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“You do realize America is a genocidal empire too, right?” “Yes, June, but at least we have the decency not to keep a monarchy around,”
flash forward to 2025 TT
what kind of garbage country eats bland beans on white toast for breakfast? He can’t decide if his Mexican blood or his Texan blood is more offended.
“How many times do I have to tell y’all not to discuss your murder plots in front of a sitting president?” their mother interrupts. “Plausible deniability. Come on.”
love it
you have a lot of moles, he texts, along with a snap of the spread. is that a result of the inbreeding?
lol
please do not attempt to steal my shine. you will fail and i will be embarrassed for you. Henry texts back seconds later.
to Henry His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Whatever, Don’t make me learn your actual title. Are you going to be at the Paris fund-raiser for rainforest conservation this weekend? Alex First Son of Your Former Colony
obsessed
First Son of Off-Brand England:
i cant omg TT
I am driven to distraction.
Nobody’s ever got the nerve to be cheeky to a prince, except you. The moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed. O, fathers of my bloodline! O, ye kings of olde! Take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil.
The phrase “see attached bibliography” is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me.
Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all?
“What do you want?” “I want you—” “Then fucking have me.”
no bc im actually ugly crying rn
Here lies Prince Henry of Wales. He died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.
lol
I will physically fight your grandmother myself if I have to, okay? And, like, she’s old. I know I can take her.”
He wants to set himself on fire, but he can’t afford for anyone to see him burn.
“I am your mother. I was your mother before I was ever the president, and I’ll be your mother long after, to the day they put me in the ground and beyond this earth. You are my child. So, if you’re serious about this, I’ll back your play.”
June helps him stuff a backpack with jeans and a pair of shoes and a broken-in copy of The Lightning Thief, and he stumbles into a clean shirt and out of his room.
obsessed
He loves Texas—he believes in Texas. But he doesn’t know if Texas still loves him.
“Oh, yes,” he says, “yellow rose of Texas, is it? I read that was a thing. Thought it might be good luck.” All at once, Alex is in love all over again.
“Nora, what’s the math?” June says, rounding on her, a slightly frantic look in her eyes. “I majored in nouns.”
