#Camilla Tilling

[libraryleopard]

based on my expert bookseller perusal of upcoming titles i believe a theme in young adult fiction this fall will be "gay guys with magic powers falling for the undead"

[dionysus2xborn]

hc for the crossover fic to come

so a random idea came to me the other day i was wearing a wife beater that had some stain that looked like blood and i remembered, ‘ah, yes thats because it is because your a clutz but then i was like first off Nigel is so that chaotic mess bitch to do that and second would he not also fuck with Henry? i think he’d loooove fucking with him. so what if he purposely wore the very same wife beater he had on for the murder, stained with blood and everything and just acts nonchalant about it. Whole time giving him that face, yall know that face. The eyes! ugh! i can seeeee it!!!! Henry would seem calm but be like THIS MOTHER FUCKERRRRR on the inside. 

(this is a jot. this line just really butters my biscuit. *giggle*) Only, it was a wife beater after all, but he looked like Bunny and his inadvertent blood splatters had been on par with a dog that just pissed on his new gucci loafers. thots? (and prayers, these hoes need jesus)

[delicrieux]

. . . l'oeuf

˙⋆✮ summary. just another evening at henry's.

pairing. henry winter x f!reader warnings. smoking, swearing, mentioned drug use, bad aspirin use specifically, use of alcohol, +18 (p n v sex, no condom henry DOES NOT care, very minimal dirty talk), pretentiousness, an inkling of classicism, bunny™ wc. 6.9k ✧˖°.

author's note. happy october everyone ! i always wanted to write smth for the loml henry winter but i never had the patience to sit down and do it. well, now i did. this was written with prompt 1. thick, acrid smoke. feel free to rqs more for the prompty thingies! x . . . side note! the fic is named by this song since i listened to it while writing. you can draw a metaphor from it if willing

creds. hd., div.

mlist | buy me coffee ♡ྀ

it was at the start of october on that fateful senior year that you had found yourself in henry winters illustrious townhouse. from the lacquered brazillian hardwood floorboards to the ivory plasterwork on the ceilings – every corner pertained a certain degree of finery that reflected poorly on the rest of its objects: a well-worn armchair perpetually stuck in henry’s physique and fraying at the edges, the trampled rug that snaked upstairs and held all of your secrets, the coffee table with too many wine stains. in the dim light, the dried rorschach looked like blood.

the present company consisted of six and was slowly dwindling. your dear friend francis, the only boy who had never cared to peek up your skirt in childhood tennis practice, was a moment from collapsing into himself like a weary, old star. holding a champagne coupe from which he exclusively drunk only campari, he had thrown himself over henry’s couch not unlike a discontent lead from a penny dreadful novel. his face kept twisting according to the sounds: bunny’s voice was met with pursed lips and a tightly shut eye (only one, closest to bunny’s person sat by the aforementioned coffee table), charles’ – with a look of defeated boredom, and in the odd bouts of silence and music, bliss.

you offered him a cigarette, and he barely managed to crane his neck to kiss the knuckles of a helping hand before he snatched it away and searched his pockets for a lighter.

sweet camilla sat by the fire, with her knees drawn to her chest. one black stocking was torn on the side, rippling up her calf and sneaking into her inner knee, an action bunny had noted and all had taken particular interest in. there had been a metaphor about literature resembling her glossy stockings – all that language and reference weaved into a fabric that stretched till it could no more, thus marking the end of innovation and intertextuality. a book can only fit so much, and as all of them cared for ancient greek only – a language that no one spoke, and so, could never refine past its perfect state – the topic soon waned in favor of more brandy.

bunny cowed a story about richard papen, the outsider that had joined their coterie, who was not present, as he had not been invited. he was a fine orator, had a specific sense of humor that, while not always understood, could charm an audience when fidgeted with enough. only bunny was too drunk, and his glass of whiskey kept spilling on his trousers till it left an undignified blotch crowned by cigarette ashes, which only painted him a blubbering buffoon. ‘the fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool,’ came to mind as you admired the embers dancing in the halo of his blond hair.

then, there was charles, drunk as always, who had opted to lay by camilla’s feet, the place where bunny’s drunken attempts of metaphor had landed him.

lastly, there was henry, your own personal virgil, who had not wanted you to come, but allowed it still. he looked tired from across the room, an arm thrown over the cushions of the armchair in which he sat. in his left hand he held a book, a cover and a title too out of frame for your eyes to see; amber reflected in his wiry glasses, the color of his brandy bottle (half empty) before the orange glow of the fire burned it copper. a plume of cigarette smoke curled into the ceiling from his two fingers. only he could have full concentration among the chaotic symphony in the living room.

the record spun to silence, and you quickly abated your seat on the windowsill to pad to the cabinet and change the vinyl. the collection of classics had not increased since your last visit, which was roughly a week ago, and it had not changed since henry moved out the dorms during the winter of your junior year. there were chopin’s nocturnes and etudes, beethoven’s piano sonatas, and wagner’s tristan and isolda, just to name a few. something lulling, quiet. you picked debussy and placed the needle. lilting, soft and steady, like you supposed love would feel.

instantly, you were met with bunny’s ire.

“no, no,” a wave and a body too weak to stop you. you ensured he was gifted your most sly smile, “no, woman, put on somethin’, somethin’ grand,” a larger wave, like a poorly coordinated conductor, he smacked his hand too close to francis’ head. a groan from charles, as if he had grown nauseous from watching the motions, “somethin’ for me and charlie here,”

charles tried to turn away in his discontent, yet did not manage. camilla, concerned, laid a hand on his shoulder, “should we go? i think we should head home.”

“see?” bunny’s accusing tone found you once more, “you’re scaring the guests. put on some real music. like the... the...” he trailed off, lighting another cigarette. for good luck, one could imagine, “like goddamn— listen to led zeppelin, man! the rolling stones!”

you glanced to henry and found yourself surprised. a shared look.

“no such things in our humble repertoire,” you stated.

“mile davis, at least?”

“no,”

“i don’t believe you,”

“you’re free to check for yourself.”

amidst this small argument, which was much too common when dealing with bunny, camilla had somehow managed to wrestle charles into standing on his own two feet. unstable, he leaned onto his sister, the added weight making her stagger.

“goodness, take care of charles,” bunny whined, though his complaints never amounted to more than simple sulking. you chose not to pay them much mind.

it was henry that helped, carefully balancing his book on the armrest and coming to take charles from camilla’s embrace.

“should i drive you home?” he asked.

camilla shook her head, en route to retrieve her red scarf and new coat, “no, no, we’ll call a taxi.”

it was always mildly fascinating watching the two interact. camilla, never able to meet his gaze directly and for too long, and henry, who only ever extended wordless aid without prompt or reason to her only. what had she done to earn such favor was beyond you – beyond everyone, perhaps – but you were certain you weren’t the only one that saw this careful act of piety and kindness.

you observed them shuffle out after moments on the telephone, camilla’s hand ghosting henry’s arm, or grazing the bend of his elbow, and only when they disappeared past the large door to wait for the taxi did you look away.

loving henry winter was a sisyphean task, unworthy of the effort which it required. you thought yourself too smart for it, and thus, never cared to entertain the notion, not even when he kissed you.

you caught bunny staring at you: not scrutinizing, not calculating – simply staring. a curious leer that often fell on you after some semblance of mirth had worn down. almost shy, somewhat longing.

“this richard of yours,” you began, helping yourself to henry’s lucky strike. out of all the brands that you had smoked, this was the most bitter and always left a tart taste in the back of your throat. you craved it, “papen, was it?”

“yup,” bunny mumbled into his glass.

“and how is he?” your gaze jumped from him to francis.

“poor,” bunny said.

“californian,” francis tacked on.

“but he pretends he isn’t,” bunny continued.

“californian?” your brows rose. the smell, the taste – too powerful, almost choking.

“no, no,” bunny shook his head, disoriented for a moment, “rich. pretends to be rich. see, i didn’t tell you this, but,” and he reached for henry’s cigarettes, too, even if his own pack laid abandoned, two-three left untouched. he did this, at times, this odd mimicry: you smoked, he smoked what you did, you drank, he drank what you did, you decided a getaway to italy was your dream destination for a week and later learned he had haggled henry into buying tickets for the two of them, “but i, you know me: never judge a book by its cover, i say. invited him to dinner. the usual place, the one on-”

“god,” francis winced, and if he could move, surely he’d flee, “stop talking.”

“the lady asked, am i to deny her now? i thought he wouldn’t show, but he does, doesn’t he? with a goddamned tweed jacket, like i wouldn’t notice,” he hiccupped mid-explanation, the liquor long congealed into his system, “and, you know, me, i know people. i know people. i see them for what they are, and i knew he was a no good cheat from a mile away, but hey,” a straight spine, a bit proud, “i think to myself, you know what, old man, i’m gonna give this guy a chance. pop’s always-”

“aspirin,” francis interjected, this time directed at you, “bring me some, would you, juliet?”

you snorted, “a moment,”

“thank you, desdemona. you’re a midsummer night’s dream,”

“she’s from othello,”

“my point stands.”

you sauntered off into henry’s kitchen and scoured his cupboards for painkillers. the layout of this place you knew too well – perhaps, even, if you closed your eyes, you could discern each obstacle and map it in front of your eyes with the grace and certainty of a guidebook. you did just that.

behind you, a sudden coldness pierced through the humidity and a door shut harshly. the influx of fresh air was a brief slap to the face.

it’s been silent for a while now.

“what are you doing?” henry’s voice, not close, yet not too far. always observing at a distance, since closeness was never his intention. henry winter. what a fitting name.

“looking for aspirin.”

the tick of an unseen clock.

“top drawer,” there was no urgency; something you didn’t understand was what made him hurry to answer, “i hid them there. bunny keeps stealing my entire cabinet.”

your eyes fluttered open, “my, my. what a snitch,”

“don’t give him the aspirin,”

“it’s for francis,”

“very well.”

an impasse. you closed the cabinet and thought against bringing water with you, knowing it’s unneeded.

“may i?” henry asked, and when you turned to look at him, he was as always – unbreakable, unmovable. expectant, perhaps, his heavy gaze a familiar pressure upon your cheekbones, the curve of your jaw, your swollen mouth (from biting, not being kissed).

“they’re yours,” you said easily, turning the cap and spilling a few into the bed of your palm as he approached, “here.”

to make matters harder, there’s but a foot of space between the two of you. the smallest separation, every part of him and every part of you entangled into one odd constellation. an immensity of motion before him and an immensity of energy after.

“water?”

“whiskey.”

“is it also hidden?”

“no.”

so you retrieved him a glass, and then the bottle, and lastly you poured the amount enough to swallow in one gulp. when he took and drank, and you watched his adam’s apple bob, you wondered, briefly and hazily, was your act in any way similar to camilla’s. a star that constantly drew him into her orbit.

