#btw in May I went to a doctor cause the inside of my nose was always super dry

[justacynicalromantic]

🔴The rocket strike on April 11 at the Trypil thermal power plant in the Kyiv region caused huge damage to the environment of the region due to the release of pollutants into the atmosphere.

The State Ecoinspection of the Capital District reports that the fire caused an uncontrolled release of harmful substances into the atmosphere, namely:

- more than 2.5 tons of nitrogen dioxide;

- more than 6.17 thousand tons of carbon dioxide;

- more than 2.4 tons of carbon monoxide;

- more than 0.7 tons of VOCs;

- 1 ton of suspended solids.

There is soil contamination with oil products, copper and zinc. According to the inspectors' estimates, the amount of damage to the environment from this missile strike alone reaches more than $650 thousand$

[abibliophobiaa]

Peter getting his wisdom teeth removed and just being super clingy and affectionate with reader, i love ur stuff btw :)))

thank you so much for this one! haha i love best friends to lovers with my whole heart. so hope you enjoy. 🤍🤍 only fluff ahead. fem!reader.

When Peter asks you to take him to get his wisdom teeth out, you’re more than willing to help. His Aunt May happened to be working a late shift last minute, leaving you to wait in the oral surgeon’s office as they take your best friend back into the operating room.

A little over an hour—and a few outdated celebrity magazines later—and one of the dental assistants calls you back into the room to retrieve your friend who is currently perched on a chair, staring down at his shoelaces intently.

“Did you know I have eight shoelaces? I guess I tied my shoes extra tight this morning.”

Double vision. That’s right.

“There’s two of you, too. Two is better than one, so they say.” He holds up two fingers in his excitement of seeing you, earning a giggle from the woman standing in the corner.

“Is he okay to go home?” You ask, moving closer to Peter. Snorting at the wads of gauze balled up in his mouth, garbling his speech.

“Yes, his surgery went great. The doctor gave a packet of what to expect during recovery. He should come back in a week or so to check up on his stitches, but other than that you are both good to go.”

At that, you gesture for Peter to get up off of the chair and grunt as he slams into your side. Feet very much that of a baby doe’s. Once he’s upright, you press into his side just to be extra safe and lead him toward the door the assistant opens for the two of you to pass through.

“Ha. There’s still two of you. Two of the prettiest person in the whole world.” He bops you on the nose, wrinkling his own in his laughter. “I’m a lucky guy.”

“Okay Casanova, let’s get you home.”

Getting him into the car proves to be interesting. He’s all gangly and floppy limbs. The sedation still making him unaware of his surrounding as you finagle him into the seat.

His legs remain on the outside of the car, fingers moving to turn the knob on the volume of the radio and raising it to an obscene volume as he shouts the words to the song through the cottony mouth he sports.

“But you’re in London and I break down ‘cause it’s not fair that you’re not arounddddd…” He drums out the beat on the dashboard as you shove at his feet. “This is when the feeling sinks in, I don’t wanna miss you like thisss. Come back, be here. Come back—”

“Hey, hey. We don’t want to cause a public disturbance, now do we? Plus I think we should leave Taylor to do what she does best—”

You wave your hands in the air in your victory as you manage to get the rest of him inside the car and close the door shut.

“You know I met her, right? Nice lady,” he says as you drop down onto the driver’s seat and shift the car into drive.

“You mean Spider-Man met her.”

“Spider-Man. Schmider-Man. I’ll have you know I’m a great singer. Some people just don’t appreciate real talent when they hear it.” He pouts, reaching into his mouth to pluck the gauze from within his cheeks.

Your hand reaches out immediately to curl around his forearm. He stills. “You’re not supposed to take that out.”

“Oh. That’s right. I’m sorry.”

It’s the dejected tone in his voice that rips your heart down the middle as you pull into his Aunt’s driveway. You turn to look at him, noting the way his eyes roam your features.

“You gonna help me get you inside, big guy?”

His eyebrows waggle seductively at the ‘big guy’ comment and you don’t even want to know where his anesthesia addled mind runs off to. Can’t be anywhere good what with the way he’s eyeballing you like that. You chalk it up to him not being in his right mind and help him walk up the short distance to the home before leading him into his bedroom.

“Alright, into bed you go.”

“Trying to get me into bed, hmm, Daisy?”

Daisy for your favorite flowers growing up.

Your heart always skips when he says it—this time no exception. His sluggish smirk teases at the fact he recognizes the uptick as well. But you clear your throat and shove the emotions aside.

“Come on now.”

He does as told, lowering himself onto his back beneath the comforters. You manage to tug his shoes off as he cozies up and move to head back down the hall when he calls your name.

“Yes, Pete?”

“I’m tired. Can you come here?”

“It’s just the anesthesia. It’ll taper off,” you reassure him, hand gripping the doorframe.

His eyes go soft around the edges and you note the slight downturn of that full mouth. Groan and separate yourself away from the door as you climb into bed beside him. You both turn onto your sides, hands resting in between the two of you. His eyes growing heavier and heavier by the second.

“Thank you,” he mutters.

“No problem. Now try to get some sleep.”

He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable beside you. “Okay, okay. Night, Daisy. I love you.”

And then he’s out like a light. As if he never said those three words and left them suspended in the air between the two of you. You know it’s only the looseness of his lips due to what they’ve sedated him with, yet your mind races anyway.

You’ve felt something far outside the realm of friendship toward Peter for ages now. Months, really. The prospect of him ever feeling the same seems so unlikely. It doesn’t happen that way in real life, right? Not like in the stories or the movies where the best friends fall in love.

So you decide to shelve his words into a folder in your mind labeled “Not going to happen” and close your eyes.

When you wake, you’re a tangle of limbs with Peter. Legs intertwining. His thighs slotting between yours as he holds you from behind. Arm right around your waist. Cradling your back against his chest.

A slow, simmering nervousness begins to form low in your gut. This has certainly never happened before. And likely would not be happening were it not for the lingering after effects of his surgery.

“What’s wrong?” A voice asks from behind you, warm breath seeping against the back of your head.

“Uh…oh, I don’t know. We’re cuddling might be a start?”

“I’m okay with it if you are.”

That’s…new. Interesting.

You settle back against him, reaching over onto his night stand to grip your phone in hand. A picture of Peter with flowers in a halo around his head and a smile on his face greets you. Your profile is in the picture as well. Caught in a half laugh.

You notice the new text message from Aunt May and slide the phone open. Immediately earning the attention of Peter as he peers over your shoulder and notices you’ve sent a video of him to her. Plus the dozens of laughing face emojis she sent you in reply.

“What’s that?!”

“Oh, you mean your performance to all of New York in the key of screeching cat in a back alley?”

“Let me see that!”

He reaches around you to grab at the phone, earning a shriek from you as you flip over onto your stomach to hide the phone from him.

“I’m keeping this forever. You will not ruin this for me, Park—”

You break off into a fit of laughter as wiggling fingers catch your side and the phone shifts as you flip onto your back to shove at your fiendish, brown-haired attacker.

“You’re supposed to be resting!” You argue, shoving his thigh with your foot so he’s no longer hovering over you and instead slipping backward a bit further on the bed.

In his momentary lapse of attention, you grip the phone and slide it down your shirt. AKA, no man’s land for Peter Parker. He notices this, groaning as he falls foreword and rests his head against your thigh.

“How bad was I?”

“You thought you had eight shoelaces. You performed a beautiful rendition of Taylor Swift’s ‘Come Back…Be here.’ Was beautiful really. Really felt all the emotions with that one. Didn’t know Spider-Man was a Swiftie.”

He groans again. “You’re the one who played the ‘All too Well’ ten minute version so many times I ended up learning all the words. Just so happens the rest of the album is really good too. Sue me.”

