#sorry I´m not sorry

[myfanfictiongarden]

The Last Day of Violet Sedley- Dracula (1897)

Rated M just in case (although its more T)

Because we are all concerned for the pretty girl in the cartwheel hat on September 22nd.

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Violet Sedley is having a great day. Most days are great if you decide to make them so- at least, that is the way of thinking she was brought up with and so she made it her way of living too. How wouldn’t it be a great day when the soft autumn sun is caressing her face as she comfortably drives in her victoria through the finest streets of London? Her father may have startet out as a simple merchant but his clever wit and a good marriage had led him to the best circles of Society, and with it his only daughter too. And what better ways to celebrate and expand that good fortune, than with a party like the one she is to organise for today evening? It has long been planed and the scullery maid send out to the butcher first thing this morning. The cupboard had been filled with fresh vegetables and ousters, fruit and wine were waiting ready, and the whole house was made as perfect as could be. 

So now she is driving through the streets of Piccadilly, having made one social call long overdue to the good Mrs. Wallace (the old lady tended to be a bit tiresome but she had been her mothers closes friend) and stopping only for a moment at Guiliano’s for a parcel she had ordered previously to be ready for her when driving back home. She loves driving to town, it offers such a welcoming change to her usual duties, not to mention one can dress up nicely and enjoy the looks of admiration that come with it. That is why to today she wears a dress of sunny yellow and a complementary jacket embroidered with sunflowers and tiny bees, and of course her new cartwheel hat- a gift of her brother directly from Paris. She doesn’t consider herself vain, for she knows, she knows beauty alone does not bring happiness or a long life. But if the world of God´s creation was filled with so much beauty why not rejoice in it? That is another reason why she loves to go to town, for here one has an overflow of beauty in various forms, be it the stores with dresses and jewellery, shops with cakes and pastries, or simply the abundance of all sorts of people, both from the isles and those foreigners from exotic places. Her brother had invited her to join him in India, but she had immediately declined, unwilling to leave their father alone, and maybe also a little bit afraid to travel to the far unknown. There was little that lacked in her current life, her position allowing her to lead her own household without even being married, although she was very well in the age of marriage. But no, she couldn’t as yet leave her father alone. If a fine man came into her life he would need to wait. 

The merchant comes out with her parcel and she pulls out some coins from her purse and accompanies them with a smile before telling the coachman to drive on. It is a busy day in the streets, people crossing from one side to the other, always moving, full of life. For a moment her eye catches sight of a man with the looks of a foreigner like she had never seen before, hard eyes, a dark moustache and pointed beard. It is only for a moment that she sees him but she thinks that this may be an exotic encounter she would gladly like to avoid.

---

By the time the first guests arrive everything is ready. She herself is welcoming them, now dressed in an evening gown of soft blue, lace around her shoulders, her neck bare but pearl earrings swinging joyfully while her dark hair is made in the latest fashion. Her father is dressed in the best way as well, his tall thin frame having at least lost the ghastly palour that had accompanied him throughout most of the past three years, his smile warm and gentle once more. She is proud of her father for making it out through the worst of times after their loss, but sees her own accomplishment in it as well for having firmly taken care of all matters that he could not by himself. With brother away, it was just the two of them after all. 

Dinner goes smoothly and everyone is enjoying themselves, she included, for she does notice young Mr. Norris glancing more than once in her direction across the table. He is a fine man she knows, his family being well established in ship building business, his own taste in music having been a wonderful topic for their last conversation. When at last the last fork is resting she leads the women to the drawing room where the men are shortly to join them for coffee and cherry. The fire in the mantelpiece is radiating a warm glow as she leads polite small-talk, all while glancing at the door eager for the gentlemen finally to enter, only to be disappointed when Mr. Norris is immediately encircled by Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Hunt while she has to wait for her turn, if she doesn’t want to be included in their gossipy circle. 

The day has been unusually warm for this time of year and the air in the drawing room becomes too heavy and stuffy for her. Excusing herself for a moment she makes her way out to the hallway and then out to the garden. Yes, outside it’s better she thinks as she draws a deep breath of clear fresh air. It is a clear night, with stars shining brightly and a young moon giving out a pale soft light, only a few clouds marring the skies. The scent of late autumn flowers and freshly fallen leaves in nearly intoxicating, and she thinks she will leave her window open tonight. Just as she is about to turn back and go inside, out of the corner of her eye she notices movement in the shadow of the house, before the figure moves forward and she is faced with the shape of a man. It is dark but she can see he is nicely dressed. One of fathers guests? Have I noticed him inside or did he come only later in?

“A beautiful night, isn’t it?” He speaks, and by his accent she notices that he isn’t English.

“Yes, indeed, a fine night for this time of the year, Mr. …?”

“Mr. Balaur. Forgive me miss if I had startled you. I only just arrived and needed, although the company is fine inside no doubt, a bit of refreshment.” As he spoke he moved even closer and in the pale light of the moon and lights from the house she had now a better look at him. He was tall, with raven dark hair, strong brows, a thin moustache and a pointed beard, his clothes black and elegant, the neckcloth darkly red, held together with a pin that looked very much like a winged snake. His face seemed familiar but she simply could not place it so she decided He must be one of fathers business partners from abroad.

