Tumgik
#crimson peak au
coffeebookslovegt · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
“Cosas como recuerdos, sentimientos, personas. Algunas son buenas, otras malas… y otras… otras no deberían mencionarse nunca más”
61 notes · View notes
gomadayo · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
i did it
196 notes · View notes
dandelion-wings · 6 months
Text
Tonight's not-so-much-warm-up-as-wind-down presented with absolutely no context, except a warning for non-graphic but extensively discussed domestic violence/child abuse. There's an establishing backstory fic-bit in my head that I have absolutely no time to write any time soon, but this was much shorter and a good mental cooldown, so have a very AU version of teenage Jean being talked into a bit of vigilanteism!
---
Jean catches Kaeya and Rosaria going out the window of one of the storerooms on the cathedral's upper floor.
Rosaria has her spear with her, and Kaeya his sword. That only makes certain what Jean has suspected for a while--that their pretense of hiding away to fondle each other has been exactly that. No matter what they say, she can tell that Kaeya is comfortable with Rosaria in the same way he is with her, different only in degree, not kind. His affection is a false front, overblown, and Rosaria has never sold the lie at all. There's something else they're up to.
"Where are you going?"
Rosaria pauses with one foot on the window, reaching back to grip the haft of her spear where it's strapped to back, though Jean is certain she wouldn't actually draw it. Kaeya looks back and smiles at her, theatrically sheepish.
"We're just looking for a little privacy."
"With your weapons on you?"
"Sister Victoria does say it's dangerous out there at night."
"Kaeya-"
"We're going to put the fear of Barbatos in Gottleib Spitz," Rosaria says shortly, over her shoulder. "You can help, or you can stay out of the way."
Jean frowns. She doesn't have to ask why. "That's something the Knights of Favonius should be taking care of."
"Unfortunately," Kaeya says, "they seem to be falling down on the job."
"If we could just get a report filed-"
"Elsa has lied to them the last three times she's come in here. If it was just her, I wouldn't care." That's a lie and Jean knows it; Rosaria had dug in too determinedly with all her questions about the reporting process and why the Knights couldn't just take the nuns' word over Elsa's, the first time the woman came in with her bruises and her flimsy lies, not to care. "But now that he's putting Clara in the same state, that's not just her business anymore."
She isn't wrong. Jean knows what she'd seen last time, when the senior nuns handed Clara off to her to heal while they tried to badger Elsa into finally reporting her husband to the knights. Kaeya had seen it too, when he sat down to entertain Clara for her while she worked. All Rosaria would have had to do was look at their faces while Clara was distracted to know what kinds of injuries Jean was tending.
"Under other circumstances, the Knights might take the same stance," Kaeya adds, soothing, as if he thinks Jean's objection here is the offense to the Knights. "But given everything that's going on, they must be stretched a little too thin. It only makes sense for the Church to step in while they're overextended."
"By terrorizing Gottleib Spitz in the middle of the night?"
Rosaria rolls her eyes. "By dealing with someone who hurts kids the way he deserves to be dealt with. Isn't that what you got your Vision for, anyway?"
Jean's breath catches at the careless cruelty of Rosaria's words. That isn't what she did--that wasn't what her mother was. Her mother was grieving, and hurt, and had no one giving her (them) the help that she (that they) needed to deal with the weight of all that grief. That things came to a head the way they did wasn't anyone's fault, except maybe Jean's.
"I wouldn't put it that way," Kaeya says, catching something of that protest in her expression before she can find the words to make it. "But you've said yourself that it's your duty to Barbatos to protect the innocent and defend the weak. Leaving the Spitz situation alone won't help anyone."
"Unless you want to wait until Clara ends up in the same position as your sister," Rosaria adds.
"That wasn't necessary," Jean snaps, but already the breath is coming back into her lungs, determination flowing with it. "Just let me get my catalyst. I'll come with you."
17 notes · View notes
ladyfluff · 7 months
Note
I must insist on more cowboy stuff! I need outlaw Thomas Sharpe AU like I need air! Please, pretty please!
cant resist a good cowboy au, lets go back to the start!
pale rider
Tumblr media
The age old question, of course the man would ask it.
Why?
Simple answer would be, why not? Because they could, because this is who they were. What the desert bred would remain, outlaws. Murderers, thieves and conmen all around. This place was rich with all sorts of evil, there was no purity to be found among men and women. The years hadn't been kind to her, to anyone in this camp and the same goes for this man they picked up from that train. He looked put together, wealthy looking feller. Two children in tow but suppose it couldn't be helped, they had to take them too. As long as he kept them quiet, they'd be good to him. As to what that 'good' entailed was completely unknown, the men could get so uppity.
''You can't do this forever, you'll have to face the consequences.''
Certainly, in their old age they'll bury themselves somewhere. Dig a nice deep hole in the sand, in the mountains or in the forests somewhere. They die like dogs. They lost Harold just last week, bless that man. Not that he would like to be mourned over, bitter as shit. So they just did as he asked, they left him on the clifftop for the vultures. Harold was a senior gun, a crazy old man with ideas of what this life was meant to be like. Times were changing and soon there won't be any of them left, gunslingers and cowboys. The authorities were a lot more aggressive than they used to be, Cherry had been a girl the first time she had a taste of death and the lawmen did nothing. The man had been intruding, creeped in through her mother's window with his dark intentions and she simply wouldn't allow it. Like her daddy taught her, butt to the shoulder, hold your breath darling. It was somehow so easy, Cherry developed a taste for it all and there was no other way to live life. She couldn't put her gun down and pick up a lady's parasol, she was determined to die out here just as she had been born. Thomas took a step back, startled by the sound of a rattlesnake nearby, clutching his baby tightly to his chest as if it were going to swallow it whole. How stupid does a man have to be to travel by himself with two kids? Dragging them across the country like that? Sure, their mother was gone, that's as much as Cherry knows. They made a mistake picking them up, they ought to leave them.
''God ain't gon' save us, not while th' devil is waitin' for what he's owed.''
They were heading for fire, each and every one of them knew where they were going. Each and every day brought them closer to the end, some bastards out here had children of their own. Wives they've abandoned, parents, siblings. Point is, they all had family out there waiting and holding their breaths. Some had people that wished all manner of ill things, Cherry had the dirt and the trees. She lunged for the snake, grabbing it by its head. It's hissing maw open wide for all to see, venom dripping. Angry and rattled, she chuckles.
''Shove Mr. Sharpe in the corner, give his boy a cot.''
Thomas wasn't unlike any other city boy, easy on the eyes and clearly educated. Came all the way here from across the sea and for what? This? Dust storms and bear meat? No, this man had secrets of his own and Cherry was hellbent on getting those out of him. She shoved her hand out, holding the snake out to him, hissing.
''Boo!''
Thomas would come to learn that things aren't easy out here.
15 notes · View notes
nildespirandum · 11 months
Note
Hi today is a slow, rainy day here, so I was planning to turn to two of my comfort reads, The Bottom of the Hourglass and Perfection. May I ask you where do Kay and Alice come from? I love them.
What a lovely Ask to get on what is also a rainy, slow day here (my favorite kind of day, as it happens). It gave me a jolt of pure joy to read this.
