#Talbot St Memorial

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1974 – Three car bombs in Dublin and a fourth in Monaghan exploded without warning, injuring almost 300 people and killing 34, the greatest loss of life on a single day during the Troubles.

On the morning of 17 May 1974, four cars are stolen in Belfast. That evening, they would explode without warning in Dublin and Monaghan resulting in the deaths of 34 civilians and injuries to more than 300. The bombings were the worst single atrocity in Ireland during the “Troubles.” The bombings were a Loyalist reaction to the Sunningdale Agreement and attempts to introduce power sharing between…

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XXIII]

Word count: 4k

Warnings: the usual // +18

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link | masterlist

Summary: Reader gets ready for the opera and Dracula thinks he has a moment of postnut clarity. Our girl is done with his shit.

________________________________________________________

At the white glare of a morning cloudy sky, my eyes opened, quite unwillingly. I opened my mouth to ask Dracula to close the curtains when I noticed his absence and smiled at my own blunder. The covers at my side still held the shape of his body where he lay so the sunrise couldn’t have been more than an hour ago.

I slipped out the bed glancing at the clock and saw it was almost 8am already. My alarm hadn’t gone off and I’d slept in more than usual. A shower should startle me awake. 

As I undressed in my bathroom, my shirt chafed at my back and the memory of being massaged, or almost skinned considering his brutality -- although surprisingly enjoyable -- returned. I turned my back on the mirror and tried to look over my shoulder to see the state of my skin. Not a mark in sight, though it glistened as if the skin was raw and new. Reaching, I experimented with feeling it with the tips of my fingers. I hissed when a nail accidentally scraped it but other than that, it felt only a bit sensitive. It was a small bother compared to the head splitting migraine from last night. When the hot water from my shower hit my back, I expected it to burn upon contact with the apparently new skin there. Instead I found it rather helped. My body throbbed as if the flow of hot water made my heart beat faster and the skin on my back to grow thicker. 

After I showered, dressed myself and ate breakfast, I pulled the dress I would be wearing for the night out of the closet and laid it carefully over the bed. 

It would be hours until I would have to squeeze myself in there, but I felt an inexplicable urge to stare at it while I worked. 

At 9am sharp my phone lit up with Hayes calling. I let it ring. At 10am another call. At 12pm, it was time for Chambers to call. Talbot called at 2pm, Hayes again at 2.30pm. Renfield called at 4pm and I answered. 

“Y/N, for Christ’s sake, will you answer one of them? They call me when you don’t answer and they’re driving me mad!”

“Hi, Renfield,” I said in my most pleasant voice. “How are things going for the party?”

“Y/N, it’s no time to be a brat.”

“I’m doing well, yes, thanks for asking!”

He sighed heavily.

“I expect you are. Dracula arrived this morning minutes short of sunrise.”

His answer shook me straight out of my urge to annoy him just for the fun of it. Not only did that mean he had welcomed Dracula into his own penthouse – and possibly spent the night there, on the couch, waiting for him like a dog – Renfield had implied much more through his words. Although nothing had happened last night and I was a grown woman, I flushed in embarrassment.

“They won’t take no for an answer and I am in no mood today to listen to their ravings,” I spit out to disguise my mood.

“They gave you a week.”

“I’m giving myself another day.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Yes, and I can say no to them at your party, where they won’t be able to annoy me for hours on end. I have work to do, you know, I can’t spend an hour saying no over and over to Hayes.”

“Fair,” he admitted. “Shall I tell them that? That you’ve asked for a stay of proceedings?”

“Those are kind words but yes, tell them that.” I leant back on my chair and straightened up at once as my skin was pulled tautly over my spine. “Ow.”

“Ow?” Renfield echoed. 

“Nothing,” I said as I stood up from my chair and started pacing around the room. “Is Dracula awake yet? The sun is starting to set.”

“Asleep. Before he went to bed, he mentioned that he would be picking you up at 8.”

“Oh. Good, hm.” How awkward was this? “How are the preparations for the party tomorrow coming along?” I repeated, silently cursing myself.

“Fantastic,” Renfield said shortly. “Y/N, piece of advice… call the police if you’re worried about being stalked by Zoe’s people. Scotland Yard doesn’t need to know the whole story, only that you’re being watched and feel threatened.”

I opened my mouth to fight it, out of sheer need of countering the simplicity of his argument, but, simple as it was, it could prove effective. 

“Dracula told you?”

“He asked me to keep an eye on you during daylight. I can’t be with you all hours and the police will prove more able than I should Zoe decide to take action, which I doubt will happen. Yet, it would set the master’s mind at ease. And mine, as well,” he completed. 

“Okay. I’m sure the police have their hands full of lawyers with death threats, but I’ll give them a call this afternoon.” I sighed. “It can’t hurt to give them a description of Raoul as well.”

“You do that. Enjoy your date at the opera tonight.”

The phone became mute before I thought of an answer. 

____________________________________________________

“Oof!” I made for the second time.

“Oh, so sorry, dear,” Diana said between gritted teeth, peering over my shoulder to look at me through the mirror’s reflection. She tugged again and my waist gained a cinched shape that made me gasp. “I didn’t tighten that much- oh. Oh.” She seemed to comprehend that this time I hadn’t gasped for air, but out of surprise. The both of us stared at my body reflected in the mirror. Not a piece of clothing in my closet flattered me this much. The corset bustier forced my posture into a severe elegance that suited me. I didn’t know my waist could look like that or that my breasts, although suffering from PMS aches squeezed in there, looked sexy instead of whorish. 

“Pity I’m not a man,” Diana murmured, raising her eyebrows as if in contemplation, and making me laugh. “Honestly! And you said Dracula bought you this? You didn’t try it on beforehand?”

I shook my head, and she nodded hers, still a little transfixed. Admittedly, I was too as I ran my hands down my sides, feeling the accentuated curve from my waist down my hips. I turned around, sweeping my hair away, and gazed at the laced up bustier digging into my back. The skin still had a light sheen to it but hours since the abuse it had taken, the soreness and sensitivity had subsided to a faint tingling. 

Diana left me to twirl in front of my reflection and went to rummage through the things scattered on my bed. 

“What time is it?” I asked as I leaned to the mirror, pushing my eyelashes up with my fingertips as if that could have the power to curve them even more than mascara had.