“you didn’t leave,” he uttered quietly, tired eyes flicking to the maw of the kitchen opening. down the foyer, the firelight danced. bunny���s voice rose in a toast, no doubt to shake francis out of his stupor.

“i did,” you said, a slow smile curling, “what you see before you is a specter. the delirious imaginings of an impoverished mind.”

“ridiculous,” the quirk of his eyebrows: mock-offended.

“amusing,” the narrow of your eyes: contagious, “was everything my spirit foretold the same as you saw it unfold?”

weariness. you looked for it and found it easy enough. his fingers flexed, his tongue went behind his teeth. the cogs turned. for all his genius, henry was too susceptible to fable and entirely too superstitious. he could ward himself off it well, yet when his inhibitions were down, there was a hint of something else, a spark of pious faith in the impossible, what not might come next. he kept looking at you for an extended moment, until the corner of his mouth, minutely, drew up into a not-quite-smile.

“hermia!” came francis’ voice from the other room, “i’m dying.”

henry said nothing.

you expected bunny drunkenly swinging an almost empty bottle around to try and cheer up francis (it rarely worked, unless it was wine), and yet, he wasn’t there. the living room felt very big, somehow, devoid of him and the makings of his gullible heart.

“and where is bun?” you questioned, almost scolding.

“bathroom,” francis succeeded sitting up, yet only just.

you heard henry curse under his breath. he disappeared, and soon you heard the continents of a stomach emptying down the hall and henry’s monotone behind a closed door.

“time to end this sabbath, me thinks,” you said. francis took the pills with a fresh glass of campari, nose scrunching from the taste.

“d’you think henry could drive me home?” francis asked.

“do you trust him with your life?”

“do you think he’d let me die?”

“depends,”

“no. i’ll cab it,”

“wise decision.”

henry returned, seemingly exhausted from his small adventure. no one followed after.

“bun?” you asked again, which seemed to displease him. he only shook his head. passed out, then. unfortunate, yet expected. if bunny could somehow gain authority over all of henry’s things – even the minute ones, the ones that don’t matter and exist in the peripherals without henry’s notice – he would. it was the same reason francis once insisted that bunny had been in love with you.

the incident occurred during your first year of college in early november. a rather somber and chilly day with leaves sticking to wet asphalt and stone walls amidst the rainy season. a monday. bunny had broken his ankle and complained terribly about it, and henry, who had become his caretaker, was sick of it and instead abhorred him. by accident and complete mischance, the handling of bunny corcoran had fallen onto your graceful shoulders, and in a single day – full of obsolete complaints and impulsive questions – the theorized affection was born.

if there was a way in which bunny’s countenance had changed in your presence, it was lost on you, for your attention, at the time, was solely pilfered by charles. he was, back then, the most handsome of the greek class, and oddly enough, the only one pleasant, thus you sought his favor. but charles never returned your fondness, no matter how minuscule it could be, and he never gave the impression of fleeting interest. only sometimes, when he thought you would not catch him, he would stare at you for a bit too long. you never got to figure out what he had thought in those moments.

instead, you figured yourself an actor – a pretty one at that – and decided to ignore this indelicate sort of charm and pursue a new mark. there were many, of course, plenty of faces to consider, yet the outcome was always the same. as it were, they were all terribly boring and reminded you greatly of the peers you’ve encountered in private schools, the self-proclaimed intellectuals of the new age that had too much time and too much heartbreak on their hands. good looks aside, not the slightest hint of culture nor comprehension, just money and nothing to show for it.

and then there was henry, of course, so quintessentially different that his existence, still, was hard to define. something outside the realm of you. something above or beyond, or perhaps below – always somewhere you could not reach. there was an irrecoverable arrogance to him and in his aloof demeanor. an inviolable space that never invited others.

yes, there had to be some appeal to the strangeness of him, yet never could you put your finger on what exactly it was. at least, not immediately. at first sight, though, there were more poetic reasons to it – of the tragic and of the divine kind, yet that was no truth but some novel-born whim, a pointless obsession, some meager infatuation. an involuntary fetish. he had not wanted you, which only made it so that you wanted him in turn. it wasn’t an ugly thing – it simply was.

he must’ve known. henry always seemed to possess the knowledge of things you had never dared to question or to think twice of. or, perhaps, maybe not: but, despite your inability to identify the cause of it, there was a certain change to your disposition upon entering his shared room. one, maybe, akin to the sudden fear brought by dark enclosed spaces, though a bit more subtle and complex.

it was, ironically, a winter’s night.

when you phoned the same taxi and requested it’s return, francis spoke in a hazy murmur, sluggishly trying to shrug on the coat you brought him, “god, i really need a cigarette.”

“hm?”

“do you see mine anywhere?”

a rueful search, hands grabbing the scattered glass and hardbound that littered the surface of the coffee table. a valiant attempt to move the couch cushions and dip fingers into the cracks.

“no,”

“well, fuck me,”

henry offered his, but francis refused. the living room lit up in that thick, acrid smoke anyway.

the foyer echoed with your footsteps. outside the townhouse, rain had started again. a few drops at first, tapping the windows, before quickly it grew and gained weight. soon, it was battering against the glass.

with your scarf in your hands you suddenly found yourself unsure what to do with it. the taxi was coming and it was time to go home and plead to a higher power for reprieve from the headache you knew would cripple you in the morning. perhaps, an afternoon tomorrow to mull around, dazed. yet there was no respite in any of that. you realized, then, with this abrupt trepidation, that the cause of your discomfort, or the cause that exacerbated it, was within this confided space. a chasm-deep disquiet, like an open mouth of a ravine, dark and shadowy, or the pull of a tide at sea, which was, as they say, irresistible to even the most levelheaded.

somewhat uneasily, you lingered by the coat hanger, and when francis ambled over, tripping over his own two feet, he downed the rest of his campari and shoved the glass into your useless hands. then, he kissed your cheek, quick and wet, before ripping the door open and shoving it closed behind you, hence halting your escape.

the house was deafened, and your palms itched. the overwhelming urge to twiddle with your scarf became unbearable, or it was because a pair of eyes bore into you from the depths of the room. the closest thing you’ve ever considered to a tangible aura: the smell of ozone and rain water and tobacco.

“don’t suppose he’s waiting in the rain, is he?” you said.

“no, i don’t think he is.”

it didn’t make sense, none of what happened afterward – the decision to face him instead of making off into the chilling night. your arms crossed in a quiet and peculiar motion, clutching the coupe a bit too tight.

“whiskey?” henry offered, and you felt like the silly ingénue in some high-brow noir thriller donning all that cashmere by the door, “or bourbon.”

“fine.”

a crease of his eyebrow – the sole indication of surprise. your jacket found its rightful place on the rack along with that dreaded scarf. hesitance was unfamiliar to you, as you had not known it growing up – neither a sense of propriety nor a loss of footing. the dandy act had been adopted and perfected to such a degree that to relinquish the mask itself was oddly relieving, the discomfort born merely by knowing that francis was aware of your unusual situation and the upcoming events that would take place once the theater was done. there was a brief thought to how henry might’ve perceived you then. perhaps the removal of a layer of pretense might’ve intrigued him, if anything.

you remained at a slight distance and watched him traverse his domain, stepping around the askew items left behind by bunny and a bottle of gin haphazardly upended by charles, warm by the fire. there was an anomalous sort of patience to him. the silence was an abrasion. so often, you found yourself chattering to fill the void, even with other men who took the shape of strangers.

“there’s quite a storm brewing,” you said, only to be met with more silence. when your words simpered, the feeling they left was inexplicably ominous. ‘all that is transitory is but a symbol,’ yet only a bad poet would dare to draw a soliloquy from henry’s figure by the flames.

thus, you sat down on the couch, still warm from francis, and held up the beloved champagne coupe. henry’s hand did not tremble as it poured, but your fingers quivered when his attention fell onto you.

“is it good?”

you never felt the alcohol, only the burning in the back of your throat.

“very,”

he found himself beside you, not too close. the distance was not unlike orpheus’ journey, or so it appeared in the dim firelight – the familiar pangs of the unwilling, the sudden, selfish urge of wanting to see him in his entirety, his visage unhindered

“may i?” you asked, meaning, of course, his cigarette. he acquiesced easily. the only telltale of his everlasting unbothered mien: his focus had, and always seemed to be, too acute. it was enough to unnerve anyone. flattering, perhaps, if only you could tell what he was thinking, but you never could.

in your lap, the half-empty coupe. you left a smudge of your lipstick on the cigarette butt. henry inhaled. it was not unlike a kiss.

“francis mentioned you didn’t want to see me,” you said.

“i didn’t,” he responded.

“a lie, was it then?”

“you assume to know?”

“yes.”

another drag. smoke parted his mouth, slow as molasses and heavy as clouds.

“you’ve changed,” you said.

conversation with henry had always been difficult, before and after your frequent follies in the dark. if you did speak, it was never about one another, or anything that resided past skin and bone, nestled somewhere in the marrow, only felt. in instances where you did find common ground it was only ever art – literature, specifically, and when he was in a good mood, painting. henry only had one fascination and refused to entertain others; here lied his fatal flaw. thus, in a crowd of three and more, you could exchange remarks that would seem and sound important but held no real meaning.

“what sort of change have you noticed?” henry murmured. the lighting cast shadows. his hands twitched.

you were not sure, as you remembered him in much more detail and color. here, ashen-faced and obscured, all you saw was the ghost of his image, as though he had grown morose in a way that a single season could not alter. the greek class had often suffered for the aesthetic – self-imposed punishments of grandeur and excess that to everyone outside their circle seemed quite ridiculous, along with their dark clothes and mysterious miens and enigmatic jokes. some said they were haunted or blessed, but none envied them. alas.

troubled is the closest you could find, though if you were to voice it, he might take you for a child. it was never good to seek out his vulnerability. he would say you could never find it, and, inevitably, it would end up being the truth. henry wasn’t good at love. no one of were.

you shrugged, “you’ve become quiet.”

“am i, now?”

“more so than you’ve been,”

“perhaps you’ve just gotten better at listening,”

“unlikely,”

henry cocked his head. his hand, once again, twitched and there was an urge to reach out and grasp his fingers – some sort of absolution or at least a consolation for something neither one of you might’ve cared to mention. never did the man in front of you appear unsure, yet somehow, despite his best effort to the contrary, you felt a similar trepidation of an undefined thing.

henry was impossible to read. not just a mystery, but undeciphered in ways so beyond the mundane. over the years, you had collected enough clues to form a humble dictionary, yet much of what was missing could only be determined through his own misfortune and complacency – things which would, then, by nature and by fate, stray into your arms.

it did not matter, not entirely, at least. you did not love henry, but you thought that camilla did, and he, in turn, her. once you exhausted your inspection, perhaps you would pass that glossary to her, though you doubted that she would ever find any use for it.

“well,” henry said, “i suppose that’s to be expected. anything else?”

