#henry winter tsh

[dorororororororororo]

it's kinda funny to me how many people are so focused on henry being so 'logical' & 'rational' when the man is superstitious af. like he tried to do ornithomancy (the greek divination practice when you read omens through birds' behaviour), & at a certain point, he & richard see a pregnant dog & henry says that's a very bad omen, referencing horace's odes (“let the wicked be led by omens of screeching from owls, by pregnant dogs, or a grey-she wolf, hurrying down from lanuvian meadows, or a fox with young.”), & i found it quite interesting too, as that puts part of the dark in dark academia, u know what i mean?

[secret-histories]

Bunny: Would you rather be blind or deaf?

Henry: Deaf so I don’t have to hear your bullshit.

Bunny: You just love seeing me that’s why

Bunny: I get it

honestly love those two — insp by this twt post (wenclair nationnnn)

[urfavoritedcwhore]

hi lovely! I come bearing a henry winter request

So maybe they are all in Francis’ house (reader and henry are dating) and henry gets one of his headaches and idk reader takes care of him (as he reluctantly lets her)

Im sorry that is all i came up with for now😭 thank you <333

uhm i literally love that idea so yes of course.

just let me help you//henry winter x reader

doing this in the way i wrote my last henry winter fanfic, instead of using “you” I write “i” and so forth. (don’t worry tho cause there will be plenty of “y/n”’s thrown in here:)

warnings: mention of alcohol, mention of migraines, swearing, drinking

(not proof read)

sitting in the hammock Reading my book at the country house is probably my all-time favorite thing to do. the fall air, the sounds of the twins bickering with Bunny as they all play croquet, Francis and Richard out on the boat, and my lovely Henry reading on the porch with a glass of scotch. However, this day is severely different. As my friends and I drive to the lake house, Henry is growing increasingly snappy. Bunny begins to go off on a rant about how “religion is a ploy to get all of the dumbasses who believe in that shit’s money.”. I listen to his rant, shaking my head slightly as the twins let their mouths hang open in disgust. “Bun, it’s not as if you could truly know that. No one knows if there’s a God or not. It’s all based on personal belief," I explain from the front seat. Being a devoted Catholic, it takes all my willpower to not wear the same face of horror that Camilla and Charles hold, but I know that’s precisely what Bunny wants. “Your joking right, y/n?” I watch him in the rearview mirror nudge Richard. “Old man, can you believe the bullshit she’s spewing?" Bunny says in his nasally voice with a chuckle. I see Richard simply shrug and continue to look out the window. “Bunny, please just change the topic; no one likes bickering about religion with you," I say a bit sharper than before as I continue to watch him from the rearview mirror. “Old gals on her period," he says as if it’s a fact. I turn my head to Henry as he drives, my expression angry and my gaze saying, “Your seriously going to let him speak to me like that?”. Henry glances over at me briefly before returning his gaze to the road silently. I let out a small scoff and voiced my thoughts aloud to him. “You’re going to let him speak about me like that?" I asked, irritated. Bunny chuckles behind me, which only angers me further. Henry only takes a deep breath and remains quiet. “Your attack dog is not barking for you, y/n?” Bunny asks amused. “Both of you, shut up," Henry says sharply and suddenly as he continues to face the road. My eyes grow wide, and I scoff in disbelief before looking out the window and shifting my knees towards the door away from him. Bunny remains chuckling in the back seat. I remain quiet for the rest of the drive, my face undeniably red with anger and embarrassment, both from Bunny speaking to me like he did and Henry not defending me. As we pull into the driveway of the country house, I practically swing open the door as soon as the car stops. I slam it shut, just so Henry can know how frustrated I am. Everyone piles out of the car stretching, except for Henry, who swiftly makes his way towards the front door. I follow behind him as he swings it open and walks up the stairs without a word to me, not even bothering to get his bag out of the car before going to his room. I stand at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, watching him in udder disbelief. Everyone piles in behind us, chatting loudly and heading for the kitchen. I walk away from the stairs, following the group to the kitchen. “Asshole," I mutter under my breath as I walk to the cabinets to get a bottle of wine out. “He’s more...irritable than usual," Charles says behind me as I grab the wine bottle and turn around to get a glass. “Yes, maybe he’s upset about us arriving so late," Camilla replies back as she scrunches her face the way Charles is—something that they always do when they’re thinking. I shake my head and nudge Bunny out of the way of the glasses, grabbing one and setting it on the counter. “He’s just in a pissy mood; he has been since this morning," I say, annoyed as I cork the wine and pour some into the glass. Francis looks up from the piece of mail he’s been studying since we walked in. “Did you see him as he got out of the car? He looked as if he was going to pass out," he says, running a hand through his hair. Camilla shrugs, “Perhaps he’s tired," to which Charles immediately nods, “Yes, perhaps he is.”. I scoff slightly and take a sip of my wine. “Tired? My god, I’ve never once seen him tired. He’s just being a supercilious jerk.”.