“Uh, seven forty. He should be getting here in a few. Try these on with the choker,” she said, turning around from the bed with both her hands held out. A pair of teardrop earrings made of mother-of-pearl blinked at me from her left hand. In her right hand, a thin band of black velvet trimmed with lace of the same colour. Small, delicate pearls stood on the tips of the lace and a large pearl dangled on the centre of the choker. “I must have worn this once or twice. Don’t think I have the neck for it, although it’s very pretty.”

“Where did you get it?” I asked, taking the choker from her.

“Antiquity store quite a while back. The shop owner said it’s Italian but I don’t know how honest he was.” She shrugged. “Let me help you with it,” she said, extending her hand for it.

For a second, I started pulling my hair up, but then I remembered myself.

“I’ve got it.” I smiled. “You know, I think it’s quite cold outside. I’m worried the stole won’t do it. Do you have something else to lend me? If not, I think I’ll take my trench coat…”

“Trench coat with that dress?! I’ll lock you up for that. No, no, no…” she trailed off, already heading for the bedroom’s door. “I’ll find you something.”

With Diana gone, I turned to the mirror again. I hooked the earrings to my earlobes quickly and twisted my hair up in a knot so I could work the clasp on the choker. My eyes lingered on the light serrated scars on each side of my neck. The freshest one sparked alive when the choker brushed it, sending a shiver to my spine that finished in a ball below my navel.

I drew a breath in.

I knew that feeling. 

Shaking my hair down, I shoved my phone in a tiny purse where the tickets were already safely kept, grabbed the pair of Louboutin’s waiting for me by my dresser and practically pranced down the stairs to the first floor. I stopped on the last step, staring at the bottom of the front door, balancing on one leg at a time to fit the shoes on. 

The pull on my navel tightened a moment before a light flickered on beneath the front door. 

There were only hours since I last saw Dracula but excitement filled me either way as I turned the doorknob. Smiling big, I swung the door open to reveal him filling the doorframe. 

“You’re early,” I told him but I barely registered my own words. 

I stared at Dracula. He stared back. 

I think he said something, that, again, I didn’t register.

A black striped silk scarf was draped around his shoulders, falling down his chest to frame a magnificent damask burgundy waistcoat, half concealed by the long suit jacket. The matte black tie contrasted against the white shirt. With the sheen of the scarf and waistcoat, the effect was rather striking. The light hitting the scarf and the imposing wideness of his shoulders inside that suit kept stealing my attention to form a more elaborate response than simply staring stupidly.

To my delight, he seemed a little lost for words as well. But instead of staring continuously as I did, he stepped forward and seized my waist in his hands. I felt the weight of them. Dracula lowered his face to mine. I pressed my lips to his only to amuse him but turned my cheek when he tried for something more.

“I just finished doing my makeup,” I told him as he kissed my earlobe. “Let’s not ruin it before we go out.” 

A low rumble came from him - whether in agreement or not, I couldn’t tell - and, as if dropping the subject entirely, he forced me round with a twist to my waist. My feet tangled over each other. Gasping in surprise, I had to lean into him so I wouldn’t tumble and he took that as an opportunity to follow the deep curves of my waist to the rest of my body. His left hand drifted down to my hip and lingered there as he apparently detected something to his interest. Exploring still, his hand slid back to gather a firm grip on my ass. 

“You seem to be lacking something,” he stated, almost matter-of-factly as if he wasn’t veritably groping me.

“Very perceptive,” I taunted. Dracula squeezed my ass again, his fingers biting into the inside of my buttock. I let out a strangled noise as I tried to shift away from his grip but once he released me, the lingering touch was more pleasurable than painful. “Underwear doesn’t go with this dress,” I panted. “It shows through the fabric.” 

“Really?” His tone was almost disinterested as both hands were now uptaking the task of exploring each and every curve of my hips. Then, his lips were on my exposed shoulders, rovering over my back. I shivered and bent my back at the feel of his lips on the fresh skin. “Do you mind being late?”

“No, but I do mind showing up looking a mess.” I turned my head to look over my shoulder at him. His eyes, hungry and red, were on my throat. I grabbed his face to make him focus and he met my gaze. I understood by his look alone that he didn’t really care about the opera or me looking a mess. 

The creak of the back door opening dissipated the moment as Dracula glanced up in alertness. Quick steps sounded from the kitchen to the hall. I stepped away from Dracula, trying to disguise that we were moments away from tearing each other’s clothes off.

“Y/N, I’ve got just the thing-” Diana cut her phrase short as she appeared from behind the stairwell and saw us. She cast the coat she held over an arm. “Oh.” The brown in her eyes appeared dull for a fraction of a second, but a polite smile curved her mouth and gave life to her face. She glanced between Dracula and I. 

“Di, this is Count Dracula. He was a bit early,” I added, as if that was meant to remedy the awkwardness. “She was very excited to meet you,” I told Dracula and I wondered how I made the words sound so casual. “I’ll spare many introductions. You both know a lot about each other already because of me.”

Ever the gentleman, Dracula took Diana’s hand and kissed it. She looked at me as he did so and I shrugged in unspoken conversation - “really?” “told you”.

“She talks a lot about you,” Diana said when he let her go. “But meeting the man is always quite different from knowing of him.”

“Always,” he agreed, smiling down at her. “I hope I didn’t hurt your expectations.”

“You’re exactly what I expected,” she replied quickly, a frozen smile on her mouth. I narrowed my eyes. “Count, what do you think of lunch on Saturday? It would be lovely to have you over and get to know Y/N talks about so often.”

“My mornings are eternally busy, I’m afraid, and this Saturday I’ll be hosting a party at my home. I’m sure Y/N’s told you-” he looked at me and I nodded in confirmation “-you should come. If you want to evaluate me, and I do believe that’s what you want to do, you can do so there.”

Diana laughed. I was sure it was the laugh she used for corporate meetings - polite, short and a little contemptuous. 

“I’ll come.” She stepped aside from him and handed me the coat. Heavy black and grey fur caressed my skin as I threw it over me. “Don’t want to be late. Tell me all about it later?”

With that and a last surveying look at Dracula, Diana made her way back and left with the same creak of the closing door.

