#abbe

[granadaholmesdaily]

💤 Let Watson Sleep! 💤 (Inspired by this video by @jabbage)

[darknessisafriend]

I was wondering if you could write one with Joaquin's characters about how would they react to getting neck smooches from their S/O I hope you are well in these crazy times 💓

It's finally here! I finally got time to write! I hope you will enjoy anon, @galos-writing helped me a bit with Abbe ;)

Commodus:

Commodus is always a man on his guard. So, naturally his neck wouldn’t be an easy part to reach, even for his lover. 

The truth is also that his neck is very sensitive. Commodus is secretly very ticklish, and his sister and mother used to tickle his neck as they played together before bed. No one had been touching his neck in years. 

The first time you tried to, you joined Commodus in his study. He was working late at night as usual, but you missed him dearly lately. You wrapped your arms around him, kissing his cheek first. “My love…it is getting late...” you whispered, hoping it was obvious you needed him to warm your bed up and cool your body down. 

“I have important work to do, Y/N. I have to stay a little longer.” He replied, his eyes focused on whatever he was scribbling. As always, he would work so hard, from early in the morning to late at night, more than anyone else. Thankfully you were there to make sure he would take a break and not kill himself at the service of his People. 

You pouted at first at his answer and then grinned, leaning closer to his ear “His Highness won’t regret it...” you purred in his ear, nibbling his ear lobe, kissing his jaw and then daring a plant a kiss in his neck, right on his calmly pulsing jugular.

He froze at first, not expecting a kiss there, used to a feeling of coldness due to his armor. Your lips felt soft and warm, the opposite of a cold and hard blade he could have expected.

His skin had goosebumps and he looked down, pondering how to react, if he should let down his defense like he did so many times with you before. He made his quill lightly roll between his thumb and index as he thought. The kiss had been surprising, and yet it felt nice but too quick. “Y/N, can you do that again?” he quietly asked. 

You smiled in relief, you had been holding your breath the whole time, fearing it might have triggered him badly. Surprisingly it didn’t, probably because he had a lot more trust in you than he would think. 

This time, you would place your kiss slowly, your lips tracing kisses along his jugular where you felt his pulse had increased frantically, his skin warm and soft, with a strong scent of cinnamon myrrh, his favorite and prestigious perfume. It was intoxicating, just like the rest of his being. 

This time you would feel him relax under your kisses, his eyes almost closing entirely, his quill escaping his fingers that had become weak. His posture would remain high and yet his neck tilted to give you more space as one of your hands caressed his strong chest. “If my Emperor is willing to join our bed…I shall give him plenty of those...” 

“How dare you try to imp….” But Commodus wouldn’t manage to finish his sentence that a moan escaped his lips as you sucked his skin on a particularly sensitive spot. “Run…if I catch you before you get in bed, I will be the one ravaging your body.” He said, making you giggle, he knew you were fast, and he wouldn’t manage to catch you. What he wouldn’t do to make it seem like he had control while he entirely gave it up willingly the moment he fell for you.

Arthur/Joker:

Arthur adores your neck smooches, he is ticklish too but loves it anyway, probably due to his childish spirit.

You had first tried during a tickle battle actually, both of you laughing as you threw pillows at each other and tickled each other. You ended up straddling Arthur beneath you (or rather he loved to let you win). You blocked his arms and placed your lips in his neck to tickle him, something your mom used to do. 

Arthur would let out a squeal, a loud and boyish noise before laughing heartily, a happy laugh. He was fully relaxed, and he had discovered something new about himself. You would lift your head and smile at him, giving him a tender kiss on the lips. 

“Can I try?” he would ask eagerly, his eyes shining with fondness, his fingers delicately caressing your fingers. “Of course. But on one condition…I won’t go easy on you.” You teased him, challenging him to another play of pillow. And slowly a grin would form on his face, a confident one, that you knew from Joker “Don’t complain what comes afterwards darling.” He would purr. 

One thing you had noticed is that Joker had much more raw strength than Arthur, the madness sometimes gave inhuman strength. And you would be able to resist for long, Joker would be quick, naughty and sly; managing to win rapidly. You would gasp as he sent a last pillow hit that was a little too strong, making you lose your balance to fall off the bed.

But thankfully he would catch you in his arms, throwing his body first so he would take the hit and not you. He would laugh with a big smile, not reacting at all under the pain. “Told you I’d win.” He would say, already filling your neck in kisses, making you squirm as you started to giggle. 