Oh, where or where did my girls come from...
It is easier for me to answer that question about Kay, because Kay came from two places primarily. One was from at the time newish job at the bookstore I now work at. It was the first time longer than I wanted to think about that I had worked at a store that I truly loved, and in fact the whole idea for The Bottom of the Hourglass came from my not realizing that a coworker had come in and out of a normally locked door into the store and my seeing leaves and rain on the floor. At the same time one of the songs that was used in OLLA - Funnel of Love - played in the store.
I have worked with so many fantastic, brilliant, too smart, too well read, and too plain weird booksellers over my career, many of whom were also deeply invested in their personal styles, so Kay is a little bit of seven or so of the put together.
The other influence for her is I have this headcanon that Wes Anderson's movies and Jim Jarmusch's take place in the same world. Their aesthetics and obsessions are like mirror twins. So I loved the idea of what would happen if a character out of one of Anderson's movies, and one from one of Jarmusch's fell in love? Kay is my Wes Anderson character.
Interestingly, her face claim - and some of her style - is my beloved Alice Quinn from The Magicians, which is the character that Alice from Perfection got her name from.
Tumblr media
Alice, where did Alice come from? I know that the first inspiration for her was I wanted her to be a visual artist, a painter, because it felt to me that in Crimson Peak one of the things that made the connection between Sir Thomas and Edith was that they were both creators. The both wanted to put something into the world.
I of course wanted her to be from Chicago both because I love my home city, but also because I have read a LOT of history of the city from the turn of the last century. Additionally, the connection between London and Chicago by way of Harry Selfridge and that Marshall Field who Selfridge became a junior partner to - who Alice's father Oscar is very, very remotely based on - was wildly rich by the standards of the time so I could set her up in style.
As far as the specifics of her character, the first time I pictured her I saw her limping, and I knew that this was someone who despite having all of the advantages a woman of her time could have, was also someone who understood struggling. Struggling to be seen for what she could do rather than what she could buy. Struggling to bring the beauty inside of her mind out into the world in a tangible way. Struggling in a physical way. Struggling and working and never letting herself stop.
All of which would give her the kind of strength you would need to love a man with powerful demons, a man in capable of loving himself.
But in both cases, they both came from themselves, each one revealing herself to me as I wrote them. Telling me about the families that formed them, their backgrounds and tastes, and what they love and what they hate.
If any of that makes sense.
17 notes · View notes
phoebegracegrey · 10 months
Text
Flaming Memories
Tumblr media
9 notes · View notes
lady-rose-moon · 2 years
Text
I told you, you're so different
Summary: In which Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet was actually Loki Laufeyson in disguise. What if Edith was someone even she didn't know about?
A/N: Hi everyone, sorry for the lack of updates. I have been sick for the past four days and had to sleep it all off but I am on the mend and so, back at my desk and writing more! Part Two of Give Her Back will take a while because it will go through all of the events of WandaVision, part two ending on 80's Wanda and Y/N and Part 3 starting from then on and also Multiverse of Madness. So, yes, they will be huge fics. If you didn't sign up for that, my apologies... Anyway! Enjoy this!
Warnings: angst, fluff, Lucille Sharpe
Tumblr media
So ghosts were real, she had suspected as such. Ever since she was younger and saw her mother who had warned her of Crimson Peak and again before her father died, Edith believed in ghosts.
Writing her novel about the ghosts being a metaphor was her way of coping with what she saw as a child. Maybe, if Edith put it down in writing that the ghosts were metaphors; her own experience would become one.
After marrying Sir Thomas Sharpe and moving to Allerdale Hall, things had started to go wrong and the love of her life had turned out to be nothing other than an incestuous man who was marrying women for their money and having his sister murder them soon after.
Promptly after discovering the dark truth, Lucille Sharpe had tried to kill her too but Thomas had, surprisingly, stood between them. It lead to his death and Edith couldn't help but feel a little bit honoured that Thomas went to such lengths to save her life.
Standing over Lucille's crumpled form with a shovel, Edith stared at the white ghost in front of her that had to be her late husband. Her lip trembled as she walked closer and lifted a hand to stroke his cheek gently, frowning when her hand passed through his cheek and the image of him distorted where her hand was. Thomas leaned into her touch as much as he could and gave her a mournful frown before disappearing into the wind.
That was years ago now and while Edith had married Alan just two years after the incident, she never forgot her time with the Baronet. He had changed her life and she was determined to never have children with Alan. The doctor understood and respected her wishes. The Cushing line would end with Edith and Eunice would carry on the McMichael name with her new husband.
However, on Edith's deathbed, she did not account for the fact that she might reunite with her late husband and he would have to deal with the fact that he was so easily replaced by Alan. He wasn't but Thomas's self-doubt, though hidden perfectly, was always something Edith had wanted to help him with.
With her hand in Alan's, she smiled up at the ceiling of the hospital, accepting her passing. It was 1948, January 23rd. Thomas's birthday. While struggling with her illness, Edith heard the voice of her father calling her but also the distant laughter of Thomas that she thought she would never hear again even in Crimson Peak.
It was quiet when she passed, painless. She had thought she would wake up in Heaven where her father would be waiting for her but instead, she found herself standing on a bridge. It was coloured like a rainbow, leading down to an observatory and then travelling into the golden city. Perhaps, Edith wondered, this was heaven? The people who wrote the bible had never been to it so maybe, just maybe, this was Heaven.
Grabbing her golden skirts, she headed down the bridge into the city. Absently, Edith admired how she had her youth back. She was young again, her hair missing greys that had come over time. The bridge was slippery but by staying in the middle, she was able to keep her balance. Perhaps even Heaven gets rain? That must be the reason.
As she was walking through the marketplace, Edith smiled at all the things for sale as if she was fascinated by the fact that even Heaven had markets for souls to carry on their practice after death. Smiling, Edith carried on her journey and talked with merchants about what they were selling.
All throughout the market, she heard people yelling to grab shoppers' attention.
"Come buy your state-of-the-art linens! Best in Asgard!"
"Come try the best pies of Asgard! Just two gold pieces!"
"Come get the morning paper! Prince Loki part of scandal yet again!"
Edith had never heard of 'Asgard' before, never mind it being a name for Heaven. And also, who was Prince Loki? Edith was pretty sure the Bible depicted Heaven as a peaceful place where God ruled with his son, Jesus. She had never heard of a 'Loki' before.
Suddenly, a voice filled her ears that she thought she would never hear again and she snapped her head to the right and saw a blonde man with a slightly smaller black-haired man at a stall just parallel to her. Though his hair was shorter, slicked back, Edith would never forget his jawline and the smile on his face.
"Thomas?" Edith mumbled, staring at him in disbelief. She had thought that he wouldn't make it to Heaven because of his crimes back in Allerdale but really, when she thought about it, he just married the women and left them for Lucille to kill.
At hearing a familiar voice, the raven-haired man's head looked around curiously before his eyes locked onto Edith's and the world around them stopped. He turned his head away to say a quick goodbye to the blonde before making his way over to Edith.
