Afflicted (Crimson Peak; M)

[Spoo]

This…isn’t my Secret Santa fic.

It very well should be my Secret Santa fic, but alas…it is not. Instead, here’s another Crimson Peak fic because I’m a huge pile of gothic romance TRASH who can’t stop obsessing over Guillermo del Taco Toro’s latest film. Also, it shouldn’t really be a surprise that I’ve chosen to pick on Sir Thomas Sharpe again (I blame Hiddles’ vulnerable little puppy-dog looks and the way his entire nose scrunches up when he sniffles). And yeah yeah, I know I said I probably wouldn’t repeat any Hiddles!torture…FIGHT ME. (ง'̀-'́)ง

I should additionally add that I incorporated a personal headcanon here that touches on Thomas being a sickly, frail kid who outgrew most of his childhood afflictions in adulthood but still occasionally suffers from terrible seasonal allergies~

Timeline-wise, this is set somewhere after Edith’s father dies/the wedding and before she and Thomas go home to Psycho Lucy Allerdale Hall (if that makes any sense whatsoever, LOL ). Enjoy!

~ * ~

Afflicted

by Spoo

The glow of Edith’s marriage to Sir Thomas Sharpe shown through the gloom and despair of her father’s untimely passing like a hopeful candle. She hadn’t yet recovered from losing her sole remaining parent - it was unlikely that she ever would, really - but some color had returned to her cheeks since the funeral, and she could eat small meals again.

Thomas had been incredibly respectful of her mourning and offered his companionship whenever she so requested it, which had been, admittedly, quite frequent as of late; she craved his presence, his love, and found great solace in his soothing words and gentle voice.

They were to set sail for England in two days to begin their new lives together, yet the reality of leaving her home and dear friends behind weighed on Edith like a heavy burden. She planned on writing letters to Alan, as well as her other childhood companions, in an effort to make the distance between them more manageable.

There was little else she could do outside of that, truthfully.

The grieving heiress tried to keep such disheartening realities towards the back of her mind as she and Thomas strolled through the park in what was becoming a routine afternoon walk. The air was lightly chilled with the beginnings of fall, yet the sun cast a welcoming warmth that chased away the small traces of coolness.

Brown eyes glanced at the man that walked alongside her, whose own eyes were hidden behind dark and circular glasses; it was brighter in Buffalo than it was in Europe, and she presumed that Thomas, for whatever reason, simply couldn’t adjust.

It was concerning in an odd way, Edith privately thought, as she watched him prod a curled knuckle beneath one of the black lenses and into his lower eyelid for the fourth time that hour.

“Is it bothering you, Thomas?” she inquired, catching his attention. “The sun?”

The baronet dropped his arm and regarded Edith with a smile. “Of course not, my darling,” he replied, ever smooth. And then, for good measure, he took her hand and guided it to his lips for a chaste kiss. “Nothing could ever hope to bother me when I’m with you.”

Regardless of his reassurances and affection, Edith sensed an underlying discomfort - if not by the way his smile faltered when he turned frontward again, then by the attention he gave his eye once more. This time, however, he hadn’t removed his fingers from his face when he stopped walking, turned far away from her, and sneezed suddenly.

“Hihh’IHKSXCHhhh!”

It was not the first she had heard from him, and given her preexisting suspicion that all was not entirely well with Thomas, she felt it necessary to investigate.

“Bless you. Are you feeling well?”

Thomas, who kept his recoiled pose for a moment longer, soon returned to normal standing and lowered his hand from where it had clamped over his nose and mouth. “Quite well. Please excuse me.”

Edith’s curious stare drifted to his nose, which crinkled and rotated in a spasmodic sniff, and then back to his dark glasses; it was then that she noticed a touch of wetness below the curved wire that was leaking, no doubt, from his left eye.

She extended a fingertip and grazed the shimmering trail, which ultimately informed Thomas of said shimmering trail’s existence. He raised himself straighter, away from her examining touch, to remove the eyewear and reveal what lay behind its protection. Sure enough, a glittery sheen welled along the corners of his reddened sclerae, threatening to escape a saturated cluster of eyelashes.