His hand would instantly start to roam your body, Joker was more sexual than Arthur and winning you over a battle was even more exciting to his eyes. Even as he would make love to you afterwards, he would keep on filling your neck in kisses, making you laugh in that moment of intimacy. Arthur was still in there after all.

Bruno Weiss:

Bruno is a grumpy man and he doesn’t like to show himself vulnerable, only when drunk or very tired he does truly reveal himself.

His attitude does change after a while, once the trust builds up.

The first time you did it, was to tease him. He was annoyed by paperwork, keeping on muttering to himself while smoking his cigarette. “Is paying taxes such a headache?” you would ask in a chuckle, making him crush his cigarette in the ashtray. “I’m not working hard to have our money taken away from us.” he would mutter.

“Y/N” he would protest as you sat on his lap. The thing was that he was very weak for you and when you were so close to him, he wouldn’t be able to focus, and he would hate his inability to do so. 

You would grin, you just had to do one thing for him to snap. “You just have to pay darling, or should I do it?” you retorted and quickly smooched his neck before running off, chased by an angry Bruno who would soon calm down under your sweet caresses. 

After this episode, a kiss on the neck would become a soothing gesture for Bruno, one more reminder that he didn’t have to keep his defenses in front of you, that he could be vulnerable. It would be a reminder you would always be there, that you wouldn’t abandon him like everyone else did.

Charlie:

The first time you kissed Charlie in the neck, it didn’t go well, he had the worst reaction you could have expected from him.

You were sitting by the fire with a few companions and his brother. In a moment  of tenderness you would have sat behind him to hug him, placing a kiss on his cheek then neck. However, would quickly tense up, ignoring the soft smile of his brother at the scene. “What the fuck are you doing!?” Charlie would exclaim, instantly leaving your embrace “I’m not some kind of fag!” he would storm angrily to smoke a cigarette. Everyone would turn their eyes away from you in embarrassment except Ellie, patting your shoulder reassuringly “You know he didn’t mean it.”

And indeed, despite hurting, you knew Charlie was keeping a rough mask in front of everybody and you had brushed it off without thinking.

You would leave him alone for some time to process his gesture. He would be silent, feeling awkward after his outburst, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“I’m sorry Charlie. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad” you would apologize sincerely. You knew he had a rough past and he was the little brother always acting tough to protect the ones he loved, it had cost him half of his sanity. 

“I don’t trust everyone here. I don’t want them to think…” he sighed, throwing his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with the heel of his boot.

You would approach him, wanting to hug him from behind but as you reached out your hand you wouldn’t dare to touch him.

I know. You don’t have to explain yourself. I won’t do it again.” you would offer softly, doing your best to accommodate your struggling lover.

“What are they doing? Are they looking?” he would ask after a moment of silence. You would look back “No, they went to sleep. Ellie is kissing his…scarf.” you replied, an intimate gesture his brother didn’t fear to show.

“Can you do it again?” he would ask in a mutter, you would hear his voice on the edge like a great effort he would make to let down his barriers and he would not repeat himself, fearing.

Joe:

The neck would be a triggering part for Joe, always has been as a soldier. This was part he would have to protect often during the war. But you wouldn’t be aware of this specific trigger point. 

One day, as he would be reading, you wouldn’t pay attention and would come to hug him from behind, you were light footed so he tensed up at first. But when it instantly followed with a kiss on the neck, something cool applying to his skin, triggered a past trauma. 

He would gasp and under the flash push you away strongly, making you fall heavily on the ground, pretty much hitting your head at the same time. “Joe what…” you would manage to say, blinking a few times the stars in your eyes. You would find him curled up in a corner, his arms wrapped around his head and neck as an attempt to protect himself.

Your eyes would widen at the sight, understanding he had been severely triggered. In fact, you now remembered reading some articles about it, how strangling and throat slitting was attempted on some factions of soldiers by the enemy and it was surely what had triggered him.

“Joe it’s me. I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you.” you would apologize on the verge of tears from the state he was in.

After that it would take a while for him to calm down, he would be closed into silence, feeling guilty of his own reactions to a simple kiss. But you would work things out as always, taking baby steps in trying to eliminate that trigger, his service dog helping as well, nuzzling his truffle in his neck while cuddling.