“You also told me I was the prettiest girl in the world.” You bite your lip.

Might as well see where this goes.

His head lifts at this. “I mean, that one I could have told you while not under anesthesia.”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks at that. “Yeah? It’s just…you never have. Told me, I mean.”

His smile softens. Fingers curl around your wrist as he shifts his legs beneath him and settles down beside you. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world.” And then he’s the one burning up in the face. “Did I say anything else?”

“Nope. That was all.”

Lie.

Lie.

Lie.

“You sure?” He asks.

Your head dips once. “Yup.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying to me, right?”

You curl your own feet beneath you. Sitting up in front of him. Your fingers toy with the leg of his shorts mindlessly.

“You know how I can drink and not really feel anything at all from it? Or how I heal ridiculously fast. Or just the fact my senses are enhanced overall?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

You glance up again, noting the way he’s looking at you.

All soft gazes and slow smiles. His morning sleepiness still clinging to those serene features. He’s so annoyingly handsome even like this. You fight the urge to reach your fingers forward and trace the line of his cheek. Just to see how it feels beneath your palm.

“When I asked you to lay down with me I felt ninety-nine percent myself.”

“Oh.”

“I…uh, love you, Daisy. Have for a while now honestly. You know it, don’t you?”

And maybe you have always known, in a way. Peter’s never said it so much as in words but in actions. His endless caring for you. The way he’s always there to lend an ear. The simple fact he’s the person you run to everything for. Your safe space. The brightest ball of light in human form to walk into your life.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

It’s not awkward. Lightning doesn’t crash down and strike you like you imagine it might. It’s almost normal. Nothing changes. Not really. There’s just a quiet understanding.

“So where do we go from here?” He asks.

“You go and gently brush your teeth. Because I want to kiss you, but you just got a few teeth removed from that stubborn head of yours. And then you get to ice your face all day and watch Netflix.”

“With you?”

“No, with your neighbor. Now go, go!”

Some time later, the two of you are sprawled out together watching endless episodes of your favorite TV show. You rest between Peter’s thighs, back against his chest as a laptop rests on your lap. Midway through an episode you turn your head and smile into Peter’s lips as they claim your own. Soft and inviting. Sweet and pliant beneath your own. He moves to press a kiss into your brow after, brushing a hair away from your cheek to tuck it behind your ear.

“Can I see the video you sent Aunt May now?”

“I will not accept kisses as bribery.”

“But can you be convinced?” He bats his eyelashes in jest.

“That is to be determined.”

He kisses you again. One, two, three times. A whisper of I love you against your skin.

“How about now?” He whispers.

You huff. “Fine, Peter Swift. Just know I warned you and I’m not deleting it ever.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Daisy.”

[madboxwithagirl]

Worried Sick

10th Doctor x Reader

Author’s Note: This took me WAY longer than it should have, but here’s my next story! This was a requested story, but I had already planned on having a sick fic with 10 and the Reader! Thank you once again to my lovely beta reader @blueboxshenanigans11 for reading through and giving me some editing suggestions! Please chuck her a follow if you haven’t yet! And, as always, feedback is always welcome!

Prompt: Yo can i get a tenth doctor x a sick reader! (Btw i love blog)

Summary: You’ve come down with an alien cold, and the Doctor is looking after you! After you sneak off while he’s away, he frantically searches for you.

Warnings: Mild angst, some talk of sickness related things (sneezing, coughing, etc.)

Words: 1,972

You hadn’t expected to fall ill. Although, no one really expects to catch some alien sickness, do they? But then again, you travel to all sorts of different planets and galaxies, so maybe you should have expected to get something. It didn’t matter anymore though; you were in bed with a crummy cold.

The cold itself didn’t seem any different from a typical human cold besides the fact that it lasts about double the time and medicine doesn’t help. Luckily for you, you got a milder version of the cold. For the most part, you felt pretty okay besides the stuffy nose, mild fever, and occasional sneezing fits. But the Doctor had told you that it could very easily turn into a much stronger and potentially deadly illness with any physical exertion, so he made you stay in bed. You were on day seven of the illness and you were more than thoroughly annoyed with being unable to move except to use the restroom when he wasn’t paying attention.

At first, you didn’t really mind having to stay in bed since the Doctor insisted on cuddling with you to help you feel warmer, which it easily did. It was already difficult enough to resist cuddles from the Time Lord, but the chills from the fever made it impossible to say no. His slim body surprisingly held a lot of body heat, something that you were more grateful for than ever. Despite loving being in his arms, after a couple of days it was beginning to become difficult to want to stay in bed. Your body hurt from lack of use and you wanted to go on an adventure. You had tried to convince him to take you on a teeny, tiny trip to some new planet, but he refused with ease.

“Not a chance,” he said, shaking his head and kissing your forehead. “You’re still ill and I can’t possibly risk letting you get even worse. With too much physical activity, this little cold will become a nasty flu. I can’t let that happen, now can I?” You huffed and buried your face into his chest, happy that he cared about you so much but upset that he wouldn’t give in.

“I don’t like you.”

“You know you love me.”

During day seven, you simply couldn’t handle being in bed any longer. Your joints were sore and you had to get up and do something, even if it was just walking around the TARDIS for a while. The Doctor had left to make you some soup, so you decided to take that opportunity to get up and sneak around for a bit. You knew that you couldn't be gone for more than 15 or 20 minutes, but it was something. You slowly got out of your bed and stretched, happy to be using your limbs again. Slowly, you opened the door to your room and looked around for any sign of the kitchen or the alien. Satisfied that neither were nearby, you crept out and began to look for the library, your favorite place in the ship.

Walking carefully, the Doctor started to make his way out of the kitchen with a tray of hot soup, hot tea, and some solid food for you. He felt terrible for taking you to the planet where you had contracted your cold. He had completely forgotten that humans were incredibly susceptible to the planet’s many illnesses. There were so many more that you could have gotten, each one more severe than the last. He was thankful that you had caught one of the more mild ones and that you would be alright within a few more days. He loved you dearly and would be nothing less than devastated if he lost you.

You and the Doctor had been together for many months and he had never been happier. In that time, he realized that he could never go back to you not being in his life, so he was going to do everything in his power to keep you from getting worse. He knew that you weren’t happy with being stuck in bed, but he simply couldn’t risk it. He knew that you loved being in his arms, so he used that as a way to keep you in bed. He tried to stay with you as often as he possibly could, only leaving to get you food. Not that he minded, of course. You grounded him. With anyone else, he wanted nothing more than to go out on a new adventure. With you, he simply wanted to be around you, even if it meant staying in bed and cuddling.

As he made it to your door, he got a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. The door was slightly open. He hadn’t left it like that, he was sure of it. Nudging the door open with his shoulder, he looked inside and saw that you weren’t in bed where he had left you. The Doctor dropped the tray on the floor and ran off down the halls to look for you, ignoring the broken glass and ruined food.

His body kicked into overdrive as he went through every door he came across, hoping to find you safe and sound. With each door that didn’t lead to you, the more worried he became. He knew you couldn’t have gone far and that you were most likely alright, but he couldn’t shake off the fear that you had gone and made yourself worse off. He tried to reason with himself, knowing that you knew better, but then he remembered that you had gone off when he had told you not to exert yourself.

Coming to the door to the library, the Doctor rushed in, having little hope of finding you in there. He ran through anyway as he continued to debate with himself on whether or not you were alright. Finally, as he prepared to go onto the next floor of the massive room, he saw you leaning against one of the shelves, eyes dashing back and forth as you tried to find a book that suited your mood. The Doctor called out your name frantically and ran towards you, capturing you in a hug before you could look up.

“D-Doctor?” you said, confused as he quickly lead you to a seat. As he helped, well, forced you sit down, he tried to put on his best stern face.

