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Welcome to Charming, the year is now 1892. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.

Where will you fall?

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“Cheese and Crust” - an exclamation common among the lower classes. A perversion of the invocation of the name of Jesus Christ, though considered somewhat respectful for its veiling of the oath. — Bounce
Maybe a choice shade of grey - the closest thing she had to mourning clothes - as a symbolic marker that her relationship with Victor was dead.
dining is pageantry


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Deck the Halls
#1
December 11th, 1892 - Gallagher/Beck household, Pennyworth
@Thomas Harvey

Rhys would like to deck Barnabas these days, but with the impending ending of the Hogwarts term for their holiday break and the fact that Maxwell would be coming home— here home for the duration, meant Rhys was scrambling to decorate. He never had before this, a stocking on the hearth maybe, for Roxy, but it wasn't like he and Barnabas ever exchanged presents or anything of the like. Not to mention her thought his step-brother wouldn't think to do it. Fortunately the Misses Potts knew exactly what he needed and had set him up with some garlands and a tree and some actual ideas on what to do.

With a fire roaring in the hearth, Rhys was setting up the tree in the stand while Roxy snoozed contently in her bed nearby. Why he was the one following through on this and not making Barnabas do it was beyond him, but he thought the kid deserved some kind of celebration even if his father was an idiot and his uncle was not one who tended to like celebrating anything.

And so the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, while Rhys fought to get the damn tree to stand up straight. It kept tipping to one side, but as he was the only one setting it up, it was hard to make sure the pegs were in tight enough when he was also holding up the tree. Maybe this would have to wait until Barnabas came home. Rhys would leave the actual decorating up to his nephew, if he wanted, but for now all he needed was to get the stupid thing to stand upright. He was half in the tree and reaching for the stand once more when he heard the door open. "Good timing," He grunted out. "Hold this damned thing up." It had to be Barnabas or Dorset, either would do.



[Image: qC0q48.gif]
behold. the power of STEF
#2
Floored. That’s how Tommy felt, still, months later. It helped that the kid was off to Hogwarts, consequently gone most of this time (though never far from mind – sending Mort back in makeshift body armor, the occasional notice of detention that Barbs and he scoffed at, the boy’s begrudging letters sent from etiquette class). All of this was a warm-up, if you will. Now they were a family, and this holiday they were meant to act like it. There’s nothing more contagious than the desire to make it a good Christmas for a kid.

But lately, Tom’s felt every bit the sorry sap of a father he was always destined to be. Even if the ball and chain looked like Barbs, who was being a bit extra about his preparations. This sent Tommy running around all across town, securing goodies and gumdrops and god-knows-what, and all the stores were a mess this close to Christmas. But Barbs was still away on a well-paying case, and had been sending money along – and Tom would be damned if he didn’t help his mate make this the best damn Christmas the kid ever had.

So the man showed up at the house with a clatter through the almost always-open door, carrying far too many bags to be reasonable. This included a biscuit in his mouth, which prevented Tom from announcing himself properly. For the better, probably – he wasn’t exactly sure how Rhys would respond, knowing it was him. Nevermind that Tommy was a fixture in the place lately, though he tried to wake up from the couch and leave before the Constable started his early morning. Roxy was a good girl at giving him the hint he was up.

The dog bobbed its head up in interest as he stumbled in, dropping decorations as he did. Something in one of the bags was smoking but he repeatedly confirmed there were no flames. Just to be safe he kept it away from what was most important of all – the pièce de résistance. The broom he proudly pitched in to buy. He set it aside. Around the corner, Tommy found Rhys practically burrowed behind the tree, swimming in pine needles.

“Alright,”
he didn’t take off his scarf or gloves, but he finished his biscuit bite and handed off the remaining half to Roxy (this was their agreement, you see). “I’ve got it here,” he seized the top of the thing which tilted precariously in every direction. “Maybe the tree stand screw is loose.” It wouldn’t be the first screw loose in this place.


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