While walking through the crowd, the pair never once took their eyes off each other. Meeting him in the middle, Edith looked up into his eyes and reached up to cup his cheek, him leaning into it with a small smile on his face.
"Edith," he whispered gently, his voice not even different from how it used to be and it brought Edith to tears as she smiled up at him, nodding eagerly.
"Thomas," she breathed, pulling her hand away from his face so she could wrap her arms around his waist and hug him tight, resting her head on his chest.
They held each other for a long while until the blonde came over and grumbled, "Loki, who is this? You're not one to take wenches, brother."
Loki snarled and conjured up a dagger, holding it to the blonde's throat with a deep glare in his eyes, "do not call my wife a wench, Thor."
The blonde- Thor, looked confused before tilting his head curiously as he looked at Edith, "you took a bride again, Loki? You said after your last dare that you would never go to Midgard again."
Loki frowned and held Edith tighter, rubbing her back gently before glaring at Thor, "let's not do this in the market. Edith, come with us."
Nodding, Edith followed the two men up to the large golden castle and when she stepped inside, she immediately felt that she did not belong in such a grand palace. Loki, noticing her anxiety, smiled and held her waist as they walked to his study and he kissed her head gently.
So she had met Thomas again and the blonde man who she now knew as Thor had not only called him 'Loki' but had also called him 'brother'. What the hell was going on? Edith was starting to think that she was more than likely dreaming rather than actually being dead. In a moment, she will wake up again and be in her bed with Alan by her side, holding her hand and whispering sweet nothings to her.
Only, that didn't happen.
They entered Loki's study and Loki sat down on one of the grand sofas, pulling Edith down beside him as he smiled lovingly at her, Edith smiling back at him in disbelief. Thomas was here and she was happy! There was no sight of his incestuous sister either! Bonus!
"So," Thor started, looking at the couple with barely hidden curiosity, "when did this begin?"
Loki sighed and held Edith's hands, looking deep into her eyes with a smile on his face, "please don't stab me with a pen when I tell this story, okay?"
Edith laughed at the reminder of how silly it was to threaten Thomas with a pen but it was the best she had at that time. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "just tell the story, Thomas."
Loki smiled at her and took a deep breath before looking at Thor, "the reason why I do not to dares with you anymore is because of this lovely lady. You don't know how the last dare you made me do went and that is because I fell in love. I was known as Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet of Allerdale Hall. I started life off right from the start without my memories but before I was killed by my incestuous sister, I regained my memories and magic and I cast an illusion of me dying. In my life, I married four times, three times for money and I married Edith for love. Lucille didn't like that. Edith was a tough little wonder and managed to kill Lucille. I don't blame you, Edith," Loki mumbled, turning back to Edith, "for remarrying."
Edith hung her head and sighed as she dropped her hand from Loki's, missing the broken look he gave her from the gesture, "lying again. Thomas, how am I supposed to trust you? Who are you?"
Loki sighed softly before slipping off the sofa and kneeling in front of her with his hands holding hers desperately, "I am Loki Odinson, God of Mischief, lies and stories. Lucille didn't know. I didn't know until moments before I died. Then I regained all of my memories."
Edith sighed and smiled sadly as she reached out and cupped his cheek again, him eagerly leaning into her warm touch, "I shouldn't trust you so quickly, Thomas. It was dangerous last time."
Loki smiled fondly and turned his head to kiss her palm, his hand holding hers on his cheek as he met her eyes, "Lucille isn't here."
"Where even is here?" Edith asked and looked around the study as Loki chuckled and helped her up, walking her over to a floor to ceiling window to show her the kingdom.
"This is Asgard, Edith," Loki whispered as he held her from behind, resting his head on hers and smiling as she gasped, watching the people walking in the market.
Edith smiled as she watched the people of Asgard go about their daily jobs before she turned in Loki's arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, "but how am I here? I remember dying."
Loki sighed softly and leant down to kiss her forehead gently, "it's the last spell I made as Sir Thomas. I searched your blood and found a being that I thought had disappeared years ago. A past love of mine. Sigyn Iwaldidottir. I used a spell that would bring out the Goddess in you when you died."
Edith's body tensed up at that. Goddess!? That sounded so strange coming from his mouth and Edith felt in her heart that he was telling the truth, "Thomas, I'm not a Goddess... I'm just a girl you met in Buffalo that stopped you from marrying Eunice for money."
Loki laughed softly and kissed her temple gently, "it'll take a while to get used to but I assure you, you are Asgardian, Edith. I told you, "you're so different."
Edith looked up at him and smiled lovingly as she stood up on her tip-toes to kiss him tenderly, his arms holding her tighter and their eyes fluttering closed.
On the day of Thor's coronation, Frost Giants were never let into Asgard. Loki didn't feel jealousy for his brother when he had his Edith by his side.
On December 17th 2008, Loki celebrated his birthday and also the wedding to his beloved Edith.
On January 23rd 2011, you and Loki welcomed your daughter, Selena, into the world.
On July 17th 2014, Loki was told the truth of his heritage. Edith helped him heal from the shock with their daughter by moving to Midgard.
While on Midgard, on December 17th, Edith brought their son, Thomas, into the world. Loki decided that their little family should move to Midgard and try a 'normal' life.
Life was perfect. Baronet turned Prince with his wife and their two children.
26 notes · View notes
lavenderursa · 2 years
Text
The Ruse
Sable Heights (Crimson Peak AU) - Part 2
Tumblr media
Abraham H. Parnassus x F!Reader
Series Masterlist - Spooktacular Masterlist
Summary: After marrying the charming and seductive oil entrepreneur, you find yourself swept away to his hilltop estate. Aa you settle in, ghostly apparitions warn of sinister secrets. You try to decipher the mystery behind the visions that haunt your new home. As you come closer to the truth, you learn that true monsters are made of flesh and blood.
Warnings: Nightmares, Masturbation, Romance, A plot is afoot, RC is referred to as she/miss
Wordcount: 2.1k
Notes: Apologies for the huge gap between chapters. We are six months away from Halloween though, so expect some spooktacular goodness this month!
Part 3 - Misgivings
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You were weighed down. The hem of your gown buried in the muck at your ankles, slowly pulling you down. It was oddly warm with a sharp smell that filled your nose, seeped into your skin.
Around you it bubbled as you slowly pulled, muscles straining with effort. Each bubble that burst emitted a pair of fluttering wings, decrepit and tattered. Black moths, as dark as the abyss whence they came. Their paper thin appendages pushed them higher as they broke free of the ebony honey and you sank further in.
Your lungs burned, unable to release a cry for help. A plea for attention. The urgent need for someone to rescue you from certain death. When you willed a wail from your chest, thick heaviness pushed past your lips, a river of crude black oil poured out. It spilled from your tongue as your nails clawed at your throat, ripping the delicate lace of your gown and marred at your thin skin.
Just then, she appeared to you again. Your mother or that woman, now as one. Her boney fingers gripped your skull, digging into your flesh almost painfully to shake you from your peril. She wailed at you, spit flies in your face, and warned you once again.
You wake, falling from your bed.