You would make sure to eliminate the effect of surprise during that gesture, coming to stand in front of him, caressing his chest and slowly tying your arms around his neck, asking for permission to kiss his neck. And it would work out well after many months of trial. You wouldn’t do it much tho cause you didn’t want to push this too fast, besides you loved kissing his lips, chest and arms much better.

With time Joe would grow to like it as well, it was much nicer to open his neck to a loving kiss rather than a cold blade. 

Max California:

- Max California loves neck kisses. He is a very physical lover so when he is with you he is rather clingly, and especially loves PDA, he is a possessive lover but not in a toxic way, he would simply be very proud of you. 

-  Very early in your relationship you would have gone onto neck kisses, at the shop as you assisted you would often lean against him hugging you from behind, placing lazy kisses from time to time as you both await clients to pick their next dirty products. Your neck was constantly filled with hickeys so the clients wouldn’t bother you. 

- However, Max himself was often subject to passion from clients and strangers, men and women desiring the dark punk boy working in a sex shop wearing a crop top. That would make you terribly annoyed and you knew an efficient way to mark your territory. Just do the same!

-  As you had gone to refill a shelf of porn magazines, you would decide to surprise him. Instead of going to insert yourself between his arms, you would hug him from behind as he chatted with a female client, filling his neck in small smooches, looking at the client in the eyes. Without surprise she would understand the message and leave promptly.

- Max would grin and turn his head to meet your eyes “Do you think she had any chance with me?” he would ask, making you blush and bite his neck in protest, making him chuckle. “But keep going, I like it.” He would add, his hand coming to caress your cheek before focusing on work again. 

-You would retain a happy squeal, muffling it against his skin before kissing it. Max wouldn’t be too sensitive on the neck so at first, he wouldn’t get aroused. He would simply be very happy of your attention, that you took the lead. He was a feminist after all so he would encourage such things in public and also loved to be under your control. 

-One day, after a weekend apart Max would even surprise you with a tattoo, red lips modeled on the lipstick you often left in his neck. He would wear a proud grin on his face. “What’d you think?” he asked, very pleased with himself and to show he was a marked territory already.

- “I think I still need to add a little bit more purple to it, you know, to make it livelier.” You grinned back, opening your arms and wrapping them around his neck as you would passionately make out.

Abbe:

As the composed and religious man of God he is, the Abbé has never experienced an intimate touch from no one. 

This has given him incredible awkwardness when he started feeling carnal desires for you besides romantic feelings, his religious trauma and brainwash made him believe he was a sinner and regret his own nature of man. Your love for him made you feel bad for his condition, so of course you tried to help him.

You already knew he would go crazy in the worst way possible if you had taken the lead without psychologically telling him, so you planned to slowly introduce him to physical affection. So you invited him for tea to ‘innocently chitchat’.

During the talk, he seemed still pretty nervous about the topic, but less than usual. It felt like a good sign for you, but you didn’t expect his next request.

The Abbé was actively avoiding your gaze as he parted his lips to speak, his cheeks turned a bright red. “Might I… dare to kiss you?” He asked in almost a whisper, making you blush and then scoff; his excessive politeness was adorable to you. You nodded, and approached, ready for a quick peck. You didn’t expect him to grab your shoulders and capture your lips for a goofy yet extremely heated kiss. 

You could hear him let out little noises already despite you weren’t touching him either. So, when the kiss was over, you smirked, licking your lips, delighted by that kiss, and leaned closer, brushing your lips against his neck. You could hear a gasp escape his lips, which lowkey turned you on. 

So you started by giving his neck a first soft kiss, noticing his chest moving up and down faster and his heartbeat louder. He swallowed down, trying to reluctantly pull back, it was obvious he was loving those kisses yet he thought it was wrong. “Y/N…”, he whimpered, letting out soft moans for every kiss you gave him. Every moan of his was one more shiver of excitement running through your spine. 

You suddenly felt your clothes being grabbed by his fists, his noises became a bit louder and his hips were starting to slightly jerk forward. Unfortunately that thick pitch black cassock was leaving no room for imagination, but you knew underneath he was fighting against a massive boner.

Suddenly, after you gently nibbled a spot on his throat, he let out a high pitched whimper, obviously choking other noises in his throat and trembling a bit, his mouth was agape. You stepped back, thinking you hurt him, but after some seconds, he was heavily painting and squeezing his legs together: he came just with your neck kisses. 