Thomas pressed the inside of his worn cuff against his eye - a temporary solution while his other hand groped for the handkerchief in his pocket - and then sniffed again, damper.

“Forgive me, Edith,” he apologized, realizing that his attempt at normality and concealment were utterly useless at this point. Not when his body was so intent on ruining him before her very eyes. “I’m afraid I haven’t been truthful. You see, our surroundings…”

And here he gestured to the park itself - the green and lush grass, the colorful weeds - before he resumed his explanation.

“…I find myself rather affected by it. America, as it would constantly seem, does not agree with me.”

Edith led them over to an unoccupied bench and took a seat beside Thomas; she felt great sympathy for him and wondered if, perhaps, a visit to Alan would do Thomas some good. She didn’t doubt that the doctor would be able to provide a helpful and effective remedy for her husband.

“Have you always been affected?” she ask, setting her fingers along Thomas’ arm.

“Atrociously in childhood, I daresay,” he admitted, dabbing at his dripping eyes again. “I’ve thankfully outgrown the worst of it, but it has a tendency to return during consistent exposure over the course of sevehhr—hihh’XTSCHHhhh!—mmn, several days. Excuse me.”

Which is why his condition was so aggravated by that point, Edith realized, thinking of their daily walks and how during each Thomas’ immunity to the outdoors must have gradually deteriorated until the reaction was fully, and brutally, upon him. As it was now.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If I had known, we could have stayed insi—”

“Nonsense,” Thomas interjected, reaching for her hand as he’d done before. His fingers brushed over the ancestral wedding ring that sat on her finger. “I wouldn’t dream of denying you what remains of your short time in Buffalo.”

“And that’s very kind of you,” Edith replied, grateful. “But we’ve spent almost every afternoon outside, and it would bring me no unhappiness if we were to remain indoors these next two days.”

She watched as Thomas’ expression fell - in disappointment, she assumed - but as his eyelids blinked rapidly and his lips parted, as he quickly relocated the handkerchief from his eyes to his mouth, she understood the true reason behind the changing of his features.

Like before, he swiveled away from her. “Hihh’XZSCHHhhish!—hihh!—TSCHHHhh’ih!”

“Bless you,” Edith said, frowning.

He was clearly getting worse the longer they stayed in the park. They needed to go. She gave him a moment to compose himself, and when he seemed both coherent and responsive, she presented her request for departure.

“We should leave.”

Thomas, who blinked through a renewed watery film, looked at Edith; the bright blues of his irises appeared even more striking when enclosed by red, inflamed irritation. “Yes,” he agreed defeatedly. “I do believe that would be best.”

He stood first and stretched his hand out to Edith, who accepted it as she got to her feet. He would have offered her his arm as well, yet another abrupt and fiendish tickle stung the inside of his nose with great fervency.

Thomas barely gasped out an apology before he surrendered, helpless, to the unrestrained barrage. “Ihh’TSCHHhhh!…hihh’CHSHhhish!…hhih’XSCHHhh’oo!”

Edith reached out to gingerly brush a dark lock of hair away from his forehead, the poor thing, and then took his arm. “Bless you.”

“Thank you,” Thomas snuffled, his voice muted from the barrier of cloth that he kept pressed against his flushed, wrinkled nose.

As they began to leave, Edith offered the park and its magnificent autumn grandeur a final glimpse. It was another thing to leave behind, another brilliant memory to archive, but surely there was more waiting for her - surely she, Lady Sharpe, would settle into Allerdale Hall and grow closer to Lucille.

Surely, she desperately hoped above all else, she and Thomas would be happy.

Fin

[Garnet]

I am the worst kind of friend and still have yet to comment on your first Crimson Peak fic, but let me attempt to amend some of that now!

This is so sweet, inasmuch as anything from this particular source material gets. Edith is still so earnest, here, I love that she is both concerned and borderline stubborn that she won't let it go, just paces her questions.

All the little details are, of course, gorgeous. The single tear leaking from under his glasses, and the subsequent press of a cuff to it. Perfect mental image. Also, I think I've said as much to you before, but you have a perfect grasp of the language found in gothic romance novels. It's such a fun departure from the writing I did with you, which was also super fun but in a totally different tone! I dig it.

