reminding me again why I love him so much. Perhaps one day, there will be an adaptation where he's actually appreciated.

As a side note, they made him a horrible person in 2020 Dracula?! Ugh, I started watching it and could not get through it after they killed Jonathan off -- I didn't care if they resurrected him or what, I was done. I just couldn't keep watching Now I don't want to do it even more if they ruined Quincey too!!!! BBC stop trying to be edgy with classic literature challenge (impossible). What are they going to do next? Make a Jane Eyre series where Jane's the wife in the attic the whole time? I shouldn't even write that cause they'll probably think "wow, that's a great idea!" :/

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Dracula Characters: Mina Harker

She is one of God’s women, fashioned by His own hand to show us men and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth.

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One more post for the night

Across the Quinceyverse xD

#i love the boy

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“I suppose it is thus that in old times one vampire meant many; just as their hideous bodies could only rest in sacred earth, so the holiest love was the recruiting sergeant for their ghastly ranks”

 — Jonathan Harker’s journal, October 3rd

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I really don't relate to that "lesbians love women differently from men we are soft and pure and would never sexualize each other uwu" shit like fuck that I am a gooner and a pervert and I love sex and i wanna bang women

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MinaxJonathan, knife, waiting for the Czarina Catherine while Mina is gradually changing more and more

His and Hers Knives

(Summary: PG-13 for mentions of suicide and a swear

Jonathan has knives for Dracula, or for anyone else who might try to separate him from Mina, and Mina has a knife of her own.)

The gentle scrape of blade upon whetstone did not awaken Mina. It was a quiet, soothing sound, though Jonathan doubted even the passing by of a circus could rouse her from her slumber before she was ready. Regardless, he tried to keep quiet while she slept, and he doubted this sound would have even bothered her before she’d been bitten.

Not that he was the sort to sharpen knives in the wee hours, before. Much had changed in the past few months. He wasn’t the same man who had set out on a train to Buda-Pesth and beyond for an ailing Mr. Hawkins.

A few more strokes had his kukri knife razor sharp. He set it aside and drew another knife, a Bowie, from a sheath within his waistcoat. He wet the stone, then began sharpening its blade. 

He kept four knives on his person, these days. The kukri was the most obvious. It was the statement, and the other concealed blades whatever punctuation it required. Let it not be said that Jonathan Harker wasn’t communicative.

He sharpened the Bowie, then his boot knife, and finally the curved karambit. This had become his nightly ritual, almost a knightly ritual, as he watched over Mina’s unnatural slumber. Dracula had come upon her in their bedchamber. Never again. Though Dracula was far away, concealed in the bowels of the Czarina Catherine, Jonathan still kept his vigil.

It wasn’t only for Dracula that he sharpened his blades. Van Helsing and Seward’s eyes were ever on Mina, assessing her sluggish pulse and her sharpening teeth and that terrible burned mark upon his pale forehead. If they could not hunt down and destroy Dracula to free Mina’s soul, they would come for her.

And if they did, they would find Jonathan. 

There would have to be a strategy to the order in which he addressed them, he knew. If they brought Godalming and Morris along, they would have to be dealt with first, though he’d have to be wary of Seward’s right hook if his phonograph entries were to be believed. Van Helsing would be last. Though his brain was the biggest threat to Mina’s continued existence, his body was slow and frail with age, and with the others gone, he would be easy to dispatch.

“Jonathan.”

If the two doctors came alone, that would be better. They might, if they underestimated Jonathan’s devotion to Mina. Then he could silence them, and catch Morris and Godalming unawares. 

“Jonathan.”

It wouldn’t be easy to take a life, but he could steel himself for Mina’s sake. A man had to protect his wife. ‘Til death do us part,’ what weak resolve was that? He would be hers beyond death, beyond ‘un-death’.

“Jonathan!” Chill hands and an insistent voice drew him from his dark thoughts, and he finally blinked and saw that Mina had awoken and taken his hands in her own around the hilt of his kukri, which he must have picked back up at some point of his musings. Mina’s hands looked ethereally pale against his.

“My love, where were you?” she asked. Here she was, so sickly pale, yet worried about him. He shook his head.

“Lost in thought.” He put the knife down so he could take her hands properly. “I’m sorry.”

She kissed him, just a chaste press of lip to lip. They had not known each other as husband and wife since she’d been bitten. Mina felt herself unclean, and though Jonathan thought her still as pure and holy as an angel, he would not press her into couplings she did not enthusiastically welcome. These light touches would suffice him. 

“I fear I’ll be asleep again soon. Come lie by me, while we still have time.”