You would have lied if you said you weren’t proud of yourself. Especially after he looked at you dead in the eye and said: “There’s no turning back after this, right…?”. He seemed defeated, yet somehow relieved when you shook your head, hopeful to get further with him. Finally.

Merill

Merill is a lover of PDA and of neck kisses as well. Which means that naturally he would give them to you.

He is a protective man and possessive. In public he would especially love to stand behind you and wrap his arms around your waist to place a tender kiss on your neck.

Naturally you would return the favor. Merill wouldn't be surprised or taken aback, he would let you do and even lean into your touch.

For Merill, neck smooches would represent letting himself get vulnerable willingly for the one he loves.

It was something he was proud of. Merill was known across town for his strong character, his stubbornness, and impulsivity. And many thought that he wasn’t an easy man to handle, that despite attracting many girls with his look, when they got to know him they would run away. 

It wasn’t the truth actually, ladies loved how he knew what he wanted and his passion, his love for his family. And you were the lucky one, the only one he ever allowed neck kisses from, encouraging you to mark him with hickeys, show who he belonged to. 

You would especially enjoy tickling him with your lips during a baseball match, distracting him when he was getting too agitated by the bad talent of some. It would work wonderfully, to the point he would melt in your touch, his attention drifting away more and more from the match to focus on you. During the final match you would end up making out and more in the lockers room where no one would come to find you.

Tag list: @skaravile @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @charlie-sisters @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @ohcarlesmycarles @rajacero @niniitah-ah @morrisonmercurryphoenix @fly-like-a-phoenix @galos-writing @sparklygardenerlove

[dailyholmes]

"'Come, Watson, come!' he cried. 'The game is afoot.'" The Adventure of the Abbey Grange. Published in The Strand Magazine. Sidney Paget, 1904

Sources 1 2

[postcard-from-the-past]

Church in Pont-l'Abbé, Brittany region of France

French vintage postcard

[smallratboy]

Catholic Guilt - Abbe du Coulmier x Reader

The Marquis writes a depraved story about you and Abbe

an: Y/N is trans male! Anyone is welcome to read, just a heads up.

masterlist

‘He writhed on the bed, his legs spread and his cunt glistening in the moonlight. The priest stood over him, a towering figure in his black cassock. The cross was cold against the man's thigh, the wood-’ 

“Stop, you don't have to continue,” Abbe said, putting a hand out to silence you. You closed the book, sighing. 

Abbe du Coulmier was the head director at Charenton mental asylum, and had recently been dealing with a rather persistent patient. You were a nurse, and had worked there for the last several months. Over those months, you and the Abbe had grown quite close, and you were happy to call him your friend. 

Abbe ran a hand through his thick black hair and leaned back in his chair. He looked up at you, a disheartened expression on his face. His crystalline blue eyes shone with exhaustion, and you put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Why would he write this?” He asked, exasperated. “Writing about his own depraved fantasy is one thing, but writing about hospital staff is another matter entirely.” 

“I don't know,” You sighed. “He's in Charenton for a reason.” 

Although you would never admit it, you secretly enjoyed this new development in the Marquis’ writing. You normally hated his horrific subject matter, and say nothing of his disgusting descriptions. I mean, really; pikestaff?

But, you harbored a secret crush on the Abbe. He was generous, forgiving, and undeniably beautiful. He took care of his patients with unending kindness, and showed the same kindness to you every time you saw him. 

In a way, this horrific fiction allowed you to live out your secret fantasy. 

“I’ll have to talk to him,” Abbe muttered, getting out his own journal to add to his patient's notes. “He has to know that behavior of this kind is unacceptable.” 

“I could talk to him,” you suggested, squeezing his shoulder. 

“I don't want you to feel unsafe,” he said, putting his hand over yours where it rested on his shoulder. You smiled; this was exactly the kind of thoughtfulness that made you fall for him in the first place. 

“Don't worry,” You assured him. “He is no different than any other patient.” 

~*~

The marquis sat proudly on his chair, legs spread and a smirk on his face. You fought the urge to scowl, instead putting on a calm smile and sitting down next to him. His eyes watched you intently, ogling you like a piece of meat. 

“Marquis,” you addressed him, choosing your words carefully. “We have to talk about your latest…indulgence.” You held his book out to him, making it clear what you were talking about. 