Richard shakes his head. "He looks ill," he says in an emotionless voice. slightly irritated that no one’s agreeing with me, I turn around and walk out of the kitchen with my wine in my hand. I find myself back in front of the stairs, staring up at them as I sip my wine. I place my foot on the first stair, and before I know it, I'm marching up the rest of them on a mission. I get to the top of the stairs and look down the left hallway, marching to the room Henry always stays in and slamming open the door. “How are you feeling, darling? Hopefully like a real lousy boyfriend," I say sharply as I see him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. “Out," he says without looking at me, his voice audibly shaking. My face softens slightly as I continue to study him and the state of his room, curtains closed, no lights on, his jacket off, and his tie loosened. I walk towards him slowly, setting my wine in the dresser as I do so. “Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, placing my hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me; he's sweating and extremely pale. Any ounce of anger I have left in me immediately disappears. As I study his face, my own face drops. How could I have been so stupid? “Migraine," I whisper as he looks up at me. He flinches at my quiet word in pain, “Please, please just leave y/n.”. It absolutely breaks my heart whenever I see him like this. Henry is always so put together and independent, but when he has his migraines He becomes almost small-looking, desperate. I rub his shoulder gently and whisper, “Where’s your medication?” I ask softly. “Car," he says as he flinch’s from the pain of hearing his own word. I immediately turn around and jog out of his room, downstairs, out the front door, and to the car. I grab his bag from the trunk and jog all the way back into the house and up the stairs. When I get back into Henry’s room, I'm panting and trying my hardest to catch my breath quietly. After about ten seconds of standing like an idiot, breathing heavily in front of him, I place the bag on the floor, following it down, and sitting on my knees in front of it. I hear him let out a quiet gasp of pain as he hears me unzip the bag. I riffle through it, trying to be as quiet as possible, until I find the small orange bottle of his pills. I unscrew the lid as I stand back up and pour one out into my hand. I grab my wine off the dresser and walk to him, holding the pill and wine out to him. “Please, darling, I can take care of myself," he says quietly and desperately, his voice betraying his words. I move my hands towards him more as a way to say, “Just take it." He slowly reaches out and takes the small pill from my hand, putting it into his mouth before taking the wine from me and using it to wash down the pill. He still looks ghostly white; his eyes close instantly. I gently take off his glasses and lay him flat on the bed, climbing beside him as I cover his eyes with my hand gently to make the room darker for him. He lets out a soft sigh. “I wish you wouldn’t trouble yourself with this," he whispers. I shake my head as I continue to hold my hand gently over his eyes and lay on him. “I’ll do this all night if I need to," I whisper back, my thumb gently tracing his scar in a soothing manner. “Please, y/n, stop treating me like a child. I can take care of myself," he says unconvincingly. I shake my head again and whisper back, “Just sleep, hen.”. He finally falls asleep about five minutes later as I lay beside him for at least three hours, my hand never leaving his eyes. I watch his chest move up and down, his breathing as he sleeps much more even and natural compared to his breaths when he’s awake. I don’t notice at first when he wakes up. “How long has it been?” he asks in a raspy, mumbling voice. I take my hand off his eyes, and he turns on his side to look at me. “Just a few hours, are you still feeling ill?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair.

