BEWARE OF CRIMSON PEAK. this is an independent rp blog for edith cushing from the 2015 film. nsfw & triggering material will be present. please read rules before interacting. mun is 25+. minors dni. by hannah.
a study in life after death, aspiring authors, and deep generational trauma.
In summer's heat, I learned to dread the comin' of the night
The awful things we do to make the head go quiet
Youād press your body to the concrete when you were small
The rains of winter seemed to never leave the walls
Crimson Peak is SO fucking funny when they first get to the house and Hiddles is like. Oh yeah forget to mention, giant hole in the roof. Also the floor is rotten, someday the whole foundation will collapse. And don't be alarmed if the pipes start bleeding! It's just that the very ground beneath our feet is oozing red liquid, absolutely drenched with it, as though the entire house is bleeding and bloodstained, as though the very earth our family legacy is built upon were one great open wound.
I fucking love Gothic settings. Don't worry about it Edith, welcome to your very normal and inhabitable house.
the Ā following Ā has Ā been Ā taken Ā from Ā the Ā 2015Ā album Ā byĀ Ā THE Ā WEEKND. Ā feel Ā free Ā to Ā change Ā and Ā adjust Ā anything Ā as Ā needed.Ā Ā CONTENT Ā WARNING: Ā drugs,Ā some Ā nsfw.
ā one of the cruellest things you can do to another person is pretend to care more than you do. ā
ā i loved you and sometimes you loved me too. ā
ā donāt tell anybody anything. if you do, you start missing everyone. ā
ā you never know how much space you occupied in other peopleās lives. ā
ā beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fall and fade out. ā
ā i felt like destroying something beautiful. ā
ā i have scars on my hands from touching certain people. ā
ā you cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness. ā
ā what can you do but hold your hand out in the dark ? ā
ā you canāt make homes out of human beings. someone should have told you that. ā
ā your only problem, perhaps, is that you scream without letting yourself cry. ā
ā being surrounded by the wrong people is the loneliest thing in the world. ā
ā i hid my deepest feelings so well i forgot where i placed them. ā
ā i didnāt leave because i stopped loving you, i left because the longer i stayed the less i loved myself. ā
ā at every moment of our lives, we all have one foot in a fairytale and the other in the abyss. ā
ā some people turn sad awfully young. i know, for iām one of them. ā
ā nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than you. ā
ā all great and precious things are lonely. ā
ā someone can be madly in love with you and still not be ready. ā
ā i felt less lonely when i didnāt know you. ā
ā things change, friends leave. life doesnāt stop for anybody. ā
ā i am deathly afraid of almosts. ā
ā itās such a secret place, the land of tears. ā
ā what do we do now, now that we are happy ? ā
ā when we first met i was lonely and you were pretty -Ā now i am pretty lonely. ā
ā i want you to know that iām both happy and sad and iām still figuring out how that could be. ā
ā if you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them ? ā
ā the one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person. ā
ā you can never love people as much as you can miss them. ā
ā i was too young to know how to love you. ā
ā if anybody could have saved me it would have been you. ā
ā sometimes i can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives iām not living. ā
During an interview about her incredible costumes for the film Crimson Peak (2015), Kate Hawley mentioned two paintings that particularly inspired her design of the leading female castās iconic attire. Proserpine by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1874, top left) was taken into consideration for the character Lucille Sharpe, otherwise known as The Moth (top right). For Edith Cushing (bottom right), thought of as The Butterfly in contrast, The Bridesmaid by John Everett Millais (1851, bottom left) was said to have greatly influenced the characterās hauntingly beautiful look of cascading hair and the bridal-esque nightgown attire.
Ā Ā Ā It isnāt unusual for mortals to take notice of his ghastly presence. Even with the masterful trickery handed down from his maker, itās always the glint of emerald eyes that ensnares those few wayward souls brave enough to hold his gaze. Perhaps an older blood drinker would drain her and be done with it (perhaps that is the smart thing to do, after allā so rarely does discovery end in anything other than the demise of their kind) but there is something about her smoldering curiosity that thrills him. It is stubborn, defiant even, in the face of death incarnate. Foolish but endearing nonetheless.
Ā Ā (And perhaps there is a part of him that is just as desperate to be known in the first place, desperate for someone to quicken him and rid him of the numbness and despair that relentlessly thuds against the brittle bones of his ribcage).
Ā Ā Ā āHorror is relative.ā He says with a diplomatic nod.Ā āWhat is horror to a being whose baseline experience is embedded in death and carnal desires? Horror is the beauty in perfection. Horror is the gentle lull of sunlight we once took for granted.ā
The thought has never occurred to her -- though, why would it? Even a girl who has lived through many tragedies could never imagine what simple things humanity takes for granted. The air she breathes, the light that shines down from the sky each day . . . things, it seems, only reserved for the purely human. Whatever else might exist, in this world or otherwise, left to fend for themselves, sometimes wander in eternal fear and misery. Itās a punishment far worse than death itself, in her opinion. Edith often wonders what these poor souls do to deserve such a fate; to exist purely for some hellish, twisted plan of some invisible deity? To tell cautionary tales, perhaps? One can only wonder . . .
" Thatās -- tragically poetic. āĀ Precisely what she may have imagined someone of his persuasion might say, despite not having any reference at all to base such a notion off of. Thereās almost a glint of envy, if only for the reason of Edith only dreaming of being so articulate.Ā ā Have you ever considered writing a novel? āĀ Ā