#Carnany

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1998 – The three Quinn brothers, Richard, 11, Mark, 10, and Jason 9, are burned to death by a Loyalist firebomb in Ballymoney, 40 miles northwest of Belfast. 

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a n-anamacha. Jason, Richard and Mark Quinn were three brothers killed by the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) in a firebomb attack on their home in Ballymoney, Co Antrim. Garfield Gilmour, was found guilty of murdering the three brothers 15 months later and sentenced to life imprisonment after admitting that he had driven three other men to the house to commit the fatal…

[eli-little-workshop]

Second batch, way too late for valentine’s  but hey... :’)

[layer-bloody-sun]

Hi!! Hernani x Carlos with "sharing a bed" and "scars" au, please !! 😁 (for the tropes thing ^-^)

Oh God I had it coming didn't I...well I can probably get a good fic out of this.

So between act II and III we got a few months right ? With the animosity I can't believe Carlos didn't went after Hernani (I'm going angst with this), hunting him down. So Carlos could have this little army with him and went after what was left of Hernani's group of bandits, they could end up fighting but at the end there's a confrontation between only the two of them. They hid in the mountains and I can imagine it's very cold up there.

They could end up trapped in a snow storm, and there's only an old cabin still standing that can prevent them from dying. Since they both want to get out of here alive (and Carlos probably want to kill Hernani publicly, "a l'échafaud") they'd put aside their anger and hide from the storm inside. Now we all know the trope, only one bed. They both work to get the fireplace starting as to warm the place up, but in the end Hernani refuses to get into the bed because he'd rather die than sleep next to his enemy. And we know how stubborn this bitch is.

Carlos goes 'whatever' and get into the bed, but in the middle of the night when it gets absurdly cold, he realise that 1. Hernani won't come of his own, 2. He's gonna die if he keeps this up. So he gets out, scoop Hernani and force him to bed. Since he's freezing he takes off his clothes and warms him like he can (he leaves him his trousers he's not a monster). Hernani is barely conscious at this point and Carlos is doing his best, but while he does, he notice a lot of scars on Hernani's back, arms, torso, a bit everywhere. They're old, not necessarily big, some are badly scared. And he feels bad, because he realizes that the younger one went through a lot, probably way too much.

I'm sure since act 1 Carlos actually likes Hernani (in a romantic way) he even forget Doña Sol in act 3, so my guess is that if love is all Hernani wants, then he'd be willing to give him that. Seeing the scars bring out a side of him that's softer and more caring. He doesn't have to but he keeps Hernani in his arms all night, and let him go the next morning, pretending to still be asleep.

Idk if this is what you were expecting here but here you go 😂

[coolmariela]

Carnany Lower Wood Bench https://ift.tt/2KdrfoE

[meagratia]

carnany st #london #mods #modern #soho #england (Carnaby London)

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1998 – The three Quinn brothers, Richard, 11, Mark, 10, and Jason 9, are burned to death by a Loyalist firebomb in Ballymoney, 40 miles northwest of Belfast. 

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a n-anamacha. Jason, Richard and Mark Quinn were three brothers killed by the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) in a firebomb attack on their home in Ballymoney, Co Antrim. Garfield Gilmour, was found guilty of murdering the three brothers 15 months later and sentenced to life imprisonment after admitting that he had driven three other men to the house to commit the fatal…

[layer-bloody-sun]

Carnani/Anguise vibes

good: “may i have this dance?”

EXCELLENT: “may i have this dance?” *draws sword*

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1998 – The three Quinn brothers, Richard, 11, Mark, 10, and Jason 9, are burned to death by a Loyalist firebomb in Ballymoney, 40 miles northwest of Belfast. 

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a n-anamacha. Jason, Richard and Mark Quinn were three brothers killed by the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) in a firebomb attack on their home in Ballymoney, Co Antrim. Garfield Gilmour, was found guilty of murdering the three brothers 15 months later and sentenced to life imprisonment after admitting that he had driven three other men to the house to commit the fatal…

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1998 – The three Quinn brothers, Richard, 11, Mark, 10, and Jason 9, are burned to death by a Loyalist firebomb in Ballymoney, 40 miles northwest of Belfast. 

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a n-anamacha.

Jason, Richard and Mark Quinn were three brothers killed by the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) in a firebomb attack on their home in Ballymoney, Co Antrim.

Garfield Gilmour, was found guilty of murdering the three brothers 15 months later and sentenced to life imprisonment after admitting that he had driven three other men to the house to commit the fatal…

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1998 – The three Quinn brothers, Richard, 11, Mark, 10, and Jason 9, are burned to death by a Loyalist firebomb in Ballymoney, 40 miles northwest of Belfast. 

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a n-anamacha.

Jason, Richard and Mark Quinn were three brothers killed by the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) in a firebomb attack on their home in Ballymoney, Co Antrim.