“You didn’t have to do that; I’m more than capable of taking care of myself," he replies, wrapping an arm around my waist as we lay on our sides facing each other. I nod. “Just let me take care of you from time to time, okay?” I say, moving my hand out for his hair and placing it under my cheek. He closes his eyes and nods slightly as he pulls me closer to him. “Sorry," he mumbles into my neck. I chuckle softly; he’s acting like a child right now, clingy and sleepy. “It’s okay, just get some more rest," I say back as I put my chin on top of his head. "I love you," he mutters into my neck. I kiss the top of his head gently. "I love you too, Hen.”.

A/N: hope this is what you were looking for:)) thank you for the request, i loved writing this!!

[henrywinteris]

HENRY WINTER

[lesbiansforhenryclerval]

Live, laugh, Francis Abernathy

[k1ckback]

More Francis Abernathy please! I love him

oh, my favorite overdramatic ginger, (still getting back into writing, sorry for the infrequent posting) I just did general headcanons but I'd love to do any romantic headcanon ideas you have too

maybe the sole tsh character I have a soft spot for. (that’s definitely a lie)

- some days, he’ll sit and people watch, when he does he tends to find a muse of the day and write a poem imagining how the two would end up. he never meets the people, and usually he’ll watch them walk away from him within seconds. some of his best poetry pieces can be summed up to observing strangers.  - does tend to think a lot about his appearance, he has a well defined beauty routine. he has a pretty defined curl pattern and has to find someway to manage that, but he might just have the softest hair known to man. this routine of his, usually means waking up pretty early to get to class on time.  - he accidentally got pretty caught up in astrology in his younger years, more specifically zodiac. he won’t hesitate to judge by them either.

- I genuinely think him and a cat could get along, he has a nervous hand for almost everyone, but animals. they kind’ve gravitate to him. he reads to himself while he’s home alone, but he could always use another listener, or someone to rant to after a long day.  - definitely gets manicures professionally, he also tends to freak out when he gets so much as a hangnail. doesn’t paint them, but has definitely thought about it (he’d definitely get matching nails with camilla if asked to)  - he is the person to talk shit with. he can practically replicate most of the groups expressions, and won’t hesitate to go out of his way to prove a point. (his bunny impression is to die for, literally!)

- desperately needs someone he can recite romantic paragraphs in french or latin to.. he has them memorized by habit.

[coffeeadiction0]

So, um... Henry Winter?

[academic-vampire]

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔦𝔡-𝔰𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯

[0bsessiv3s0ul]

I can't wait for Autumn 🍂🍁

[charlotlie]

bitches be like “this is the best piece of literature i have ever read” and it’s either a book that took them six weeks to finish or a fanfic they read at 3 AM

[lizzyaka]

One thing i can yap and yap on about for ages is the fact that the greek class cant for the life of them grasp the fact that bunny is upset by the murder of the farmer

When henry is telling the story of the bacchanal to richard, he says bunny couldnt understand how serious the situation was because he was freaking out which is funny, because he was the only one who understood

Henry also said that bunny wasnt upset about the murder but rather about the fact that theyd gone without him, and that he couldn't possibly care that theyd killed a man because he wasnt "exactly the most moral man" as if u needed to be fucking gandhi to realize that killing someone is wrong

When bunny started acting out they were all convinced he was doing it out of spite or to get under their skin, completely ignoring the signs that showed he was having a complete nervous breakdown and was slowly losing his mind because of what they had done

This is because they themselves did not see the act as something that was morally wrong, but rather an inconvenience for them. Like francis said, it wasnt voltaire they killed. They were so out of touch with reality that they lived not in this world but in one where morality doesnt exist, one they are the center of where the gods personally descend to be by their side. They lived in their ancient tales and greek poems. Bunny was the only one who was grounded and they cant understand that. It doesnt even begin to cross their minds. And its the same with bunnys death, they dont care about the morality of it because in their mind they are closer to gods than to humans and gods do whatever they please. They can kill a farmer and who cares? Its not like he was voltaire. They can kill their friend and who cares? Heroes kill and heroes die all the time.

this distance between them and the real world is the most important part of their characters because it explains everything else, from the incest to henrys suicide. Bunny was the only one who was rooted to reality which is what always set him apart from the rest and most importantly why things started to spiral out of control as soon as they killed him. He was their anchor to the real world and to sanity.

