#chapeliier

...Slowly picks up the phone and dials 911.

"Hello. I'd like to report a deranged old person that is sexually harassing me... Yes, please bring the K9 unit, SWAT, the helicopters, everyone. I don't feel safe."

house of the dragon / no longer accepting / @chapeliier

the heavy velvet curtains in the baskerville mansion’s east wing were drawn tight against the chill of the night. candles flickered low, casting long, wavering shadows across the antique furniture. the air smelled of old wood, ink, and the faint tang of liliac's bloom that slithered in through the open window. xerxes lay sprawled across the wide settee, one arm hanging limply over the edge, his usual flamboyant coat discarded in a careless heap on the floor. his white hair clung damply to his forehead, and his single visible eye was half-lidded. his condition was a curious thing indeed; a man with no abyss's mark yet wielding a chain and daring to outrun the clock on his chest that has already finished it's full turn. but try as he may, abyss is not something to play with —— and this was the consequence. the mad hatter’s power was eating away at his body from the inside, unusually slow.

try as he may, any with red eyes of misfortune is destined for the maw full of golden light.

oswald stood at the side of the settee. he had brought fresh water, clean cloths, and one of the milder pain-dulling mixtures the baskerville physicians sometimes prepared for their own, had wiped the cold sweat from break’s brow without a word, and remained there, watching. break might have been weak now, but his voice still carried that theatrical lilt. oswald wouldn't mind being teased —— whatever helped to keep morale —— if only the words didn't point out just how much effort he was putting into this. oswald’s hand stilled where it had been adjusting the blanket over break’s chest. there was a faint tension in the line of his lips, a subtle tightening of gloved fingers. he had been worried. the realization sat heavy and uncomfortable in his chest. or maybe the discomfort wasn't from that: the baskerville had long since accepted that break has wormed his way past his defenses with shared silences and sharp wit could draw the faintest ghost of a smile from him when no one else was looking. maybe seeing him like this, pale from the mad hatter’s toll has stirred something he wasn’t allowed to feel. maybe he did look too long at those lips. ridiculous.

he straightened to his full height a bit too fast, his expression a bit too composed —— not enough to betray much, but his face —— his face is warm. he can feel it, annoyingly so. the heat settled across his nosebridge first, then further and deeper to his cheekbones, something less superficial, less easily dismissed. it is not visible in the way xerxes might have preferred, not flushed brightly, not obvious, but it is there and oswald is aware of it. acutely.

“ nonsense, ” he huffs, “ i don’t want —— ” he begins, and halts, because finishing that sentence would require specifying what, exactly, he believes xerxes is offering, and that is a line he refuses to cross aloud. his gaze shifts, just for a moment, not away entirely, but downward —— catching on the line of xerxes’ mouth, the suggestion of that infuriating half-smile —— “ —— anything from you. ”

the space between them remains uncomfortably intentional. oswald exhales, slow, measured, as if resetting something that has slipped out of alignment. his fingers shift at his side, a small, contained movement —— tension seeking an outlet. oswald exhaled through his nose, almost a sigh, and did something surprising himself: sat down on the edge of the settee, careful not to jostle the injured man, hand came up, brushing a stray lock of white hair from break’s forehead.

“ just… be more careful so you don't collapse. that's all. ”

@maaskuline, @pumpkinhcad, @chapeliier, and @universalcarnival really be my biggest fans. 🥺🥺🥺

gives you a hatter ~!

Are you Rapunzel's type? bingo | accepting.

"Ahh,   you   checked   a   lot   of   boxes   but   ......   you   DON'T   like   Chameleons?   and   no   DREAMS?   None   at   all?   Oh...   we   have   to   fix   this!   I'll   help   you"

@chapeliier asked: ❛  you know bullying is my love language and you’re still here so… ❜

In   all   honesty,   Bee   had   noticed   the   man   clutching   a   handful   of   candy,   awakening   her   sweet   tooth!  So.. hoping   he   might   share   with   her,   the   woman   lingered,   But   then,   his   confusing   remark   threw   her   off.

"Uhhh…   what?   Are   you   threatening   to   bully   me?   Or…   are   you   saying   you   love   me?   If   I   let   you,   can   I   have   some   of   those?"

" i'll smile when you're dead, so if you're really that eager to see me smile, why don't you do me the favor and start working on it? "

a glare is thrown at the hatter, twirling one of her blades around in one hand, she sits upon his mattress with the idleness of a woman who knows not the concept of shame or danger. the room is dark and almost bare of anything other than basic furniture - it reflects the hatter's nature unnervingly well. a perpetual enigma. she could not tell anything about him based on the place he inhabits, and she knows it's on done on purpose.

blame it on the lack of sleep, or maybe his intuition was simply getting better. or, perhaps, he's just been on edge with his family dropping dead every other month. it was discomforting, and wearing him down, to the point of paranoia at times. he specifically felt a gaze on him, and every time he tried to play it off and simply glance around . . . nothing. until he turned back forward and found a familiar doll ready to smack him square in the face.