Jonathan sat his kukri on the bedside table and joined Mina in bed. She pulled something from beneath her pillow and pressed it into his hands.

It was another knife, in a leather sheath, its handle wrapped in a black ribbon tied securely in a knot.

“I asked Mr. Morris to get me a blade. It’s a fine one, isn’t it?” Mina motioned for Jonathan to unsheath it.

He drew it out. It was a simple boning blade, thin and straight, almost delicate, especially when compared to his kukri. Jonathan ran his finger along the flat of the blade, then against the silk ribbon-wrapped hilt.

“I see you decorated it.” 

Mina smiled at him. “Yes, it’s silly, but I wanted to make it my own. Will you show me how to sharpen it?”

Jonathan nodded. There was nothing he could deny her, except… except that which she’d asked at her ‘funeral’. 

“In the daylight hours, when you’re more awake,” he promised. He slid it back into its sheath and handed it back to her.

“Good. I need it to be sharp.”

“God be willing, you’ll never get close enough to Dracula or any other enemy to need a sharp knife,” he said. He reached over and picked up the kukri. “That’s what this is for.”

She smiled again, lips closed. All of her smiles were like that, these days. Hiding her teeth, fearing the day they became fangs. 

“I know it is. Each thing has its purpose, Jonathan. This knife is not for him. It’s for… it’s for me.”

Her voice caught, and Jonathan looked up at her sharply.

“No,” he said. He reached over to take the knife from her, but she drew it away and cradled it to her breast. He could have wrested it away from her, but he couldn’t bear to handle her so harshly, so he drew back, letting her keep the little blade.

“Listen to me, husband,” she pleaded. “I can feel myself changing. I am clinging to the same hope we all are, but… but we must be ready, in case that hope fails.”

“That is what the kukri is for,” he said again. “If we cannot be together as man and wife, then I will serve you as your protector and thrall, and keep away any who would harm you. You can have my blood, my body, my life. As long as we’re together, I don’t care about anything else!”

“But I do!” Mina’s voice rose to match his own in volume and passion. “Perhaps you could find it in your heart to love me as a vampire, but I could not love myself. I must be human, or else I must be a corpse. If you love me, listen to me.”

Jonathan loved her, and so he listened. He forced his hand to release the white-knuckled grip on the kukri’s handle.

“Go on, then,” he whispered.

She nodded, and her eyes shone with tears as she continued.

“I borrowed a book on anatomy from Dr. Seward to be sure. This little blade should be long enough to pierce a heart. If Dracula escapes us and the transformation is upon me, I want you to…”

A sob interrupted her, and she swallowed hard. “I want you to use it on me. I’m very afraid, but I think if it’s such a thin blade, and if it’s plenty sharp and in the hands of someone I love… I think, then, that I could bear it.”

Jonathan couldn’t hold back his tears at the thought of that, and both of them took each other by the hand, crying. 

“A-and I would w-want you to go on with your life, and find happiness, but…”

“Without you? There could never be such a thing,” Jonathan interrupted. 

Mina nodded, and wiped a hand at her eyes. “I know, my love. And if that be the case, then, this knife can be for you as well.”

Jonathan drew her into his arms. “Thank you, my dearest. Thank you.” Her words delivered to him such profound relief that he hasn’t known since she’d arrived by his side at the Hospital of Saint Joseph and Saint Mary in Budapesh to marry him. He could face whatever peril, so long as at the end of it, he ended up where she was, be it heaven, hell, or their home in Exeter.

“It’ll be romantic, in a way,” Mina said, head nestled into his shoulder, her tears beginning to soak through his nightshirt. “Our hearts’ blood, mingled together on one blade. Together to the end.”

Jonathan nodded. “I c-can draw up our wills, that we will be buried together, in the same coffin, with this knife laid beside us if you’d like.”

He felt her nod against his neck. His wonderful, perfect bride and her obsession with the macabre. How he adored her.

They held each other until their tears had all been shed, and then Jonathan wiped first her eyes, then his own with his handkerchief. 

Mina’s eyelids began to sink lower, her pulse slowing. She yawned, but made barely a sound. 

“I fear… I cannot stay awake much longer….” 

Jonathan lowered her down onto the bed. “Sleep, love.”

He tucked her in, and took his seat once more. Now he had five knives to sharpen during his vigil. He held the kukri in his right hand, the little boning knife in his left, considering both. Dracula would die, or the Harkers would. 

He raised the kukri up, admiring the deadly sharp edge of the blade. It would be Dracula or the Harkers, and they knew where Dracula fucking slept.

#ugh i love them

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I still say drabbles btw!