“Miss, are you alright?” Louella by your side, eyes worried and mouth knitted as she helped you from the floor. “You were screaming and thrashing when I came in.” She held a candle close to your face, checking for any scratches or signs that you were indeed unwell before stepping away to pour a glass of water.
Blinking against the fading light, you sat up in your bed. Your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles aching and shaking from pulling at the-. No, it was but a dream. Yet it felt so so real.
You could taste the oil, taste the decay. You could smell it all, even now. The smell emanating from your skin. It was under your nails, in the nooks of your rind. Slowly you bent your leg to inspect your foot when a severe knock came from your door.
Startled, one of the few reliable staff your grandfather employed opened the door, peeking in. “Pardon miss. A mister Abe is here for you? He insists on seeing you.”
“At this hour? But my grandfather-”
“He’s been called away on urgent business. I can tell him to go away, but he’s already so insistent.”
Louella cut the poor girl short, “Please tell him she’ll be down shortly.” She turned to you and thrust the glass she held into your hand. Her eyes kind but imploring you to drink. She fiddles with her skirt before speaking freely, “It’s not appropriate for him to be here at this hour without the head of house, but I suppose you are head of house in your grandfather’s absence.”
You followed her rationale before springing to your feet and quickly grabbing a presentable robe. Hastily you tied the ribbons to preserve some modesty and slipped on your slippers. Checking your reflection to make sure you were decent enough, you dashed out of the room and through the hall missing the look of confusion on Louella’s face at the inky footprints you left by in your bed.
Abe stood in the foyer, hands tucked behind his back as he observed the grandfather clock gently ticking away. One of the hands moving rhythmically against an elegant brass face. He admired the marksmanship as he thought to himself. He had probably caught you at a bad time, it was rather late in the evening for such an unannounced visit, but he couldn’t help himself.
He needed to see you.
You had looked upon him with such kind eyes. Observed him in such a way that he saw your kindness and your innocence, perhaps. Not like the others. Their eyes were greedy and cold, while yours were warm and looking to perhaps love another? Looking for more, perhaps.
Your footfalls broke through his reveries, turned his attention to you as you descended the staircase. He quickly took inventory of your robe. It covered your completely yet felt intimate, as if he were to get a bit more of a peek into who you were from the sensible yet beautifully crafted garment. The fabric a golden velvet that complemented your skin perfectly, especially by the warm candle light that illuminated the halls. Why your family hadn’t switched over completely to electricity was beyond him, but your grandfather was a peculiar man.
“I’m sorry to call so late, did I wake you?” “No no, I was… awake.” You shook the remnants of the dream from your thoughts. Concentrating on the man in front of you and offering him a smile before inviting him into the sitting room.
“I’m afraid I cannot stay for long. I’m on borrowed time, as it were.” His baritone voice was soft, apologetic yet hopeful to make the most of these fleeting moments together. “I brought you a gift.”
He pulled his arms from behind his back to reveal a handsomely bound book. The cover embossed in gold and leather dyed in deep red and inky black. You gasped at the thoughtfulness of the book, another ghost story for you to read over and over. “Now you don’t have to sneak into libraries-”
“For this one.” You offered a shy smile.
“For this one.” He nodded, his lips curling softly to match your own. “Now you have one of your own. For perhaps a library of your own.”
“Thank you, Abe.”
Reaching for the book, your fingers connected. The familiar heat of it settling low in your belly as you graciously accepted the gift. Perhaps his touch lingered for too long and you were still in the thralls of sleep but feeling rather bold, you took a tentative step into his space and craned your neck to deposit a kiss on his alabaster cheek next to a mole you decided right then and there would be your favorite, less you make the acquaintance of a new one, perhaps currently unseen.
Your breath hitched at your own brashness and wondering thoughts as he righted himself and nodded again, sending a stay ebony tendril from his perfectly manicured mane tumbling onto his forehead.
“I must leave. Goodnight.” He offered a curt bow before slowly walking backwards towards the door. His caramel eyes locked on yours before he crossed the threshold and took leave of your home.
Behind you the clock chimed, knocking you back to your senses. Your heart however, was already racing at the thoughtful gesture and unannounced visit. Fingers curling over the edges of the book, you clutched it to your chest, eyes unmoving for the front door, the space before it no longer occupied.
You sighed, exhaling the breath you’d been holding. Keeping in the last bits of him and turned on your heels as the front sung open and your grandfather strode in. “Granddaughter! What has you out of bed at this late an hour?” He was a bit more lively, perhaps a bit of liquor loosened his tongue, set his spirits high. You peered at him curiously, he had to have seen the man leaving your home. A late night visitor would not be missed here, he could not go unnoticed. “A visitor, grandfather. He brought me a book. A-”
Louella touched your elbow, a discrete shake of her head as she passed you down the stairs. “Visitor? At this hour?” He paused for a moment, removing his gloves and jacket that were dutifully accepted by his valet and Louella. Just as you were sure he would continue his question, he shrugged off any words of such and boasted about his successful evening in high society as he stepped closer.
He reached out for the book, taking it from your hands and thumbing through the pages before he chuckled, clearly disinterested in your present and your late night visitor. As he continued to speak of his business dealings and connections, he opened the book, cracking the spine and turning to Louella “I may have best that fool yet!”
A slip of paper fluttered out of the book, falling to the ground between your feet. Quickly you covered the parchment with your robe, tucking it under your foot. Only when your grandfather slammed the book close, did you snap your head back up, afraid he would ask what you had been hiding. Instead you were met with a foreign smile, perhaps something he thought of as warmth.
“Go to bed and do not stay up reading your book.” With that he deposited a kiss on your cheek and marched towards his study, smelling of cigars and spice. “I think I’ll have a glass of whiskey.” He chortled, shutting the door behind him.
“Miss, whatever you were given would be best not dwelled upon.” Louella whispered at you, before gesturing up the stairs. Shuffling your feet, you picked up the piece of paper, flipping it over in your fingers. It was slick and sharp, rather fine and hand made. Fighting the temptation that buzzed at your fingertips, you followed your faithful confidant and companion up the stairs and to your room. The bellowed laughing and merriment of your grandfather dying in the air as you entered your room.
Once you found yourself alone, you pulled out the letter once more, unfolding the elegant paper with trembling fingers. Inside lay the most remarkable penmanship, the ink just as opaque as the stands on his head addressed you so formally yet with a touch of familiarity.
I have a small confession. Forgive this pouring of my heart.
I cherish the moment where we first met. The moment I clapped eyes on you, I knew you were a beautiful soul. My curiosity for you ignited when I saw you reading in the moonlight that fateful evening.
However I find myself protective of our connection and must pursue you when the time is right, when I am able to prove to your family that I can provide for you, that I am well suited for a person of your caliber.
Until then when we can shout it from the rooftops, say you'll be mine.
Yours,
Abe
Heart pounding, you read and re-read his words. Your eyes blurring from the tears that threatened to spill and run the precious ink. He, this man you hardly knew but could not pull yourself from, wanted you.
That night you lay in bed, letter folded impossibly small, tucked into your shift. Your mind in the clouds, which were a dark syrupy color, the sky a crimson red and from the horizon Abe appeared, drawing nearer.