“Did you enjoy it?” the man asked, smirking. “I think I described you rather generously.” 

You sighed exasperatedly, running a hand over your face. You hear the marquis chuckle, ever the sadist taking pleasure in your annoyance. 

“Do you realize how completely inappropriate it is to be writing about real people?” You asked, shaking the book in his face. “Nobody wants to be the object of your depraved, sacreligious fantasies!”  

“Are you sure?” His tone was dangerous. The marquis stood abruptly, stalking over to you. “I think you might enjoy it more than you let on.

“After all,” he came to stand behind you, putting a hand on the back of your neck. “I can't be the only one who's noticed your little crush.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you said, moving away from the man. You felt unclean where his hands had been on you. “Stop this egregious behavior, or there will be consequences.”

With that, you stormed out of his quarters. God, he made your skin crawl. You sighed, leaning against one of the cold stone walls. You looked down at the small book in your hands. The cover was white and the text was plain. Nobody could have guessed the horror that hid in its pages. 

Out of boredom, you began to flip through it. You had read a bit, enough to know what took place in those pages. Still, curiosity got the better of you as you allowed your mind to be consumed by the unholy depravities you saw before you. 

‘...the wood of the cross was cold against the man's plush thigh, his skin glowing under the moonlight. The priest left warm, open-mouthed kisses along his skin, each one filled with devotion. To savor the feeling of skin, sweat, and pleasure forever, Abbe would do anything. He would even turn away from God.’

“Don't tell me you're actually reading that,” Abbe's good-natured voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see him walking towards you, a joking smile on his face. You returned his grin, relieved. 

“How can I?” You joked. “The dialogue is so wooden, Pitou could set it on fire!” 

Abbe laughed at that, his eyes crinkling and his shoulders bouncing. It was good to see him laugh again, as the stress of the marquis’ endeavors had erased even the memory of his laughter. 

When he looked at you, his eyes shone with joy. Your heart fluttered, and your smile widened. There was a moment of silence in the hall, the echo of Abbe's laughter leaving a warm spark in your chest. You two looked at each other, sharing an unspoken moment. 

“Listen, Y/N,” Abbe said, taking a step closer to you. “I hope this doesn't put a strain on our friendship. I assume the marquis made this to get back at me, but can't fathom why anyone would write such things about you.” 

You smiled, and took the Abbe's hand. He gave you a comforting squeeze. 

“You don't need to worry,” you assured him. “Our friendship could endure worse than a malcontent who knows how to spell.” 

Abbe chuckled.

an: there will be at least two more chapters out soon! if you liked this, let me know!

[hojdarna]

🤨 😐

Abbe and Bebbe

[geeoharee]

 He was all honey when first we met him...

Yeah, they always are.

Conan Doyle isn't always perfect in his depictions of people (especially if they're not white, dear god) but he seems to have known some things about domestic abuse. There's a reason people flock to Sherlock Holmes. Oh, for someone to come, and understand you perfectly, and sort it all out (and possibly set a killer snake on the guy)

[stephensmithuk]

The Abbey Grange

Published in 1904, this is the penultimate story in The Return of Sherlock Holmes. We have four more left to cover in Letters from Watson.

Chislehurst, ten miles SE of Charing Cross, has been in Greater London since 1965.

Australian English was definitely its own dialect by this point in time. This story takes place just before the six self-governing colonies were federated to form the Commonwealth in 1901.

Cruelty alone was not a grounds for divorce in 1897. The first domestic violence refuge was probably not established until 1971.

The "Swiss army knife" was around by this point - indeed precursors are mentioned in 1851's Moby Dick - but the term is a post-Second World War one, deriving from the American GIs who bought them and couldn't pronounce "Offiziersmesser".

A baronet is a hereditary knight i.e. the title is passed down, with over a thousand baroneties still active. Nearly all are to "male heirs of the body" only - there have been precisely four female baronetesses, none still alive. Only one new baronet has been created since 1965 - for Dennis Thatcher i.e. Margaret's husband, who got in 1990 following his wife's departure from Number 10. It passed following his death in 2003 to Mark Thatcher, who has caused considerable embarrassment to the family name over his lifetime, including being involved in a 2004 attempted coup in Equatorial Guinea.

"Vox populi, Vox Dei" means "the voice of the people [is] the voice of God". Vox populi is where we get the term "vox pop", a term used in journalism for asking random people in the streets their views on things.