“would you enjoy a dissection?”

henry hummed, perhaps in agreement or curiosity, but it was very possible that he thought you foolish.

“no need,” he said, “yours is transparent.”

“really?” you countered, “they never are. people, i mean.”

“who are you thinking of?”

your mind drifted to bunny, likely curled on the cold tiles of the bathroom. with the first few buttons of his shirt popped and tie loosened, there was the picture of one not withering away but merely on the incline of a steep and lonely hill. all quiet in the dark of a windowless room from which he couldn’t even turn his head and see the stars.

it felt as though he would wake soon and interrupt. his presence always breached spaces he did not occupy, and the anticipation of his arrival always lingered in the air, unspoken but palpable. perhaps bunny would always exist in the shadowy corner-room between you and henry, because, if what francis said was true, henry was the first to know of it and had you, still.

you wondered if he regretted it, if he felt like brutus sticking the first knife into caesar’s rib, closest to the heart. you considered asking: in that moment, the urge felt insurmountable. instead, you said, “a little bit of everyone.”

inclined, you caught his gaze. an abysmal color and a disorienting shade, as deep and gloomy as the woods surrounding mount cataract.

“and me?”

“of course,” you smiled and slid a bit closer, “it’s not like you to ask. have you become sentimental?”

“not exactly,” his eyes moved to his hands. then, the flecks in the fireplace, the piles on the floor, “i’ve been thinking.”

“care to elaborate?”

“no,” he said. you understood his need for privacy, and a small part of you could appreciate his effort, or maybe, rather, that you got something of an answer at all. he did, occasionally, tend to disappear in thought. he remained, despite his reluctance, sitting with you. this, in a way, spoke more to you than the words that could never leave his mouth.

“this weather makes a body wistful,” you told him, “and the greek have always liked their tragedies.”

he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth before lighting another cigarette, “what do you know of greek?”

always the same argument. always the same contradiction. your attraction was tempestuous, and so, it should have surprised you neither the sudden bite or the wicked sense of amusement.

“all that any student would, naturally,”

“so, nothing,”

“i suppose,” you would not admit, for he would win, “henry,”

something in his posture betrayed him, but it was not his eyes, nor his tone, “yes?”

you were close then, much closer than you were moments ago. his lips thinned in a brittle, noncommittal line and his eyes drooped – more of a warning than anything.

“are you going to kiss me?” you asked.

he wanted to, he must’ve, for it had been the only sensible action – you always pressed for what would hurt least. to drown and swallow poison. it was a favorite, and, for some reason, one he allowed, like an agreement reached. to your knowledge, he only ever let himself indulge in you.

henry only leaned in, which was enough for you. his mouth, a second, not any less tantalizing than the first. and you had kissed him with a brazen softness, enough that his hands snaked to grasp the back of your neck. another hit. the smoke and ash settled deep in your lungs. you had pushed it out in a groan when he dropped his hands to your thighs, pressing hard and confident as he had on those nights when you found each other too lonely. the ache he created was wonderful.

you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled it until it untucked. he swallowed and whispered in a language you were familiar with but couldn’t speak, and lifted your skirt.

you kept the cigarette between your teeth as he mouthed down your jaw and neck. his finger traced the skin at the back of your knee and that tickling spot right below your ribs. goosebumps rose and followed his touch. he nipped at the crook of your neck and dragged you onto his lap.

“you are dressed far too heavily, and terribly,” you heard him say, and when his lips found the shell of your ear, you could not stifle the shiver. the whole room felt claustrophobic, hot and steamy, like the aftermath of a scalding bath. your breaths grew labored. you closed your eyes against it and clawed into his arm.

henry said, again, this time more slowly and with a dull emphasis, “terribly.”

“how dare you insult my taste,”

“would you allow for a remediation of my sins?”

“luckily, i’m in an agreeable mood.”

henry’s own sigh was long and somewhat labored, as though a great pressure had been taken off him. and his hands flexed, moving up and down your back. a rare instance, to find him restless. you could admire this in private.

the press of lips to your neck. the collarbone, jutting sharp in the firelight.

there was the urge, sudden and quite novel, to caress his face, cup his cheek, graze the edge of the scar of the eye that’s colder than its twin, that shrouds you in a mist. such an act was outlawed, naturally, thus, the opportunity came and went, carried away on a drafting wind of smoke. an irredeemable misfortune, and you flicked the cigarette into your abandoned coupe.

“are you comfortable?” the gentle cadence of his voice sent a wave through the warmest depths of your abdomen.

“yes.”

henry, having brushed away your stockings, stroked at the insides of your thighs. there was a light feeling in your head, an almost dizzying sway. a subtle rocking, like boats at port, from where the two of you were perched. his digits dug into the firm meat. beneath his hands, a stretch of burning skin and sinew. muscle clenched and quivered, “terribly inconvenient, by the way.”

“how do you mean?”

“all the layers,” he muttered.

“good,”

“never good,”

and then, suddenly: “are you wet?”

“if you touched me properly, you could tell,”

henry ignored your response. his hand climbed upward, and found a place between the gusset and the middle seam, rubbing, testing.

“recently,” you said, “i’ve become fascinated with joseph cornell.”

“you’re stalling,” henry informed you without inflection, slipping a finger through the damp center. a harsh noise of pleasure left you when his tongue slid between your lips. one, then two, circling and sinking with the utmost delicacy.

“why? are you not curious to hear what i think of his boxes?” you managed, halfway.

another stroke. his thumb rubbing, slow and considerate, in the spot that makes your toes curl, tight and demanding. when his eyes opened and found yours, it was almost comical – his fingers in you, mouth and mind on a completely different path, yet the connection was there all the same. even more so, while trying to be detached, fumbling over buttons and laces.

“no,”

“you might learn something,”

he quirked a brow, “you truly wish to waste time talking?”

“aren’t you?”

“i am taking an assessment of your willingness to submit,”

“are you certain it’s not the other way around?”

henry rarely responded with malice; each action was carefully devised and, in conjunction, quite merciless. in this case, he dropped his hand from the vee of your legs and tugged at his shirt collar. the emptiness was startling, as was the feeling of tension that coiled tightly in your gut. then, he grabbed his drink and sipped from the sparkling glass. petty revenge, something he always assured was beneath him.

sensing defeat, you decided to placate him. after a dramatic roll of your eyes, you slipped onto the ground and knelt.

“henry,” you began, and reached for the fly of his pants. the outline of his cock was obvious beneath the smooth fabric, thick and promising, “home ruler,” in one instance of drunken curiosity, the lot of you agonized the meaning of your names, that perhaps they, somehow, unknowingly dictated your fate, “unwilling to shed his crown. is the head not heavy? most kings lost theirs, you know.”

“flattery doesn’t suit you.”

“folly, then,” you replied, dragging the flat of your palm across his groin and taking pleasure in the strained hiss, “are you going to let me do as i please?”

“i think that is,” at the peak of his inhale, you reached into his trousers and curled your fingers around his stiff cock, “quite apparent.”

you grinned, lazy but triumphant, thumbing the blunt ridge. smudging the dribble of white at the leaking head and reveling in his restrained reactions: the minute tremors, the twitch of his jaw, a gasp caught in his throat. you would have kissed him, again. his face might’ve twitched, something uncontrollable that would’ve given away his longing, if only he hadn’t pushed it down.

with a slow pump, your hand traveled. the size was admirable, familiar, nearly to the point of nostalgia. henry had touched more parts of your body than some of the lovers you took as an earnest attempt for passion. you had begged him once, half-gone, half-wild with what you thought was need and impatience, to only fuck you – without his clever mouth and his careful hands, but he hadn’t said yes, no, had only grabbed your jaw and pressed a sucking kiss to the soft and sensitive skin beneath your ear. a promise, almost. and in a way, it had been.

“you remember?”

henry’s voice snapped you to attention, and when you looked up, his expression matched his darkened eyes, intense. something flared hot and needy in you, and with it, the desire to be open and dripping for him. he curled a hand in the small hairs on the back of your neck, stroking the skin there and, even briefly, allowed himself an indulgence in the pleasure he could get from a single touch, and rocked his hips.

“vividly,” you told him.

the flames, behind you, cast him entirely in silhouette, and his shadow projected forward and rose tall, stretched. a ruler, indeed.

his chest moved slow and purposefully, and when he released your hair, the lack of contact felt like a shock to the system. his hand closed around your forearm, “come here.”

the tone, hoarse and hushed and so quietly demanding, startled you, and you stood up so quickly that your head spun. henry placed his hands on your hips, steadying, ushering you back to where you belonged.

“just there.”

legs, parted, framing his waist. fabric, bunched between your thighs. breathing, slowed. a firm, calming weight, pinning you down. the firelight glinted in his eyes.

“henry,” you called. and the only thing to signal his movement was a bob of his adam’s apple. the cufflinks of his sleeves swayed and flickered. he hummed, neither affirmation nor disagreement and entered you with a grunt.

more. skin flushed. eyes crinkled and tightened. more. nails curled and scrabbled for purchase.

there, your name on his lips. it was disorienting – not so much a cry, or a whisper, but something between the two. henry always spoke carefully, as though each word should carry the most weight, so each syllable, in turn, he would construct and cut, meticulous and mathematical. but here, breathless and wanting, they rolled out in a steady litany, never faltering.

all fire and scorching, the pitch of it high and needy. to thrust and bruise, the idea fizzed bright and brilliant at the apex of your spine. with each snap of his hips, a part of him carved a piece of you out, and each ragged noise shook loose a piece of your skin. it would fit him perfectly. then he would slide right into those hollow spaces that swelled and throbbed, expanding beyond tolerance. in moments like these, you loved him – his body, his touch, his face, everything that could not be articulated.

“please,” you begged him, trying to curl around the ache, “i want-”

“i know, i know,” he murmured, with a tilt of his head. his hair, you noticed, had lost its immaculate shape, wild and frazzled by your fingers. your heart swelled and contracted: you wanted to do it again, over and over until his whole countenance resembled nothing more than that of a ravaged man. your power, the only thing you had over him. henry closed his eyes.

“spread your legs a little wider,”

a moan slipped when his tongue flicked and curled against the side of your neck, wet and sloppy. the sweet roll of his hips, his fingers pulling at the buttons of your attire and squeezing the fleshy swell of your buttocks. it was always too much.

you licked your lip, shaking when his teeth gently pinched. and, for a moment, the smell of pine permeated the room. as though it were his own sweat and the heady musk of his natural scent, and not a waning bottle of cologne.