“Sweetheart, I told you that if you exerted yourself you could make your sickness worse. Why didn’t you listen to me?” He tried hard to keep his face stern, but the fear in his eyes couldn’t be hidden. Your face fell as you realized how much you had worried him. You had meant to get back to your room before he came back, but you must have lost track of time. Now he was upset that you had disobeyed his orders and made him worry for you. Letting your eyes fall from his face, you began to explain yourself quietly.

“I know that if I’m not careful I’m going to make myself even more sick, but Doctor, I’ve just been so bored. I haven't been able to walk around or stretch my body. I’ve been so sore because I haven’t even been allowed to walk. You’ve carried me to the bathroom, bathed me, you’ve even fed me. I know that if I’m too active, I’ll get worse, but I just wanted to move about to try to get the pain to go away and maybe find something to do until I’m better.” You glanced back up at the Doctor, his face having softened slightly. Sighing, you looked away again. “And…”

“And?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side slightly.

“Don’t…you think that you may be a tad bit overbearing?” you asked, your voice growing slightly more quiet. Before the Doctor could reply, you continued. “I mean I know that I have to be careful, but walking for a few minutes? Or giving myself a quick shower? Or lifting a spoon? I get that you don’t want me getting something that could be dangerous, but don’t you think that those things aren’t enough to cause anything worse?” You kept your eyes from focusing on the Time Lord, instead opting to focus on some marks on the floor. Those suddenly became very interesting. What neat patterns those marks make. Your focus was broken with a sigh from the Doctor and his hand touching your own.

“Darling, I…I know that I must seem to be overprotective of you, and maybe I am, especially because it’s you and I want you to be safe and sound and out of harm’s way, but maybe I’m not because the universe is dangerous and you’re a human being and humans are terribly weak compared to other creatures, but I know that you’re a resilient person and that you’re probably fine more often than not, but then again you’re human, but-“

“Doctor.”

“Right right, sorry.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood the best he could, your slight smile and glance at him showing he succeeded. “I just…worry. You’re the first person in a very long time that I’ve been able to share this bond with and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of a stupid mistake that I made. I love you, and I want to be able to love you for many more years to come.” The sad look in his eyes was back, the one he got when he thought of his old planet and what he had lost. You realized that he was scared. He had been alone for so long and he didn't want to have that happen again, especially if he could prevent it. You placed your hands on top of his own, giving them a light squeeze as you smiled at him softly.

“Hey now, all of the dangers we’ve faced, the creatures that have tried to kill me, the injuries that I’ve gotten, and you think that a cold is going to take me out?” You laughed softly, moving one of your hands to his cheek. “I’m fine, alright? It was just a little walk. It’s not going to hurt me. It’s alright to worry, but you need to trust me, okay?” The sad look remained in his ancient, brown eyes, but a small, genuine smile graced his lips. He nodded and moved his arms around you, pulling you in for a firm hug.

“I trust you. But no more running off without telling me where you’re going. That’s not a habit we want you to pick up. We wouldn’t want you to get into trouble now, do we?” He pulled back and smiled a bit wider before suddenly picking you up and heading for the exit. “Now, back to bed with you! You made me literally drop your meal so I could come find you, so now I have to make you more! And no joining me in the kitchen. We both know how that will turn out.” You both laughed as he carried you out the door and back towards your room. You began to settle in his arms when you suddenly remembered.

“Wait! I never got a book to read! We’ve gotta go back!” You looked him in the eye and tried to give him your best sad eyes, but to no avail.

“Nope!” he declined, adding a little pop to the end of the word. He grinned widely at your pout before continuing. “I’m going to read you a book that I picked out myself. Trust me, you’ll love it!”

“I thought you were supposed to be the one trusting me!”

“Ah. Yes. Well, maybe tomorrow dear.”

“I don’t like you.”

“You know you love me.”

[rahimnassar]

You mentioned soul mate aus and I thought if you could write this one I saw that you are marked with the your soul mates last words after you first meet them? For Diego please 🙏🙏🙏🙏

listen, nobody, I repeat, nobody can boo me about making diego suffer when y’all send me prompts like these. btw, I love this plot, thnx. 

under the cut because it’s kinda long. 1k words long. help, it was meant to be just a small drabble.

Your fingers tapped the old, worn-out wood table in a crescent rhythm, mimicking the growing anxiety in your nerves. You had to get to work in a couple of minutes, and your sister’s doctor was insultingly late for her appointment.

He was the new doctor, the only doctor in this hell hole of town since the last moved away, you never needed him before this, and as much as you understood he was just one person to help many in need, you also couldn’t help but get more and more stressed by each passing minute. What does he have in mind? Does he think he’s the only one who needs to work in this cursed world??

You repressed a growl, hearing your little girl coughing softly, taking your attention away from your stress. You standed from the chair, walking toward the couch she was sleeping, wrapped up in two heavy blankets.

Slowly, you crouched in front of the sofa, gently placing the palm of your hand against her forehead, causing her to move softly in her sleep. She was burning in a merciless fever.

Your heart tightened inside your chest and as you retreated your hand from her forehead, you leaned to press a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart.”

Just as the words left your lips, you heard a knock at the door and you took a deep breath in, praying to the gods it was the goddamn doctor, before standing up to attend it.

The second you opened the door, you faced a bright white coat, and you already thank the lords above.

“You’re late.” You said, voice cold and almost harsh, before leveling your eyes with the doctor’s face.

Aside from the white coach and the straight posture, Dr. Escalona didn’t seem like a doctor at all. Those weird red-ish glasses would fit more in a gay parade than an appointment, but you were glad enough he had finally came, you wouldn’t start roasting him and make him leave.

“I’m deeply sorry, my last appointment took longer than I expected. May I come in?” His voice was serious, as you would expect from a professional and a doctor, but it somehow felt warm when it reached your ears, leaving a weird, tingling sensation in your veins.

You shook your head softly, pushing away your thoughts, and stepped back to give him passage.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Come in.” He did, carrying suitcase with him as you closed the door, “She’s on the couch. Her fever comes and goes since yesterday, and she’s been coughing a lot too.” You explained, leaning in against the wall as you watched the doc crouch down on the spot you had just left moments before, his back facing you.

You crossed your arms, bracing them in front of you. Deep inside you knew it wasn’t something serious, gods, you hoped it wasn’t.

He took his glasses off, but where you stood, you couldn’t look into his eyes.

“Hi there, little girl.” You almost couldn’t believe how warmer and softer his voice has gotten as he addressed your sister, and you definitely couldn’t believe the way it made your heart flutter. What the fuck was happening with you? “We’ll see what’s been bothering you, and you’ll soon be fine, ok?”

While he opened his suitcase and took the things he needed from there, he asked you some questions like since when she’s been like this, if she has been eating, if she was allergic, whether or not she had eaten poisoned food, played out in the cold, and things like that. You did your best to answer all of them according to what you remembered. She was only a little girl, and most of the time she wasn’t at school, like now, she’d be at the bowling alley with you.

When he decided he had enough information, he turned his full attention to her, and you tried to focus on everything he was doing, trying your best to ignore the tingling sensation that was tightening your chest, making it harder to breath.

You were clearly failing in focusing on him, cause soon he was standing up again, turning to you. His red-ish glasses were back in place, and he carried a paper on his hand.

“I already placed the medicines you’ll need on the table, it’ll be covered by your insurance.” He started and handed you the paper. He then proceeded to explain how many times and how much to give her a day, each one of them.

“It’s just the start of a flu, there’s nothing to worry since she’s starting her treatment already. She will be fine.” He reassured you, and you looked up from the paper on your hand to his face. You couldn’t see his eyes, but even though, the small smile on his face made you warm inside, and eased away all your worries and stress.