Garfield Gilmour, was found guilty of murdering the three brothers 15 months later and sentenced to life imprisonment after admitting that he had driven three other men to the house to commit the fatal…

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1998 – The three Quinn brothers, Richard, 11, Mark, 10, and Jason 9, are burned to death by a Loyalist firebomb in Ballymoney, 40 miles northwest of Belfast. 

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a n-anamacha.

Jason, Richard and Mark Quinn were three brothers killed by the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) in a firebomb attack on their home in Ballymoney, Co Antrim.

Garfield Gilmour, was found guilty of murdering the three brothers 15 months later and sentenced to life imprisonment after admitting that he had driven three other men to the house to commit the fatal…

[layer-bloody-sun]

“It’s getting crowded. Here, hold my hand.” for Carnani, please ? ^^

A king and a bandit, they were making quite the pair. Even more unbelievable was their love, born from previous hatred. It still amazed Hernani how Carlos could enjoy spending time with him as a lover; and he had no idea yet of how each of his smiles would light up a burning flame in the older man’s heart. Their current situation was neither a good nor a bad one, they could be together, but at the same time it could never be official. Hernani would always be the bandit that surrendered and pledge allegiance to the king after his newly wed wife died of poisoning. Carlos would end up marrying a princess and he would stay to the side. That was how it would be, there could be no happy ending for them. Not if they kept their position. But today was not the day to reminisce about these sour matters. The both of them where walking in the city’s streets, wearing old common clothing to mix easily in the crowd. It was one of the little moments where they were just the both of them, no king and bandit, just Carlos and Hernani.

He had given up his name, Jean d’Aragon, the moment he heard the cors od Don Ruy that fateful night. Faking his death to join the king before he departed was the best decision he had made. He didn’t want to be him anymore, despite looking to have his titles back all these years. As Hernani he fell in love, he wanted to keep it and cherish it. They were discussing trivial matters, somehow coming to discuss their first meeting.

“I never told you I think, but the very first time we lock eyes, my heart jumped. I though it was hatred for someone else that was trying to serenade Dona Sol, now thinking back I had probably already started to fall for you.”

“You’re always trying to make it sound like we didn’t hate each other’s guts. When I saw that ridiculous hat of your I just wanted to throw my sword through it.”

“I would have thrown you on the ground in an instant.”

“Yeah sure, because mister is sooo strong compare to poor little Hernani…”

With a playful smirk the king grabbed him and held him flat against the wall, towering above him as he was a few inches taller. Carlos was indeed stronger than him, he was older and had had proper training as royalty as well. After a few seconds of silence, the little tension broke and Carlos tried to plant a kiss on his lips, making the younger laugh as he evaded the man’s pursuit. It was good to be able to relax like that, no animosity left from the older days, just them. Carlos let go of his wrists and gently took his face in his palms, kissing him tenderly. Hernani gave it back of course, smiling into it. It was madness to do such a thing in the streets, anyone could see them, even in the deserted alley they currently stood in. but the thrill only made it feel better, made them savor every instant of it.

Noise came to them, laughter and echoes of mondain talk traveling between the walls of the city. Excitedly, the older started to get down the steps leading to the market, giving a glance back at his lover, a smile spread from ear to ear. The former bandit could only smile at how easy it was for him to enjoy such things, he had an adoration for the common people, once told him he wanted to be a great Emperor as to lead the populace to a better life. He loved that soft side of him. He followed him and they brought their hood back on their head, there should be no news of the king of Spain in the paved streets. Soon enough they were surrounded by a lively crowd, merchant and commoners living their day to day routine. Even for him who had lived as a paria for long, it was a nice feeling, to be part of something so big and wonderfully strong when given the opportunity.

He got hit by a passer-by who apologized quickly as he kept on his way, almost loosing Carlos in the crowd. He thankfully noticed and helped him back on his feet, gently dusting off his cloak. He kept his hand in his, smiling

“It’s getting crowded, better not let go of my hand.”

Hidden behind his now long black hair and hood, Hernani’s cheek turned light pink. Even now after so long, small intimate gestures were making him nervous, especially in public. But there were so many people here, no one would notice two guy holding hands if they didn’t make it too obvious. He couldn’t help but smile when seeing Carlos leading the way, stopping at some shops to buy food or trinkets. He offered a scarf to his lover, almost as a joke, the fabric was of a dark red, and they both knew it was because of Jean’s old outfit. He playfully smacked his shoulder and kept going on. They spent most of the morning between stalls, before climbing up the streets again, resting on their way back to the castle. They had to go back before noon or they wouldn’t be able to hide their little escapade no more. Sitting at the top of a low wall, on the rim of the road leading up to the palace, they looked down at the city. It was so full of energy, it was beautiful.