“hold onto me,” henry whispered and allowed for nothing more, driving the movement out of your hands. the tempo spiraled upward. at the center, the tension was building. there was a moment of vertigo.

and it was easy enough, as things had always been between the two of you, to ignore the disjointed voices in the back of your mind. how when you two first kissed, it’d been without grace. how the rain fell, trickled, all around you, drowning the dryness in your throat. how the next day, he asked if you would regret what you’d done. and here, now, a different but striking feeling: the warm haze brought on by alcohol, his palms were hot, slick with sweat, his belt digging into you.

henry grunted and swore to a god neither of you had put much faith in. the flush on his cheeks was impossible not to reach out and touch, his eyebrow scarred with the same sort of smooth texture and fading red, his lashes, long and fine, flickering against the high edge of his cheekbones. i love you, you wanted to tell him, but the high struck you ruthlessly, turning you to liquid.

in the aftermath of this brief paradise, you shared a look.

“i still despise this weather,” you said.

henry’s mouth quirked. and what had been the impulsive dalliances of two desperate people became, once more, two lonely creatures with enough distance between to fill one of henry’s beloved epics. the quiet, in the wake of catharsis, was rather terrifying, and the clatter outside – the rain, the wind, and the cold – almost accusatory. he offered you a cigarette.

you took it without thank you and let him light it.

“should i drive you home?” he offered, voice raspy. his shirt had wrinkles and his collar sat funny. the skin beneath was pink, and there was the barest mark where you had sunk your teeth or dug a nail too hard. you bit the end of the filter, watching the flame waver before rising into ash.

“you’re drunk,” it felt necessary to remind him, though it never stopped him.

“do you want me to drive you home?” he asked again. a long pull and a thin veil of smoke.

“yes,” you said, “i’ll go wake bunny.”

“no,”

“no?”

“stop it.”

“stop what?”

“speaking of him,”

“has he done something?”

silence.

“henry?”

“leave it,” he said, but his tone was tight.

“alright. i’ll get my coat, then,”

“of course,” he murmured, standing slowly. you shouldn’t have seen him put his hand against the wall to steady himself, as though any drunken spell had fled, and with it, his equilibrium. the movement was both conscious and contrived, a fact of necessity, and not like the rest of him, braced by his surroundings and firm in stature. a self-constructed illusion, designed to project a set of attributes meant to create the atmosphere of authority. he embodied it well, but he was still, stripped of the mythos, simply human.

you watched him settle and raise his head with a gentle exhale. a mere lift of his shoulders, and he resembled a man in control, content, satisfied – everything henry was, and yet, within the façade, you could see the truth of his discomfort, recently, and without fault, brought upon by an uttered name.

in the upcoming months, you would understand and wonder if there was something you could have done or said to warn him of a future that was inevitable. no matter how many nights you had spent distressing over this question, the answer would always make itself obvious.

there was nothing you could have ever done.

thank you for reading !

[barblaz-arts]

Hi Barb

I seen your snippet and I have to say I look forward to it since not only you are a great artist but also a talented writer ! I wish something like this happened in the future (cannon).

Charlie jealous of the Carmines because she have Vaggie alone for around four years till the Carmines show up and take Vaggie away from her(not most of the time but still ) I mean she is an only child of powerful and richest being she have her things alone and spoils even when she move out of her parents place and spent her time alone she got Vaggie who also spoils her but not that much spoils compared to her parents since Vaggie have common sense and I headcanon that Vaggie discipline Charlie for years since they are together .

Imagine, you with yours girlfriend for ages you found her secret the she kept from you since the beginning now both of you make up and your bond is stronger than before but now her space is wider and have room for more people not only you and she spends less time with you because she give her time to others that she admire and found. Also she seems happy and more alive.

Charlie is a princess but She is a Hell’s Princess. She may better than people in both Hell and Heaven but she still a demon.

To be fair, I think Carmilla and Vaggie both have a lot of things in common (from my perspective I always open for another opinion I like to read yours since you don’t jump into the conclusion that Lilith is evil like some people here )

1.Both of them are Latina

Maybe came from different countries but still have Spanish(español) as their first language I can imagine if they are speaking in the heat or argument or a discussion they would speak in Spanish and nobody understands what the heck did they just say? also as someone that not having English as my first language talking in my language is help me expressing more than English specially when I let my emotions speak. I believe the same thing would happen to Vaggie and The Carmines. Maybe in the short time , She would open up to them more and quicker than Charlie or the crews.

2. Both of them are the worst liar.

In episode 3, I am certain that most of people in the room know Camilla was the one who killed that Exorcist look at her reaction in the meeting they just don’t know how. And Vaggie said that she herself is the worst’s liar .The only reason she can kept her secret that long because the person she live with is Charlie(Who don’t have a good observing skill and not the best as Zestial at confronting someone to give them answers ). I know Vaggie never lie to Charlie but she also not telling her girlfriend the whole truth which is still wrong , I guess.

3. Both of them are the Keeper and the Protector.

They have someone they love dearly and is their first priority if the threat comes to them ; Carmilla : Odette,Clara > Herself, Vaggie : Charlie > the Crew >…..>Herself(I think Vaggie will probably protect civilians or children and put herself in the bottom of a pyramid because she’s an Angel also a soldier that have common sense to serve and protect people not Country.

4. Both of them are Dancer .

I want more of their screen time in episode seven. Vaggie can follow Camilla after she gets herself together.

5.Respect.

I’m not sure about Latin’s Culture about respect someone that older like Asian . I think Vaggie quite a well mannered person and respectful but it’s something that need to earned form her.

She don’t trust Alastor and his actions since theirs first impression I would say completely disaster. ( She may give him more respect after episode 8 since he fought with them)

About this makes me think if Vaggie meet Zestial when she visits Carmilla she going to like him . Zestial have little screen time but He show us that he’s a gentlemen that respect people boundaries even though he quite a gossip (He’s cute) but if he is someone that the Carmines open up for He maybe the first man that Vaggie feel comfort to be around (about Lucifer,that her father girlfriend and a king of Hell it might be awkward at first but they will get along in different ways)

She called Carmilla ‘Miss Carmine’ I know before She enter to Carmine’s compound she blackmailed her to enter but hey! they get along now.

6. Weapons and Training

I think Vaggie like exercise and enjoy training it’s healthy if you not use it for killing souls once a years. Even she in hell she still training (look at her shape and how she parkour) but she don’t have someone to duel with her that can point her mistake like Camilla (sometimes Clara or Odette )maybe that how they bound .

I can see Vaggie stop by at the Carmines place because she want someone to duel with(there is another word but I forgot) with people who can improve herself to be better.

Camilla is a business woman so when she busy she might send hers daughters to send the angel off but instead three of them bond and ‘play’ together (play: weapons test , duel , Vaggie being a 1st Angel Subject and test what Angel can do etc.)

In conclusion, we need Vaggie and The Carmines bonding time and Charlie being jealous in the background.

Thank you, Sorry for rambling.

It will be more,I promise.

P.S. here’s the sketch that describes my view about this (Also I have writing a some comic but I’m quite busy If you want more context or more sketches feel free to ask because I would love to share 😂)

The bit about Carmilla and Vaggie both being terrible liars sure is interesting. I never considered that!

Their relationship seems to have always been planned to be quite important, if this previous concept for a Ball Episode is anything to go by("Maxine" looks a lot like a prototype version of Carmilla)

I'd love it if they could bond more in the next seasons.

I love the idea of Charlie getting jealous of Carmilla too but for like the wrong reasons. Just to reference the fact that Vaggie and Carmilla's voice actors previously played lovers for In The Heights. It would be so funny.

And omg those sketches are adorable! What a cute art style!

[nhlclover]

drunken | rutger mcgroarty

summary: after going over your limit, your boyfriend has to come and pick you up.

request: yes / no

warnings: drinking, teensy tiny bit of angst

a/n: wrote this instead of studying for my exams... also I'm testing out writing from a different pov not sure how i feel about it

word count: 0.9k

The night started with a promise to yourself that you would stick to your limit of at most four shots and a beer or two. However, with the excitement of it being your friend's birthday and free drinks coming left and right, you had well exceeded that limit.

At 1 am Camilla, the most sober of your group, decided that you guys should go home and get a head start on sobering up. She dragged you and your other drunk friends outside, planting you on the curb. Camilla grabbed your phone, calling your top contact.

Rutger was awoken by his phone ringing from the nightstand, his screen illuminating the whole room. He looked at it, seeing your contact photo on the screen. He pressed the answer button, only for his ear to be filled with shrieks and laughter, followed by a scolding voice.

“Hello?” He asks.

“Rutger?” A voice asked.

Rutger furrowed his brows at the unfamiliar voice coming in the place of what should’ve been his girlfriend’s. “Who’s this?” He asked.

“It’s Camilla!” She shouts. Rutger connects the dots, now recognizing the voice of your friend. “Don’t worry, y/n is fine she just — bitch I told you to sit on the curb we are not going back in the bar!”

Rutger chuckles to himself, knowing she was probably yelling at you. “Sorry, um she just had a little too much to drink and she was supposed to take an Uber home but I don’t want to send her alone. Is there any way you could come and get her?” Camilla asked.

Rutger was out of bed in an instant. “Yeah of course. Can you guys stay with her till I get there?” He asked. Camilla says of course, as Rutger pulls up the location of your phone.

15 minutes later, Rutger’s familiar car is pulling up next to the curb in front of you. He hops out of the car, seeing you sitting next to one of your friends, your head resting on her shoulder. When you spot him, your head shoots up and you scramble to your feet.

“Hey babe.” He chuckles, catching you as you step off the curb.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask, your words slurring together.

“I’m gonna drive you home.” He says. Rutger spots your heels and purse on the ground, grabbing them as you were about to forget them. “Babe, can you put your heels on I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You keep trying to walk to the car, despite your lack of shoes. Rutger grabs a hold of your waist, picking you up off the ground. You squeal, gripping his shoulder and kicking your feet. “Y/n, baby, stop squirming.” Rutger said, tightening his grip on your hips.

“Byeeeeee!” You shout over his shoulder to your friends who await their own Uber.

Rutger opens the passenger door, placing you in his passenger seat and handing you your belongings. He thanks your friends before climbing in the driver's seat and pulling onto the street. You crank the volume of the radio, The Weeknd filling the car and rattling the base. Glancing over at your boyfriend, you looked at him adoringly. His face was briefly illuminated by passing cars and streetlamps.

“God you’re so pretty!” You shout over the music. “I am so so so in love with you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head at your drunk rambling.

“I think we should just go to Vegas and get married, right now.” You suggest. Rutger looks over at your face, which indicates that you’re serious, causing him to let out a loud laugh. “Rut, I’m serious.”

“I think that you're really drunk right now and I don't think you're going to remember any of this.” He says.

“I'm not drunk.” You pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “You're just super blurry right now.”

He laughs once more, causing you to laugh as well. A few minutes later, you guys pull into the driveway, Rutger getting out immediately to come to help you inside the house. He grabbed your shoes and your purse, taking you by the hand and walking inside.

“Let’s go get ready for bed, hm?” Rutger suggests.

As soon as you get into your bedroom, you flop down on the bed. Rutger grabs you a t-shirt from his drawer and some sweatshorts, urging you to change into them.

“Did I tell you how much I love you?” You ask him, taking the clothes.