Jonathan/Mina, post-Dracula. Any rating you please

Yay, drabbles are still a thing!

Here you go, anon.

Paprika Hendl

(Summary: As the one year anniversary of Jonathan Harker's business trip approaches, Mina makes paprika hendl.)

It was almost May, the first anniversary of the business trip that had changed both of their lives. Mina drummed her fingers on the pages of the little appointment book she kept for herself and Jonathan, wondering at the near half-a-year that had passed since the sordid affair of Count Dracula had finally come to an end.

They were happily married, she and her Jonathan. Sometimes, days or even weeks went by without thinking about vampires or blood or the bitter loss of two dear friends. Mundane life had challenges of its own- running the firm and the household left to them by the kind Mr. Hawkins consumed much of their time and energy. Some days, their biggest concern was an appointment with a client that conflicted with plans that they had made, or an argument about how laundry should be placed into the hamper, or any of the other small disagreements any new married couple faces. They worked through such challenges, for they loved one another, and they were willing to work at it.

The ghosts of memory still reared their heads, though. A nightmare, or the sight of a figure in a hat passing them by on the street, or the squeaking of a bat as dusk fell, and that fear came creeping back. 

On days when things were going well, when they felt they had their feet strongly planted beneath themselves, Mina and Jonathan would talk about it. They really were each others’ strong pillars of support, as man and wife should be. They had made such progress. They had begun to heal.

And yet… 

And yet they still bore so many scars. Jonathan refused to stay with clients on business trips, paying for hotel rooms out of pocket rather than relying on their hospitality. Mina kept garlic flowers in vases around the house, even when she had to pay for blooms specially grown in a hot-house. Both of them, in spite of their Protestant faith, carried crucifixes with them when they went out. 

And they only spoke of Quincey or Lucy when they felt completely settled. They avoided reminders of their travels.There were still things they tiptoed around. Which was understandable, which would be fine, except for the past two months, Mina had not experienced her monthlies, and she’d begun feeling poorly in the mornings, her stomach turning at smells that she normally didn’t even notice.

There was going to be a third Harker before the year was done. They had already decided that their first child would be called Quincey if he were a son, Lucy if she were a daughter. Mina wanted to be able to tell her child about their namesake with no reservations, without sorrow haunting the name, and that meant she had to keep taking steps to confront her ghosts now. 

They weren’t ready to go back to Transylvania yet- that might take them years. But there were other things she could do, other wounds to tend to. As long as they were diligently working on making progress, she was certain she could welcome little Quincey or sweet Lucy into the world without regrets.

So the next morning, when Jonathan went out to meet with a client about a real estate contract, Mina opened the safe where all their documents were stored, and flipped through Jonathan’s little shorthand journal. Tucked in with the pages was a folded paper with the letterhead of the Hotel Royale. On it, a handwritten recipe. She hadn’t included it when she’d typed up her summary of the events for Dr. Van Helsing and the others, though she’d left the mention of it because she wanted them to understand her husband’s gentleness and goodness. He’d gone abroad with a sense of wonder at the world, and he’d wanted to bring a piece of it back to share with his fiance.

They’d never made the recipe, scared that the taste would bring back memories of that harrowing trip that followed after it. Mina hadn’t eaten much of anything when they’d followed Dracula back to his castle later on, so she still didn’t even know what it tasted like. 

Well, today she would find out. Jonathan had asked for this recipe one year ago out of love for her, and they would eat it tonight and drink to the health of all those brave Translyvanians who had shown Jonathan such kindness as he traveled unknowingly into the devil’s home. 

She took the recipe out of the book and placed everything else back into the safe. Scanning the ingredients, she nodded to herself. 

“To the market, then. I wonder if our usual grocer carries paprika.”

—-----------------------

Jonathan smelled the familiar scent as soon as he opened the door to their home. He sat down his briefcase and stripped off his coat, uncertain how to feel. It had been a long day of legal back-and-forth on contract issues, and he was hungry as a horse. But could he eat that again?

“Darling, is that you?” Mina called from the kitchen. 

“Yes, my love,” he replied automatically. He went forth to meet her.

There were several discarded pans in their usually orderly kitchen, which he could only assume to be rejected attempts. The scent of chicken and spices was heavy in the air.

“Oh, I lost track of time, dearest. I haven’t even set the table!” She was frazzled, and he caught her around the waist and drew her in for a hug until she took a deep, calming sigh. As they parted, Jonathan noticed a streak of red on her forehead, where she must have wiped her brow with hands still covered in paprika.

He loved her more than words could express, and he could feel his mouth turning up in a smile as he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe away the mess from her face.

