Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
A SAMPLING OF LETTERS FROM DON JUAN DEMPSEY TO DEAN HUDSON, TYPICALLY IN THE IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH OF AN ARGUMENT OR AS AN ATTEMPT TO SIDESTEP AN ANTICIPATED ARGUMENT
Scribbled on to the top piece of one of Dean's notebooks and left on his desk, January 1893, the day after he (without telling Dean) indulged in a small amount of opium at a friend's house:
Tried to surprise you tonight but looks like I'll have to give it up. I helped myself to some of the food in your icebox in hopes that you'd get back from wherever you are while I was having dinner but now I've finished it and am feeling conspicuously idle. You'll be relieved to know I did not attempt to cook anything. Hope to see you soon. Write me?
The following day, attached to a delivery of a fruit basket which is very obviously too large for one person living alone:
In case I put you out by cleaning out your ice box. I'm ordering this sight-unseen so you'll have to forgive me if it's not suitably fresh. They had some in the shop I could've sent but this one includes something called a papaya and I'll admit I was far too curious about it. Describe it to me next time I visit, will you? Unless it's awful, then lie to me and say it was lovely. I think something with a name like papaya ought to be lovely. See you soon?
-DJD
Sent by owl, early afternoon, following a night spent together where there was clearly a Conversation which could have been had, and which they both spent the evening avoiding:
There are four questions of value in life... What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is same. Only love.
With a heart sloppily doodled in place of a signature.
An hour later, also by owl:
I don't always discuss, but I ought to admit:
I'm smitten with you more than a bit
The world narrows when our fingers interlock
When we're together I pray slow the clock
When you're away I miss your smile, your wit,
Not to mention your glorious cock.
Signed with another doodle, much more lewd than the last.
Shortly after:
Do you even like poetry? I don't know whether I ever asked. It's taken as a given in my family. The first one I sent was Byron, the second one was me. In case that wasn't obvious. Also I forgot you were at work. Hope you didn't open the last one with your boss around. If I got you into trouble I'll make it up to you tomorrow xxx
Sent by owl, evening. Don Juan hadn't been to Dean's house in four days and was beginning to feel it was a conspicuous absence. Shakier handwriting than usual; he was still on the tail end of opium withdrawal.
I slept with this fellow. Not excellent. 2/10. Wouldn't repeat. I could tell pretty early on that it was going to be lackluster and tried to give him some direction which he nodded along to but then immediately failed to incorporate. Sometimes this happens to me and I offer to switch places and show them what I mean but that wasn't going to work here. Bloke pretty obviously had some hangups about the idea of having someone in his arse (ironic, no?) How did you get to be so good at this? Have you perhaps considered that you may have a duty to go educate others? You could consider it an act of charity. Give at least one bloke a month a really excellent fuck, so they know what they're missing out on. Then I think Mr. 2/10 might have to actually take some feedback on board and improve his performance. You'd be making the world a better place, really.
In response to Hudson's return letter, the same night. Hands still shaky.
Not tonight, unfortunately. You know I would if I could. I'd rather be at yours than anywhere else. I'm out at the club right now, though, and already agreed to a dinner later tonight. I really shouldn't even be writing but can't stop thinking about you lately xxxx
The morning after an argument. Prior to the disagreement they had planned to spend the upcoming evening together as well.
My editor hunted me down this morning; turns out I've missed a rather important deadline and he's threatening to lock me in a secluded cabin until I get the chapter done. I'll probably manage to talk him down but don't think I'll make tonight. I'm miserable about it, missing you already.
- DJD
Two hours later, delivered to Dean's house attached to a modest bouquet of flowers.
Don Juan had not responded to Dean's accusation and Dean hadn't levied it again in person — or at least he hadn't gotten around to it before they'd been distracted with Don Juan's new tattoo. Around six weeks later. Don Juan's pockets are filled with illegal potions. Dean knows this, because they slipped out on the bedroom floor last night while they were undressing. They don't talk about it; Don Juan picks them up and puts them back in his pockets and they continue on with the night. The next morning Dean leaves early and Don Juan fills every crevice of his bedroom and study with love notes. In drawers, tucked beneath pillows, folded on tabletops.
Life without you is miserable. I hope I never have to manage it again. You brighten all my good days and make the bad ones bearable.
Your arms are my favorite place in the world. Every time you hold me I fall for you again.
Words are insufficient to describe how I feel around you. I could write you poetry every day and never run out of things to say, except that I'm not enough of a poet to even get a proper start.
Think of me today? I'll be thinking about you. Always am. (...and the things I'd like to do to you!)
The phrase 'you stole my heart' would be entirely applicable for us because I certainly never intended to end up here — but it's not stealing if I'm happy to let you keep it, is it?
Great smile, gorgeous. Hope to see it in person soon.
During an eight day stretch where Don Juan had legitimate reasons for being unable to visit Dean, but suspected Dean doubted their legitimacy. The first day, sent by owl:
Do you promise not to forget what I look like between now and the 10th? If you find yourself uncertain just pick the handsomest man in the room and imagine someone 30% more attractive. Missing you already xxxxxx
Mid-morning of day three, wrapped up in a parcel with a brightly colored scarf:
Made me think of you. Weren't we just talking about this color the other day? Wondering why Miss Fernsworth would ever choose such a thing for her dress. You can give it a whirl and let me know if you find any redeeming qualities for garments in this color.
Early morning, day four, with a small box of French pastries:
Thinking of Paris. Missing you terribly. Got myself the same for breakfast. Almost like we're sharing it — not at all like we're sharing it, but let me be sentimental. Write me soon, the tenth feels like forever. xxxxxxxx DJD
Day seven, afternoon, by owl.
Still on for tomorrow night? If we're not I believe I shall die. Don't work too hard before I get there, or have too much to drink — I'll have no trouble tiring you out by myself. yours forever
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