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@hrhyork
Self/Less (2015), dir. Tarsem Singh
4♥️ - What are your muse’s thoughts on starting/raising a family?
CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT Q’S // @princessrcyal
Starting a family was his role as a royal, but away from that, Philip has always wanted children and especially boys. Don’t get him wrong, a little girl would have been the light of his life but he really looked forward to imparting the same titits of wisdom and advice his own father gave to him over the years. However, his role as a parent has fallen short of his hopes and drams of fatherhood. Philip cares for his boys deeply and their wellbeing and happiness are never far from his mind but he doesn’t consider actually raising his children his job. That’s what nannies and mother’s are for. Now Caroline is gone however, he wants to be there for them, especially since his son is third in line and it’s looking more and more likely he will oneday be King. The problem is, there is a certain sense of fear from Philip, he doesn’t feel capable of bringing up his sons, like he might make them worse. Often he implores the other people in his life, mostly the woman, to spend time with them, coming across as an avoident father, but he’s genuinly just looking to give them better rolemodels then himself and, to disrespect the dead, their manic mother.
3♠️ - Does your muse ever let anyone see them cry?
CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT Q’S // @princessrcyal
The short answer is no -- Philip considers himself a man’s man. You might see him purse his lips, clear his thraot and turn away just in time to wipe his eyes but that’s as close as you’re going to get to him weeping in the streets. Privately, very privately, there are a few people who might see the more sensetive, honest side of Philip, but he isn’t a crier. He will usually chose (for lack of a better word) to get angry, rather than upset. His outburts tend to be that of knocking a vase from a table or throwing something across a room. In his quieter, sleepier and uusally drunker moments, the likes of Victoria ( @princessrcyal ) or maybe Josephine ( @jcsephines ) and his life wife, in the early days anyway, might have seen him shed a few tears. However, it should be mentioned, that he quite famously cried happy tears at both his wedding and the christening of his eldest son. Which, when reported on, reveared him quite well to the public. The playboy has a heart after all!
THE FIRM FAMILY.
Victoria snorts, “We should do well not to let you near any balconies, then.”
At last, the Queen eases into the subject and the air in the room thickens, dread falling over their heads like a fine linen sheet. Victoria merely stares at her mother; face dull, blood boiling.
“Perhaps this meeting should have been a private one with Harry?” Victoria suggests, her voice even despite the nerves. Even if Victoria had a habit of breaking out of the mold often, the staff’s teachings hadn’t gone completely lost on the princess. Perhaps she couldn’t play the part as well as her mother, but she could get close. “The rest of us aren’t being taught — being prepared — in any way to take over. It’s not what we’re here for. We’re seat-fillers; living, breathing palace decoration. Besides,” she adds with certain bitterness, “my infant nephews and my younger brother come before me in the line of succession simply because they are male. If the throne is what we’re talking about, I shouldn’t even be in this room — give up my spot for Nicholas and William instead.”
With that, Victoria sighs. “May I be excused?”
@ofwalcs
Henry shouldn’t have been surprised by the snark, giving away no reaction to Philip’s comment other than pressing his lips together tightly, a slight roll of his eyes. He wasn’t precisely admiring of his mother’s view on leadership of late, but he wasn’t about to openly argue the point with his whole family in the room.
His mother’s words, of course, did nothing to improve his mood, Henry crossing his arms over his chest. Even if it wasn’t physically true, it was hard not to imagine that all eyes were turned on him in the moment. An unspoken fact that he was his mother’s heir had hung over him for his entire life, touching everything. It was hard to deny he was tired of it, even if part of him almost looked forward to what he might achieve with the proverbial scepter in hand.
“I am inclined to agree with Victoria. Unless there’s something I don’t know.” He shifted his gaze up to his mother’s face, jaw tight. “I’d like to think I’m quite prepared.” He hesitated a second, weighing his next words. “Though I suppose you must have criticism.”
@hrhyork
“Perhaps she has called us all here to announce she wants to skip-a-son. Understandable of course, they are practically calling out for me in the streets, King Philip, King Philip!” Maybe at some point there had been a small majority of the British public that would have liked to see Caroline on a throne, but that was marred by the fact she would have had to sit next to the Duke of York. The newspapers wrote he was fun but not future king material. No, the idea that Philip was a better candidate for King than Henry was hilarious. “No?” He glances around at his siblings, reading the room. “Oh, I have a better idea! She has found you a wife! You’re not prepared because you haven’t... multiplied. We’ve all beaten you to it.”
Philip’s one saving grace was his marriage and two sons. Although that now seemed like a sick joke. His marriage, his wife had caused more problems than she solved. The memory of Caroline left a bad taste in his mouth and, as if to physically remove himself from the looming bad mood, he stood. “Wonderful! We’re all in agreement. You must be so proud of us mummy, all coming together, in this time of need, agreeing with one another. Let’s all leave!”