You sighed and rubbed your temples.

“Thanks, doc. I’m sorry if I was rude earlier, I just…” You sighed again, rubbing your arm with your the palm of your hand, trying to soothe your nerves. “I’m sorry.”

He just smiled and nodded.

“It’s fine, I understand these kind of situations can be stressful to deal alone, but I’m glad she has you.” His voice was once again soft, not serious or professional, but warm and soothing, and once again you felt your heart skip a beat.

Oblivious to your feelings, he went back to the table and just gathered his suitcase from there.  

“Will you accompany me to the door?” He questioned, giving your sister a final smile.

You nodded, trying to take back the control over your feelings, or whatever hell was happening inside of you.

When you opened the door and he stepped out, you felt like a piece of you was parting with him. And that was the oddest thing you’ve ever felt, ever.

He parted with a one last smile, hearing one last “Thank you.” from you before he turned back and heard the door finally shut closed.

Diego walked a block, only so in case you were still watching, before shadow warping. Even as he got to his office and placed his suitcase on his desk, he still felt that burning tingle on his arm that had been lingering since you opened that door, and the second he laid his eyes on you.

He seated on his chair, frowning, before rolling his sleeve up his elbow. The sight his eyes were graced made he gasp.

The smooth, pale white skin of his forearm was now marked in black ink forming words, like a tattoo he never even considered to get.

He then realized each cursive word formed a phrase.

“You’re always too late to meet me, Doctor.”

requests are open, but pls, read this before requesting.

[punk-in-docs]

You Were Always Mine, Chapter 20

AU Tom Hiddleston - Romantic, Historical Romance, Victorian Fic. Based off the imagine; ‘Thomas spying on you after your divorce and doing anything to get you back. Including threatening your new beau.’ Prompt found on ​this blog. Link to the imagine here…. Chapter number: Chapter 20 Author: punk-in-docs (Here is my Masterlist for more chapters…) Triggers/warnings: Angst. More Violence. Attempted assault, and mentions of corpses, and triggers for death threats towards children. Btw. As a face to picture Harriden, just google Thomas Kretschmann as Dr. Helsing in the TV series Dracula.

She had always felt apprehension about going into a mortuary. Some doctor’s, she estimated, were far more brassy about their entrance into the place. But to her, the morgue, was a place where respect was conferred on the dead. It should have been a place of sombre, gut-tightening, remorse. She couldn’t look upon a corpse without feeling melancholia for the life that person had once fulfilled. Just because life was extinct, it did not mean that they were worthless. She held respect for pathologists, to see each cadaver, as just another patient. Perhaps, as she was a nurse, seeing the dead, meant that every single aspect of hope, and the job she carried, had failed both her, and the person on the morgue slab.

Erik had come to fetch her, a staggering three hours later, when he had finished Rosamund’s post-mortem. Conforming her death was loss of blood, via an assault on her persons, with a left handed assailant slitting her throat as he held her from behind. It wasn’t a gang rival killing, nor a mugging gone wrong. It was violent, cold-blooded, pre-meditated, murder. And that was what he promised his report would contain. Her father had been contacted, but blithely refused to come and identify her body. That fell down to her shoulders now. Erik walked across, ahead of her, cutting through the room to get to the only occupied morgue slab. As the police coroner had so casually put it, ‘It was a quiet night. Place doesn’t liven up til about one.’ She had given him a look of discernible annoyance and anger as he’d said that, shrugged, and remarked he was going for a smoke break. She followed Erik in, feeling terribly feeble, and scared of seeing one of her dearest friends, cold, grey and carved up to her chin, under that cloaking white sheet that shone brilliantly white in the intense light of the place. The walls were a reflective, green tile. The same awful, dank, moss green that had lined the hallway. She can see her jagged, distorted, in the tiles. Reflecting back on her. showing her a haunted vision of herself.

Vianne stood, wringing her hands. Nervously. Scared of what she knows she’ll  see. Unfortunately, she’d seen many a corpse in her time. But never had one of those been someone she’d known so intimately, and taken from this world in such a heartless manner. Erik pauses, and Vianne watches him, he’d looked sombre, more than was appropriate for the situation, ever since he had come to fetch her. She knew Erik inside out, she could see it in him, his brow was drawn, as it was when he was either aggrieved, or deep in thought. Usually, when he looked like that, he’d tread, pacing back and forth in the Campus courtyard, treading grass underfoot, his spare hand tucked in his white coat pocket, the other holding his pipe to his mouth as he puffed, and puffed. Stared at the ground below his feet, And thought. He looked worried, and she could sense his trepidation was for her benefit. His hands went to the sheet, and after he looked at her for a long minute, the longest minute of her life, she saw tears, silver and unshed in his eyes. She swallowed, steeling herself.

He lifted the sheet off. And Vianne’s heart shattered all over again. She cupped her hands to her mouth, to stem her cries, but the sound of her sobs still cracked the shield of her fingers.

There she was. Rose in her final resting place. That lovely, enviable, honey blonde hair, scraped back off her face, in a harsh arrangement she would have been less than tolerably fond of. Her skin is an almost translucent kind of pale, almost as if Vianne can see every blue vein wriggling under her skin, now they lay so awfully still. Her skin was marble-stone grey, cold to the touch, like one of those beautiful, Grecian statues at the British Museum. This was how Rosamund price would forever be, frozen in time. A beautiful, precious thing who couldn’t be saved. The weeping crimson stitched wound running down the middle of her body, between her small, pale breasts, stands out starkly. But that wasn’t the reason Vianne was now sobbing, sounds of her cries, and gasps pleas echo off the cold, sterile walls.

She was crying, because Rosamund had been expecting, in the family way.

Vianne, not able to be shaken by anything gory. Afraid of nothing, and wary of very little, broke down at seeing that. She began to heave, and in her shock, she stumbles across the room, and empties her stomach contents into the enamel surgical tool bowl, stood in the corner. The smell of carbolic acid wafting up her nose, making her feel even queasier. Erik darted across to her, and rubbed her back. Startled at her nauseas reaction from a nurse whom he knew could stomach anything that came her way. But clearly not this. He poured her a glass of water, and forced her to sip it, holding it up to her lips. She drank little of it. Only to get the acrid, foul sting of regurgitation out of her mouth. She turns back, looking once more at her friend. One hand over her mouth, the other on the stand behind her.

“I don’t need to tell you the cause of death, do I?” Erik asked lowly. And he didn’t, of course. She shook her head. “Vianne, I am sorry, but I have to get a formal identification of her, to release her body to the undertaker to prepare her for burial-“ He began sorrowfully.

She shuts her eyes, and speaks calmly. Opening them again, transfixed by the corpse across the room. “It’s her…” She remarks with tears falling from her eyes. “Miss Rosamund Eleonora Jane Price..” She tells him. He rubs her shoulder gratefully, taking off his gloves to write it on the medical form to her left. She crossed back to her friend.

Her stomach was swelled to a point that so evidently indicated she had been secretly carrying life. All the more clear to make out from her undernourished body. Rose had always been slim, so a bump would have been harder and harder for her to hide as the weeks went on, even in the early stages. Vianne hadn’t really began to show until her sixteenth week. She looked back up, tears dripping from her eyes, across at Erik, who looked stoic as he walked over. As if he were holding them back too. And he was only her doctor, but there was vulgar, bitter breed of sadness in this situation. That someone, some monster, would kill an expectant mother. She laid her hand over roses, cold, pale one. Stiff as wood to hold. She didn’t touch her friend with precise indifference, as she had done with many corpses before, purely for medical purposes. She held onto Roses hand as if she were still here, smiling at them all, light shining in those, happy, blue eyes.