“Yes, a fine night, a night that reminds us that Night is older than Day, and as that the true form of everything.” 

It is at moment that she registers that something is off, something is very off about all of this, for, while she wanted to go inside a minute earlier, she finds herself now firmly rooted to the ground, listening to Mr. Balaur yet unable to answer him back. Stange that my tongue and my legs are so heavy. Yet, it takes only one slight touch of his hand of her arm and her legs respond, and she finds herself walking, walking outside of the garden gate.

---

It is already late in the night and the streets are empty as the two of them walk through them, his arm firm around hers, improper in any way but even stranger as she doesn’t know why she complines. Their footsteps are the only sound heard, the world has fallen so very quiet, and she glanced up at his face, trying to remember. He doesn’t look very old, more the age of Mr. Norris perhaps, and … Could it be that I am walking with Mr. Norris? But no, Mr. Norris has curly auburn hair, while Mr. What’s His Name has long dark. What was his name again? 

They walk and walk, and vaguely she notices that they have left the inhabited area somewhere behind, wild fields surrounding them, the road not longer even but turned to rough gravel. There is a numb pain in her legs, her shoes not for walking, and it seems to her like blisters have opened up and blood is beginning to soak her thin stockings and expansive shoes. Yet she keeps walking, guided by some silent command, the pain nothing more than a vague feeling unconnected to her. 

And when he stops and takes her hand in his she follows dutifully as if she had been asked for a dance, the same excitement in her, although she cannot phantom why. I should be home, although I don’t know where home is… her mind says but her body doesn’t respond.He leads her to a tall old oak, its breaches wildly stretching in all directions, its crown like a tent shielding everything into darkness. Her mind, her mind is so foggy and unclear, Maybe it was that one glass of punch too much, but no, everything is odd and queer, and her passiveness most of all. He had let her all into the shade of this great oak, her back resting on its bark, He towering tall above her. Bits of moonlight come through the branches as his right hand with its long pale fingers caresses her cheek, placing a silencing finger on her lips, as if to quiet a protest she cannot make herself do. She notices herself leaning her head to the other side without her will while his fingers trace her bare neck, and coming upon the lace on her shoulders He moves it down, night air making her shiver. Her gaze is locked in his, in anticipation of something she does not know, yet which makes her heart beat fast and faster until she can hear blood rushing loud in her ears. His eyes are horribly dark, his face as pale as the moon, and as his lips move into a sly smile his teeth come bare, sharp and white. He leans in as she closes her eyes, his lips on her neck, one hand on her shoulder the other on her back. And then his teeth pierce her skin and a pain, a horrible pain shoots through her body. Unbearable heat is in her veins and she is burning, burning from the inside as both her eyes and mouth shot open. She wants to scream for help but her voice deserts her, her lungs in desperate need for air. Help!, she needs help, she wants to fight and move, yet her arms hang limb by her sides. His grip on her is still firm but the burning ceases, replaced by unnatural cold and emptiness. Desperately she tries to force that dark vail from her mind, the one that’s holding her in this nightmare. A face dances in front of her, the face of an old man broken and in tears. She cannot remember who that man is, but a silent tear escapes her empty eyes as well.

This is how ends Violet Sedley’s not so great day.

[axoqiii]

augh

[sleevebuscemii]

my favorite thing about jacob anderson and sam reid is that jacob anderson is married with a child and has a second career as a respected musician and sam reid is a 37 year old vaping bachelor with a helix piercing who has recently emerged into peak hotness and slutability. and they’re bffls.

[lgbtiwtv]

in light of recent events

[henrykudhirai]

s1 doctor who (2005) is so special to me. they had the budget of a potato. a dustbin eats a guy and burps in the pilot. it only really picks up around ep 5. nine in his jacket. rose in her peak dumbass era. the special effects that are just so bad so awful so terrible. the introduction of captain jack harkness the world was never the same. are you my mummy? what do you mean the time lords are dead doctor what the fuck do you mean you killed them all. bad wolf? bad wolf? fucking iconic.

[dailyhatsune]

Miku comes out to her dad

memories of miku and mike at the pride parade

[azuneekun]

MY EGG ???????????????????????????

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[clingyduoapologist]

What’s crazy about “what am I without you?” “Yourself!” Is that that it is genuinely such an insane line to conclude Tommy’s arc in season 2 like, because all season people have been expecting Tommy to be a certain thing. Tubbo wanted him to be more mature, Techno wanted a loyal ally, Dream wanted a plaything. Throughout it all, Tommy’s struggled to say for himself who he is. And now, here at the end, when met with the prospect of never seeing his friend again, Tubbo tells Tommy that he’s himself. That that’s enough. That he will continue to be himself with or without him. Because through this whole season Tommy’s fucked up and been fucked over and made mistakes and suffered the consequences and that’s okay, that it’s who he is, and that it’s all he has to be.

[barnespls]

Embrace that old bastard.

[whoisnotmyname]

if you play da2 backwards you get your family back

[minzbins]

(981025) happy birthday lee know 🎂

cr. nn_sam02, nn_sam02

[nomisong]

[t00thpasteface]

FIGHT THE POWER... GET NAKED

[atdawn]

MERLIN | 5.03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon

[dizzybizz]

"this is regrettably the best kiss of your life, you understand?"