Where your heart beat under the letter, your hand followed. Covering your breast, breath hitching as he pulled you into his strong arms and his plush lips slotted against yours. His tongue slid against your lips, seeking refuge in you, drawing your own breath into his.
Your freehand wandered lower, slipping under the thin materials you wore to bed until fingertips connected with the heat of you, finding you slick and hot. Eyes pinched tight, you could smell the musk of his skin, taste the mint on his breath, feel the sinew of his arms that pressed you to his broad chest until you were in sheets of black. His alabaster skin a contrast to the silken sheets that tripped and pooled around you as he pressed into you. He was large and heavy, stretching you deliciously as he prayed your name against your skin, his voice a baritone whisper.
Fingers working desperately over your swollen bud, you too sound his name escaping your lips, gasped into the air for no one but you to hear. Warmth blossomed from your core, ripping and flowing through your limbs until you pulled taught and you no longer saw inky black behind your eyelids, but saw a brilliant white like the stars that dotted the skies above. The ones you wanted to watch until they burnt out and the sky went dark once again.
With a smirk on your lips and a sigh of his name once more, you fell into sleep so deep and so dark. The nefarious nature of your earlier dream now gone, leaving you alone for a restful night of sleep.
**
Thank you for reading!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
29 notes · View notes
helianskies · 1 year
Text
liking the idea of a Crimson Peak au in which England would be Edith, Portugal would be Thomas, and Spain would be Lucille. i have thought little else beyond it - details, tweaks, etc. but whenever i watch the film i see these guys instead and it just makes me feel some things . . .
4 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
@meaningful-negativity
2 notes · View notes
little-miss-mash · 1 year
Text
Worm Crimson Peak AU
Cant say all the details off the top of my head, but absolutely horrifying. Classic worm trigger warning. Everyone has thier powers, still victorian era.
Amy is our Lucille and Vic is deeply unfortunately our thomas- but specifically she’s a version of herself that’s being mind-wrecked to love amy (looks normal but fucked in the head. Sveta is our Edith. Robot body version. Yes i ship sveta and vic, replace sveta with whoever you ship vic with, ashley or lisa
I’m thinking about Amy’s dialogue that everything would be good and work out if she allowed herself to brainwash vic and thier parents and no one else, so this is kinda of about that. Instead of going into town Vic and sveta spend a night away at the nearby Dallons residence, where the letter was sent (plot reasons). The dallons are all a little mind foggy about vic and amy’s relationship. They become confused and irritated when asked but clear up the second the subjects passed. Shitty mind tweaking there, amy.
Amy has moved on from rodents and bugs and dogs and cats and is trying to lure the BEST meat to continue sustaining vics life, which shes bonesaw-ing to be indestructible and perfect. She’s an absoutely terrible lucille- no charisma or backbone, she’s constantly trying to make vic placid and happy and every time she messes up she has to tackle her and brain tweak Vic to forget her horrifying actions. Vic acts like her canon self save for the fact that she gets a little foggy and confused when presented with some facts of her life. Constantly complaining about migranes. Has no memory of her Fragile One, and Amy is veyr sharply always looking around at creaks.
The main ghost in the setting is my beloved Fragile One in her wretch form, detached from Vic and desperately trying to get whoever edith is to see her and understand whats happening. The fragile one escaped from vics body and has been trying to save her from amy but (plot reasons) cant do much. The other ghosts are characters close to vic, chosen for arbitary good-meat reasons. Sveta, Vista, Anelace maybe
@brockton-breakers​ for kick-starting this idea
6 notes · View notes
transfagbenny · 1 year
Text
Deanbenny in a gothic setting is just 😩
Benny as a writer also just 😫
The whole thing is 😫😫😫😫
1 note · View note
dandelion-wings · 6 months
Note
What's the context for those excerpts?
I mean, I did say presented without context :P but also I do enjoy a ramble, so. Ideally I would have written the sort-of-intro I have for the universe, but that's going to be longer than I would have the time for this week even if I wasn't trying to actually finish a WIP before the end of October, so, alas, maybe someday.
In the meantime! This started life as a Crimson Peak AU, because some cool friends watched it and so I read the book so I could share in their enthusiasm XD and my Genshin brainrot is such that I try to hash any and all media into Genshin AUs, so. But it has turned to a canon-divergence AU from the girls' childhood, and also a sibling-swap!
I am putting a cut because the next two paragraphs contain a few spoilers for the movie/book. Also, as with the bitlets, warnings for domestic violence/child abuse mentions.
There is a Jean/Diluc/Kaeya version out there (feat. a grief-maddened Crepus trying to kill one of the boys to bring back his beloved) that runs much closer to the actual movie plot, but while we worked out the tragic backstory parallels for Jean and Barbara, Jean does not work nearly as well as Diluc as a brooding romantic hero who seduces rich paramours to steal their fortunes and then allows their more ruthless sibling to kill them.
The tragic backstory works so well, though. All you need is an abusive parent and a sibling determined enough to protect the other to kill them, so running with 'grief-maddened' as parental motive again, we had Seamus die protecting Barbara when she was very young, before whatever led to their divorce had developed in the relationship, presumed that Fredrica had truly loved him enough to be grief-maddened, and let her blame Barbara for it (she was, for the record, six), and then went from there!
In the version that turned into this AU, Fredrica's blame becomes her driving tiny Barbara way, way too hard in training and punishing her extra viciously for failure, in ways that are actively endangering her health and well-being, and in some of the sparring sessions actually threatening her life. (Fredrica does get thoroughly villainized for this, but that's the nature of the original source material, rip.) Jean, unable to stop her or to get anyone to intervene, decides she's going to take care of Barbara whatever it takes, and I'm still working out the exact shape of the scene, but I know that Fredrica tries to make Barbara keep training with a life-threatening wound, and when begging doesn't make her stop, twelve-year-old Jean gathers all her resolve and stabs her in the kidneys. Which gets her an Electro Vision, incidentally, we worked out elements today.
And then she heals Barbara with her new Vision (it's a lucky break, she hadn't been sure what she was going to do about that), marches down to the Ordo, and turns herself in directly to Varka. Who knew Fredrica was unbalanced and feels so guilty he can't, like, take her to court, so he manages to evade that by being like 'her Vision appearing proves her action was necessary and it was pure defense of another, we don't need to drag the eight-year-old who has now seen both her parents die in front of her through a trial,' but there have to be Consequences. Jean is stripped of her inheritance as a Gunnhildr and placed in the Church's custody, ostensibly as an orphan but with very restrictive rules because they are Watching Her.
Barbara, meanwhile, is Crepus' goddaughter, because I'm running with my "Seamus and Crepus were friends" headcanon, and once she got her way with Jean, Fredrica gave Seamus that as a concession. Crepus really wants Diluc, who is desperately lonely, to have a companion of equal rank that he can actually play with, and he also genuinely cared for Seamus and is genuinely concerned for Barbara, so he pulls that string and gets two birds with one throw! Neither Diluc nor Barbara want to consider the other siblings per se, because Jean is a very present ghost in that relationship, but they resolve this by Diluc swearing himself to her, in a very knightly style, as her protector in lieu of Jean until they both reach majority and are permitted to see each other again. He is acting on behalf of her big sister and that works for them both.