“How many weeks was she?” Vianne asked with a croaking voice. Erik sombrely answered. Laying his bare hands down on the slab, and clenching his fists on the hard table below them. Drawing the sheet up to protect the ladies modesty, up to her shoulders, he let the covers rest. Still showing her face.

“It’d be my very rough estimate, that she was just at the end of the embryonic period, and just beginning the foetal period. Around ten weeks.” He said.

“Ten weeks.” Vianne repeated. Harriden watched her face very closely, she wouldn’t take her eyes off the evidence of Rose’s baby.

“Do you know who the father is?” He asked quietly. Vianne reluctantly nods.

“The man I was engaged too. Henry St. Clair.” She gasps out, and more tears come. She looked up to see that Erik looked repulsed, and agitated by hearing such news.

“As insensitive as this remark may seem. I’m almost relieved for her passing. No woman nor child should be indebted to be dependent on that man.” Erik stated.

“She was a poor, poor, stupid,  girl in love.” She remarked. “I know how it feels to be like that… and how it feels when you find out the truth.” Vianne explained, her hands reaching over to pull the cadaver sheet more fully over her head now.

“I’ll organise her funeral. Even if her father won’t put a penny towards it… I won’t have it be spread around town like foul gossip that Rose had no-one to care after her on this earth. She’ll be laid to rest in the most elegant coffin, and I will have only sterling words spoken of her, and of her child. She’ll have a wonderful, service, and the most elegant flowers I can get my hands on. But not Lilly’s. She hated Lilly’s, ‘awful, abominable things. Smelled like death,’ according to her, she always called them funeral flowers..” Vianne remarked with empathy on her tone, and tears still in her eyes as she remembered her friend. Stroking her hand fondly, before that too, she folded under the sheet.

“I’ll see to it her body is released to the coroner tonight. Vianne. But, now, I think you’ve had plenty enough trials for one day. I’ll escort you home. Thomas warned me that leaving you alone could be perilous…” Erik stated, heading for his jacket, hung up on a peg the other side of the room. His medical box was packed, and ready to go. Vianne knew, if she so much as opened her mouth and protested, she’d be very sternly reprimanded, and counteracted. Erik heaved on his coat, and nodded across at her.

“But, you have a home to go too. Erik…You have Julian..” She began. Erik wasn’t married, nor widowed. But he happily lived alone, in comfort. He had a dog he adored, a floppy eared basset hound, called Albert, and though she never remarked on it, nor passed judgement, but Erik Harriden enjoyed companionship with Sir Julian Remmington-Holland, another man of high class. A Lord. They were both upstanding, respected men of society, and no one ever remarked on the nature of their cosmopolitan bond. Though Erik appeared charming to women, and there was not a man alive who didn’t like him. Erik Harriden’s heart was firmly captured, but he was reserved about it, though still warm hearted, for he knew that idea wasn’t accepted in any society. It didn’t matter, not to her. People should love, who they love, gender be damned. Erik cared after Vianne in a way that made her feel safe. He was her greatest mentor, and the kindest, and only, person she let herself depend on. As a single, struggling, heartbroken mother, all those years ago, Erik, and Julian, whom she both knew intimately, and adored, together, they were godsends, more of fond uncle’s to Juliette and Arthur than friends. He didn’t feel like a friend, he felt like family. And families looked after one another…

But he merely met her eyes, tilted his head, he grabbed her hand, and held tight. His bronze eyes sparkled.

“I shan’t hear of your protests. What Doctor would do any less for his bestest, brightest student?” He finalises with a kind, warm smile that he was known for.

There is nothing but thick silence on the cab ride home. Night is shrouding, cold and blue over London now. Vianne idly wonders if Thomas had managed to sort out that problem at his foundry, she hoped it wasn’t too drastic-a catastrophe. She trusted his competence to deal with the matter, he could take charge and sort everything. The man she knew two years ago was so tightly held under rein, he could do no such thing. Lucille’s death, tragic as it was, must have been such a release for him. He was never, truly a part of the dark schemes, save for being handled and managed by her. He feared standing up to her, and she saw why. Lucille dealt out only in severity, masqueraded as love.

She knew, the minute she saw Thomas and his sister interact together, at Allerdale. That she’d never be able to encroach on what they had. The bond that had formed, in them both finding solace together out of the horrors of their childhood. Lucille thought she was losing her hold over Thomas, that’s why she lashed out so, violence being the only thing she knew how to successfully inflict. But what she didn’t know, was that from the day Thomas slid a ring on Vianne’s finger, in that chapel in Scotland, the rift between the siblings could do naught but grow wider. Lucille had made it painfully apparent in her life, that she liked only three things. Thomas. Allerdale Hall, and being in charge. She liked everything just so. Everything pinned in place, like her scarab beetles, immaculate, and under her control. Everything tagged, named and identified. There was her order, and there was no way of overthrowing it. Thomas saw her as a frail, fragile woman, though strong, she was more susceptible to break than heal. Vianne saw through that in a second. She had Thomas wound tight round her finger, like her little puppet. Now she was gone, Thomas strings had been cut, and his ties to home, he had gratefully severed. He was his own man now, and there was every comfort in that, for him. She saw it.

The carriage comes jolting to a stop, and she looks across, seeing they’d arrived home all before she’d even realised it. The tall, thin stretch of the white marble of her townhouse, stretched up above the street. All the lights within were off, she was relieved to see, and Vianne surmised that since she sent the note to Jeanie telling the staff, they had weeks off, she had stuck to that order. She still gave them pay, of course, she wasn’t cold-hearted, but she had told them to be absent, whilst she had some ‘redecorating’ done. When really, she didn’t trust St. Clair not to hurt her house staff, should they get caught in the crossfire of this sordid mess. She exited swiftly, key in hand, and Erik behind her, as they strode out of the foggy, darkening night, and into the comfort of home. Only when Vianne slid inside, her heart prickled, because it didn’t feel homely anymore. Cloaked in darkness, it didn’t feel like home, not to her. Not anymore. It felt like home where there was a dark, dashing man awaiting on her, in the other room. The last week, with Thomas, in his suite, felt more cosy, and homely to her than two years spent in this grand, mausoleum. She slides her keys into the bowl, on the side table, by the door, and flips on the light switch out of habit. It comes on, and briefly, the place is swamped, made a little cheerier, by the honey gold light that comes on. But before she even took one step, the lights fizzled out with a clicking, pang. She sighed. Erik moved behind her, coming in and shutting the door.

“I’ll check to see if there’s any bulbs in the kitchens…whilst I’m about it, I’ll put the kettle on. I surmise, we are both in need of tea.” He pledges. Vianne, stood in the mirror by the parlour door, busily slides the feeble pins out of her straggled hair do. Ruined by the night of activity she’d suffered through. After he speaks, she turns and smiles, looking sidewards at him.

“I do hope I’m not rudely keeping you from Julian’s company..” She enquires. He smiles at her.

“You could not, even if you wished too. He is in Yorkshire, staying with the Lord and Countess of Ahern. Shooting, hunting and playing a country gent as I understand it. The only person from whom you’re keeping me tonight, is Albert.” He explained.

 “I’ll just go up, and change my gown. But I’ll make us something to eat, as penance, for my separating you.” She tells.

“I didn’t know Heiress’s could cook?” He ribbed.

“I didn’t know Doctors could boil kettles.” She japes back.

Erik chuckles warmly, folding his gloves in his hands. He moved, still in his swathing, fur collared coat, through the foyer, and down the kitchen stairs. He rubbed her shoulder kindly as she went past. “Touché.” He congratulates as he walked past her. She chuckles, hearing the whine of the kitchen stairs, as he went. That was one thing she detested about living alone. The fact that when the staff retired, the only sounds up around the house, were ones of silence. She hated that. She liked hearing someone she loved, go about their business in the other room. The creak of a floorboard, or the rustle of paper as they sat at their desk.