“She doesn’t like you,” I blurted as he turned to me.

“She knows something is off about me,” he said, grabbing the doorknob. “I don’t think she remembers what I did, as you suspect.”

“That’s comforting,” I replied, although it was not. 

Cutting, bone-chilling wind put Diana out of my mind as we stepped out into the night and I locked my door. When I turned around, I found Count Dracula holding the passenger door of his car open for me. My gaze lingered on the cufflinks on his outstretched arm, the dark rubies winking at me under the streetlights, and the waistcoat tight over his torso, accentuating his noble posture. He narrowed his eyes with a slight tilt of his head as I continued staring. Then the wind slipped under my coat and I was reminded of the freezing cold. I rushed past him, fumbling to throw my keys inside my purse, and took my seat on the passenger side. 

Dracula slid beside me with a slam to his door. He opened his jacket to sit more comfortably and flipped the ignition. We shot through the road. His legs underlined the fabric of his trousers as he changed gears. Lean muscles tensed and relaxed as I watched. The light coming and going from outside barely highlighted his profile with how darkly tinted the windows were.

“What did you do to me last night?” I questioned, observing him.

“Healed you,” he replied.

“With a massage?” I scoffed. 

He glanced at me.

“A massage,” he repeated, and chuckled in that way I hated so much, like he knew something I didn’t. “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Why should I?” He asked, leaning back in his seat as he held the wheel with only one hand. 

“Because I’m asking you to.”

Again, he chuckled. 

“No.”

With his square shoulders set back, his body relaxed as he drove in feigned concentration. 

I did remember, at least, I thought I did. But something was missing. He knew it and wouldn’t give me the answer. What he wouldn’t give, I would take.  

“Make a right here,” I said, giving into impulse.

“But this is the quickest way,” he replied even as he obeyed me.

“There are tolls on that road.” I kicked my shoes off. My heartbeat accelerated. 

He smirked.

“And your point is?” He prodded.

“You would have to lower your window at some point.” I removed my seat belt, bent my legs under me as far as the dress would allow and leaned across the centre console. Dracula turned his head to look at me as my chin rested on his shoulder. “I can’t have that right now,” I breathed. “Eyes on the road.”

For a moment too long, he stared deep into my eyes, his smirk growing into a smile as he fully understood my intention, then he raised his left arm to give me space and put his eyes back on the road. 

Keeping my lips to his ear, I reached between his legs, feeling the most promising outline of his cock through his trousers growing rigid to my touch. I took his earlobe between my teeth. He tilted his head in response, shoulders tensing and relaxing as a chill came and went through him. I undid his trousers carelessly. The steering wheel let out a sound of complaint as Dracula tightened his hand around it. To my utter fascination, I saw that he had his bottom lip caught between his teeth. My hand drifted lower, fingers brushing against the distinct hardness hidden beneath the fabric of his boxers. He exhaled. Content, I pushed his underwear aside and bent down, settling on my knees and elbows so I could reach him and bestow a generous lick down his length. I taunted him with licks and brushes of lips and in return, he twisted my hair around his hand.

“Put your tongue out,” he said between his teeth. 

Opening my mouth, I did. He raised his hips slightly as he forced my head down. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my tongue out as far as it would go to stop myself from choking as he hit the back of my throat. He thrust upward once again with complete disregard, past my defences, and I pulled back, gasping for breath. A sound between a groan and a laugh came from him. 

Mocking laughter. 

Grasping him tightly, I brought the soft contours of the head of his cock to my tongue. Dracula kept a firm hold over my hair as I fell into rhythm. Tears nearly leaking out of my eyes, I took as much of him as I could down my throat. Drool cascaded out of my mouth as I pulled back. I stroked his cock and left sloppy kisses along his shaft as I tried to catch my breath. Rasping groans escaped from him. He sounded the same way when he was inside me, and my body responded. My breasts felt heavier, my nipples puckered to hypersensitivity, and my loins swelled while wetness slicked my inner thighs. That arousal made me move my head a little faster, drawing on him harder. His grip on my hair tightened. 

The car swerved and jostled to a stop. I started lifting my head but he raised his hips and held me still. 

“Ahh, good.” 

Something about the way he spoke seemed to sink in and I took his cock deeper as I tried desperately to suck and breathe at the same time. My hair was released for a brief second before being pulled again, guiding my head to his own pace. A large hand, the one that was supposed to be steering the car before, began traversing down my back only to find rest on my ass sticking up in the air. “Again, pet.” Eyes filled with tears, gagging and choking, I obeyed, if only to hear him moan again in that way that seemed both demanding and pleading. “Good, good,” he said, and I thought ‘more, more’. 

His groans became louder until they reverberated inside the car. I felt his legs tremble, heard a breath leave his body when it didn’t belong there, felt his fingers digging on my behind, and then tasted him on my tongue as his groans subsided. Still, I kept him encased inside my mouth, attempting to drain all that he could give.

He pulled my head back by the roots of my hair and raised me to eyelevel. I swallowed hurriedly, before I let anything spill, as I continued grasping his cock. It was a shiny, slobbery mess. 

My chest heaved with deep, rewarding breaths. Gaze turning to the man at my side, I found him with his head resting back, eyes shut. Fangs loomed behind his parted lips. 

“Such a brat,” he sighed.

“Brat?” I prodded, stroking his cock slowly. He tensed.

“You’ll do anything to get what you want.” He chuckled, showing me more serrated white teeth. 

“Well? Have I earned it?”

“I spoil you too much.”

A racket of noise from outside filtered in and I let go of him in alarm, recoiling to sit on my ankles, before I realised it was people leaving a pub down the street where the car was parked.

Dracula adjusted himself, apparently unbothered by the interruption, and wiped a hand down his trousers. 

“You’re still scared of me,” he murmured, as he continued analysing his trousers.

That was his response after that?

“I’m not,” I protested at once. 

“What did I do to you yesterday, Y/N?” He asked, turning his face toward mine too quickly. His face was unnervingly closer than a fraction of a second before. My heart pumped harder. But not with fear. I wouldn’t allow that.

“Healed me,” I repeated his own words back.

“How?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I opened my mouth to give him an acidic answer. “Think. You are much too clever.”