“You did.” He nods.

Rutger helps you out of your mini-skirt and out of your mesh top. He slips his shirt over your head, a bit of makeup rubbing off on the hem, and helps you step into the shorts. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, albeit a sloppy one due to your drunken state. He pulls away a little quicker than normal, putting you on your side of the bed.

You frown at this. “Am I annoying you?” You ask him.

He turns to you a small smile on his face. “Not at all, baby.” He says, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Are you sure?”

“100%.” He reassures you, climbing into his side of the bed. He removes his glasses and puts them on his side table

“I feel like I’m being annoying though.” You frown, pulling your knees into your chest. “Are you sure I’m not annoying you?”

“If you keep asking I’m going to get annoyed real fast.” Rutger said under his breath, but loud enough that you heard it.

Small tears began to fall down your cheeks. A small sniffle made Rutger flip over and face you, seeing your eyes welling with tears.

“Baby, baby, I’m sorry.” He said. He snakes his arms around you, pulling you into his torso. “That was mean. I’m sorry love.”

He kisses the side of your head, resting his chin on your shoulder

“So I wasn’t being annoying?” You ask again.

“A little.” He admits. “But even when you’re annoying me I still love you.”

[darklinaforever]

Here is the first list of ships that may most likely interest you if you are a fan of Darklina ! Essentially it's about enemies to lover, or a dynamic reminiscent of Beauty and the Beast !

▪︎ Merlin & Morgana. (Mergana) | Show, Merlin BBC. [Tragical Ending]

▪︎ Halbrand / Sauron & Galadriel. (Haladriel / Saurondriel) | Show, The Rings of Power. [In progress]

▪︎ Rey & Kylo Ren / Ben Solo. (Reylo) | Star Wars, postlogy.

▪︎ Osha & Qimir. (Oshamir) | Star Wars Show, The Acolyte.

▪︎ Dracula & Mina. (Dracmina) | Movie, Dracula 1992. [Tragical Ending]

▪︎ Sarah & Jareth. (Sareth) | Movie, Labyrinth 1986. [Open Ending ?]

▪︎ Dongfang Qingcang & Xiao Lanhua / Orchid. | CDrama, Love Between Fairy and Devil. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Xiang Liu & Xiao Yao. | CDrama, Lost You Forever. / Book, by Tong Hua. [Tragical Ending]

▪︎ Tantai Jin & Li Susu. | CDrama, Till the End of the Moon. [Open Ending] / Black Moonlight is Guaranteed a Bad Ending Script, by Teng Luo Wei Ji. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Erik & Christine. (Erikstine) | Le fantôme de l'opéra, by Gaston Leroux. / Phantom, by Susan Kay. / The Phantom of the Opera, 25th anniversary, at the Royal Albert Hall, by Andrew Lloyd Webber. [Tragical Ending]

▪︎ Raistlin & Crysania. | Trilogy, The Legends, from Dragonlance universe, by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. / Musicals. [Tragical ending]

▪︎ Warner & Juliette. (Warnette) | Book series, Shatter Me, by Tahereh Mafi. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Julian & Jenny. | Trilogy, Forbidden game, by L.J Smith. [Tragical ending / Open Ending]

▪︎ Addie & Luc. | Book, The Invisible life of Addie Larue, by V. E. Schwab. [Open Ending]

▪︎ Vasya & Morozko. | Winternight trilogy, by Katherine Arden. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Marya Morevna & Koschei. | Book, Deathless, by Catherynne M. Valente. [Open Ending]

▪︎ Kasta & Zahru. (Kastaru) | Trilogy, The Kinder Poison, by Natalie Mae. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Jude & Cardan. (Jurdan) | Trilogy, Folk of the Air, by Holly Black. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Corien & Rielle. (Corielle) | The Empirium trilogy, by Claire Legrand. [Tragical ending]

▪︎ Ruhn & Lidia. (Ruhnlidia / Daynight) | Trilogy, Crescent City, by Sarah J. Mass. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Feyre & Rhysand. (Feysand) | Book series, ACOTAR, by Sarah J. Maas. [Happy Ending / In progress]

▪︎ Elain & Azriel. (Elriel) | Book series, ACOTAR, by Sarah J. Maas. [In progress]

▪︎ Emilia & Dorian. | French book series, Vila Emilia, by Elodie Faiderbe. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Laila & Darius. | Trilogy, When the Stars Alight, by Camilla Andrew. [In progress]

▪︎ Jane Eyre & Mr Rochester. | Book, Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronté. / Show BBC, 2006. / Movie, 2011. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Will & James. | Trilogy, Dark Rise, by C.S. Pacat. [In progress]

▪︎ Laurent & Damen. (Lamen) | Trilogy, Captive Prince, by C.S. Pacat. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Evangeline & Jacks. (Evajacks) | Trilogy, Once Upon a Broken Heart, by Stephanie Garber. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Agnieszka & Sarkan. | Book, Uprooted, by Naomi Novik. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Auren & Rip / Slade. | Book series, The Plated Prisoner, by Raven Kennedy. [In progress]

▪︎ Ash & Mary-Lynnette. | Book series, Night World, volume 2 : Daughters of Darkness, by L.J Smith. [Hapoy Ending / In progress]

▪︎ Hades & Persephone. (Persades) | Webtoon, Lore Olympus, de Rachel Smythe. [In progress] / Greek mythology.

▪︎ Xibalba & La Muerte. (Xibamuerte) | Animation movie, The Book of Life. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Beauty and the Beast. | Fairy Tale. / Animation Movie Disney. / Movie, Jean Cocteau 1946. / Show, Once Upon a Time. [Happy Ending]

▪︎ Chise & Elias. | Anime, Mahou Tsukai no Yome, 2017. / Manga, The Ancient Magus Bride, by Kore Yamazaki. [In progress]

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

I can't help but keep thinking about a amusement park date!!! and how would the LIs spend the day with MC

Garret would absolutely spoil you rotten. Not only would he pay for the tickets, but he would also splurge on any premium perks or fast passes that the amusement park might offer. As much as he loves spending time with you, the last thing he wants you both to do is have you both suffer waiting in a long line surrounded by strangers. He’d go along with whatever you wanted to do and insist on paying for anything and everything, especially when it came to food. He wouldn’t really be interested in much else aside from making sure you were enjoying yourself. 

Marcelo is a huge adrenaline junkie. He would love to go on all of the rides with you. Hell, he’d love to ride them all twice if you were down. However if rides aren’t your thing, that’s okay too! He’d enjoy walking around the amusement park with you, soaking up the sounds and sights before trying to win you a few prizes at the fair games. Oh, and throughout all of this you both would be splitting each and every snack/drink available at the park. After all, how else is he going to get inspiration for his next special? 

Camilla would have a blast walking around the park looking for the best photo op locations available. She’d also insist on getting the prettiest and most instagrammable snacks they sell. Once she finished taking her fill of pictures, she would totally be down for hopping on a handful of rides with you before splitting the messiest desserts with you without a care in the world. 

Rita isn’t the biggest amusement park fan, but she’d give it a fair shot if you invited her. She’d be open to trying the dark rides or the smaller less intimidating ones, but there’s no way she’d agree to go on a huge rollercoaster. Instead she’d happily find a bench to sit at and watch over your bags while you went on. Or, if you didn’t feel too guilty about it, she would wait in line with you and simply not get on the ride with you so you both could spend more time together. She would however enjoy the fun drinks and looking at all of the cute prizes and merch they might sell. However she probably wouldn’t get anything for herself and make sure to get you something to remember this fun trip by.

For the most part Teagan would enjoy themselves as they dragged you from attraction to attraction. However the first thing they would do is drag you to the nearest merch store and buy you both matching shirts, hats, etc and insist that you both wear them. Is it a little corny? Yes. Will they try to force you into doing it anyway? Also yes. They’d also insist on buying ALL of the ride pictures that are available. It didn’t matter if you both look terrible in it, it’s a memory that they’ll cherish till the end of time. ( That and they’ll absolutely try to “playfully” blackmail you with it in the future.) They’d honestly have a fun time for the majority of the day until they finally reached their limit and started feeling overstimulated by everything. They’d start complaining about the heat, the crowds, the lines, ect. Though to be fair, at that point you both would have probably done everything you wanted to do and it would be close to closing.

[sukirichi]

DUSK ‘TILL DAWN: THE PRINCES.

→ character sheet including the princes’ ages, parents, backstories, and some slight spoilers ahead. reader is referred to as ‘lady yuzuru’ here.

→ content warnings: mentions of self harm, implied murder, suicide, toxic characters, grooming, infidelity.

1st PRINCE – USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, 32

Crown Prince Wakatoshi was granted the title of Crown Prince under the late King’s last will. His mother was rumored to be the Late King’s true love, and his one and only concubine. Unfortunately, she passed away from childbirth, causing the King to spiral into madness and lead to his countless affairs with different women.

The First Prince is said to be a strict man. He is firm in his beliefs, solid in his stance, and the most suitable candidate to be the next King of Inarizaki. He is married to Princess Camilla through a marriage of convenience whom he eventually fell in love with. Together, the couple lives happily in Inarizaki Palace along with their firstborn son, Wakashi.

2nd PRINCE – SAKUSA KIYOOMI, 29

Prince Kiyoomi, also infamously nicknamed “The Forgotten Prince.” Despite being next in line as Crown Prince candidate, the Prince is rarely seen in public. He is said to be distant, quiet, and has terrible social skills. He scowls at any cameras pointed his way, and refuses to be interviewed regardless of whether it was approved by the royal family or not.

He prefers to keep to himself, and absolutely detests physical contact with others. According to Prince Tobio, he’s the hardest to approach out of all his brothers, but Prince Kiyoomi is secretly soft-hearted and loves his brothers very dearly. He had a normal childhood where he was raised by his mother, Kanami, an actress and model from Itachiyama, and his father, the Late King. It was the late King who taught him how to ride horses, speak many languages, and shared his love for nature with his father. However, as the late King moved onto other escapades with his many lovers, Kiyoomi was eventually forgotten. At the age of six years old, he was officially registered a resident of Inarizaki to fulfill his duties as the bridge between the two territories. At age twenty-four, he was married to his first wife, Iris Amari, an Itachiyaman citizen and an Inarizaki scholar. They have been married for five years and have no children together.

The Prince is thought to be uninterested in anything aside from his flowers and farm, but if asked, he would say the only time he ever felt something again was when he danced with the shy debutante he met when he was twenty-one years old. Until now, he regrets not calling upon her sooner.

3rd PRINCE – KITA SHINSUKE, 27

The third prince is the son of the royal family’s lawyer, a former classmate of the late King when he attended a few classes in law. They had Shinsuke after meeting again through a reunion years after graduating law school. Kita’s mother, Kaori, also works as professor and has written several novels about the King’s accomplishments in upholding their Kingdom. Out of all the women the late King has been with, Kaori was the only he held close until his last days as he considered her one of his closest and most trusted friends. The King also highly favored Shinsuke for his intelligence, and sent the young boy into school earlier than his brothers ever did. After the King passed, Shinsuke becomes closer than ever to his mother, and shares the same devotion they have to the throne.