[observinghenrywinter]

[urfavoritedcwhore]

Idea for Henry Marchbanks Winter fanfic: He gets extremely jealous. Maybe even a break up? And getting back together … could be wrote in multiple parts!

love this idea

break//henry winter x reader fanfic

a prelude to my “phone sex” fanfic.

warnings: swearing, drinking, slight mention of being sick.

not proof read//reminder that english isn’t my first language, sorry if i mess up<33

lowercase intended

i wrote this at 4am so please bare with me.

henry is almost always jealous. Whether, I am helping Charles cook or helping Bunny with his literature assignments, just little harmless things really. He always has a “stern talk” with me about it afterwards, in which i explain myself and everything goes back to normal. it’s almost comedic how often it happens. let’s talk about what’s happening right now. i’m half drunk, holding henry’s arm as he and bunny bicker drunkenly over….well actually im not sure. all i’ve been doing is giggling and watching henry’s reactions to bunny’s words. we’re all at charles’s and camilla’s apartment as of right now. dinner went well but perusal, everyone has had too much to drink. i think camilla and charles are in the kitchen, i can hear francis and richard behind me on the couch, and of course bunny stands in front of henry and i. i’m watching them and giggling when i feel a hand on my shoulder. i turn around with a chuckle as i half expecting it to be camila coming to watch the quarrel with me. instead i turn to see a drunk richard stumbling on one foot down to the other. he’s smiling boyishly at me, “come dance with me.”, he says nodding to the open space in the living room. faintly from the record player i can hear Valerie Delaney’s, “Six Gnossiennes: Gnossienne No. 1”. i twist my mouth to the side before looking up at henry, who’s still bickering with bunny. i shrug and release my grip on henry’s arm as i turn back to richard, “why not.”, i say before stumbling to the open floor space in the living room. i giggle softly, (something i’m very prone to doing after having a few scotches), and stumble as i look at him. “what kind of dance are you suggesting?”, i ask. he stumbles back a bit and grabs my hands, interlocking his fingers with mine and shrugging as he gives me a drunken smile. he pulls me close as he moves our hands to the sides of us, allowing our bodies to press against eachother. we both stumble for a moment and laugh before we eventually find the rhythm and sway to the music. now listen and understand me, i am in no way attracted to richard papen; hell, i’m pretty sure he’s gay. so in my mind dancing with him, is not different then if i were to dance with francis or even camilla. it’s friendly. when his fingers disconnect from mine and his hands find there way to my hips i simply drape my arms around his neck and continue swaying to the music. not even a full minute later a sharp voice calls out from behind me, “that’s enough y/n. let’s go now.”. i look over my shoulder and see henry standing in the same spot he’s been standing, but now facing richard and me. i’ve always found it a bit eerie how fast he can sober up when it’s time to leave. i chuckle and disconnect my arms from around richard’s shoulders as his hands fall from my hips to his sides. i walk, correction, i stumble towards henry and call over my shoulder back to richard, “that was fun old man, let’s do it again sometime!”. fuck, i need to stop being around bunny so much. i’m beginning to adopt his vocabulary. when i approach henry’s side he drapes his arm around my waist tightly and turns us around. he walks, practically pulling me with him. as we get to the door he calls out his goodbyes and drags me out into the hall before anyone can even reply. i chuckle drunkenly as he walks us down the hall. his grip on my waist doesn’t wavier at all. he keeps his eyes forward as we walk and mutters something to himself. i look up at him, “huh?”, i ask as he continues to pull me along while i stumble. he keeps his eyes forward and his tone steady as he repeats himself, “i said, ‘there are two reasons for evil deeds, one is illness, the other is wickedness.’”. as we get on the elevator my face scrunches slightly as i think. i finally shift my eyes back up to his face as the elevator door closes, “Dante’s inferno. Canto 11, Dante discusses the nature of sin and the motivations behind evil deeds.”, i state realizing what he’s quoting. he keeps his eyes pointed towards the closed elevator doors and nods once.