When Kaeya shows up all of a month later, Crepus has already satisfied his desire of getting Diluc a companion, and also is dealing with Barbara's incredible, massive PTSD and doesn't have the capacity for another sure-looks-traumatized kid. So Kaeya gets shuffled to... the Church orphanage! Where none of the other kids want to socialize with a weird twitchy foreign kid, and he ends up plopping himself down beside the other kid no one wants to socialize with. Because she killed her own mother. I am applying another of my pet headcanons here, the "Kaeya's mother turned into a monster" one, and so they have a conversation that goes approximately:
Jean: You don't want to be my friend. I killed my own mother. Kaeya: So did I. Jean: What? Why? Kaeya: She was turning into a monster. Jean: ...So was mine.
Anyway! Friendship accomplished. With the worst possible person with regards to his purported mission here, but Kaeya is, honestly, desperate for anyone to be nice to him, and Jean may be mired in guilt here (redoubled by the fact that she still can't think of anything better she could have done), but she is not going to be mean to this scared flinchy foreign kid who looks scared in so many of the same ways Barbara did. And then, like three or four years later, Varka dumps Rosaria on the Church as well, and she naturally gravitates to the "killed our own parents and also none of the other kids like us" club. XD
Anyway, things proceed as canon re: Ursa, and that's where we are as of the bitlets! Jean and Barbara, if it wasn't clear, are forbidden to contact each other at all until Barbara has reached her majority, and both are abiding by it for a couple reasons, including fear the other one will report them if they violate the rule, because they're both deeply attached to the idea of their sister they haven't seen in five years, but are also unhappily aware that neither of them know anything of what that sister is like now. :( Both hoping the other wants them back, but terrified that they won't.... Better to follow the rules, and put off the harsh reality.
(Rosaria thinks this is stupid and Jean should just sneak across town and rip off the bandage. Rosaria thinks a lot of Jean's feelings and fears are stupid. Jean did one badass thing at twelve and then let this purported 'civilization' Rosaria has been forced to join make her feel bad about it. Rosaria would still do a murder for Jean, mind XD she just has Opinions. Kaeya also has Opinions but unlike Rosaria keeps them to himself, because he's gotten pretty good at being the kind of diplomatic required from a brother in the Church, and would rather hatch plans about it than argue.)
(Eula, when she shows up in the Ordo a year later and is greeted by a young knight from the Logistics Company who holds out her hand to her when no one else is speaking to her and smiles (because it's what Jean would have done, Barbara thinks, and besides, given what happened in her family, she can hardly judge the Lawrences any longer), decides that if Jean is cruel to Barbara when they do reunite, she will make her pay, because Barbara is one of the few bright spots in an Ordo rotted hollow at the center, and she deserves better.)
(Diluc is on his murderventure, but has significantly more faith in both sisters than they have in themselves, and is a much more active correspondent with Barbara than he is with Kaeya in canon. Because he made her oaths, and it would be a betrayal of both his childhood friend and the girl who's become almost his sister to fail them.)
4 notes · View notes
ladyfluff · 7 months
Note
Can we have more of Thomas and his outlaw? i love it!
american venom
they say dyin' ain't no way to make a livin'
Tumblr media
Thomas Sharpe was being shot at, followed by a group of lawmen, not exactly how he envisioned his day ending. Gripping the reins tightly, urging the horses to go faster. She just had to convince him to go into town with her for some things, said it was nothing important. Cherry said it was for the camp, she needed to pick up some things and then one thing led to another and now Thomas found himself driving a stagecoach loaded with money and jewellery meant to be driven to New Orleans with a couple of other stops on the way. Whoever these goods belonged to, definitely would be missed. He flinched at the sound of another shot going off behind him, Cherry sat atop the coach with her rifle, unloading round after round. Thomas heard the loud squealing of a horse, he didn't want to focus on that. The adrenaline kept him so focused on the road ahead.
''Turn to your right!''
Thomas immediately pulled on the reins, leading the horses to his right as they reached the fork in the road ahead, where were they going?! All he could think about was how today might be the day he died, today he might get arrested and hung for all to see, this is what Cherry's life was really like and it bewildered him. It was exciting and yet not at all exciting, bittersweet. Pleasantly frightening, his children were safe at camp, he needed to get back to them. Right now.
''No- Your other right!''
Thomas turned his head back to look at Cherry who currently had her sights set on the lawmen riding after them, hollering. What did she mean by 'your other right'? What on earth does that meant!?
''There is no other right!''
Cherry threw him a look, wild in the eyes. Thomas felt a shiver crawl up his spine, her expression was angry and rather cold.
''My right!''
Left, got it.
19 notes · View notes
nildespirandum · 2 years
Link
Tumblr media
18 + ONLY  (tags on AO3)
Remember, reblogs = love
Chapter 11
The Past is A Closed Door
Everything ends eventually. Except for love. And vampires.
------
Kay bit the back of her hand, hard.  She had read somewhere about someone doing that to keep themself awake as they drove.
She couldn’t remember who, or where, or why they were driving so tired, which was why she knew that she was fading fast.  Her memory for the written word was not exactly eidetic, but was good enough that not being able to bring any of those things forward meant that she bit harder.  
Hard enough to bruise and to leave teeth marks that Adam found when he woke that night.
The road being so bad, and the wheel being on the wrong side, as well as exhaustion, taxed Kay’s out-of-practice driving, but she was the only one available.  Mas had fallen back to sleep after the sound of his ancestral home imploding briefly woke him long enough to pull himself into the passenger's seat of the massive SUV his great-grandmother had rented for them.
Looking at him, his head lolling and his mouth slightly opened, Kay wondered how much he would remember and if, perhaps, he might have been permanently damaged by what Lucille had done to his brain to convince him he was Sir Thomas.  
“Well,” she reached over to weakly pat his arm, “at least your family is really rich.  And has a history of mental illness so it’s less likely to be stigmatized amongst those close to you.”
Then she wrenched the wheel hard to the right to avoid drifting off of the narrow, stone road.
In the back, under the several layers of mover’s blankets and also protected by the darkened windows that had both been thought of by Lady Sharpe-Meadows, Adam, Loki, and Lauren - No.  Laurel , Kay mentally corrected herself.  Adam, Loki, and Laurel were in a vampile, dormant and silent, having barely made it into the vehicle before the sun rose over the burning pile that had been Allerdale Hall.  
The side of the SUV brushed a heavy, tangled hedge, thick enough that it knocked the driver’s side mirror against the window, probably breaking it.  Rolling down the window, the cool, wet air of the morning helped wake her up a little more, and shoving the mirror proved that, oh, yes, it was broken.  It hung by a bit of plastic, banging on the door, scattering bits of broken glass in their wake.
The wind howled behind them.
Once everyone who could be burned to a crisp by the rays of the sun had been covered over, Kay had considered curling up in the driver’s seat and taking a nap herself, but another groan from the ruins made her turn.  
