SHE DOESN'T STAY AWAY For Longer Than She Must, Curling Instinctively Back Against Laszlos Side The

SHE DOESN'T STAY AWAY for longer than she must, curling instinctively back against laszlo’s side the moment the furry little thing has disentangled itself from her skirts. after months with a vast ocean forcing their seperation, nadja cannot bear to leave even a meager gap between them, one of her hands taking hold of the one that laszlo offers & lacing their fingers tightly together. ❝  if you were getting lonely here on your own, surely you could have found some more entertaining company to keep than these little beasts.  didn't the neighbor man come  &  check on you ?  i sent a raven to ask him to see that you were still bathing  &  eating. ❞  nadja had worried about her husband being left entirely on his own. without her, laszlo had a tendency to forego his own needs in favor of whatever whim had captured his attentions in that moment — usually some kind of pornography. but she had hoped that the strange thing that had escaped from the corpse of colin robinson for would be enough of a reason for him to keep himself functioning, especially considering it had been enough to abandon her to face london alone.  &  to her relief, it seemed that while the house has fallen into disrepair, laszlo has been able to keep himself  (  &  indeed, an entire herd of odd little beings )  alive  &  thriving amongst the manor wreckage.

still, nadja fusses over her husband. she simply cannot help it, free hand smoothing the wrinkles out of the undershirt he wears  &  running through the thick waves of his hair.  ❝ when is the last time you fed ? ❞  concern bleeds into her tone, pulling it higher in both putch & volume.  ❝ how many times have i told you — you need to drink at least one fully grown human every week. you want to keep your strength up, don’t you, my great beloved ox of a man ? ❞

     HOW HE HAD LONGED FOR HER TOUCH THIS PAST YEAR- THE LONGEST YEAR OF HIS ETERNAL LIFE. They had never been apart for this long. Of course, taking care of the boy had occupied much of his time, distracting him from the impulse to play the piano and wank until her return, or better yet join his darling Nadja in London. However, in the early hours of the evening when there was nothing to do but slumber beside the empty space where her coffin once stood, those were the moments when his aching heart became impossible to ignore. With her return those torturous mornings were all but a distant memory. Laszlo haphazardly kicked rotted debris to the side as they bounded up the stairs hand-in-hand. He only paused once at the sound of her voice, turning to her, and pressing a kiss against the back of her hand. “Every second away from you was a second too long.”

     The feeling of Nadja's tongue against his hand sends goosebumps up his skin. He shuddered, wanting nothing more than to be with her, inside of her. For one's pleasure to become the others--- and then she squealed, pulling away from whatever diabolical creature had temporarily broken the moment. His free hand reached out to steady her as a black and grey miscreant scurried out from under her legs and into one of its many newly made holes. Laszlo squinted at the raccoon. At first, he had tried to get rid of them, but it had been a lost cause. They were roguish creatures that seemed to procreate at an astonishing rate. He simply couldn’t deny the sense of comradery he held for creatures that liked to fuck as much as he did. “ They’re raccoons, my darling. They took up residence in the walls some time ago. That’s Rocket, Toby, and Mozart, ” he said, pointing them out one by one.  

@musecraft

      LONG AGO,  she might have told him he looked dashing — even regal.  &  nadja could certainly admit that he was still handsome, especially now that he was returned to his former self by the djinn's magic.  but the fact remained that staten island was an entirely different world than the one they had met in all those centuries ago, back when the baron had wielded broad power  &  influence  —  &  he had very little of either now.  & nadja almost feels sorry for him.   ❝ that's just it, baron :  no one really wants to look like a noble anymore.  in twenty twenty-three, the hot look is more sporty peasant.  it’s much better to be relatable, you know. ❞  &   she pulls up her layers of skirts to reveal a pair of air jordans underneath.  ❝ like these.  i killed a man in the park for these.  i think they really boost my street cred. ❞

❝ why are you dressed like a sad silk trader? ❞  — for baron from nadja sent by @musecraft​

     IT HAD ONLY BEEN THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO when Baron had been setting the latest fashion trends. But now, it seemed, time had gotten away from him. The world was becoming an ever stranger place— the New World specifically was a very strange place. One where kings mingled with paupers and vampires assimilated rather than thrived. Baron shook his head incredulously, his fingers tracing tenderly over the finely embroidered silk. He already suspected the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway, “ Is this not what all the nobles are wearing? ”

🪐 — LUCIUS SPRIGGS  for  izzy !