“You bit me,” I breathed out without a second thought. “Several times,” I completed as I thought of the cold pressure on my back. But no scars to attest to that fact, which meant he had licked all the wounds away, as he had once done to my breast. If I was right, that justified the feeling of raw skin on my back.

“I didn’t drink your blood, though. Not much of it.”

The corners of my lips curled.

“And you think I forgot about it- rather, I erased it from my memory because I’m still scared of you? Please.”

“I bit you repeatedly last night and you have no memory of it,” he said.

“Didn’t feel like bites. It felt a lot like-” a clear image of Dracula hovering over my back, sharp teeth biting and pulling my skin to meet the cold and cavernous inside of his mouth. Blood coalescing but not being drawn to pour. “Cupping.” A questioning look appeared in his eyes. “Alternative medicine, that’s what you did. It’s used to draw sickness out and clean toxins,” I finished, divided between wanting to find it fascinating and funny. “You learned it from the Turks.” I gave him a smile. “It’s very popular now.”

“Entirely not the point,” he muttered, and leaned back to his seat. 

“Isn’t it?” I carried on as I sat straight. “Maybe doing that on some damsel of yore could have elicited some kind of- what? Horrified and disgusted reaction? I know what you are, and it’s the 21st century as you are well aware. Not much mystery going around. So you snuck into my room, quite literally sucked the pain from my body and healed me better than medicine ever could, and I’m thankful, but not scared.” I exhaled harshly. “I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself. I’m not bloody scared of you. Stop trying to test me and push me away.”

I angled the rearview mirror towards me. My makeup was mostly intact, which was somewhat of a miracle. My hair on the other hand was a different story. 

Dracula’s black gaze was fixed on mine through the mirror. Empty. It cut through my stomach.

“We’re late,” I grumbled.

Staring straight through me, he put the car in first gear, then looked away and sped off.

_____________________________________________

A/N: So, hot and (slightly) angsty, my favourite combo. He's having a hard time fully coming to terms with this relationship. He still expects her to run off. He never quite stopped believing it. And now she's like a dog with a bone :)

_____

_____________________________________

In another note, I am SO excited for the next chapter!! I've been thinking about it for months and it came out exactly how I wanted to. It'll accompany a small playlist to set the tone, so you can read while listening to the pieces that inspired me.

Same time next week.

 @plutonianvenusiangoddess @rheabalaur @deborahlazaroff @thorin-smokin-shield @girlonfireice  @mr-kisskiss-bangbang  @saint-hardy  @xoxodracula  @princessayveke  @dreamer2381  @25ocurer  @vampirescurse  @blue-serendipity  @sunscreenfeverdream  @iwasjustablur  @daydreaming136  @hello-itsbarbie  @bittenlove  @newyorkrican922  @soph3228  @feralstare  @clussysposts  @jmor25  @spnkpholland  @goddessofmischief03  @mistandmoss  @luciahoneychurch  @candleslut  @theswiftnational  @soulofsalt  @werwulfy  @skelior  @cesspitoflove  @hiphop-gir  @mymindpalaceismywonderland  @lddracula ​ @festering-queen  @rainbowgoblinfan  @sweet-delila  @jar-of-moondust

[poshfind]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Talbots Blue & Black Textured Fabric Almond Toe Flats 8½ Wide.

[whatsonmedia]

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[averycanadianfilm]

THE WEATHER. SNOW STORMS. Melbourne Australia

From The Argus (Melbourne) Thursday July 27, 1882 

Yesterday a spectacle of a decidedly novel and, as far as is officially known, unprecedented character, was observed by the citizens of Melbourne and suburbs, viz, a genuine snowfall. It is true that a number of old colonists aver that snow fell on more than one occasion in Melbourne during the first decade of Victorian history, but our meteorological records are silent on the point, and Mr. Ellery, the Government astronomer, whose recollection extends back to 1851, declares that yesterday's snowfall was the first in his Victorian experi-ence. Altogether, Wednesday, July 26, 1882, was a most exceptional day in several respects. Its average temperature is the lowest on record, the thermometer never having risen above 40deg., whilst for the greater part of the day it was as low as 39deg. A lower temperature than the latter has been registered at the Observatory, but only for a very brief period. The peculiarity about yesterday consisted in the uniformly low temperature that prevailed throughout the day, the cold being such as is rarely experienced in thissunny southern clime. It had been raining slightly during the previous night, and Wednesday morning opened with evident signs of a continuance of similar weather. But few were prepared for what took place shortly after 8 o'clock, when mingled snow and rain commenced to descend, reviving old-world memories, and occasioning general expressions of surprise. To young Australians the spectacle of falling snowflakes filling the air was indeed a new experience, and they were enabled to compare the actual reality with the conceptions formed by reading descriptions of similar scenes on the other side of the equator. At about half past 10 a much heavier fall of snow was observed, the flakes being thicker, and in some places temporarily whitening a pretty large area.The fall lasted for about half an hour, during which time large numbers of people in all parts of the city and suburbs watched the unusual sight with keen and evident interest. The fall was by no means confined to the vicinity of the metropolis, for according to the communications of our correspondents, supplemented by information from the Observatory, it has extended over the whole southeastern portion of Australia, and has also embraced the elevated districts of New South Wales. In the latter colony "heavy snow" is reported from Mount Victoria, Carcoar, Walcha, Bendameer, Orange, Armidale, and Kiandra. At the last mentioned township, which is situated in the Alpine region of New South Wales, near the headwaters of the Snowy River, the ground is covered with 20 in. of snow. Throughout the day the snowfall at Mount Macedon was continuous, and precisely the same record comes from Kilmore, Mount Buninyong is capped with 3ft. of snow, and the roofs of the houses in this elevated locality are likewise covered. Ice 3in. thick is also reported from Mount Buninyong. The fall at Lancefield lasted for two hours, and at Beaufort the ground was covered to a depth of more than two inches.The mountains surrounding Ararat are wrapped in a fleecy mantle, and at Smythes-dale snowballing was the popular amusement during the greater portion of the day. On Mount Cole 2ft. of snow was lying, and the saw mills were compelled to suspend work inconsequence. The ranges in the neighbourhoodof Talbot and Stawell were likewise snow-clad during a part of the day. Snow, more or less, is reported from Eltham, Drouin, Waterloo, Camperdown, Maryborough, Ballan, Horsham, Hamilton, and St. Arnaud. Across the Straits a heavy fall in the vicinity of Hobart is announced. Most of the Riverina stations reported fine weather this morning at 9 a.m., although it was dull and like rain at one or two. From Sydney fine weather was reported. At Bourkethe line was down. At Gabo a whole galefrom W.S.W. was blowing. The other New South Wales stations report fine weather....