[sanktalinn]

I habe no thumbs

[galos-writing]

REQUEST - Crazy Abbé x Director!Reader (pt. 2)

Summary: You're the new Director in the renowed asylum of Charenton, and one particular patient fills your thoughts. You never expected your life to take such a twist...

Word count: 1431 

TWs: Mention of death, gory description, mention of mental illness (sry im bad at adding tws)

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Your role as Director in the asylum of Charenton had caught you pretty quickly, you had to admit: the chambermaids were exquisite, most of the patients were so well-behaved and friendly – even those who couldn’t properly speak – and the nuns were so helpful and caring towards you and the patients.

Yes, Doctor Royer-Collard was a real pain...most of the time, and your reputation was stained forever now that you worked there. You stopped receiving letters from your former friends and your family was deadly worried for you and your social life…

However, you surprisingly didn’t care much about all of this. You had a new life to think about; a new, true friend awaiting you every day. And your heart hadn’t been happier than now.

You were tired of those lame and sickeningly lavish gatherings with your former girlfriends, all of them – including you – from high nobleness, doing nothing but giggling and gossiping about everyone and everything; and you were tired of workplaces where men kept treating you so poorly, with no dignity, almost as if you had no intelligence in your brain.

Finally, you had someone who treated you like a decent person to have intense and lively discussions with, about everything your nous was willing to deepen: François de Coulmier, the former Director of Charenton.

When you first met him, you had almost forgotten who he used to be, his reputation of a dreamer young man, but whose mind was filled with knowledge and his heart swelling with kindness and compassion for every child of God. And you were surprised by discovering his qualities were still buried, engraved in his spirit, despite being severely damaged by the anguish events. But his manners had captured your attention, and being in his company filled your soul with such a pleasant warmth, especially your cheeks and belly.

“Monsieur Coulmier?”, you kindly called the former priest, your voice showing a hint of impatience as you held a warm bread roll in your hands. You saw him peeking through the peephole, severely malnourished; those full, sweet and round cheeks were now pretty thin, his cheekbones were becoming more visible, and purple eye bags were starting to form under his beautiful eyes. That sight broke your heart, but in that moment you couldn’t help but swallow that sour bite down and endure that psychological torture.

His gloomy face lightened up when he saw you and a weak smile formed on his thin and scarred lips, which soothed your aching soul within the second. You warmly smiled back at him and waved.

“Hello...was I interrupting something? You weren’t sleeping, were you?”, you asked, afraid you could have bothered him somehow; your hands showed him the bread roll, which immediately caught François’s interest.

“Oh… no… not at all, you’re always so welcome in my humble… empty cell… I am just concerned I am not able to give you… the welcome an angel like you deserves…”, he let out a tired breath, really struggling to keep his strengths. Your kind smile turned into a face of compassion, and then you quickly pulled the key out of your pocket to open his cell door.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll find yourself out of here, sooner or later. And I’m sure you will succeed in building yourself a new fresh life. You’ll see, you will have a big and luminous house with a scented garden full of plants and flowers, and…”, you started saying happily as you got inside, but your words got interrupted by an exhausted wheeze and a creepy laugh from him.

“Ah~, you read too many books! You… you truly have a fervid imagination, my darling…!”, he exclaimed with a giggly voice. His mocking slightly offended you, making you frown and look away.

“I don’t find it funny.”, you grumpily muttered. However, an odd detail caught your attention blurring his protests and apologies: one of the walls that surrounded François’s cell presented a vast and dark stain; was it mold? You didn’t doubt that the Doctor’s management skills didn’t include building renovations when needed; you were sure the Abbé would have, though.

This thought, added to a sudden putrid smell that reached your nostrils, made you realize it wasn’t just plain mold…

“Y/N.”.

 You heard your name being called by the former priest, not in a happy tone, nor the usual trembling, unsure and unstable tone he always had with the Doctor. His tone was dark, low, and threatening, it sent shivers down your spine; yet, you weren’t sure if they were shivers of fear or excitement, you only knew that tone wasn’t normal. So you turned around to look at him, flinching at what you saw.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”, François asked again with a creepily calm tone now, deeply looking into your eyes, his own wide eyes and his trembling pupils were giving you chills down your spine. He was so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, his presence was menacing you, making you instinctively step back, your back soon bumped against a wall.

