jack--davenport

[jack--davenport]

cassie-the-necromancer‌:

Cassie actually laughed at what he said, finding amusement in comments like that, “No, from what I gather you’re not a moron,” she replied to him, her lack of gateway showing a little. “I can talk myself out of most things,” she confirmed with a confident nod but smirked, “And I can flight may way out of things too. Besides, no one fights fair these days”. She was skilled in her use of magic and that always helped get out a sticky situation or two but she didn’t care. 

“Well, fuck,” Jack laughed, “compliments are rare these days, so I’ll take it.” He listened for a moment, an agreeing smirk hanging on his lips. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a ‘fair fight’,” at this, he drew air quotes, “I’m not even sure I’d recognize one if I saw it. What the hell does fair even mean these days, anyway?” 

[jack--davenport]

elisecoplen‌:

“Fine, you have a terrible sense of style but I panicked.” She realized he probably could not care less about her shoe dilemma, but she appreciated that he hadn’t just walked away. “I’m not on anything, I just get really attached to shoes.” It was a painful process for her to create a new self that didn’t care about shoes. “I told myself I wouldn’t buy anymore shoes which is the issue. But I really like that pair even though I’m trying to stay strong.” She was seeking positive words of affirmation that she was more than her love of shoes. 

“Is this like... an ‘I’m poor’ thing or a ‘trying to break the cycle of addiction’ sort of thing?” Jack asked, running a hand through his hair as he furrowed his brow, struggling to follow the woman’s words. He could empathize with both situations, though one took precedence in his life at the moment.   “Or did you jump on the Tidying Up hype train? Cos I mean, I don’t know you, but if shoes don’t bring you joy I don’t want to know what the hell does.”

[jack--davenport]

claire-ofdavenport‌:

“It wouldn’t effect us in our other forms, but I didn’t plan on shifting tonight. Unless you wanted to after cookies?” she asked stepping aside to let him in. The knife from Ozzie’s previous visit still sat in her doorway. She quickly grabbed it as she moved to the kitchen.

Jack felt his throat involuntarily constrict as she mentioned shifting. How was it so casual for her? Sometimes it felt like he was the only one who had failed to make peace with it. “What the hell?” Jack muttered as he watched his sister retrieve an object. “We’re just leaving weapons in the goddamn door now? I definitely didn’t get that memo.”

[jack--davenport]

cassie-the-necromancer‌:

She cocked her eyebrow at him when she heard his response, “Surely you know better than to judge someone why their appearance?” she asked him with a smirk. 

Jack took another sip, larger now, as he shrugged his shoulders.  “Surely you don’t expect me to believe shit just because you’ve said it?” He kept his tone light, meaning no real offense to the woman. “Besides, you strike me as the sort who’d have better luck talking your way outta something like that.”

[jack--davenport]

[jack--davenport]

thelaurellang‌:

“You’re being facetious, right?” Laurel quipped with a single raised brow. “Have you finished all ten seasons then? Or just on your way there?” The woman questioned. “How would you like me to distract you? Regale you with tales from my extended stay in the hospital and the awkward room situation? Or list the various annoying things that I’ve witnessed just today? I don’t live such that thrilling of a life so we’ve got a short list of topics to pick from. Or would you like to sign my casts?”

“What, do you want me to show you the fuckin’ thing?” Jack’s phone was already in hand, fingers tapping at the screen to pull up the message. “Hospitals give me the heebie-jeebies, that’s a hard pass. How the hell did you get hurt anyway? I didn’t even realize you were there.” Would he have tried to help her? The question was a fleeting thought, but it disturbed him nonetheless. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have been able to after being incapacitated himself. His hand unconsciously traveled to his neck, palm pressing against the now healed puncture wounds.  “While a drink would still undoubtedly be preferable, I suppose I could settle for a gripe or two instead.”

[jack--davenport]

luciantallis‌:

Lucian immediately opted out of the first couple of responses that came to mind. He’d told Jack he’d stop with the dog jokes months ago and he wasn’t about to crack a qup about his older hobbies to a recently single guy. Instead he managed a shrug of his shoulders and flicked ash from the end of his cigarette onto the pavement. “I mean, you read, right? That’s a start.” Reading was practically a form of escapism, that’s probably what the guy needed right now. Which wasn’t really a healthy coping mechanism, but it was a safe one. Considering Jack had opted out of meeting up at a bar, he figured that’s what he was trying to go for at the moment. “Visiting family is always a goddamn delight.” He scoffed, an impish grin pulling at the corners of his lips before he shook his head and turned to look down the lit path through the park. “Used to do this a lot, just go for walks, before shit hit the fan. Figured nobody is going to try and fuck with the two of us together and I know I could use the fresh air.” 

Reading. Right, that was technically a hobby. A boring as fuck hobby but a hobby nonetheless.  Reading was comfortable and familiar, forever linked in memory to long afternoons spent alone at a bar. Jack hadn’t quite figured out how to disconnect the two. “You know what I meant,” he muttered halfway through an eye roll, though the corners of his mouth still twitched with the hint of a smirk. “Is that what you’re doing now? Visiting? I figured you’d  said fuck it and moved right back into the goddamn place.”  Misplaced envy bled through his words, darkening each syllable. His conscious mind was more than aware of the Tallis’ familial issues, but in the present moment the wolf would’ve given anything for a family home to return to. “It’s a 15 mile loop from my place to the Brooklyn Bridge and back,” he mused, the words falling out before he could think to withhold them. “Takes like six fucking hours, but it beats sleeping.” Sleeping alone, that’s what was implied, what he couldn’t say. What he knew Lucian understood.