“I’ll set the table. You sit for a moment. I’ll bet you’ve been on your feet all day, when you should be resting.”

She shooed his handkerchief away. “I’m not that far along that I need bed rest, Jonathan Harker. If you’ll put out the place settings, I’ll finish up here.”

Jonathan simply nodded. He’d have done all the work if he thought she’d let him, but his Mina had her pride, and the best thing he knew to do for her was to lend his help where she’d let him and trust that she had the rest in hand.

By the time he set the dining room table and poured glasses of water for each of them (with an extra pitcher close at hand, for he remembered how thirsty a dish it was), Mina had gotten her pots in order and helped the paprika hendl into a serving bowl.

They sat and said grace, and served up their plates. Mina set her dark eyes on him eagerly, not yet moving to try her own creation.

“Darling, are you not eating?” he asked, worried at her lack of appetite.

She shook her head. “No, I’ll eat in a moment. I just… want you to try it first, and you must be honest with me if I got it right. I swear I haven’t tried even a bite yet, so that we could be together when I try it for the first time.”

What notion had his wife gotten into her head? She was so earnest, he couldn’t refuse her. He picked up his fork and tried a bite. 

It had that familiar taste, perhaps slightly different for the regional variations of staple ingredients. It brought back memories, yes, but not of horrors. He remembered hotels and inns along his journey, of his broken conversations in German with patient locals who shared their food and hearths with him.

He dutifully answered. “It’s wonderful, darling. You made it perfectly.”

She smiled, lighting up the whole room. “I’m so glad.”

She took a bite of her own, and the journey her face went upon as the spices registered had Jonathan chuckling even as he pushed her glass of water closer to her… and then his glass… and then the pitcher….

—------------------

“That was lovely, Mina,” Jonathan told her after dinner. “But why go through all the trouble?”

They sat together on a couch, embracing one another.

Mina looked up at him, her face serious. “Because it was something you wanted to share with me, before Dracula interfered. Because it is something I want us to be able to share with our child one day. Because each time we reclaim something Dracula tried to take from us, we kill him again.”

Her tone had gone a little bloodthirsty by the end, and Jonathan loved that about her too. His fierce, stubborn Mina, who had survived Hell and who would keep surviving and dancing upon Dracula’s grave until her final day.

He took her hand in his, and gave it a squeeze. “Alright, my love. We’ll keep fighting him. Perhaps, if you’re feeling up to it, we’ll take the train to Whitby for our next holiday?”

Mina took a long moment, considering. Finally, she placed one hand upon her stomach, and nodded. “Yes, I think I’ll be ready, so long as you’re by my side.”

Jonathan wrapped her in his arms once more. “Always, Mina. Always.”

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i love when guys come in and order samwiches like "oh this ones not for me its for the WIFE haha such a weird order i know but its not for me its for my wife. i wouldnt usually order this but its for my wife" like alright mister whatever you say 🤨 heres your sissy lil faggy homosexual samwich! for YOU!

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Speaking of uh, Takes, there was a one-man play (using multiple cameras to make all the characters interact) going on in the UK called Jonathan Harker And Dracula that was according to the staff a very faithful adaptation. There was an interview done with the actor, and the interviewer keeps being baffled that they'd make Jonathan the play's main character. Choice questions like,

Interviewer: I’d like to turn our attention to the often neglected character of Jonathan Harker which you also play. In addition to Dracula, the other more theatrical characters –certainly those in which writers and actors have had the most fun characterizing– are those of Renfield and Van Helsing. For me at least, Harker is possibly the least interesting of Stoker’s characters so I’m wondering how you intend to make him appealing?

Gerard (the actor): "I suppose the main challenge of playing Jonathan is that he is so naive. He doesn’t know what a vampire is, he doesn’t know why he only sees Dracula at night time or why he doesn’t have a reflection so the audience is already streets ahead of him! This doesn’t make him stupid, he’s certainly not that, so it’s important to watch him gradually put all the pieces of the jigsaw together and to remember that this is all new to him. Jonathan is actually my favourite character to play because he grows throughout the play, he gets stronger and braver and towards the finale finds the strength to do things that he would never have done at the beginning. I guess, in a way, he has as much of a metamorphosis as Dracula."

another Choice question:

Interviewer: One interpretation of Harker might be that he represents the straight-laced Victorian gentleman and their fear of sex and female empowerment. 

I, too, remember the part of the book where Jonathan says "Down with women's suffrage!" and "Cowgirl should be illegal"

Also I love the poster

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american thing happens in america: what are we some sort of asians

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ya im complainiong about them i want the COOL PANTS not the MOM OF THE COOL PANTS