Lost in idle thoughts, she pulls out the drawer of the foyer dresser, forgetting what she hid there a while ago. She see’s the two portraits, in small, square frames, staring up at her. Their cherubian faces looking searchingly into the camera. She reaches out, and her fingertips stroke the faces through the glass. Arthur had gotten his father’s colouring, with hair as dark as ink. And between them, both boasted a set of eyes so piercing, Vianne knew they had got them from Thomas’s side too. The only feature that marked Juliette as being her daughter, was the bright, sleek locks of pure copper that tumbled from her beautiful head. They were gorgeous children, and she could barely stand it that, as she was with Henry, she had to keep them a secret, as if she were ashamed, which meant her visiting was scarce. She missed them both so much, it was as if she was missing two of her limbs. She took a keen interest in their schooling, at St. Antony’s, and visited often to take them presents, and for walks in the park with Sister Mary. They knew, they were loved. And Vianne found it harder and harder, leaving them there each time. In the early days of being back within London, she had considered giving them up for adoption, or fostering. But in her heart, deep down, she knew they were hers, and they always would be. She’d laboured so hard, to escape Allerdale, and their Father, that she gave no thought as to whether or not when she had them that she’d actually turn into a competent mother. Eventually, after getting the assistants job to help Harriden, slowly, as she came to trust him more, one day, she opened up, and told him. Afterwards, rambling on and on, about how they didn’t affect her work life, and that she made every care and consideration to see that they had everything they needed. And that she could keep the vows of her profession, because she wasn’t married, it was forbidden for married nurses to work at the London. After she finished spewing out her secrets, and worries. Erik looked up from his work, and the desk opposite, and slid his glasses off. Folded them in his hands, and smiled fondly at her, and then he said. ‘I’m gay. Miss James. I live with a man whom I love so dearly, life without loving him seems… damn near impossible. We all have our secrets outside of work, I urge you, don’t fret. So long as my secret is safe with you, yours will always have a haven with me.’  He’d smiled. ‘And, if you are amenable, I would like to meet your children. If they have half their mothers fortitude, then they are surely the sweetest children in all of England, are they not?.’ After that, Erik came regularly to see Jules and Arthur. He brought them cones of sherbet, and Albert lolloped along as they played happily in the park.

One memorable occasion she can remember, they were sat in Regents park, on a bench, on a brisk autumn day, watching the two children play with Albert, and running about in the crispy, underfoot, fun of the golden, amber and scarlet dry leaves on the ground. And, as Erik and she sat together, a passer-by, mistook them for a wedded couple, watching their children, and their canine caper about on the emerald grass. Vianne had flushed pink, and blinked those blue doe eyes as she searched for an explanation. Erik was certainly handsome, but he was much older than her, sadly, these days, closeness in age, to a marriage match, was not a hindering factor. Erik, to save her embarrassment, scooped her leather gloved hand up in his, kissed it, and spun a long tale to the stranger about how they met, ten years ago, on this very park bench, before they courted. The woman, reeling from his expertly crafted story, trotted off, secure in the belief she had just met the most love-struck couple in all of modern London. Erik excused his brazenness, his cheeks too, under his stubble, looked just as red as hers. He told her then, something he’d never told anyone, not even Julian. Was that he often ached after the thought he’d never have a family of his own. He’d never have a noisy house, crammed full of children and dogs. Because of ‘how he was’  he’d never know what it was like to be part of a family. That if he, were ‘normal’ then he’d want a wife exactly like her, because she was the most beautiful, giving, kind-hearted soul he’d ever known, and just being acquaintances and colleagues with her was one of his finest blessings, he’d considered. Vianne had told him then, chiding him for such self-deprecating remarks, and informing him that he would always be a part of her family. Meagre as it was. But the resulting smile on his face told her he didn’t think that, not one bit.

She traced her finger over both their lovely faces, before she shut the drawer. Wiped away the tear that had beaded in the corner of her eye, and turned about, intending to head up the stairs. She rounded the banister, picked up her skirts, and headed up. Halfway, she hears a noise that was so unusual in its nature, it made her stop. It was the sound of the dining table, scraping against the tiled floor, and the clattering crash of crockery hitting the tiles.

She thinks that it’s maybe Erik being a bit butterfingered. Her kitchen was quite poky. “Erik, Is anything the matter?” She calls, to no response. He was probably sheepishly searching for the broom as she spoke. She continues up a step, but the flare of fear and horror sits low in her gut, and she wasn’t one to ignore her gut instincts. She doesn’t call his name, but she scurries down the stairs, quickly, and she treads down them carefully. When she gets there, her heart stops, when she sees Erik, lying face down on the floor. The dining table was jolted out of place, scattered across the floor. Speaking of which, was littered with shards of destroyed crockery from the plate rack, now directly to her left. The kettle was overfilling, bubbling over in the sink. The patter of water continues, hissing and spitting down into the ceramic sink. She crouches, shaking his back, seeing if he was conscious, the corner of the dining table had blood specked on it. She surmises he must’ve fallen and hit his head. She tries to see if there’s a pupillary response when she opens his eyes. “Erik?” She asks him, trying to see if he’d respond. She didn’t see that the vacant shadow in the corner of her scullery, was filled with a dark figure. A familiar one, at that.

“I never did like him.” Comes the sneer. “Don’t know why the London insist on hiring a bloody Sodomite, anyway…” He spits. Vianne’s head jerks up in the direction of the sudden voice. Her lips gape, and from her position, knelt on the floor, she stays there, merely watching Henry as he stepped forwards, and throws a heavy, clunking object to clash heavily to the floor. It looked, to her, like a discarded cut of bent pipe. And it had blood on the back. Erik must’ve hit his head, falling forwards from the backwards blow Henry gave. Vianne recoiled, shrinking to the kitchen wall, by the bottom of the stairs, as Henry stalked closer.

She whimpered, he stepped closer, too close, for etiquettes sake. She turned her head to the side, able to feel his breath hit her cheeks, and his chest touched into her body, he was stood so close. He was wearing that grin, and the darkened eyes that told her he’d enjoyed a drink or two, before coming here. He was wearing all black, with an undressed collar, and black leather gloves on his hands. A silver watch chain was the only decoration to his lapels. Other than that, his big, thick, black coat covered most of his body. She flinched, not wanting to cry, but she feels close to it, when he fists his hands in her skirts, and the other grips her neck in a chokehold. She, on the other hand, is too terrified to move. It was what he did to her body that she hated the most. Petrifying her to the point of paralysis. She hated it.

“Hello dear. Did you miss me? Sorry I haven’t called… been rather busy…” He coos into her ear, and she can almost taste the whiskey on his breath. The hand fisted in her skirts, now slid up her back, cupping her ass, and slipping up to clutch the small of her back. Tugging her form closer into his chest. Feeling those perfect, pale breasts crush to his chest. He groaned caressing her body. “How’s your Sharpe? From what I hear, he declares you’re a wonderful fuck. Only I never got the chance to find out, now did I?” He snarls, watching her eyes, wide and terrified. Tendrils of red hair straying in her eyes… He groaned with delight, long and slow, admiring the way her supple body arched into him.

“Too busy with Rose. I suppose…” She spits back snidely. “As evident by the fact she was expecting your child…” She snaps before can stop herself. His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. Tears fell from hers.

“I admit, that wasn’t to plan. But it was never my idea to kill the stupid bitch…” He explains, squeezing her neck tighter. Shamefully feeling how this situation, them here, now, was serving to make him aroused. He did forget she was such a sweet beauty, from up close. She was ripe to grope too, all curves. He hated the fact that he’d been denied them, where Sharpe had been let loose on them, with no so much as a thought and her thighs parted for him. And they’d been courting for a month, with not so much past the occasional long kiss. Was it any wonder he had to seek comforts elsewhere?