@pcintdry
♥️ ♣️ Send a playing card to my ask box! ♦️ ♠️
raynhart:
A♥️ - Who was the first person your muse ever fell in love with? 2♥️ - What’s your muse’s family like? 3♥️ - How would your muse react to a confession of love? 4♥️ - What are your muse’s thoughts on starting/raising a family? 5♥️ - What was your muse’s most heartbreaking separation/divorce/etc? 6♥️ - What sort of charity work has your muse done? 7♥️ - Has your muse ever cheated or been cheated on? 8♥️ - How well does your muse perform in social situations? 9♥️ - Has your muse ever had unrequited feelings for someone? 10♥️ - What was the last party or social event your muse went to? J♥️ - Who does your muse consider their best friend? Q♥️ - Who is someone special that your muse always thinks about? K♥️ - Who does your muse look up to as a role model?
A♣️ - What’s your muse’s strongest talent? 2♣️ - What topics of conversation does your muse enjoy the most? 3♣️ - How creative is your muse? 4♣️ - What does your muse have the most passion for? 5♣️ - What would your muse change about their current lifestyle? 6♣️ - How do your muse’s “gut feelings” usually turn out? 7♣️ - Has your muse ever felt “trapped”, either figuratively or literally? 8♣️ - What is your muse the most stubborn about? 9♣️ - What is your muse’s proudest accomplishment? 10♣️ - When was the last time your muse took a vacation or trip? J♣️ - Who does your muse trust the most? Q♣️ - Do other people consider your muse charming? K♣️ - How important is integrity to your muse?
A♦️ - What is the most important message your muse has ever received? 2♦️ - How important is money to your muse? 3♦️ - How does your muse handle indecision? 4♦️ - Is your muse more of the patient or instant gratification type? 5♦️ - How often does your muse change plans? 6♦️ - Is your muse responsible with their money? 7♦️ - When was your muse the most down on their luck? 8♦️ - Has your muse ever received money or gifts from a mysterious benefactor? 9♦️ - How much money does your muse spend on average? 10♦️ - How financially successful is your muse? J♦️ - Who does your muse do the most business with? Q♦️ - Has your muse ever been gossiped about or participated in gossip? K♦️ - If your muse were to start their own business, what would it be?
A♠️ - What was the most painful loss your muse had to go through? 2♠️ - How often does your muse wish to be left alone? 3♠️ - Does your muse ever let anyone see them cry? 4♠️ - What’s the worst injury your muse has ever recovered from? 5♠️ - Has your muse ever had to change their lifestyle in a major way? 6♠️ - Does your muse believe in fate/destiny? 7♠️ - What’s a hard truth that your muse has to learn/has learned? 8♠️ - What does your muse work the hardest for? 9♠️ - Has your muse ever felt forced to change? 10♠️ - How does your muse cope with grief? J♠️ - Who would your muse most likely end up in jail with? Q♠️ - Does your muse manipulate others easily or are they easily manipulated? K♠️ - What is one thing your muse considers a grave injustice?
THE ROYAL FAMILY december 1987 ( @princessrcyal + @godscvethcqueen + @ofwalcs + @pcintdry )
THE FIRM FAMILY.
Her head is pounding. Thirty-five isn’t as easy when it comes to how well her body could take on the late nights, or all the alcohol late nights usually imply. Victoria spent the time of waiting in silence, closing her eyes every few minutes to try and banish away the hangover.
Six in the bloody morning, was all she’d commented to her brothers as she walked in, slow steps in cruel heels. On New Years Day. Henry might as well take the crown; she’s finally gone mad.
Margaret seems to confirm the theory when she finally does show up, all smiles and cheer. Mad indeed.
Victoria eyes her mother in a way that says, What does it look like?
“Good morning, mum,” she forces the words out like she was a teenager again, willing her voice into something softer. “The champagne helped.” Wrong. “I mean, it was lovely. It was—” Victoria looks to the faces around her — to Philip, George, and to Henry, a quirk of the brow that practically begs, Help me out, here. I’m drowning.
@ofwalcs
“It was uneventful,” Henry offered to complete his sister’s sentence. “I think in most respects, that’s a good thing, after the way things have gone.” He had managed to stave off the headache for the most part, but he was exhausted, sitting in one of the plush armchairs. He had slumped until his mother entered the room, which had made him straighten instinctively. Almost forty years old and he still had the niceties pressed into him.
Henry looked around the room, surveying the weary looks, before he returned his look to his mother. “It was a lovely party. I don’t believe I saw an unhappy face.”