Not stone, nor the ghost of a matricidal Edwardian ghost this time, rather the moan came from the earth itself, blubbering and thick and punctuated by snapping noises as the ground just in front of where Allerdale had been disappeared, falling inwards.  The edges of it - tangled with weeds and looking like an open wound as it oozed clay - started to fall in turn, pushing outwards.  
The mines were collapsing.
Having no idea how big they were, or of how much of Crimson Peak was honeycombed with them, but being sure she wouldn’t like the answer, Kay had fumbled to turn the ignition for several panicked seconds until her worn out brain remembered that the keyfob had a button.  The engine turned and despite the size of the vehicle and the weight in it, fishtailed down the all but invisible path away from the widening pit.
A hard jounce had Kay’s head hitting the roof of the SUV hard enough that she thought she could see the Milky Way and only terror of something worse than a car accident kept her driving.  
The sounds of falling earth and escaping air and sucking clay, and the stench of everything that had been lost within it since the mines first opened, followed them for a long, long time, until finally the GPS found a signal and Kay was able to turn onto a proper road.
Not sure where Loki and Laurel were staying, or if they had even had a place to stay, Kay retraced the route to the expensive hotel they had been put up in.  
Adam had, needless to say, hated its gleaming, granite and metal surfaces and the stink of plastic everywhere, but had grumbled less when he’d seen the underground garage and private elevator to their suite.  Not that Kay could drag him or any of them into it.  Finally able to breathe, she fished around and found the iPhone that had fallen under the seat.
Lady Sharpe-Meadows had all but forced it into Adam’s hand, saying to call the number that was programmed into it when they found Mas.  Kay didn’t recognise the voice on the other end, gruff and deep, but whoever they were, they worked fast.
Though she had fallen asleep in the quiet, dark garage, which was so well cared for there weren’t even any oil stains on the cement, she was certain it was only minutes before she was woken up by a tap on the car window.  
She was being grinned at by the largest man she’d ever seen in her life, who had three gold teeth and a scar that tore through his left eyebrow.  All of which would have been terrifying, if Kay was capable of being frightened by a normal, live person any longer.  
“Hello there, Miss.  Looks like you could use a hand.”  His Scottish burr would have been delightful under other circumstances.  
After that things moved quickly.  Suddenly there were other, gigantic men there, although none with such impressive facial scars or expensive teeth.  One gently lifted Mas and carried him towards a waiting ambulance, the two others hefting the vampires not quite so carefully into fireman's carries and heading with them to the elevator, with the Scot’s Giant taking up Adam.  She fell into step beside him, having to take exaggerated strides to keep up, keeping a hand snagged in Adam’s unruly mane.  
The Scottish giant kept up a soft patter, explaining everything was being seen to, and that she needn't worry about what had happened to the house.  That it hadn’t occurred to Kay to be worried was probably a sign of how tired she was, and once or twice he’d reached out a massive hand to straighten her up, as she kept listing to one side or the other.
Kay was surprised to see Loki start to stir, as if sensing something was happening and trying to fight his way back to consciousness.  
No matter what happened, when the sun was up and Adam was virtually nothing could bring him around.  But Loki  - Kay wondered briefly if she could get him to come to the store to sign stock - looked like he was about to manage open his eyes before going limp again.  
The massive suite had three bedrooms, and had been plunged into darkness by blackout curtains.  A few tiny, amber-shaded lights along the floor were all that kept Kay and the vampire-carrying giants from walking into the furniture.  Later she remembered telling them that they could put Loki and Laurel in together, and taking a phone from the main giant and making noises at Lady Sharpe-Meadows who was very grateful.  
Extremely grateful.
More gratefu-
Kay dropped the phone and crawled into bed next to Adam, coiling around him as much as she could, so tired that for the first time in her life she forgot to thank someone, as the giants crept quietly away.
They slept through the day, and the next night, shifting about despite how deep vampire torpor was so that Adam was half-draped over her and half off of the bed when Kay finally woke up the next evening having to pee.  For a moment, he wrapped his fingers around her ankle to try and keep her in bed, but she made it very clear that this was not an optional situation.  
After relieving herself for so long it started to be alarming, Kay noticed how disgusting she was.  Lucille’s illusions had not been very hygienic, it seemed.  Looking at herself in the full-length mirror of the spare, brushed copper and black marble bathroom attached to their room, Kay couldn’t recall ever having been so dirty.  
The shower was high-tech, with adjustable jets coming from three angles and a plate of scent cubes to be added if she wanted, offering her a variety of states of mind and health, depending on her choice.  Kay knew that Adam’s dead heart would have a small coronary event if he smelled the “bullshit shuck” of aromatherapy around her person so she settled for lots of hot water.
While not as good as sex, the heat and steam were at least in the running for the greatest non-orgasm-related pleasure of her life, each of her muscles unlocking all but audibly.
Because she had a head full of suds and her eyes screwed closed, and because he was a vampire and incredibly quick, Kay almost had her own small coronary event when Adam’s long hands slid around her to grab a washcloth and liquid soap which he used to wash himself and his hair (no wonder it was always in such a state, she thought, if he weren’t supernatural he’d probably be bald) before she could say a startled-
“Fuck!”
“I plan on it…” he whispered in her ear, sliding his arms back around her, up her waist, to cup her breasts.  Only he of anyone she’d slept with had hands big enough to hold most of them and he loved to show that off.
His calloused, dexterous fingers pinched her nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through her, leaning back on him, letting herself slide, reaching up and back to snag his neck and pull his mouth to her throat, she remembered.  “Wait!  Loki and Laurel!  They are… they are like you,” she said, avoiding the v-word, “they’ll hear.”  She hissed out the last word in a whisper.
Adam laughed against her, “They are gone.  After making sure I heard them celebrating our victory over the grave.  Sadly,” he bit her slightly, and Kay moaned, feeling her pussy prickle and pulse and soften, “knowing him he’s probably going to find a way to make a pest of himself sooner rather than later.”
“But-”
Growling, he cut her off.  With his teeth.  His fangs dragged across her skin, leaving a line of fire and blood, which he lapped slowly as he lifted one of her legs so her foot rested high on one of the safety rails.  Reaching up, he adjusted one of the shower heads to medium pulse and aimed it at her pussy, using those long fingers to hold her open, an arm about her ribs to keep her upright, and his teeth in her shoulder, deep to the bone, to keep her still.
Adam normally wasn’t one for toys or using anything but the parts he was born with when it came to sex, so she was a little surprised, though water was probably basic enough even for him.  
Kay had never been molested by one of the four - five if you were in Asia - basic elements before.  The water hit with authority, pulsing and dripping away, the drops trickling through her pubic hair, each teasing her already very sensitive flesh.  Like careful fingers playing with her.  Pulse and play, pulse and play, while Adam sucked and moaned into her skin.
“I think you like this,” he said, voice deep and soft.  He reached up and increased the pulse, and now Kay was squirming, wanting something in her, needing something to bear down on.  She must have, to her very minor mortification, said as much.  “Here, sweetheart, here is something to fill your sweet little cunny,” he all but sang, trailing his free hand under her so he could fuck her from behind with his fingers.  
Even over the faster, and more maddening sound of the water pulsing and splashing on her, Kay could hear the squelch of her pussy as those long, musician’s fingers filled her, first one for a few hard strokes, then two twisted together, and finally three.