You took a deep breath, trying to collect some guts to face him, despite he was scaring the living hell out of you. Your hands were shaking and sweating, yet they managed to reach his shoulders to push him back. 

“François… you can tell me if something’s wrong…”, you told him with a tender gaze, trying to bring him back to that little spark of sanity left in his mind, and your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks, suddenly removing the barrier you created to keep him away, instead gently leading him closer. Your faces got closer and closer, and your fear faded, replaced by butterflies in your stomach. 

“I…”, he started speaking with a thin voice, his eyes filled with tears as he pulled away from you,  making your heart sink. “I did something terrible… I deserve to stay here.”, he murmured, staring at the floor while his face flushed a deep red, red in shame. You tilted your head, deeply puzzled, what was he talking about?

You noticed his gaze moved to the molded wall, and approached it. Your eyes widened when the patient’s fingers sunk into the wall as if it was made of some soft, gooey substance. François was peering straight into your eyes as he started pulling off fistfuls of that dark and smelly mystery material from the rest of the wall, soon revealing a potato sack falling out of it. 

“No, you didn’t…”, you let out without even noticing, your mind was struggling, not wanting to believe in the most obvious of scenarios. You didn’t even let him answer you and threw yourself over the sack to open it, fighting against the urge to throw up due to the unbearable smell. 

A grey and purplish man had been trapped in there, dark brown stains were all over his face, clotted blood… He was dressed in a black cassock, with a black cape that was covering his – once – golden hair. You immediately knew who that man was, and you immediately realized who had murdered him. 

You raised your gaze on François, who started sobbing in the meanwhile, his crying was loud and messy like a kid’s one. 

“You’ll go call Royer-Collard now…right…? I deserve a lobotomy…!”, he whimpered, his chipped nails leaving bloody scratches on his arms due to the strong stress. He startled you when he started shouting: “I’m a failure! I was meant to guide my patients, my asylum to light! Look at us all! That man didn’t deserve to live in this pit with us all! He wasn’t fit to handle Hell!”. 

His crying and shouting caused a drop in his blood pressure, making him collapse on the floor within seconds; he curled himself into a ball and started whispering, reciting verses from the Holy Bible. That scene made your heart ache even more, that poor man deserved better. 

You approached the corpse and closed it back into the sack, paying attention to not leaving maggots around, they could have raised suspects. 

“Ask Madame LeClerc to prepare you a little bag with your belongings inside, I’ll come and make you get out. We’re leaving at midnight, going to live in a big and luminous house with a scented garden full of plants and flowers.”, you smiled at him before leaving the cell to get rid of the corpse. The former priest was flabbergasted by your words, his face turning red, and his heart swelled with hopes for a brighter future.

Tags: @darknessisafriend @werewolf-and-go-wild @thatdummy-girl @indieblair @ajokeformur-ray @fly-like-a-phoenix @hebimoonlightwrites @jokerflecker @callmejokerr @pursuit-of-comedy @five-miles-over

[mariliva-mello]

A paz não se compra com o sacrifício da verdade.

- João Calvinio

[wally-b-feed]

Anthony Fineran, Grey Maroc Abbe, 2024

[zephfallen]

Abbe Glasses

<a href="https://www.tomoson.com?code=TOP5c6215663ede260ba4139ecb83ec55cf" rel="nofollow" style="display: none;"></a>

So I finally got my new @abbeglasses in today and I absolutely love them! I was so excited I couldn't even wait until I got home to try them out. So I sat in the parking lot of the post offoce and took pics lol.

Inexpensive and absolutely gorgeous frames!I have been wanting some cat eye glasses for a while, now I finally got what I wanted! What do you think?

Yes they have prescription lenses and all. Check them out at https://www.abbeglasses.com/glasses/cheap-eyeglasses-Free-Glasses.html

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[dailyholmes]

"Look at that mark on the seat of the oaken chair!" The Adventure of the Abbey Grange. Published in The Strand Magazine. Sidney Paget, 1904

Sources 1 2

[postcard-from-the-past]

Catholic satire by the ex-priest Abbé Noé Chabot

French vintage postcard

[2t2r]

Les paysages d'un autre monde du lac Abbe

Nouvel article publié sur https://www.2tout2rien.fr/les-paysages-dun-autre-monde-du-lac-abbe/

Les paysages d'un autre monde du lac Abbe