@hrhyork
Philip had not sat up straight when his mother arrived, he hadn’t even taken his feet off the three hundred year old table. His smart suit is in contrast with his Ray Ban sunglasses; the boy who never grew up. For all he’s said since he arrived, he could be using the glasses to hide the fact he fell asleep the moment he dropped into the free chair. “I think I saw a couple, maybe you couldn’t see past our mother’s arse as you kissed it, Henry.” He doesn’t even try to stay cool, his mouth widening to show a set of pearly whites, grinning from Henry to his mother, “I apologise, that was vulgar.” True, but vulgar. He had a way with words, did he not? Finally, he removed his sunglasses and his shoes from the table and stood, stretching. He didn’t want to be here, he wasn’t going to make this a nice easy morning; this was going to set up the mood for the rest of the year, the last of the decade, and he had no intention of going easy on mother.
“Quick, Georgie, say something clever and kind to distract mother from my foul mouth.”
@pcintdry
VICTORIA.
It was a torturous task, to see Philip these days. Every moment they interacted and Caroline didn’t interrupt (with a much funnier quip, or a much more interesting fact) was a moment of delayed epiphany: of realising, all over again, that she was gone. Still, Philip is her brother — and Victoria’s love for him should outreach her love for his wife. Admittedly, it’s easier said than done.
“Harry’s told me I should make it mine to quit it with the cigs,” she offers, Exhibit A burning away between her fingers. “I don’t suppose I will follow his advice. To stop drinking then, but recent events have it impossible to achieve such a feat.” He should know. She pauses, musing still, thinking of any and all things she would be willing to give up. “To not have any more children, perhaps, but that’s the only thing that makes anybody like me.”
Away in the crowd, her own Alexander whispers something into Philip’s eldest’s ear. They’d naturally grown close, with the amount of photo ops she and Caroline had gotten out of the children together.
As for his resolution, Victoria offers, a little awkwardly: “A new haircut?”
“Really?” He asks, feigning shock, “I think I liked you better before you had children.” A wider grin; it feels natural to tease her. His own eyes can’t help but glance into the crowd for his own children. In personality, his boys are like his family. Nicholas is his uncle George in miniature; serious and always disproving of his father but William is so like Philip, a trouble maker in the making. But in looks? They are both Cavendish’s, no doubt about it. With their dark blonde hair and thin faces. They are constant reminders of who they came from and who Philip has lost. Sometimes, Victoria does the same. It’s hard to look at her without seeing his late wife's face, the two were practically attached at the hip.
“Quit booze, quit cigarettes, quit anything that makes being in this family a little more bearable. Wonderful idea. I think if we had to face each other without stimulants the line of succession would... shorten.” He raises his eyebrows at his little sister as if to say, joking. Is he kidding? Always hard to tell. He has that British wit down so perfectly, being sarcastic is as easy as breathing. “But a new haircut? What the bloody hell is wrong with my hair, Vicky?”
ELLE.
The noise was a stark contrast to merely a few years prior. Nails clinked against her champagne flute’s crystal as Elle swayed down a more secluded corridor amongst the labyrinth of partygoers. The tapping habit branded a nervous tick, once satisfied with by holding hefty pint glass that frothed over during a freezing New Year’s Eve in a country pub. Off to nowhere for the weekend, walks by day and sleepless nights filled with crowds singing off-key until the countdown began, where the only gold she’d come across was the chipped tinted paint swinging with the pub’s sign.
Though this wasn’t her first New Year’s with the Firm, Eleanor could never quite get used to eyes searing her profile whenever she stood amongst the royal family. The burn followed her, particularly at events. Even an empty room was seldom empty. Guards and servants, marble: as quiet and still as furniture. Rounding the corner, she quickly finished off her glass, only to catch eyes with her brother-in-law mid-gulp. Freezing, empty glass awkwardly tilted nearly upside-down against her rouge stained lips. Relief reinforced with the alcohol quelling her nerves from their last encounter. When she watched his boys one evening, and a twisted take on an innocent photograph- a moment’s solace amidst tragedy between the pair of them- resulted in the press having a frenzy.
‘Hm, perhaps sprouting a tail… Or revealing my secret potion recipe to the world. Though it’s rather expected, don’t you think?’ She shrugged, offering a reassuring little smile. Hoping to keep him smiling. ‘What do you think’s the worst resolution someone in this place has ever had?’
Not his sister by blood but his favorite all the same, Philip relaxed into an easy smile only to be hit by a wave of guilt. Philip was not only used to the press hounding him about every other thing but for the most part, deserved it. He knew the trouble he caused his family in the past but had make a secret resolution, with the end of his wife, not the end of the year, to behave himself in the future. Not for the sake of his siblings or mother, but his children and perhaps the memory of his father. The last meeting with his sister-in-law had caused her more trouble than it had for him; the press had simply chastised him for moving on with the wrong woman, vaguely saying that his mistakes might be put down to a broken heart. But Elle, who had always been compared to Caroline in every possible before her death could now hold no flame to the memory of his wife. He felt for her, honestly, if only the world knew how Elle really compared to Caroline. He couldn’t help himself, he thought what might have been if he had married Elle, not Caroline and cursed his own brother for being such a lucky bastard. Stop this line of thinking.