Carlos took his hand and kissed his fingers, earning a smile. He took something out of his pocket and to his lover’s surprise, handed him a wristlet made out of precious stones, a mix of jade and ruby. Hernani frowned

“That must have cost you a fortune!”

“It ain’t that much for the king…plus look, it’s our colors!”

It was indeed, the colors most associated with them. He let the Emperor put the jewelry on his right wrist, even though he felt it was too much. The older man seemed pleased with the sight. They stayed like that a bit longer, fingers barely touching on the warm stone, as they couldn’t intertwine them in fear of being noticed by passers-by.

“We really should go.”

And yet neither moved. They could allow themselves just a few more minutes, couldn’t they?

[layer-bloody-sun]

WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE THE CARNANI ONE >:D

(Marie can go fuck herself, these boys are gay af)

“You’re cold. Come here.” with Anguise, please? 🥺😄😄

Standing at the end of the secret corridor, Henry’s heartbeat was out of control, his guts twisting in a mix of fear and remorse. He just had the chance to explain to Marie that she was mistaken, that the love they shared was long gone. Instead he had played along once again. He felt like he betrayed his lover, keeping this little game going; how was he supposed to explain to Alexandre that it was all that was, a game, that his heart only belonged to him and no one else. Right now, drenched in rain, all he wanted was to embrace the warm body of the other man. But did he deserve it?

He closed his eyes with a sign and, after making sure he couldn’t hear anyone in the room, pushed the hidden door. Henry entered from behind one of the expensive tapestries that covered the prince’s room. The passage secret was one they had found when younger, probably a getaway in case of an emergency. They used it to have secret meetings instead. To his surprise, Alex wasn’t sleeping, he was on the bed, legs crossed, wearing a nightgown, staring at the fire gently burning in the fireplace on the other side of the room. He smiled at him, turning it into a small grin when faced with his perplexity.

“I knew you’d come; you always do when we have any kind of fight.’

And he was right, every single time their voices had raised toward the other, he would come back, tail between his legs like a beaten dog begging for his master’s forgiveness. He hated the picture but that was what it was. And let’s say that tonight they had had quite a fight, without even speaking. It was a night of supposed joy and amusement, but because of Marie and the denial she was in, it had ruined it for them. Mistaking the royal for the duke, she had stated she would wait for him after the ball, giving birth to tension between the two men. And despite one telling her the other would not be coming for him, and said other climbing her window to tell her it would never keep on, she was still sure Henry loved her. She was such a pain, but even more was his inability to tell her entirely off. He liked the attention she gave him; it was funny to play with her while having a secure love on the side. But he knew it wasn’t to his lover’s taste and it sometimes frightened him, because it could break them apart. And that was the last thing he wanted. Anjou stood up and walked toward him, frowning at his state while letting his finger slide amongst his wet auburn hair

“You’re drenched, get those clothes off before you get sick.”

For good measure he also dragged him toward the fire, forcing him to sit on the also very expansive carpet. While henry took off his clothes, with great difficulty as every inch of fabric tried to stick to his skin, his partner went and brought him dry clothes. He soon was wearing a dress shirt that did not belonged to him, and loose pants not fit for nobility; but it was comfy and he couldn’t care less about what he looked like right now. Anjou sat down next to him and gently dried his hair with a towel, or more likely an old shirt usé jusqu’à la corde that had been hanging around his clothes. He let himself be tended to, he loved it. It was a different kind of attention, not the undying thirst that Marie gave him; it was a gentle, caring one, that he felt good enough to relax around. No knife in his back if he let his guard down around him. He gently let his head down, forehead against the prince’s shoulder, eyes closed. Alexander planted a kiss on the top of his head before stopping himself and letting his palm rest against the other’s cheek.

“God you’re so cold… come here.”

He forced him to his feet, tearing him from the sweet and warm embrace of himself and the fire, bringing him to the bed. He pushed him under the heavy covers before getting in by his side. Henry let him do as he please, a small smile on his lips as he watched him hold his hands, rubbing him to warm him up. He didn’t feel that cold, but he knew how Anjou reacted around sickness. His own kingly brother was so sick his days were already counted; seeing his lover in the same state was something he was probably afraid off. When he reached a warmth that was considered sufficient by his self-proclaimed doctor, they blew the candles, letting only the shy light of the dying fire light up the room. As they nuzzled against each other, relaxing in each other’s embrace, De Guise considered telling his lover about what happened with Marie just before he came. Looking at the already half-asleep duke, eyes closed and breath steady, he decided it was nothing that couldn’t wait tomorrow. Plus, she was to be sent off to the countryside in the morning, her and the worries she dragged along would be long gone when they woke up themselves. He let his head fall back onto the pillow, holding a bit tighter on the smaller man. Nothing to worry about. They could delude themselves in thinking they were safe for the night.