Apart from Crown Prince Wakatoshi, Shinsuke is the only prince on par with his most respect brother. But as rumors have it, Shinsuke is scarier in terms of perfectionism. He is extremely dedicated to his studies and duties that he puts his other brothers to shame, constantly winning popularity ranks as one of the people’s favorites. He is given the title ‘The Golden Boy.’ He is reliable, trustworthy, and honest – his brothers look up to him and always turn to him first when they run into trouble.

He has a secret lover, Airi, who is a maid assigned to his quarters. However, after their relationship has become more obvious to other royal staff, Airi has experienced constant criticism that leads to Shinsuke assigning her to Princess Yuzuru’s care.

4th PRINCE – AKAASHI KEIJI, 27

The Fourth Prince is the real forgotten Prince.

With an unnamed servant for his mother, his birthrights were denied by the Queen. There is no known information on who his mother is, or where she is now, but the late King took pity on his son and eventually allowed him to live with his brothers under the condition he would have the lowest rank, no official titles with duties, and that he is to make his presence scarce. Because of this, Keiji has grown up to be shy and introverted, preferring to keep to himself out of fear his titled brothers would reject him as well. He has grown closer to the royal servants instead in hopes he might one day meet his mother among them, but there have been whispers that the Queen has had his mother banished from the castle before he could walk.

The King died without ever telling Keiji who his real mother was.

In his loneliness, Keiji has found solace in the palace library and developed a passion for writing. He spends many sleepless nights writing and writing until his hands grow tired. He is analytical, observant, and far more concerned of his people’s well-beings than his own. He longs to be given duties so he would not be so useless, but because his ‘title’ is merely a formality, there is not much he can do. He solves this problem by publishing his novels under a different pen name, and uses the money he’s made to donate to those in need.

5th PRINCE – OIKAWA TOORU, 26  

Prince Tooru is the son of one of the big three clans that helped form Inarizaki to what it is now – the Oikawa Clan. However, he was rejected by his clan due to his mother having postpartum depression once he was born, which only grew worse when the King did not care for her during her entire pregnancy. She was meant to marry another noble when she grew infatuated with the King instead, and naively believed he would abandon his throne to be with her. When the King ended up choosing his wife time and time again, his mother grew hateful and made multiple attempts to lose her baby. Once Tooru was born, she dropped him off at the Palace and severed any connections she may have with him. Until now, Tooru has no idea of her whereabouts, and he’s long stopped trying to reach out to his family.

At age eighteen, he married Lady Maiko of the Rai Clan, one of the big three clans, shortly after he graduated high school. Due to their sudden marriage, Princess Maiko stopped studying and never got to graduate. She chose to dedicate herself as his wife instead. According to the records, their marriage was not always unhappy. Tooru spent most of his childhood at the Rai Estate playing with Maiko, who was a year younger than him, and even promised her he would marry her when they grew older as they played house. Tooru did not think too much of the responsibilities of marriage as he saw it to be beneficial – marrying a woman from an influential family with direct connections to the throne would strengthen and secure his position as a Prince, even without the support of his mother’s clan. However, as time passed, Tooru began to realize there were things he could not do anymore because he was married. He felt that he had lost his freedom, and constantly blamed and neglected Princess Maiko for his misery.

When Crown Prince Rintaro married Lady Yuzuru, he felt even more dejected in his marriage. He adored the new Princess and openly showered her with affection, more so to hurt Maiko in the hopes she’d stop loving him. But somewhere in their marriage, the two are bonded with their mutual goal in bringing Princess Yuzuru happiness, causing their friendship to be rekindled once more.

6th PRINCE – SUNA RINTARO, 26

Suna Rintaro is the only child of the Queen and the late King; he is the Crown Prince by his birthright.

The Queen struggled to conceive due to the stress she suffered at the King’s many affairs, so he was born later than his brothers, and according to the Queen, “born a little too late.” As the only true heir to the throne, he was raised in extreme and harsh conditions where he wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone that wasn’t his mother or his governess. He was kept isolated from his brothers because his mother feared the ‘half-bloods’ would taint his ‘purity.’ Because of this, Rintaro doesn’t know how to deal with people. His father was less harsh to him, but he was mostly absent from Rintaro’s life. It made a young Rintaro feel confused – if he was their only son, shouldn’t he be spoiled? He vied for his father’s attention, and craved his mother’s praise.

Because of this, he grew desperate for human connection and latched on to the first friend he ever made, Iris Amari. A part of him felt that Iris was a bad influence as she often convinced him to do things he never liked, but because he didn’t want to lose her, and he wanted to please her more than anything, Rintaro let her do whatever she liked to him. When she kissed him for the first time after years of disappearing, Rintaro thought that’s what falling in love felt like.

Crown Prince Rintaro made it his mission to become King so he could have Iris and Kiyoomi legally separated in the hopes he could make her his concubine. To achieve this, he courted Lady Yuzuru for two years, and eventually married her. However, his marriage turns complicated when he starts doubting his true feelings for both his wife and his lover.

7th PRINCE – MIYA ATSUMU, 24 8th PRINCE – MIYA OSAMU, 24

The Twin Princes are the most popular amongst their brothers due to their good looks and charming personalities. Their mother owns a large hotel chain in Inarizaki and is one of the richest women in the country. She was quite young when she met the King, and despite being warned multiple times to not be fooled by the King’s charm, she happily became his mistress. She wasn’t in love with him, but was very attracted to both his looks and the power it would bring her. When the twins were born, she had lavish celebrations for them and spoiled both the boys, promising that there was nothing they would lack in their life. It didn’t matter that the King barely cared for the boys because she loved them to bits, and until now, she still sponsors her sons in all of their endeavors.

Both the twins are morally grey and care little about people’s feelings.

The seventh Prince, Atsumu, is the more arrogant one of the two. He’s loud, brash, and is notorious for sleeping around with women. Meanwhile, Prince Osamu is known to be more gentlemanly and sweeter with the ladies, albeit being a playboy himself. The twins are competitive with one another, and encourage one another in making bad decisions because they know they will have each other’s back even if the Queen punishes them. However, Osamu is more hesitant because he’s truly afraid of the Queen, while Atsumu is more reckless. The twins are also known for wanting the same things and trying to one up each other. Their biggest fight was due to a girl they both liked – Hiroda Yuki – an actress and model. Yuki was more interested in Osamu, but Atsumu liked her more.

9th PRINCE – KAGEYAMA TOBIO, 20

The youngest prince is loved by everyone. With his kind nature, and gentle smiles, it’s easy to understand why he’s everyone’s favorite. Even when his brothers don’t all get along, they all agree that they love Tobio and actively support in him reaching his dreams to go pro in volleyball. He loves painting, playing volleyball, and is extremely close to Lady Yuzuru. He’s an innocent Prince who wants nothing but for his family to get along, and to find true love for himself someday. He craves the kind of relationship Lady Yuzuru and Prince Suna had before his affair was exposed because he almost lost hope that love didn’t exist when he learned his father cheated multiple times.

The only thing he knows about his mother was that she was a kind and beautiful woman who simply fell for the wrong man. He never met her, but the King often talks about how she’s still the most stunning he’s ever met. He loves it whenever someone brings his mother up until he completely stopped asking about her due to the Queen beating him up when he was a little boy. Prince Tobio has been afraid of her ever since.

The King died not long after Tobio was born.

[celticcrossanon]

Celta, I have a preposterous theory about the whole meghnancy fiasco and I want to share it with you to see what's your opinion on it.

I think BP did confront Rachel and her husband about the surrogacy and probably was told they can keep the kid, he's still a beloved family member but he will not be receiving any titles. This angered the two idiots and they started the blackmailing using "racism, first mixed race kid in the BRF, security, bla bla bla.." When BP couldn't control them mostly thanks to Harold's stupidity who must've been defending his darling wife like mad, they just let them do whatever the hell they want to so those two were happily acting up and started the smear campaign against the BRF. Of course their jealousy towards the Waleses expanded a million times more during this time because Waleses are everything that's right with the world and these two are the most despicable things in earth. They were angry because they were told no.

HMTQ's Christmas speech with the photo of heirs was the last straw because they felt that she was saying the sprog isn't specifically acknowledged by her so they decided to go all out and destroy the family that gave them everything they wanted but these two are just the bottomless pit that can never be satisfied. They really thought the BRF wouldn't dare to make the surrogacy public and have always used Harold's "mental issues + suicidal blackmails" to stop them from doing so hence why The Palace is mum till today about their disgusting act.

Remember when Camilla rubbed her tummy mockingly while chatting to Catherine? Pretty sure they all have watched the popping sound of her tummy in Mayhew and they disappearing bump in Birkenhead. The BRF isn't stupid, they can't proceed further because of the unaliving blackmails Harold had been successfully using on them.

What do you think of this?

Hi Nonny,

I think that the top members of the BRF, at least, are aware of the issues around the births of the Sussex children. I don't know whether they would have confronted the Sussexes about this or simply kept quiet and given them enough rope to hand themselves. Over the passage of time more and more people have come to believe that those children either don't exist or where a product of surrogacy, so it certainly would be easier to have the public support any evidence of that today than it would have been when Archie was born, for example.

I also think that Meghan would have taken offense at the photo of the heirs simply because she and her husband were not in it, no matter what circumstance had preceded it.

After that. it is anyone's guess as to what happened. What you have said links together and makes sense, so it is as possible as any other theory and more possible than the ones that don't make sense.

I really want the truth about the Meghnancies and the Sussex kids to come out. I am getting very tired of waiting for it to be revealed and I think by the time it does come out I simply will not care any longer, which may be what King Charles wants anyway.

[sageourplanetmeow]

I have ideas about what owl house S3 filler episodes would be like, because yes, we were robbed and yes I am repeating it even though it’s been said by everyone else already.

A fashion episode. Since ROTMNT had a whole episode with the turtles dressing up, why don’t the TOH cast do that since we saw a clip of that. Considering that Hunter is notoriously bad with fashion and @moringmark made a comic with Amity being horrified by Hunter’s fashion tastes which makes sense for her, I think they would have a good opportunity to build their character dynamics. I think it would also have them going to the hair salon with their hair cuts and getting their hair done, and they would have had to go to a random Halloween store in town to find fake human ears to stick them on. Of course them falling off would be a lingering threat. Of course Vee was just browsing the whole time so she has inspiration for what she was going to shape-shift into.