“A tail? Have they accused you of having animal features now? Points for creativity.” He can’t help it, he smiles. He shouldn’t, and in fact glances over his shoulder, eager to not cause any more trouble for her. “I thought you might avoid me now, what did my brother have to say about our scandalous affair? I imagine he was entirely furious with me for leading you so far astray.”
RICHARD.
“Forgiveness, your highness.” It is not his nature to great another in conversation, with his features devoid of a smile or warm feeling; anger nor bitterness cloud Richard’s visage as he regards Philip. No, he’s rather torn between pity and despair in the company of his brother in law - or would he no longer sport the mantle? Love was little lost between Philip and the Cavendish clan now; Caroline’s existence had barely strung them together, and in death, only bitterness remained. “I resolve to be forgiving - well, and to stop sneaking cigarettes in the middle of the night. It’s a foul vice, and pains my Emma.” They stood in the midst of a splendid assembly, England’s most divine and elite gathered to adorn the grand hall.
Richard is tempted to retract his opening statement - it feels out of place in an atmosphere of exalting joy and giggling ladies, clutching glasses of champagne for stability. Little was gained in honesty; it brought forth unpleasant sentiments, leaving the two conversing to confront emotions better ignored. Stiff British upper-lip, and unbroken civility - he and Philip were raised to live by this creed. Fashioning a smile (which was far more agreeable then the grim expression he previously sported) Richard adopted his normal air of cheer. “I’d say you’d do with a resolution to improve your hand at cricket, your highness. I do believe I’ve bested you twenty times to oh, five perhaps? If I am feeling generous.”
If Philip could be a forgiving man, or even a bigger man, he would generously allow his brother to call his Philip, no need for formalities, call me Lip, we’re still family after all. But the Duke isn’t a forgiving man. He is immature at best, at worst bitter to the core. He liked the distinction, he likes being above the rest; especially after that quip about his cricket ability. Although that was shamefully true. “Forgiveness,” he rolls around his mouth like he is leaning a new word but then, perhaps he is. The Cavendishes are a sad sort of people, prone to melancholy moments although they keep up the pretence well, Phlip learned that quickly from being with Caroline. Her sad moods could move to bad moods if provoked. It was a family trait, he has discovered, the same could be said for her siblings. He would have offered some words of support if it wasn’t for the fact Richard reminded him so much of his late wife, and that was the last thing he wanted to think about tonight. “Maybe that could be my goal for the 2000′s; a while off yet.”
“But how is our dear Emma? Apart from... feeling the pain of your late night wanderings, of course.” Names and faces were not his strong suit but he knew who had had to know. Plus, Emma was pretty, a little wicked too if he has the right idea of her and he personally thought not suited to the people-pleasing Richard at all. But maybe that was jealousy speaking. Richard was a sore spot for Philip; a model son by all accounts. How his mother wished him to be more like Dicky. Philip like to think himself as having rather more depth than his ex-brother-in-law.
The Duke of York was in his element. Not because he was a fan of large parties, though he was, and not because he’d spent the better half of the evening being chased in dark corners by pretty young things, though that was pleasant, but because his family all seemed completely miserable. A public relations stunt gone wrong in his view; let in the riff raff so they might see that we’re not that different from you. What bollocks. Philip had been raised in this house, knew each corridor and stairwell like the back of his hand, was no longer impressed by the glittering chandeliers and hundred-year-old paintings but even he knew this was not how normal people lived. He wondered if mummy counted the silverware herself before she opened her doors and welcomed them all inside. He had some plans to disappear before midnight; it had been some time since he last entered the New Year without a kiss and, for once, he didn’t have it in him to stir up gossip by picking a girl out of the crowd and running with it. Dare he even think it; he missed Caroline. No, perhaps not. The last party they had gone to together had ended with them sleeping in separate wings of the house for a week but he missed his wife.
Not the woman but the companion. The sure thing. The safety of having partner, someone to be relied upon. For a moment he loses himself in thought, half planning an escape. He could say he wanted to ring in the bells with his sons, but perhaps he wouldn’t be taken seriously. A movement beside him stirs him from his thought and, whether they were intending to approach him or not, he lifts his head with a smile. “A resolution,” he begins, “I was thinking of what my resolution could be. Do me a favour and tell me yours, I could do with some inspiration.”
Matthew Goode in Stoker (2013) dir. Park Chan-wook
Funny Games (2007) dir. Michael Haneke
Matthew Goode as Philip Durrant in Ordeal by Innocence (2018)