“Then whose was it?” She asks, his hold on her throat stung, certainly, but it was loose enough to let her talk freely. But on her seeking answers, his hand grew tighter. As she kept him talking, her fingers scrabbled gently for the dresser that she was almost wedged into. She can feel the edge of a plate, cold slippery and firm under her fingers, she leans over, keeping the conversation going as he hadn’t realised her hand was freely wandering.

“Never you mind.” Then he grinned. “You’ll find out, soon enough, I’m taking you to them..” He tells her.

“To who?” She seeks.

“The man who has your lover, and most probably will have left a few scars on his persons, before we get there…” He grinned, triumphantly. Her eyes flared with sudden realisation.

“There was no accident, was there? You just had to get us apart… What? Have you paid off the police now?” She snarls.

“Such a clever girl.” He groans patronisingly. “You’d be surprised how many people my associate has under his thumb…” He sneers. She had her fingers around it now. She had to act, without thinking about the consequences, she grabbed the plate, and smashed it across the back of his head. He dropped, and his grip on her grew slack, she ran.

She darted up the stairs, but apparently, a thin piece of crockery was not enough to subdue a fully grown man, of Henry’s bulk and stature. When she gets back to the foyer, she can hear him move behind her, he groans, snarling to snatch at her skirts, which she hears rip, as he tried hard to catch her. Which he manages, he grabs her, and in her stumbling to get away, she crashed sideways into the dresser by the front parlour door, sending the drawers shooting forwards, and the body of it falling down to the floor after. Meaning its contents splattered all over the floor, skidding across the tiles. From her sudden collision with the floor, she is winded. But she can’t move fast enough to escape him.

She feels him grab her bicep, and feels the full weight of him atop her. Twisting her round, she is pressed to the floor, facing up under his body. His legs bracket hers, and his hands grab at her shoulders. Keeping her pinned there. Other than being knocked to the floor, she is unhurt. His hand stroked up, harshly over her hair, and he leans down to sniff at her neck, smelling her, her perfume. She knew he always did that when he began to grow aroused. She tried to push him off, but he is too strong, he was suffocating her. Keeping her hands pinned high, he began kissing down her neck as he hissed at her.

“Don’t tempt me, Vianne, Do you know how tempted I am right now? With you like this, weak, under me. It’s taking every ounce of resolve not to lift up these velvet skirts, and take you, right here on the floor. Get my revenge on that cheating bastard you’re sleeping with… How ironic would that be? Just think, that poor sod is being beaten to a pulp as we speak, and here I am, inches away from being able to fuck his little devotee.” He growls. Chuckling. “I’m almost tempted to do it, and tell him, Just to savour the look on his face when he finds out you’ve been stuffed full of me.” He taunts. Tutting when she tried to shuck him off again. “Ah-ah-ah.” He chides, holding her steady.

She tried, hard, to claw her nails at his face, but he just laughs at her efforts, panting as he sat up, still having flecks of broken, white crockery littering his clothing. He did naught but leaned down, and kissed her, hard, on the mouth. Holding her head so she couldn’t twist out of his way. “God, I want you, right now, Vianne. “ he murmurs against her neck. His body rutting into her own, she could feel the hard muscles of him, and the evidence of his ardour, pressing down into her thighs. She squirms, bucks her body, tries anything to get him off.

“Then again… If I did take the time to bed you, we’d be late for our appointment. And he does so hate to be kept waiting. He’s scrupulous about punctuality. As you well know. Sweetling.”  He smiles down at her, cunningly.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you murdering bastard.” She bites out. So he slaps her to keep her quiet. Jerking her head to one side. The noise of hand, hitting cheek rings in the air.

He looked about them, at the destroyed furniture that had happened in the wake of their chase. And he see’s something then, the contents of the top drawer. When he looks up to the wall, he can see two square marks on the wall, faded there from the photos that kept th sunlight from reaching the wallpaper. He sees them now. Lying face down on the tiles, within reach.

He smirks, and she twisted about to see what she was looking at. She cottoned onto his intent instantly.

“No, Henry, please, no. I’ll do it, I’ll go, please…No, god! Please don’t!” She sobs. He didn’t listen to a word she is rambling out. He grabbed both frames, and turned them over. She clawed at his hands, put to no avail. His eyes sweep over the picture. Taking each one in, in his own time. And then…. He smiles down at her, looking deathly satisfied.

“Sharpes brats, I take it?” He asks her.

She is too scared to speak.

“You come with me. Now. Quietly, obediently. Or I’ll involve them into the bargain, and I cannot guarantee your safety, let alone theirs..” He promises. She doesn’t want to trust him. She’d been all over that mistake, before.

“You’re a monster.” She spits coldly. A tear falling from her eye. Scared now, but knowing she’d lay down her very life to protect Thomas, and her children. He tosses the pictures carelessly to the floor. As if they were rubbish to be slung away.

He wrenched her up, onto her feet. Her body felt bruised, and she knew she was in for another long night. She brushes her skirts off, and stands, on wobbling legs. Her hair mussed, thrown in her face. Assaulted by his lust, she had bitemarks bruising on her neck, and her lips are raw from his kisses. But right there, stood, glaring at the man she was sure was Satan incarnate. She’d never known she was capable of such hatred towards a fellow human being. She felt dirty, aching, and so full of blinding, white hot, rage. She couldn’t let him, and this stranger, threaten her family. And if going with him tonight would end it, then she’d go down fighting. She’s sure of that.

“I want to go and check on Erik. You gave him a blow to the head. He could have an intracranial haemorrhage. I need to see if he’s still alive, atleast, please, Henry.” She pleads, trying to appeal to his humanity, if she was sure he possessed a singular scrap of it.

“So you can go and get something from the kitchen with which to arm yourself? What do you take me for?” He growls. For the sake of her own safety, and not wanting another slap. She doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t hit him hard. I don’t care if the bastard bleeds to death. I’d be doing the world a favour. He stays as he is.” He finishes tersely. Tugging her to the front door. Stepping over the debris. She winces as his foot carelessly crunches the photo frame of her and Thomas underfoot, and the one of Juliette. He looks back, seeing he hadn’t stepped on Arthurs portrait, he made a point to do so, hearing the glass shatter. That sound hits her heart, and she looks away. Another tear falls.

He fidgets in his pockets, and grips her arm tight once more. That was when his eyes seemed to see, for the first time, the bandage on her left arm. Still dyed pink from Roses blood.

“I almost forgot… How’s the arm?” He sneers, patting his pockets for something.

“Go to hell.” She spits out, her eyes blazing with hatred, her hair mussed, loose and free down her shoulders.

“Such a dirty mouth, for a Lady. I bet Sharpe makes good use of that, does he not?  Get you on those knees and treat you like the foul harlot you truly are…” He snarls out. She glares.

“Why does it not surprise me that you don’t know anything of how a gentleman pleases his lady..” She jabs at his ego. His grip grew tighter. His eyes burned, and his nostrils flared angrily.

“The only reason you are standing right now is because Rose tattled to Sharpe, the stupid gossip. She opened her big mouth to him, and told him about the Beggars going after you, because of my debts with them. I told them it was easy money to be had knocking you about a bit. Sharpe would pay any sum to keep you safe, Unfortunately though, he killed most of them before they could ransom money off him. Left me in rather a precarious position…” He told her.

“Good.” She sneers.

His jaw grit, and he must’ve found what he’d been searching for. A small hunting knife. He showed it to her, letting the sparse light glint off the flat blade of it. He Grabbed her arm, and pressed her, tight, into his side. He jutted the knife into her back, just below her kidneys.