‘  yes.  yes,  izzy you—  wait.  ’   half exasperated tone grinds to a halt.  his brain fights for control,  pushing back the bewilderment of it all and the dizzy   (   no pun this time   )   feeling spreading through his body.  it’s a bit comical,  this whole situation  —  they haven’t been on a first name basis until,  well,  now,  not without a bite of thorny sarcasm on lucius’ part anyway,  but this is not why he calls for a stop.  a break,  rather.  thing is,  he’s noticed it:  the limp. the..  whatever the hell happened to izzy’s foot.  and it’s late in the evening,  which means the man must have spent most of his day on his feet.  despite the infuriating sentiment izzy stirs in him almost without fail,  and the way past week’s words still kind of prick at the skin,  lucius spriggs is not,  at his core,  cruel.  and if he’s done the math right,  not even izzy deserves that.  did izzy notice it,  by the way?  how lucius breathes a little easier now that edward has left,  how his eyes don’t look for a way out and away from the man at any given time. 

'  we could sit,  you know.  it’s not much,  but i do happen to have something slightly better than the cold hard floor in here.  ’   the hand that was slowly moving through izzy’s hair   (   pretty soft,  actually   )   gets dislodged only so he can wrap it around the man’s wrist.  he doesn’t ask.  it’s a bit early in their tentative truce to go for the metaphorical throat like that.  maybe they’ll get there,  maybe they won't  —  for now,  lucius simply leads him towards the small cot stored against the opposite wall.  he mostly sleeps by himself now,  though pete visits sometimes,  because he ended up waking half the people on deck once,  screaming for help and tasting saltwater on his tongue after a freakishly vivid nightmare.   '  hello,  ’   he greets with a small grin curling around his mouth.   '  it’s still yes,  if you’re wondering.  ' 

     GENTLENESS IS ALMOST UNBEARABLE  to izzy hands  —  not because he doesn’t like it;  it’s far too early for him to try to work out how he feels about any of this  —  but because he has no idea how to respond to it.  he’d expected rushed hands  &  whispered instructions.  but lucius surprises him at every turn, seemingly content to take things at a more leisurely speed. he stops izzy before he can kiss him again, the younger man takes him by the wrist just above his glove  &  leading him deeper into the little room.  only when they're seated facing each other, his injured foot hanging off the edge of the meager sleeping cot, is izzy brave enough to meet his eyes.  &  to his surprise, he finds lucius looking back at him with a kind smile. still offering. 

                        something about being on a bed makes everything feel a little more serious,  &  izzy feels his breath hitch as heat floods his face.  the fear is still there, familiar as ever, a deep-seated instinct that urges him to fight or flee from some vaguely perceived threat,  but he knows that lucius won't harm him,  &  edward isn't here to be angry with him for forgetting his place.  &  izzy may be many things, but he is not a coward.

            so he pushes defiantly through the unpleasant sensation to press their lips together once again, more gently this time.  his skin flushes at the point of contact, but izzy forces himself to match lucius's unhurried pace, lips slow  &  explorative as they move against each other.  meanwhile, his left hand reaches out  &  finds the lapel of a cotton jacket, fingers curling into the fabric  &  tugging himself a little closer.  &  izzy has never smoked the opium that ed favors for the pain, never particularly cared for tobacco or felt the need to indulge in rum.  but as he leans further still into the kiss, he finds himself thinking that if he isn’t careful, he could quickly become addicted to this.

while you were attending therapy i was studying the blade

The Lady of the House of Love, Angela Carter

Absolution. A clean slate for all those willing to accept it.