[russellmoreton]

The Fictions of Light by Russell Moreton Via Flickr: Mizmaze St Catherine's Hill. Re-Imagining the Immaterial and the Concrete Talbot once described the invention of photography as “a little bit of magic realised”. In 1845, in a similar vein, the Athenaeum, in its review of The Pencil of Nature, described it as “A wonderful illustration of modern necromancy” and wondered at the fact that “photography has already enabled us to hand down to future ages a picture of the sunshine of yesterday, or a memorial of the haze of to-day.” “impressed by the agency of light alone” blog.nationalmediamuseum.org.uk/a-z-of-photography-willia... The Pencil of Nature by William. Henry Fox Talbot www.gutenberg.org/files/33447/33447-pdf.pdf

[withclawsandsympathy]

Coming soon via @deancashorrorfest​

Title: On the Cutting Room Floor

Author: callsigntango (tumblr: withclawsandsympathy)

Artist: @spiffyflypie​

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Length: ~24k

Warnings:  Graphic Violence, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Minor Character Deaths, Memory Loss, Graphic descriptions of rotting and moldy food, Arachnophobia 

Tags: Canon Divergence (with AU elements sprinkled in liberally), POV Dean, Spiders, seriously there are a lot of spiders in this i cannot stress that enough, Feelings of being trapped, Horror, Psychological Horror, Intense descriptions of how much it sucks to work in the tv news industry, hey wait did i mention the spiders

Posting Date: October 13, 2022

Summary: In an Arachne hunt gone wrong, Dean "wakes up" in an AU-style world as what he'd gone undercover as for the hunt: a journalist, with no memory of his actual life. He’s paired with the worst diva he’s ever had the pleasure of enduring, a ruthless, arrogant hotshot by the name of Bela Talbot. But when the pair shows up to cover what should be a routine story on a suspicious death in Kansas, the world around Dean starts to unravel in horrific, painful ways.  The appearance of a man claiming to be an Angel sends Dean into a tailspin -- but just as something about Cas begins to spark very real memories in Dean, Cas seems to be losing his own grip on what's real and what isn't. And as they struggle to free themselves from this distorted web of reality, something sinister is lurking just beyond their reach.

Excerpt:

The rest of the world seemed to have fallen still. There was no more rustling of papers in the deputy’s hands, no more breeze shifting through the grass, no more din of conversation from startled, scared rookies around him. Time hung heavy and frozen, and every one of Dean’s breaths felt wrong somehow. As if the very air in his lungs was stolen.

“Deeean,” the whisper came again, more insistent. More desperate. Dean glanced down at his feet.

Glanced down at the corpse lying in the grass. Had it just…

Dean crouched to get a closer look. Surely the whisper couldn’t have come from this thing. He didn’t need to check for a heartbeat to know this half-eviscerated, blood-drained body was dead.

“Dean.” The lipless, lifeless husk of a human fucking spoke, and Dean fell back on his ass in fear.

“What the—” Dean didn’t get a chance to finish the thought. The world flickered and melted around him, the once-frozen scene melting into a frenzy of fangs and limbs and motion. The grass beneath his hands squirmed and scuttled, erupting into a throbbing, thrashing mass of large, pale yellow spiders.

Dean scrambled to his feet in a panic. The palm-sized spiders shivered and shook and skittered across the body, with more legs poking out of the corpse’s wounds and empty eyes and mouth, hauling out more thick, pale spiders from within it. The mass of huntsmen squeezed through eye sockets, burrowed into wounds, and sank their fangs into decaying flesh. Several of the spiders began to sprint up Dean’s legs, and he swatted at them with terrified, wild swipes of his palms.

But just as suddenly as the spiders had appeared, they vanished, leaving a manic, near-hysterical Dean the sudden spectacle at a crime scene. No one else had moved, or seemed to have noticed the spiders. Mary was still looking at him with a cold suspicion. 

No. Not at him. Through him. Behind him.

“Dean?” The voice was more real this time. Spoken aloud rather than a whisper in his thoughts. And it was just as uncertain of this situation as he was.

Dean whipped around. Though the spiders had disappeared into thin air, something else had appeared just as suddenly and inexplicably. No, not something.

Someone.

A man – a scruffy, disheveled man in a tattered trench coat – was hunched next to the body, staring at Dean in shock. The trench coat was stained with dark, inky blotches. Blood was smeared across his palms and dripped from his mouth, the bright red droplets streaking down his chin. Dark circles hung heavy under the man’s eyes, deep purple marks that stood out against piercing blue irises. He looked half-starved, deprived of sleep and sanity, staring right at Dean with the same intensity as a hungry wolf. “Dean, where are we?”

[imaginefan]

Mobile Masterlist (N - Z) Part 2

Once Upon A Time

David Nolan/ Prince Charming

Good Meets Evil

Stay The Night

We’ll Help *Part 1* *Part 2*

Emma Swan

Canoeing Trip

Change Of Plans

Liability

Not So Welcome

Self Defence

True Beauty

We’ll Help *Part 1* *Part 2*

Graham Humbert

Blind Dates

Wrong Impression

Henry Mills

Canoeing Trip

Probably More Than Friends

Sleeping Curse

Um…

We’ll Help *Part 1* *Part 2*

Lana Parrilla

Defenceless

Mary Margret Blanchard/ Snow White

Good Meets Evil

Should I Keep Him?

We’ll Help *Part 1* *Part 2*

OUAT Gang

Darker Ways To The Truth

Peter Pan/ Pied Piper

Shapeshifter

Regina Mills/ Evil Queen

Good Meets Evil

Get Along

Old Grudges *Part 1* *Part 2*

Not Nearly Enough Pain

Ruby Lucas

My Brother

Teen Wolf

Aiden

We’ll Find Something Else

Brett Talbot

Little Sister *Part 1* *Part 2*

Cody Christian

I Didn’t Mean To Meet You

I Found

Is Your Best Girl Your Best Friend

Derek Hale

Hurting For A Secret

Me!?