Also, these lines:

Not when his body was so intent on ruining him before her very eyes.

and

the bright blues of his irises appeared even more striking when enclosed by red, inflamed irritation.

and

another abrupt and fiendish tickle stung the inside of his nose with great fervency.

...Whoa mama. *fans self for years*

Oh, and those closing lines? So good. Oh, Edith. Oh, no.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

I love your fics, even when I know nothing of the fandom. I really have no problem with you torturing Hiddles. Have at it, I say!

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

One: oh my god the spelling, the description, the characterization, the atmosphere, ALL AMAZING OH MY GOSH

Two: the ending, oh my god my poor heart how dare you

edit bc what is spelling even

Edited December 17, 2015 by Quing Nerd

[alias]

You kill me with beauty, Spoo. You squeeze my heart with elegant romantic Victorian beauty.

This is just so LOVELY, and as with your first Crimson Peak fic, I am so impressed and delighted by how flawlessly you capture the whole gothic atmosphere of the story. They are perfectly insertable between the frames of the actual movie. You have such a way with imagery and language that it just transports me there. Your words evoke the same artistry and beauty that del Toro conjures with his visuals and filmography, and so your stories fit together with the film seamlessly.

You did such a wonderful job of capturing Edith's caring and curious nature. She is delicate and soft, but she is not someone to bow her head and keep her thoughts to herself. You managed to portray her with a gentleness that isn't meek, but instead confident and tenacious, and it is spot-on. Her attentiveness to Thomas is so sweet, and I love how she doesn't give up on taking care of him. And in turn, Thomas doesn't want to burden Edith further or spoil her last days in America. There is this warmness in their relationship that is honest, even though you know (at this point in the story) Thomas is keeping secrets and has an ulterior motive. Despite all that, there was always a trueness of caring for one another that was there from the beginning, and you've found it perfectly in this fic.

So there's the fantastic writing, and then there's also POOR TORMENTED SNEEZY THOMAS SHARPE SO CUTE I'M GONNA DIE. I graciously accept ALL your headcanons. He's so helpless and vulnerable and sickly and English and adorable and it's just a big bundle of awesome. Seriously, your spellings, YAS. He is so cute tryin to be a champ and act like he's all fine for Edith's sake, and then he just can't anymore.

Some of my many favorite parts:

The glow of Edith’s marriage to Sir Thomas Sharpe shown through the gloom and despair of her father’s untimely passing like a hopeful candle.

That is a beautiful opening. So very representative of what we see in Edith when she's with Thomas.

“Nonsense,” Thomas interjected, reaching for her hand as he’d done before. His fingers brushed over the ancestral wedding ring that sat on her finger. “I wouldn’t dream of denying you what remains of your short time in Buffalo.”

Oh Thomas. What a freakin sweetheart.

“And that’s very kind of you,” Edith replied, grateful. “But we’ve spent almost every afternoon outside, and it would bring me no unhappiness if we were to remain indoors these next two days.”

I can certainly think of a few fun things to do...

Surely, she desperately hoped above all else, she and Thomas would be happy.

Oh that is CRUEL.

Amazing work, Spoo. Thank you so much for sharing your awesomeness.

[Ali Marie]

OH. MY.

I literally can't even...

This is too good for words.

Just like before, your portrayal of each character is spot on. I love reading the tiny little flourishes you add because they fit so well!

I'll admit that I totally share your headcanon. When I was sitting in the movie theater watching this film, it just popped up...almost as if something about the way Sir Thomas Sharpe looked, carried...Maybe a little bit of the way Lucille spoke about him was subtly giving him this unavoidable (And adorable) vulnerability to all things lush & blooming in nature.

I think seeing a lot of snow at Allerdale Hall might have helped my brain rationalize the stability of the headcanon but nevertheless, I LOVE the way you brought it to life!

TOO CUTE!!!

[Spoo]

Also, I think I've said as much to you before, but you have a perfect grasp of the language found in gothic romance novels.

Well SHUCKS, LADY. You dun' made my face go all red. I really try when it comes to replicating the embellishments and flowery words/phrases you see in the gothic genre, so it means a lot when I'm praised for it. Thanks!