when the elevator doors open my drunken mind is still confused, “why are you quoting Dante to me?”, i ask as he drags me out the building’s doors and into by the parking lot. he doesn’t answer. instead he continues to walk to his car, not even bothering to open my door for me when we get to it. i narrow my eyebrows before opening my own door and joining him in the car. as i sit and close the door his head snaps to me, his tone is calm but his eyes suggest he’s upset with me. “so which are you y/n? are you ill or simply wicked.”, he asks like he’s asking me the simplest question in the world. i sober up slightly from his words, my body almost flinching from the harshness of them, “excuse me?”, i ask baffled. he looks forward as he starts the car and backs it out of the parking space. he responds as we pull out of the parking lot, his eyes still on the road and his tone still calm, but his fists are clenching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles have gone white; “i’m asking did you dance with richard and embarrass me because there’s something mentally wrong with you, or did you do it just to be wicked?”. my eyes widen as i look at him bewildered, “are you joking?”, i ask greatly offended. he only scoffs and continues to drive. i reply back angrily with my head still turned towards him, “he’s homosexual henry, good God.”, i say shaking my head. “so there is something mentally wrong with you then. you don’t see the way he looks at you all the time? y/n he practically salivates over you.”, he says with the slightest bit of either annoyance or anger in his voice. i furrow my eyebrows and shake my head in disbelief. i turn my head and look back out the windshield. we’re driving towards campus? why are we going to henry’s apartment? i turn my head back to look at him, “why are you driving to campus?”, i ask genuinely confused. his eyes stay focused on the road.

“i’m talking you to your dorm.”, he answers as if it’s obvious. my heart sinks, “why, why aren’t we going to your apartment?”, i ask with my anger wavering and a small feeling of dread in my stomach. to my surprise he sighs. he doesn’t answer until we pull into my dormitory buildings parking lot, “i need to not be around you right now y/n”, he says as he finally looks at me. he’s eyes are hard to read, but i see a flicker of something. anger? disgust? resentment? hurt? “i don’t want to go to my dorm…i want to go back to your apartment with you.”, i say in almost a whisper as my eyes meet him. he closes his eyes and rubs his temples, “i think it best if we spend some time apart. i cannot continue to be constantly worried about you going off with another man.”, he says in a sigh. immediately i feel my cheeks burn red and my eyes grow with tears, “what do you mean by ‘time apart’?”, i say back trying to keep my voice steady. “are you breaking up with me?”, i add on but this time not able to conceal the shakiness in my voice. he opens his eye quickly, “if that’s what you need me to call it than i suppose. though i would rather just call it a break for right now.”, he says in a calculated tone. my eyebrows furrow as i try to process his words. i feel a lump forming in my throat. don’t let him see you cry, don’t let him see you cry. i nod once, quickly wiping a small tear off my cheek that escaped my eye. “fine. if that’s what you want.”, i say trying my best to sound indifferent. he looks back to the front, “it is.”, he says matter-of-factly. i allow myself a momentary pained expression while his eyes aren’t on me, but i quickly wipe it away as i unbuckle my seatbelt. “fine then.”, is all i say before opening the car door, getting out, and slamming it shut. i don’t allow myself to look back at the car once im out, i simply walk forward towards my dorm building. i don’t even realize im full on sobbing until i get into my dorm room and look in my mirror. fuck fuck fuck fuck. i pace around for a moment before i feel utterly sick. does he truly think i would betray him? does he truly think i could ever love someone else? i throw myself on my bed, but i know, i wont be sleeping tonight.

A/N: thank you for the request! if you all want i can write a fic about how the week during the break<33

[qiornono]

it’s that time of year again where i reread tsh for the bajillionth time so here is the greek class!!!

[smeagol-on-my-deagol]

the fact that richard sees/wants us to see judy poovey as sort of dumb, while also seeing/wanting us to see julian morrow as some revolutionary mind when they're having the same damn thoughts is crazy to me

like near the end of the first chapter when we hear some about the class discussion, one of the points julian discusses (in simple terms lol) is how people who tend to bottle things up and stay composed all the time end up causing greater amounts of destruction when they "lose control" than people who allow themselves to lose control on occasion, but he does it with many words and references

and richard is like "wow this is awesome how sick is this guy"

then at the beginning of chapter two, judy poovey is telling richard about the time henry beat the fuck out of spike romney and she says something about how when uptight people lose it they REALLY lose it, but in terms just as simple as those

and richard just goes "yeah, i guess"

which there for sure is something to be said about the way people use words and the difference that use of language has on the way people feel about certain concepts, but you know

[droptheguillotineplease]

Doodles of the characters from Donna Tartt's The Secret History