Movie night. They would watch a variety of things such as the Azura movies, since Lux and Amity love them, and Cosmic Frontier. Then I have a feeling that Willow would be all over nature documentaries, in particular ones centred around plants. In an episode before the episode where Luz returned to the human realm but in mirrors and phones, Vee was sitting with Camilla watching a documentary so maybe she also like nature documentaries, although she prefers the animal aspect, therefore getting to bond with Willow a bit. Camilla cries a bit from the nature documentaries and feels sentimental over the Azura movies cus Amity and Luz seem to be enjoying it so much and it reminds her a bit of Luz’s dad. She also withholds the urge to spill a bunch of facts about Cosmic Frontier and just reminisces about it.

One or two school episodes to focus on Luz. Aka her bullies if she has them, I mean she’s a neurodivergent bisexual kid who’s obsessed with witchcraft and draws weird stuff (glyphs and stuff from the demon realm) and also reads he Azura books and makes fan fictions, it’s an unfortunate reality. (Plus she does taxidermy). So we see her relationships with the students and the teachers and maybe her having to struggle to pretend like she knows what stuff Vee did with Masha when Vee was pretending to be her. Hence Masha starting to be a bit suspicious considering that Vee seems to bond with her quickly and feels familiar to her. Another thing, if Luz ever gets sick (which will be talked about later) Vee will shapeshift into Luz so she can get a little bit of education and so that she can bring Luz some of her work and all so she can spend time with Masha, plus she volunteers to because she likes school.

An arcade episode. Hunter and Gus go to some space one since it reminds them of Cosmic Frontier and Camilla lingers around them cus again she’s a secret nerd. Luz and Amity go to a magic combat game where you can customise your character, hence Luz spends a long time on hers and Amity helps her decide. Willow ends up acing all the sports games so she gets some alone time so we can see what she’s like by herself. They also all play Mario kart and they customise accordingly. Plus there’s this enclosed space at the arcade in my city and balls fall from the ceiling of it and fill it up as in plastic ball pit balls, and you need to put them in holes. I think Hunter would be a bit clumsy and Willow would ace it. Then Amity would have barely contained rage till it comes out and Luz is mildly shocked considering she’s usually so calm and composed. Willow takes a picture with Gus of Amity and they show it to her later.

THE BEACH EPISODE. The boiling sea means the witches are scared of the water. Luz is apprehensive for a split second cus she’s been in the demon realm for a while. Hunger is more scared since he sank into the ground in hollow mind so he goes with Willow to see the plants nearby that grow there, e.g. palm trees. So the two scale up walls and trees to pick leaves and fruit for Gus to collect as specimens since he joins them for a bit. Later they play volleyball together. However, Willow then goes to swim and encourages Hunger to join in. Luz and Amity just jump off stuff together and splash around plus they have a conversation with Camilla. Vee and Gus then decide to do something together so Vee writes down in Gus’ notebook for a bit but Gus ends up showing her how to do shorthand. Vee also sees Masha and they do stuff together and swim together a bit since Vee plucks up the courage to ask her if she wants to since Masha came alone after her friends were too busy.

An indoor trampoline park episode. Again Hunter, Willow and Gus do tricks and stuff like in grudgby and the two mention Cosmic Frontier so that they both nerd out about it to Willlow. Luz and Amity do stuff and Amity twists her ankle and gets scooped up by Luz as a throwback. Vee invites Masha to join them so she does stuff with her, I have a feeling Masha would like DnD and they both roleplay that they’re in DND as they run about in an obstacle course and jump into the soft trampoline thing from that really tall ledge like they’re escaping something by jumping into a river after a heist or something. They’d also climb like they’re on a cliff on the climbing walls. And they’d use the Tarot cards (I think that’s the name) to decide what they’d do as predictions and stuff. I dunno.

Sick day episode. Since Luz had that in one episode in one the witches are gonna get the common flu along with Luz and her mum. The witches are convinced it’s dramatically bad and is like the boiling isles version and how crazy it made Luz (I’m not sure if that’s what happened with Luz). In this one Vee would shapeshift into Luz to be at school and bring back her work plus cus she likes school as mentioned before.

Luz and Amity getting a dinner date and I dunno stuff like that.

The zoo episode. There will be the giraffe gag as was showed in S3 and they’ll run around and gave fun. Since I have gotten the theory that Vee might like animal stuff I think that she might volunteer at the zoo and therefore gives them special access to the behind the scenes. Camilla is at work in this home so she can’t chaperone them, therefore they get into more shenanigans. Luz stays around the bird section with Hunter as she looks at the owls and Hunter looks excitedly as the birds that look a bit like Flap Jack. Hunter however, gets especially obsessed over the wolves, Luz also says the snake fact with them shedding their skin and Amity looks at the cats and enjoys a cat cafe at the zoo. Gus looks at the chameleons and takes notes before taking notes of the humans themselves. Willow goes to the insect exhibit and looks at the insects, and chiefly the plants. They also accidentally robbed a gift shop.

THE CINEMAAA. I know there’s already a movie night idea but ya know… they all watch an old movie that Luz’s grandparents on her dad’s side take them to watch. Cus I dunno they just visit and I wanna see them watch an old movie kinda like ‘Italian Job’, as an example. Or something with Charlie Chaplin but they probably wouldn’t be that old, those are just examples since we haven’t actually met them if they’re actually alive. There might be a horror movie alternatively and they all get spooked when there’s something that looks a bit like Belos, Hunter in particular shakes and ends up hugging Willow whilst everyone holds hands together (aka the whole group together). Or they watch a romance one and they jokingly tease Luz and Amity for being so cheesy I guess.

Robotics Club Episode. So here’s the context for why I randomly thought this up: I was sitting outside at break, a nice person in my friend group picked me up and yeeted me into robotics club with everyone else and now I’m there with zero experience or knowledge regarding coding. Now I need to reference @moringmark again, look this person just makes such good TOH content- I- I have to. Basically there was a comic with Luz making a vehicle with glyphs in the boiling isles so maybe she has a small amount of inspiration and experience with a robotics club in her town and it ends up being an activity she does with Amity since she is also quite techy due to her dad. Therefore, she can also get into thinking about combining human technology with abomination tech.

An arts and crafts day, everyone at the house is bored and are just scrolling on their phones so Camilla sets out arts and crafts stuff for them to do: Luz draws fanart and does some taxidermy; Gus makes a display and/or a poster/homemade fact book thing about human history and the stuff he’s learnt about the culture; Willow makes plant wreaths, daisy chains and plant sculptures as well as doing her best to paint some pots; this is where Hunter gets to work with a sewing machine and basically sews abominable outfits and a bunch of wolves onto said outfits; Amity creates a technological thing aka where there’s the whole thing with balls rolling down into different slides and triggering stuff but with abomination magic mixed in to help; and Vee makes a couple of character sheets and plot ideas for DND (look I’m gonna admit it, I wish I could figure out how to play it but I don’t know where to look so eh I have no idea).

A convention episode. Now, they’re all nerds, they should go to a comic con convention or something. They will do it and I’m making them do it. Luz and Amity will go to the very small area with one or two artists for the Azura book series where there’s a bunch of fellow fans dressed up as characters from the books showing off fanart and getting it signed. Gus and Hunter will go to Cosmic Frontier stuff and Willow will join with Luz and Amity. Vee does DND stuff with Masha and the rest of their friend group. Gus and Hunter find Camilla at a stall drawing commissions and selling merch for cosmic frontier which she was keeping hidden from them. (She hides various requests for NSFW). Due to the cosplayers, Hunter and Gus think about outfits for the future.

Pride March/Fayre Episode. This is how Luz gets her bi badge and how Camilla gets her LGBTQ+ support badge which was donating to a lgbtq+ charity. They all have fun, until Disney shows up as Belos and screams at them that they’re not the Disney brand.

A Halloween Episode. They showed us it but maybe if we got showed it with more time and then making their cosplays then that would be fun.

Vet Episode. Maybe it would be fun to see Camilla working at the vets but eh.

Cooking episode?

[landshell]

Yor's Day

Yor’s day had started off normally enough. She had breakfast with her family as usual. She caught the train to City Hall. Now was in the office listening to her coworkers complain.

 Camilla eyed the growing stack of paperwork in the department inbox with distaste. “I hate the end of the month! Everyone procrastinates and then expects us to be able to get all their stuff in on time.”

Millie groaned in agreement. “I can’t believe we have to go through all this today.”

“You have to.”  Sharon commented. “I’m taking off early.”

“What seriously?”

“It’s been on the schedule for two weeks. It’s a half day at Eden College. I’m picking up my child and then I booked us both dental appointments.”

“Oh, that was a good idea.” Yor chimed in. She’d have to remember to tell Loid about it.

Camilla rounded on her “And I suppose you’re cutting out early too?”

“Oh, No. Loid is picking up Anya today. I’ll be here till closing.”

Sharon went back to her typewriter. “Lucky you.  I wish I could tell my husband it was his day to handle the kids.”

“Well, it makes sense.” Millie said. “It’s not like Anya is Yor’s daughter so—"

“Millie!” Camilla interrupted.

“I didn’t mean it as insult. I was just. . .”  Millie trailed off looking at Yor’s downcast expression.

“No. You’re right. I’m just her stepmother.” Yor kept her eyes on the form she was working on even though her eyesight blurred a little. The conversation died down around her and everyone awkwardly got back to work.

For the next couple of hours Yor tried to put all her attention on accounts payable and avoiding typos but the feeling of gloom remained. She barely noticed when Sharon made her exit accompanied by death glares from Camilla and Millie. Maybe if she sped through her paperwork she could leave early. She looked at the department inbox which didn’t seem any emptier. Maybe not.

It was going to be a long, lonely day. Just then Millie cursed quietly and yanked the paper out of her typewriter, tossed it in the trash and loaded another one. Okay, so today wasn’t going to be a day of gossiping and lingering over tea but she wasn’t alone. Why did she feel lonely? She was needed here even if she wasn’t needed--

Goodness, she had to cheer herself up somehow. Maybe for lunch she’d go to a café instead of the basement cafeteria. The food would be better. She might even order dessert. Anything to get out this mood.

A runner stuck his head in the office door. “Mrs. Forger? You have visitors at the front desk.

Yor startled and got up. She didn’t usually get visitors. Her first thought was Garden business, but if that were the case she would be meeting them in a back office not the public area of the building. She pushed open the door into the lobby and began walking toward the desk. Why did her mind keep returning to her family? The man at the desk even looked like Loid from the back. Suddenly her daughter peeked out from around his legs.

“MAMA! HAVE YOU EATEN YET?” Anya called out.

“Inside voice, Anya” Loid hushed her. Then he turned to Yor. “We came to see if you would like to join us for lunch. That is if you aren’t busy.”

Yor looked at them. Anya was still in her Eden uniform; they must have come straight from school. They wanted to see her.

Yor smiled, almost in tears for the second time today.  “I’d love to. Let me grab my coat and tell the girls I’m taking my break.  There’s a great café just down the street.”

Her day was looking up.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

It looks like the media has been given the go ahead to criticise Meghan now and everyone is jumping on the bandwagon. While Harry is now being labelled as the sweet boy laid astray by an evil temptress.