One Wolf’s Beta Is Another Wolf’s Girlfriend

The Witch, The Werewolf And The Human

Trust Me.

Isaac Lahey

A Villian And A Hero

Midnight Cramps

Mine Not Theirs

Opposite Sides Of The Same Pain

Jackson Whittmore

Possessive Much?

Jordan Parrish

Memory Loss

Liam Dunbar

2nd Chance

Anger

Family Dinner

Find Your Anchor

Love

Monster

Past Relationships Are Future Problem

You Alright

Malia Tate

Why?

McCall Pack

20% Werewolf

Feeling Safe *Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*

Final Goodbye

Information Session *Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*

Mistake *Part 1* *Part 2*

Scent *Part 1* *Part 2*

Peter Hale

One Wolf’s Beta Is Another Wolf’s Girlfriend

Stress Makes It Worse

Scott McCall

Dead Give Away

Like A Brother *Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3* *Part 4*

Secret Love

Sick

Sleeper Storm

Stiles Stilinski

Secret Love

Spy

The Witch, The Werewolf And The Human

Then I Won’t.

Trust Me.

Watch Duty

Wrong First Impression

Peter Hale

Soulmate

Theo Raeken

2nd Chance

Badass

Better Off Dead

Cycles

Hate Turned Love

Immortals

I’ll Be Good

Like A Brother *Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3* *Part 4*

Love

Love For The Abnormal

Love Like War

Love To Hate Ya

My Demons

Nerves

Not Your Possession

Old Friends In A New Light

Pure Innocence

Secrets Told To Save A Life

Stay Awake

Immature Sire

Then I Won’t.

We’re Being Watched

Your The Reason

Tyler Posey

Out Sass Me

Suicide Squad

George Harkness/ Captain Boomerang

Second Thoughts

Supernatural

Balthazar

1 Face 2 Name

Castiel

Grace

Superhero

Gabriel

Feral Vampire

Dean Winchester

Family Dinner

Past Scars

Possession

John Winchester

Family Dinner

Michael

Wings

Sam Winchester

Family Dinner

Possession

The Flash

Cisco Ramon

Closer

Damn Dark

Secrets

Julian Albert

Homeless

The Originals/ The Vampire Diaries

Caroline Forbes

Personal Comforter

Damon Salvatore

10 Years Later

Best Friends

Get That Guy!

Sometimes I Do Stupid Things

Unfocused Love

Elijah Mikaelson

5 Years Later

Accidents Happen

Back Down

Wealth And Power

Freya Mikaelson

Mother

Perfect Sacrifice

Stupid Barrier Spell

Hayley Marshall

The Forgotten One

Jeremy Gilbert

Accidental Admission

Date Crasher

First To Leave

Human Problems

I Didn’t Know

Locked In Love

Sired To One But Still In Love With The Other

Split Two Ways

No Goodbye

Kai Parker

Mark Of A Mate

Secret Weakness

Wake Up Call

Klaus Mikaelson

Be My Father

Comfort In You

Confused

Fake It Till You Make It

Little One

Love You Just As Much

Memories Of The Past

Other Hybrids

Piano

Prized Possession

Shh

Sneak

Twins

Your Council

Kol Mikaelson

Acting

Apply Heat

Better Than A Dream

Date Crasher

Distracted

Don’t Need A Dare To Kiss

Eavesdropping

I Didn’t Know

King And Queen Of New Orleans

Like Romeo And Juliet

Set You Up

Sired To One But Still In Love With The Other

Split Two Ways

Time Travel

Volunteer

Words To Break A Heart

Lorenzo St. John

Breaks Me

How Dare You !?

Make Out Already!

Realisation

Too Much To Handle

Unfocused Love

You Don’t Know

Lucien Castle

Compliments

Stubborn Much

Matt Donovan

Human Problems

I Quit

No.1

Mikaelson Family

1 Face 2 Name

Meet The Family

Peaceful Death

The Forgotten One *Part 1* *Part 2*

Rebekah Mikaelson

First Time Mum *Part 1* *Part 2*

Surprise Reaction

Stefan Salvatore

10 Years Later

Tyler Lockwood

Over Reaction

Something I Haven’t Told You

True Strength

The Walking Dead

Glenn Rhee

Depression Of The Apocalypse

From Fake To Real

Leave *Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*

Never Lose Faith

New Home

Parents

Unnoticed

Maggie Greene/ Rhee

Depression Of The Apocalypse

From Fake To Real

Leave *Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*

Mum

Never Lose Faith

New Home

Parents

Unnoticed

Michonne

Silent Therapy

Relief

Paul Rovia (Jesus)

Reunion

Rick Grimes

Different Is Good

True Colours

The Survivors

Leave *Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*

Needed Discussion (Prompt)

YouTube

Ian Carter (iDubbbz)

Welp…

Jacksepticeye

Drunk

Markiplier

Drunk

Requests and general question!

Next Part --->

[dinah-stmaur]

The Case of the Garden Tantrum

WHERE: St. Maur Castle’s gardens WHEN: April 25th, 1904 WHO: Valentin Talbot | @valentin-talbot

Everyday was the same day, in an endless routine that never seemed to change. Yet things had changed, little by little. Her brother died and his presence was missing from her daily life. She had been kissed for the very first time. Her older sister had left for London ahead of the rest of the family, while her younger sister was talking about staging a class revolution or something. George St. Fore lived somewhere in St. Maur county if one where to believe what Mary had heard from Bethany who had heard it from someone who knew Miss Campbell who had been told directly from her father, Mr Campbell, who was at the dinner with the Foresters. And the footmen were now all very proper. Each. Every. One. Of. Them.

Dinah could do nothing about it, about anything, and she felt as each day passed just as the one before completely powerless.

And the fact that you’re not even aware of your power is quite the issue as well.

She couldn’t change her sister’s mind about acknowledging their brother’s engagement to Freda Forester because she wasn’t there. She couldn’t take her first kiss back because there was no turning back time. She couldn’t ask Zachariah Forester if it was true what Mrs Campbell had said to his daughter who then had proceeded to tell everyone and their cousin about George St. Fore living so close to her. And she couldn’t go up to Ira B. Vaisman and put a finger up his face and tell him to stop to be so bloody polite.