“Every drop of water that has ever been,” Adam whispered, looking over her shoulder, watching down the length of her body as the water and his hand made love to her, as Kay twisted and tried to find a rhythm that neither her precarious position or her preternatural lover would allow, “still exists somewhere.  Despite the zombie’s efforts to burn up the planet, it's still here, somewhere.  It has always been, and I think that the luckiest of it all is the water that is licking your pretty gillyflower right now, love.”
“Oh, god, I need to-”
“Not yet. Not for a while.”  
He slid his fingers out and turned her around to face him.
Kay looked up at Adam.  Normally by this point he was as wild as she was, all but past words and ready to take her, his voice recalling his centuries on earth, his need all but animal.  But he seemed calm, cool, water rolling down the fine planes of his face as he met her eyes from over the height of his cheekbones.
“This is about me going into the house, isn’t it?  You’re still mad, yes?”  Her voice was trembling a little, from the need to come, not from fear.  Adam would never hurt her.
But he would punish her a little.  As much as she allowed.
He nodded, all but expressionless.
“And you are going to make me suffer for it aren’t you?”
He shook his head.  “No, I am going to make you happy.  Very happy, love.  Eventually.”
“What does eventually mean, exactly ?”
“At an unspecified later time, or,” he leaned down and whispered close, close enough that if he breathed she would feel it in her ear, “at the end.  As I see fit.”
Kay gulped.
Every inch of the bathroom, the massive couch in the main room of the suite, the double closet - which had a very sturdy clothing bar - the California king bed, and finally the thickly carpeted floor was used, as was every inch of Kay’s body.  Whenever she reached to touch Adam in return he would take her wrist and guide her hand to her own skin, his mouth, for he was after all mostly a creature of appetite and thirst, bringing her to the edge over and over again until finally, shortly before dawn, he entered her.
Her swollen, over-pleasured pussy trapped him, and Adam, fangs long enough to nick himself, bled down on her, her open mouth catching a few drops, unknowing, delirious, licking her own blood from within him, letting him rut, her heels deep in the pile of the rug to push up and offer more and more of herself, until there was no more to offer, no more to be taken, no more of him to take and then she, and then he, and then they came, he loud, she with barely the voice left to rasp out his name after hours of screaming, and they slept the day away on the floor.
Home again….
Adam took the large, flat brown paper-wrapped package from Earl, frowning.  “Who knows I’m here?”
His business partner raised a brow and lowered his glasses to the end of his nose to look at Adam.  “I used to think no one.  I liked it better when you were quiet, just sulking away in the basement.  Not bothering anyone, not having company.  Not taking my goddamned store manager away on trips to who knows where….”
“What fucking ever, I liked it better, too,” he said, tucking the package under his arm.
“Yeah, sure you do,” Earl went back to the NYT crossword puzzle, “what fucking ever.”
Down in his lair, Adam tore the paper open, balling it up and tossing it into a corner.  Kay looked up from the couch, taking out one of her airpods since she was listening to an audiobook - which Adam considered to be abominations - about the history of apples, while knitting a scarf in black and green cashmere.  A gift for someone, she had said.  
He’d started to say something then, but knew it would do no good.  Kay liked having friends, and she liked them having friends in common and nothing he could say would change that.
Within the wrapping was a flat, wooden box, and with it was a frame, old silver beautifully worked by hand into rosettes, with a photo in it and no note.
The photo was in black and white, with the blacks desaturated into deep greys and the whites dulled to platinum, and Adam could tell that the effect came from real film being carefully processed in a parade of stages rather than a digital image shuffled through filters.  
Kay was lovely in the picture, which was only a bit under lifesized.  Adam alway found her beautiful, even though her looks leaned more towards the comfort of prettiness rather than the sometimes distancing grandeur of beauty.  Ganguly had caught her in a moment of thoughtful joy, her mouth turned up at the corners, her head tilted back, with her eyes looking just past the viewer, at that fucking horrible house he was sure.
Adam hadn’t even noticed the man had his camera with him when they met.  But of course he did.  He touched his fingertips to the glass.
The wind had whipped her hair away from her tender neck, and she looked ready to step towards an adventure, not fearlessly but bravely, curiously, certainly.  As if there was so much life before her and she couldn’t wait.
Though they had only just met and for only a couple of minutes, like any truly great artist Ganguly had seen the truth of Kay and, more importantly, was able to show that truth to whoever was smart enough to look.
“Is that…?”  Kay took the frame from his hands, holding it up to the light, a soft smile slowly opening her lips, “An Owen Ganguly!  When did he take this?  It must have been right before I went into Crimson Peak.”
“Allerdale Hall,” Adam corrected pedantically, resting his chin on the crown of her pale gold hair, feeling himself smile as well.  It still felt odd to smile with any regularity, but it no longer was like stretching muscles that had atrophied.  Kay had done that to him, he supposed.
“You know what I mean,” she murmured, distracted.
The photo was black and white, with all of the earmarks of what made Ganguly an artist.  A genius.  Any scene - the nightmarish horror of the aftermath of a military attack on civilians, the grotesquery of the working conditions in a prison sweatshop, even the less visceral misery of a call center, or the temporary but very real joy of commuters chatting in the Tube - his photograph made the people within it immediate, real.  
No one was anonymous in an Owen Ganguly photo.  They were all people you could know, or could be, no matter how different their circumstances from your own.  
“I wish I looked like that all of the time,” she said with a sigh.
Adam leaned down and kissed her, loving the warmth of her rounded cheek, the slightly rose scented rice powder she favored on his lips, “I don’t.  My dead heart can’t take it.”
She leaned on him and they looked at the picture together for a moment.  Adam knew immediately where he was going to hang it, though he would have to move a few other pictures.
Kay, looking towards the future, would look perfect right beside Eve where she gazed into the past.
Thank you for coming with me on this strange journey.
@caffiend-queen​ @myoxisbroken​ @dianamolloy​ @joyfullymassivewhispers​ @just-the-hiddles​ @justthehiddleswrites​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @toozmanykids​ @someillplanetreigns​ @piggledy-higgledy​ @catsladen​ @lokislastlove​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @is-it-madness​ @ransoms-sweater-holes​ @mischiefmaker76​ @evieplease​ @clove-pinks​ @nerdygirl203​ @perksofeatingbacon​ @ladyacrasia​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @latent-thoughts​ @redfoxwritesstuff​ @emeraldrosequartz​ @servent-alearika​ @mariwild​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rauko-art​ @reileth​ @lokiestorch​ @wrathkitty​ @undecidedsworld​ @lokiperfection​ @mfluderesq​ @wolfsmom1​ @incurablyromanticsblog​ @pigilene​ @mdemontespan1667​ @colorfulfreakstudentpizza​ @oddlymurderousplant​ @huntress-artemiss​ @arch-venus25​ @i-stand-with-loki​ 
69 notes · View notes
jtownraindancer · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
A little moment I didn't catch the first time I watched this film but loved when I noticed it later: Mr. Holly admiring the model bridge and being embarrassed when Mr. Cushing catches him.
52 notes · View notes