I love your fics, even when I know nothing of the fandom. I really have no problem with you torturing Hiddles. Have at it, I say!

This is honestly the first Hiddles character I've ever suction-cupped myself to. He's so vulnerable and broody and he's got such terrible secrets... Plussss, he's kinda nice to look at as well~ Thank you, though!

One: oh my god the spelling, the description, the characterization, the atmosphere, ALL AMAZING OH MY GOSH

Two: the ending, oh my god my poor heart how dare you

In the words of the Great Papyrus the Skeleton, "NYEH HEH HEH!" How dare I, indeed. But thank you just the same, my dear~ I'm pretty obsessed with this film, so I try to capture everything the best I can.

You kill me with beauty, Spoo. You squeeze my heart with elegant romantic Victorian beauty.

I know I flailed at you via PM about your far-too-generous comment, but I'll say it again: THANK YOU! Reading feedback in general is such a good feeling, but reading feedback as extensive and kind as yours is like the icing on top of the cake.

When I was sitting in the movie theater watching this film, it just popped up...almost as if something about the way Sir Thomas Sharpe looked, carried...Maybe a little bit of the way Lucille spoke about him was subtly giving him this unavoidable (And adorable) vulnerability to all things lush & blooming in nature.

YEP. Same! And like I said in my rambling preface, I genuinely feel like Thomas was a sickly and frail child who had bad allergies/asthma/general health problems (he could have also been born prematurely as well). Being confined to the moldy, rotting, and dusty attic couldn't have helped his condition either, which can then be yet another reason Lucille was so fiercely protective of him.

So yes, small and underdeveloped and fragile kid!Thomas is my #1 headcanon, along with the fact that he outgrew every affliction save for hayfever and the odd allergic thing.

Thanks for reading.

[AngelEyes]

I admit I have not seen the movie. I intended to. Was very much looking forward to it. Then time slipped away and it was gone! So now I'm waiting for it to come out on DVD. But you make me want to see it all the more! You have such perfect gothic romantic prose it just oozes atmosphere. I love it!

[Spoo]

I admit I have not seen the movie. I intended to. Was very much looking forward to it. Then time slipped away and it was gone! So now I'm waiting for it to come out on DVD. But you make me want to see it all the more! You have such perfect gothic romantic prose it just oozes atmosphere. I love it!

I'm eagerly waiting for the DVD myself (HURRY UP, FEBRUARY!) - although, I confess it's mostly because of the bonus features/behind the scenes material. I may or may not already have an HD copy of the film downloaded onto my laptop.

In any case, thank you for your sweet words! I'm so glad I did the whole "gothic" shebang correctly; it was my biggest concern! Well, that and characterization. Hehe.

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

Holy shit Spoo....I really need to see this (I have stated thus before).

This was gorgeous. Your use of scenery and setting paired with fetish itself I just...as much as I'd love to attempt gothic/Victorian fluff I wouldn't be able to do it justice.

Going to read your other fict now too. Seriously keep writing this fandom.

Edited December 29, 2015 by kaze wo hiku

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

I may or may not already have an HD copy of the film downloaded onto my laptop.

Now we know where all those gifs originated!

[Yast]

I haven't even seen the movie yet, but your wonderful and beautifully descriptive writing allows me to fully enjoy this ahhh. So good

[bangbang]

I JUST realised that I never commented on this fic at the time I read it. Super remiss of me, especially with how much I love it. Speaking of how/why I love it...

- Edith's mourning. You can feel her pain through every sentence as her world shifts from underneath her. Everything she knows is slipping away and she's so hopeful for her new life, and... Well, we all know how that works out.

- Thomas hiding behind his dark circle shades. I loved that imagery from the film and I love it here too.

- Hnnnngh. His allergic misery is so, so good. So is the fact that he's enduring it for Edith. Maybe it's all part of his and Lucille's master plan, but maaaaybe it's also a little to do with the fact that he loves her.

- Your spellings are always, always great. Like I can't even explain how much I love them.

Overall, I love your drabbles. I'm really enjoying your Crimson Peak writing - not least because the film reminds me of good times - and long may it continue!

Edited December 29, 2015 by bangbang