Don’t act childish. 

Dinah scoffed at the memory, her expression drawn into a childish pout as she walked along the gardens and the rose bushes. But his words kept coming back to her, taunting her.

Maybe when you’ve grown up a little, you can tell me what it is you want.

“OH WHY SHOULD I?!?! WHY?!?!” she shouted, frustrated, in what was the first time she had ever let all her anger out and done so loudly. All of her tantrums had always been quiet affairs. They had all been about sulking alone, hidden, until Maurice would come find her. But there was no one left to look for her now, and only that nagging voice in her head.

Don’t act childish. Don’t act childish. Don’t act childish. 

And she could only scream at it.

[cescapist]

Kin

DATE: 10th of July PLACE:St. Mary’s Churchyard STATUS: Closed @bernie-talbot

Benny hadn’t really had the chance to talk to Lady Bernadette upon her return from Paris straight into London. Nor, if he had been presented the chance, would he have wanted to take it. It was not that he didn’t like Lady Bernadette (though he would admit no shortage of upset towards her, on Zachariah’s behalf), and more that he knew she didn’t like him.

He could hardly blame her, of course. Plenty of those who had suffered through being Benny’s classmate either at Grammar School or at Sunday School did not like him. Benny – distractible, excitable, loud, boyish, boisterous and bombastic – had hardly been to everyone’s taste. He had matured greatly in the past twenty or so years, of course, and most who had shared a classroom with him were now very amicable towards him. And yet, Lady Bernadette was not. She had not been during classes as children. She had not been during visits in which the families convened. She had not been during the first stumblings of society as adolescents. She had most certainly not been when she and Zachariah were caught up in their flirtation. And now… now…

Now she was changed. Even Benny, who had long resorted to giving her no more than a polite tup of his hat in public, had noticed that. It was only natural, of course, to change following such an event as had befallen her family seven months ago, but this change felt more pronounced within Lady Bernadette than any of their siblings. She had lost some of the hard, mirror-shard sharpness that had so engulfed her before. She had softened her gaze, had lowered her head, had stopped looking quite so down her nose at everyone around her. And, of course, she had become not only Lady Bernadette, sister of Benny’s dear friend Valentin, but Lady Bernadette, sister of Benny’s dearest most beloved and adored friend Valentin. It was for that change – the one which Lady Bernadette had no control over – that Benny decided he simply must try and be nice with her, to worm their way past simple nods and hat-waves and tight-lipped smiles in hello, and into the realm of neutral, mutual respect.

Church had ended. Sermons, since Valentin had once again taken his position as serving Priest for St. Mary’s, had become an incredibly intensive affair for Benny. There was no cure for his attention (or lack of it), even love; and yet Benny did so very much love, love so much he was consumed by it, and thus... He wanted to listen, he truly did, but words moved through Benny’s mind like water through a sieve, and the thoughts which caught within the web were often only tangential – memories of lazy mornings spent with his head cushioned in Valentin’s lap, listening to him read aloud – if they were connected at all – I should take Valentin to Norrington, and we should have our photos taken. By the end of service, when they had all done their singing and their praying and their religious contemplating, Benny was both glad the sermon had ended, and sad that it was over. It was the sort of feeling which was best remedied, he’d found, by a cigarette, by standing in the churchyard, and by casting occasional longing looks Valentin’s way (which, he was glad, appeared very much like looks cast at his mother’s back, longing for her to make the family’s excuses and allow them to leave). He was doing thus, bringing his gaze away from Valentin at the church’s door and letting it flit and flutter about the familiar cemetery, when it fell upon her.

Benny dropped the end of his cigarette and crushed it under his heel. Then, as had become habit, picked it up and wrapped it in a handkerchief for later disposal. With a little breath, the sort one took to make one steady in the face of potential rejection and frustration, he approached.

“Lady Bernadette,” he greeted, hat removed and held to his chest with the sort of etiquette he so often forgot to employ. “May I give a belated welcome back to England, and also to St. Maur. Did you enjoy the season?”

[thenewlyfreed]

Years Gone

DATE: 21st of May PLACE: Garden, Heathcote Residence STATUS: Closed @soleil-timide

Deepak didn’t have to run errands anymore, not unless they came from Lord Frederick himself, but when this one was mentioned by Mrs. Luison he had personally volunteered. A letter, from the St. Maurs to Lady Florence Talbot. It was a hall boy job, but Deepak was making certain it received a valet’s attention.

He’d been to Heathcote before, of course. It held bad memories, of course. But none as bad as Tynthesfield, and in nowhere near as big an amount. As long as Deepak avoided Lord Alastair, he would be fine. Just fine. No shakes, no shivers, only a mild discomfort, like wearing a collar one sixteenth of an inch too tight.

It was the price of seeing Lady Florence, and in his mind it was a bargain.

The servant’s entrance was still where it had always been, and inside the paltry staff had – after questioning who the hell he was just walking in on them like that – let Deepak know where Lady Florence was. So it was with a letter in one hand and the other concealed behind his back that he approached one of the drawing rooms, oddly excited to see her in the style of a true and proper Lady. And oddly excited to hand to her more than just the letter. It was late, and it was very possibly inappropriate, but Deepak would be damned if he didn’t give Lady Florence at least a small gift, both for her birthday and to congratulate her on her debut. The fine handkerchief, in which was stashed a little sachet of dried lavender, was nowhere near as fine a gift as those her elder sister had received, but Deepak hoped that its sincerity would make up for that.

Deepak slipped from the servant’s corridors early, emerging into the upper landing rather than directly into the drawing room. All the better to approach her. To see the transformation which her visit to Buckingham Palace would have wrought upon her. Letter still extended, and handkerchief and sachet still concealed behind his back, Deepak quietly approached the opened door. Inside, Lady Florence sat with her hair up, looking every bit the sophisticated and beautiful woman he had been sure she would become. Those ten years of servitude in Tynthesfield might have been hell, but somehow now they had passed too quickly. How had she gone from a child of only nine to a woman? How had he gone from a lad of only fourteen to a man?