“Do you know how painful it is to be stabbed in the soft of your lower back? Because if you so much as try to run, or get help. I will dig this in deep, and twist it. And you’ll be dead before you hit the floor. Understand me?” He asks.

She didn’t nod. She merely glared. They stepped out the door. And she’d never been more ready to meet her fate. To finally face this faceless coward who’d been threatening all the people she loved.

 @frenchfrostpudding @heavymist @totallynotasmutblog @echantedbytwh

[wormvalentine444]

if u wanna know how my year went

anyway 2017 was far worse for me than 2016 2016 I had a couple jobs at least and I was thriving for the most part even though I was using alcohol to drown out my trauma from breaking up with my abuser in 2015. I had friends and I went out and it was good. in 2017 I spent the whole first half of the year drowning in an eating disorder and trying to find a job, going to many many interviews and always failing. in 2017 I had two “best friends” that I introduced to each other so we could all be friends together but they would constantly trigger the fuck out of me (one of them unintentionally but I'm pretty sure the other intentionally) so I would spend all my time locked in my house starving myself because I didn’t feel worthy enough to hang out with them until I was skinny but obvs you can’t survive on 500 calories a day (and burning it all off at the gym) forever so I starting b/ping and I did it every single day. i’m surprised I didn't die tbh. and I'd look on snapchat and see my two best friends hanging out together and living and having fun while I was wasting away. anyway I cut them off but summer is always terrible because my boyfriend is an alcoholic and I just spent the whole summer feeling this weird mix of missing out and also being angry at the fact that he’s an alcoholic. like I get this weird feeling that I want to be an alcoholic too because when I was in 2016 I was my happiest and people liked me and I experienced a lot and life was better. but my eating disorder wouldn’t let me drink and I just didn’t want to sink down that whole again I guess. and my boyfriend had this TERRIBLE roommate and his house was absolutely filthy all the time and they would drink every single day it was so fucking toxic and disgusting. beer cans and moldy dishes and fruit flies everywhere. and I hated his roommate too and I still do he’s my boyfriends best friend and he’s a shitty fucking person. he’s racist sexist and homophobic and fucking full of himself. and my boyfriend would never come over to my house so I always had to go there and his roommate would not ever leave us alone so in order to hang out with my boyfriend I HAD to hang out with this shitty fucking dude and watch them drink disgusting beer and play videogames I hated and talk in their shitty little inside jokes that were so unfunny. I felt like a third wheel and I felt disgusting in that house. LUCKILY he found a girlfriend and moved out asap and my boyfriend asked me to move in so I did (it took weeks to clean the place btw). I moved in in august then started going to university in September after not being in school for two years. and I guess this huge change in my life so quickly just took a toll on my brain. for the first few weeks I felt NOTHING I was so disassociated and depersonalized all the time. it felt like hell but it was nothing compared to what was coming. in September I had my first real panic attack. I thought my friends had drugged me with acid. it really felt like I was going to die. I felt so dizzy and disorientated and just terrified. I went to the ER and they told me nothing was wrong. after that I'd always be almost having a panic attack all the time, like one was about to come at any time. after that I had many mini ones and another big one in November where I called the ambulance because I thought I got poisoned. this is around the time I started to get agoraphobia. I tried to go to class but when I did I would get the symptoms of a panic attack and I'd have to leave class (hot flashes, dizziness, dp/dr) and by the end of it I just stopped going to school. I dropped out of my art class (mostly because I hated that we were only painting boxes and I'd just rather use the expensive supplies for my own art) and I missed one of my final exams. most likely I can get it deferred but it’s possible I can’t. for my final portfolio in English I have to write two short stories and 3 poems and I haven’t started any of them yet and they were due on MONDAY with two docked marks each day. I don’t know why I haven’t started. I feel so disassociated and out of it I just keep sleeping all day and binge eating. my philosophy final is on the 22nd and I hope I'm able to leave the house because I haven’t been able to leave the house in weeks. sometimes even leaving my room is too much. the house is a mess again and it makes me feel disgusting. I keep trying to starve but it doesn’t work I'm too stressed. I got prescribed Paxil but I'm too scared to try them. I also got prescribed klonopin and im almost out and I honestly don’t know what I'm going to do without them. I think I might die. Christmas is coming up and I don’t want to go to parties I just want to hide. everything is too much right now. that was my 2017 folks just delayed trauma from my 3 year abusive rleationship that ended in 2015!!! good things that happened in 2017: seeing bob Dylan live in July, going to the rocky horror picture show on halloween with my two best friends and my boyfriend and then afterwards seeing my favourite local band play and having one of the members tell me I had a good vibe, seeing Andy shauf live and crying the whole time and meeting him afterwards. I made two really awesome friends who are both aries and we started a band together!!! I reconnected with my best friend and she moved and now lives a 15 min walk from me!! in 2018 I'm going to try and lose weight healthily I'm going to buy ice skates and go skating on Sunday by myself and I'm going to walk to school everyday and maybe go to the gym and weight train sometimes and I'm going to eat 1000-1200 calories (I know it’s still kinda low but it’s better than what I initially planned) and I'm going to start hula hooping too and I'm going to buy roller skates in the summer. one I lose enough weight I'm going to try and build muscle so I can be strong I'm going to an ear nose and throat doctor at the end of January because I have fluid in my ears which may be causing some of my dizziness which is one of my panic attack triggers. I'm also going to a psychiatrist at the end of January and hopefully get a nice cocktail of drugs that will help me. I’’m really hoping for Wellbutrin or something that combats fatigue because that will really help me so so so much. I'm also seeing chad vangaalen for the third time in January!!! I'm going to try and do better this term and keep up on all my school work. I'm taking biology which is my favourite and I'm really excited!! I'm going to try harder than I've ever tried before to find a job. I might have to wait till February to clear my mind a bit and become more mentally well. I'm going to make a lot of art and make prints of it and sell it all in the summer!!! it’s one of my dreams to be able to make some money off my art but right now I just don’t have enough of it. I'm going to try and make it my goal to do some art everyday. I'm also going to get back into music because it’s one thing depression took from me. every time my boyfriends at work I'm going to practice music and eventually I want to make an album of my own and one of my goals of 2018 is to perform on a stage for the first time. I'm scared me and me boyfriend are going to eventually break up. My aquarius moon wants to live on my own so so so so bad but my venus cancer needs companionship. also I can’t afford any bachelor suites or anything anyways.  I love my boyfriend so much and we are best friends but his friends are so so so so so toxic. a lot of his friends I dislike but  most of them I love dearly but they are all alcoholics and some are coke addicts and I just hate being around that kind of stuff so much :( I hate the anxiety of going to a prrty and knowing theres going to be coke there because I got slightly addicted but I know I can’t do it because I have heart problems and it could easily kill me. sometimes I get too drunk and I don’t care and do it anyways and thats so fucking dangerous. my boyfriend is a social person and needs to hang out with his friends all the time but they can never hang out sober. they ALWAYS drink and thats such a toxic friendship tbh and it makes me really upset and drinking causes pretty much %100 of our fights but you can’t really change someone he told me he’d go to counselling for me but how are you supposed to quit/slow down on drinking when all of your friends drink every single day......so as much as I love him I feel that his friends and his alcoholism are eventually going to lead to our end, but I'm trying to be optimistic. I hate a lot of things and I hate a lot of people and I'm going to try and change that because I feel like I'm such a Debbie downer all of the time. people annoy me easily and I get mad easily and I'm so irritable. maybe pills will help with that. I'm going to try and make more friends that I enjoy the company of and maybe they’ll make me a better person I told myself 2017 would be the year of glowing up but I didn’t at all. moving out and going to school is an achievement but I feel like personally I have made no progress at all. I feel so stuck. I want to grow. I'm going to try my hardest to grow this year.