So you think this is palace aproved PR for Harry's benefit, to bring him back in? Or is this Harry's pr working against Meghan and setting the stage up to have the public sympathy on his side? (I do think it's partly the latter)

While I do think Charles will do some campaigning to have him back in the family fold I'm some limited capacity, I do not think he will be brought back as working royal in ay capacity. At least not for the next 10-15 years. Mainly because of his antagonism towards Camilla. And how significant camillas family seems to have become for Charles. He will not want to hurt her by bringing back the person who calls her and treats her like a viper.

So, now I'm wondering where is Harry getting the money to fund -

1. His law suits.

2. His trips to Africa etc

3. His new separate home

4. His security

5. His separate staff that's managing all this for him.

6. His PR (which is negligible since none of his news hits the msm, but there's still some)

7. His defensive PR against Meghan

All of this is along with whatever money he shares with and gives Meghan for her expenses and then for the kids as well. He certainly does not have so many income streams at the moment. So, where's he getting his ideas from (uncle Spencer?) And his money from??

The money for security and PR comes out of the Sussexes' own pockets. (We know because Harry has complaned about how much security costs.) Security and living expenses probably come out of whatever income they have, which appears to be a combination of interest from investments/trusts and whatever contracts/deals are left. The PR probably pays for itself - whatever they spend on PR is paid back in new sponsorships or merch contracts so they're probably barely breaking even on that.

Travel to Africa, Invictus, NYC, London, etc. are all paid for by the charities. Their vacation to Costa Rica last year was a merch trip subsidized by the resort. Any time Soho House is mentioned, the vacation is paid for by Soho House to merch. The only trip that Harry paid for himself was probably the jaunt to London after Charles's diagnosis was announced.

The new separate home is only a rumor. I'm not counting it till it's confirmed.

The lawsuits and staffs are paid through Archewell (donations and website visitor data I'm 99% sure they sell). I found a report from 2023 that stated Archewell had over $250,000 in legal expenses and, well, trademarks don't cost that much. Also, going by some of the gossip that's leaked out about Archewell, the Sussexes don't actually pay their staff a lof money and there are little benefits; I wouldn't be surprised if they pay below market average salaries for their staffs.

I think the PR is a combination of both - it's Charles doing a rehab campaign (a covert one for now; I suspect we won't see his hand until/if there's an official separation) and it's Harry's own trying to relaunch and rebrand himself as a princely statesman. I'm not sure if the PR is setting up a divorce just yet - remember, a divorce watch is when we have the ingredients for a divorce in which a divorce may take place.

Personally, I don't think this is the media getting a green light to criticize Meghan. Two stories (the 'dictator in heels' story, a continuation of a story that has been told for 3 years now, and a messy red carpet) isn't a green light. It's still very much a red light. If we had a green light or a go-ahead, allllllllllllllll the dirt would be coming out - bullying, inconsistencies about the children, paparazzi dealings, PR tactics, Megxit rumors, etc.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Kinda tempted to write Merlin fanfics about the Hazbin hotel songs.

Balinor and Gaius or Kilgharrah battling it out to Hell’s Greatest Dad would be brilliant. (Gaius and Kilgharrah is just Alastor in a different font)

But also Merlin (as Camilla Carmine) about Arthur and Lancelot (as Vaggie) about Merlin in Whatever It takes.

And imagine Balinor finding out about Merlin’s destiny and them having a More Than Anything moment about it because he tried with Uther and failed.

(I’m ignoring most of the unfinished WIP’s I’ve got at the moment till I’m at least done with Leon’s willing and unwilling treason, after I finish that I’ll start working on other things again)

[camillafanfiction]

Love changes everything - Chapter 12

5th January 1976

Andrew’s birthday as well as New Year’s Eve and Day had passed quicker and smoother than Camilla had anticipated. She’d had several good cries on what would have been her late husband’s 36th birthday, but Charles had been incredibly sweet and understanding and had cradled her in his arms till she’d felt better.

New Year’s Eve had been a bit tricky to arrange, but somehow, she and Charles had managed to arrange spending it together without Camilla’s family getting suspicious. It had been very sentimental, but it had also felt incredibly good to receive a New Year’s kiss from Charles, though a tiny part of Camilla still felt guilty for feeling so good in another man’s arm so shortly after her husband’s passing. But when the inhabitants of Allington and Salisbury lit up the sky with blue and gold and pink and silver fireworks, Charles had held her so softly and so tightly at the same time, that Camilla had wished he would never ever let her go. And when he had kissed her and whispered into her ear that she was the only thing he wanted and that he couldn’t wait to spend as much time with her as possible in the upcoming year, she couldn’t help that her heart was beating fast and that she was feeling so right.

But now, five days later, reality had kicked back in and Charles had travelled back to London to continue his plans for a big charity launch he was planning later this year and to carry out a few engagements. His family was still staying at Sandringham, but he just couldn’t bear being there. Christmas had been even more terrible than usual as he had been longing to be with Camilla the whole time. Of course, his grandmother had noticed, of course his father had told him off for being absent minded, of course his grandmother had made him feel guilty for not spending New Year’s Eve with the family. 

He wished he had friends or someone from his family to talk to about his feelings for Camilla, about his plans for their future. But his grandmother tried to marry him to some aristocratic virgins, his father tried to send him off the shores again and Uncle Dickie just told him to ‘screw as many girls as possible’. Charles still shivered in disgust of Lord Mountbatten’s choice of words. He had only ever wanted to ‘screw’ Camilla, and he would never ever use that word for it. Not with her. With her, even ‘making love’ was too weak to express what this heaven on earth felt like; this union of body, soul and spirit… Making love with her was a spiritual act for him, it was beyond anything ethereal. If she let him, he would make love to her religiously. If he had his way, he would love her in all ways of life religiously. He wouldn’t mind bringing her to Gretna Green or, not so romantically, Las Vegas right this instant to tie the knot with her, though he knew Camilla would most likely say no, not to speak of his family… 

The shrill ringing of the telephone startled him out of his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head briefly, as if he was trying to shake off his thoughts to clear his mind. "Yes?"

To his great disappointment it was just his grandmother, lamenting because he hadn’t returned to Sandringham. “Actually, darling, I wanted to ask if you would like to join me at Birkhall later this month. I’ve talked to Valerian yesterday, you know, The Duke of Wellington, and have invited him and Diana. They have a lovely daughter, as you know, Jane. Aren’t you friends? I thought it might be nice if the two of you were able to catch up a little…”

Charles sighed. “Isn’t she working for the enemy?” He had not the slightest intention of meeting his ex-girlfriend and her parents at his grandmother’s Scottish home.

“Working for a magazine that publishes TV and radio programs is hardly a crime, darling.”, the Queen Mother replied sweetly. 

“That’s quite something, coming from you,” Charles quipped, before adding: “I’ll probably be spending the upcoming weekends with Camilla and Tom.” For several heartbeats there was silence in the line. “You could invite her up to Birkhall as well…”, he suggested then, knowing he was pushing his grandmother further than he should. 

“Oh, you know, darling, the weekends at Birkhall are for friends and fam - “

“But when Andrew was still alive you didn’t mind inviting her alongside her husband?!” Charles interrupted her, his voice harsh and up for a fight. 

“I’m sure Mrs. Parker Bowles still needs some time before she wants to attend social gatherings again, Charles. Goodness, it’s got quite late. I’ve got to go to bed. Sleep well, darling.” With that she hung up the phone, leaving her grandson speechless. He had always been fond of his grandmother, but he had his priorities and she wasn’t at the top of the list any longer. Not since he had found out about 1972 a few months ago, not since Trevor had informed him about her unlikely consolidation with Lord Mountbatten and certainly not since the call they’d just had. 

X

30th January 1976

Charles had never quite understood why his mother preferred to stay at Sandringham till the anniversary of her accession to the throne. He’d been very close with his grandfather and he admired him deeply, especially since he had been told from the beginning how similar they were, but he didn’t feel a connection to Sandringham. He associated Sandringham with constrained Christmas celebrations and unpleasant rows with this extended family. At least Sandringham wasn’t as grand as Buckingham Palace, but it was far from being as cosy and familial as Clarence House. His mother had asked him around for tea to ‘catch up a little’ as she had phrased it on the telephone, probably trying to sound laid-back, if that would ever be fitting for a Queen. He had no idea what she really wanted, however was hoping it wouldn’t take too long as he couldn’t wait to travel back to Wiltshire to his beloved. 

Rather informally, almost familial, The Queen welcomed him to her favourite sitting room, decorated in gold and green, just to Charles’s likes. “It’s so wonderful you could arrange to come over!”, Elizabeth greeted him with her genuine smile, not the one the press pack got to see when they were out and about. “I hear you’re very passionately working on the projects you’ve been telling me about last year.” Charles wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have heard a rather warm and proud undertone in his mother’s voice. 

“Oh yes,” he nodded eagerly and before he realised it, his mother had indulged him into a long conversation about his plans. 

She seemed sincerely interested in everything they were talking about, but Charles was still taken aback when Her Majesty cleared her throat and almost coyly asked him “And how are you doing, um, privately? I hear you’re being a very doting godfather to the poor Parker Bowles child in your spare time?”

Charles’s mood changed from happy and relaxed to fuming and angry within a second. This had to be his grandmother’s or Uncle Dickie’s scheming. His mother had never cared about him before, so they had set her on him ‘to save the monarchy’ or for some other stupid reason. Probably because Uncle Dicke wanted to see Amanda on the throne and granny Lady Fermoy’s granddaughter, Sarah. “Mrs. Parker Bowles is a very honourable lady,” Charles snapped back, his face more reddish than before.

"Charles, please bridle your tongue" the Queen ordered astonished. "I never meant to suggest otherwise.” She straightened her back, but softened the expression on her face. “I thought she was carrying herself very gracefully when I saw pictures of her at the funeral back in October. For someone who has never had the eyes of the world on her…”

“Oh, did you?”

“But since you brought her up anyway… How is the poor soul coping with everything?”

Charles raised an eyebrow. The whole situation seemed very suspicious to him. But he didn't want to accuse his mother of something he wasn't sure about. Maybe she really didn't know anything about the whole thing? Maybe she really was just genuinely interested. Once he’d be back in London on Monday, he would instruct Trevor to ascertain his mother's stance on the matter. Trevor was not only astute but also possessed a keen ability to navigate the palace's inner circles without resorting to idle gossip. Charles was confident in Trevor's discretion and reliability; he had served him very well, especially recently.

“Well, please give Mrs. Parker Bowles my best regards when you see her again,” Elizabeth stated as she embraced her heir to say goodbye. “I assume tonight?”

“I will,” Charles promised and pecked his mother’s cheek before leaving with a lighter heart than he had expected.

[neathyingenue]

tagged by @bizarrebazaar13 and @thedeafprophet! thanks besties!

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[avoidbee]

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