A gentle knock upon the door, and Deepak entered, standing just inside the threshold. “A letter for you, milady,” he said in way of announcement, presenting it and waiting to be bidden inside.

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1974 – Three car bombs in Dublin and a fourth in Monaghan exploded without warning, injuring almost 300 people and killing 34, the greatest loss of life on a single day during the Troubles.

#OTD in 1974 – Three car bombs in Dublin and a fourth in Monaghan exploded without warning, injuring almost 300 people and killing 34, the greatest loss of life on a single day during the Troubles.

On the morning of 17 May 1974, four cars are stolen in Belfast. That evening, they would explode without warning in Dublin and Monaghan resulting in the deaths of 34 civilians and injuries to more than 300. The bombings were the worst single atrocity in Ireland during the “Troubles.” The bombings were a Loyalist reaction to the Sunningdale Agreement and attempts to introduce power sharing between…

[margaretstmaur]

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃

WHEN: 6 February WHERE: The stableyard of St Maur Castle WHO: @alastair-talbot

The morning had dawned harsh and cold, the pink sun piercing a bleak sky, the promise of frost in the air. Margaret knew all this because she had been awake for hours, pretending to be asleep as a maid lit her fire before rising to bear witness to the birth of another day. Apprehension spoiled any joy she might have derived from such a sight, because in a matter of hours Alastair Talbot was accompanying her to Maurice’s memorial.

Margaret prided herself on self-knowledge, yet even she struggled to untangle which of these filled her with more anxiety.

A stiff breeze whistled through the stableyard. Margaret loitered like a naughty child by her gelding, Prince’s, stall. She had sent a small note to Alastair the day previously to request his presence on the estate to view the memorial, as they had arranged. Given the location of the memorial, she had suggested they ride out together - though now she wondered at the propriety of such a thing. Her riding habit fit her tightly, the black coat and skirt intended to streamline dashing over fields on horseback, yet now it felt positively obscene. Why had she not suggested a walk, where layers of mourning clothing might obscure the frailness of her body and therefore her soul? The desire to hide away was quite foreign to her. She hated it. 

Maurice would tell her to buck up. She ought to take his advice. If not in life, then death - right?

The sound of approaching boots on cobblestones attracted her attention. Margaret turned away from patting Prince’s soft muzzle to watch as Alastair entered the stableyard. When their eyes met she was greeted with a peculiar sensation not unlike falling.

“Lord Talbot,” Margaret said, hiding behind a polite smile. Then, because nothing at all seemed appropriate given the purpose of their meeting, she gestured to the horse in the adjacent stall. “This is Napoleon, although he has little in common with his namesake. I thought a tall mount would suit you. He’s a bit fresh, but we’ll knock that out of him. The memorial is on the other side of the estate.” 

For a moment or two she merely focused on Napoleon, stroking the gelding’s bay neck and smiling in admiration as he whickered quietly and snuffled at the sleeve of her jacket. Oh! Her heart swelled with love for the beautiful creature. God may have his troubles, but horses were not one of them.

When Margaret at last looked back at Alastair, her smile was wide and unguarded.

Belatedly, she arranged her expression into one more acceptable. “Sorry, I rather lost of my train of thought. What I meant was, it’s a bit of a ride. I hope you don’t mind.”

[poshfind]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Talbots Blue & Black Textured Fabric Almond Toe Flats 8½ Wide.

[marian-alvey]

A Moment at Saint Mary’s

DATE: March 17, Evening

PLACE: St. Mary’s Church

STATUS: Closed, for @valentin-talbot

For the most part during her time away from St. Maur, Marian had been too busy to spend much time thinking of home. But there were certain places, certain memories, that had managed to linger in her mind, and one of those places was Saint Mary’s Church.

Not because she’d spent a great deal of time there; religion was one of those many things that she had been forced to set aside as she grew older and the pressures placed on her began to rise, and her attendance at the church was sporadic at best. But on the few occasions she had managed to steal a bit of time and slip away for a service, often at her mother’s side, she’d found a peace, a settledness that she never seemed to find anywhere else. Dim and dusty as the little church was, it held something for her, something she didn’t fully understand but kept in the back of her mind all the same. Nothing else had ever given her that feeling, and when the weight on her shoulders became heavy enough that even an hour was too much to ask for, Saint Mary’s was one of the handful of things she allowed herself to miss.

So when she’d been accepted at Clevedon Court, and found herself back in St. Maur, she’d made up her mind to find the time for Saint Mary’s again. It had been strange, going there by herself, and she’d kept to the back of the room and done her best to stay beneath anyone’s notice, but if the place was a little dimmer, a little shabbier than she remembered, it still felt just the same- like a respite, a brief shelter from the world outside and all she had to wrestle with when she was part of it.

There was a new priest, too, another Talbot. Between him and Lady Florence, she was beginning to wonder where the dreadful rumors about that family had gotten their start; so far she had seen nothing that raised any sort of alarm. The priest seemed less concerned with the words he was saying and more focused on the people he was saying them to; there was a warmth to him, like he really did care what happened to this town and the people in it.

Maybe that was why she found herself staying behind as the Mass ended and the building slowly emptied. She hadn’t realized how much comfort she’d taken from those scattered visits to Saint Mary’s, and she wasn’t quite ready to step back into her regular life and out of the peaceful tranquility she found here. A quick prayer for strength couldn’t hurt, not now while she wouldn’t be bothering anyone by lingering a little. She hadn’t been at Clevedon long, but the taste she’d had of what life would be like there made her certain she’d need all the extra strength she could get.

[russellmoreton]

The Fictions of Light by Russell Moreton Via Flickr: Mizmaze St Catherine's Hill. Re-Imagining the Immaterial and the Concrete Talbot once described the invention of photography as “a little bit of magic realised”. In 1845, in a similar vein, the Athenaeum, in its review of The Pencil of Nature, described it as “A wonderful illustration of modern necromancy” and wondered at the fact that “photography has already enabled us to hand down to future ages a picture of the sunshine of yesterday, or a memorial of the haze of to-day.” “impressed by the agency of light alone” blog.nationalmediamuseum.org.uk/a-z-of-photography-willia... The Pencil of Nature by William. Henry Fox Talbot www.gutenberg.org/files/33447/33447-pdf.pdf