[jack--davenport]

How do you feel about yourself right now?

“How do I feel about myself right now? What are you, a shrink or something? I dunno, let’s do a little recap. I bit a witch, my brother still fucking hates me, I got bitten by a basilisk, my girlfriend left me and took the apartment and the goddamn cat, and I can’t even fucking drink about any of it anymore. How the fuck would you be feeling?”

[jack--davenport]

How do you feel about each of your family members?

“What, like you want me to make a fucking list of their flaws or some shit? Nah. I’ll pass, thanks. Besides, when has what I think ever made a goddamn difference?”

[jack--davenport]

[jack--davenport]

The object of the game is to checkmate the opponent’s King by placing it under threat of capture which cannot be avoided. [ x ]

@galexdavenport, @dinah-davenport, @jack–davenport, @bran-davenport, @the-darling-miss-davenport, @claire-ofdavenport

For Eva.

[jack--davenport]

“I watched so many episodes of Friends this week that some chick from Netflix actually sent me a goddamn email with a crisis hotline number inside,” Jack rolled his eyes, taking another drag from his ever-present cigarette. “Sobriety is a fucking joke. You’ve gotta distract me or some shit.” @thelaurellang

[jack--davenport]

rubypeterson‌:

“I wanted to help.” She only replied after taking a tentative sip of her coffee. He wouldn’t have asked for her help, she knew the type. It’s why he was so nervous here. Not that she could really blame him, it was a hard thing to admit. Chipped blue nails digging just enough into the styrofoam of her cup, Ruby tried to take a moment to piece together what picture she had of him so far. In that weird spot between wolf and shifter, kind of skittish, not necessarily abrasive, definitely a little defensive. A smoker, but they all kind of were at one point or another, some were just better at hiding it than others. He knew what she was and there was some comfort in that, she wondered if he felt the same way. Got that weird little feeling of belonging when he met another member of their community. “Which is kind of why I’m here, too. I guess it’s kind of my thing. Right below being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” The smile she bore gave way to a hint of sarcasm behind the rim of her coffee cup. Brow furrowing, she pulled the cup away from her mouth and set it down on the table so she could tap more powdered French Vanilla creamer into it. 

“Nobody just wants to help,” he muttered automatically, regret twisting instantly in the pit of his stomach though his expression remained steady. He mirrored her, taking a quick gulp from the cup in hand, still averting his eyes, focusing on her nail polish. “Usually there’s something in it for you, I mean. People aren’t usually altruistic for the hell of it.” The more he spoke, the more he insulted her. He bit down hard on his tongue in an effort to control it. He shook his head, running a hand across his face for the space of a few seconds, as though to apologize, or sober up, or both. “It’s been -” he shrugged. “It’s been a shitty year. Would’ve been worse if I’d had that shit running around in my bloodstream for any longer than I did.” Thank you. That’s what you were supposed to say. Instead, he washed down the acrid taste of his own blood with another swig of coffee. It wasn’t strong enough. “But you were definitely in the wrong fucking place.” He downed the rest of the coffee, paper cup settling back onto the table with a soft thud. “Look.. I,” he sighed, shaking his head again. “I don’t know why the fuck I came here. It was a mistake.” He shrugged once more, retreating deeper into his jacket, cigarette now stowed behind his ear as he fumbled with the zip. “Enjoy the evening or whatever.”

[jack--davenport]

cassie-the-necromancer‌:

If there was one thing that Cassie appreciated, it was someone with confidence. There were too many people now who relied on the fact they were shy to get them through life and it was something of a grind for the witch. “That’s what I like to hear,” she chuckled before answering him, “Without a doubt. Although it doesn’t take much to be better than that”.

Jack shook his head, laughing to himself at the mental image of this woman in a bar fight. “Now that,” he began, taking another sip, “I’d have to see to believe.” There was a world of difference between your garden variety kickboxing class at the local YMCA and a full on bar brawl.

[jack--davenport]

elisecoplen‌:

She hesitated, unsure of how to answer the question. “Yes?” Maybe that would make up for asking him for fashion advice. Elise was hoping he intentionally dressed like that to be ironic or something. “Is it that obvious? This is so complicated. I don’t want to care about my shoes but I’m called to these shoes.” She sighed and pointed at the shoes in the display window. “I really don’t know what to do.”

Jack couldn’t stifle the laugh that emerged in response to her lie. “Fucking hell, you’re not gonna hurt my feelings or anything.” He was actually grateful for the small amount of humor she’d injected into an otherwise miserable day. “The shoes are calling to you? Whatever the hell you’re on, I want some.” He stepped closer, squinting his eyes toward the pair she indicated. He couldn’t see what was so special about them, but Delphine had always had more of an eye for this stuff than him. “Why don’t you just go ahead and buy them? Or at least try them on?”

[jack--davenport]

claire-ofdavenport‌:

“Oh yes brother. I had an extravagant night planned with partying and girls, but now I have to cancel those plans.” she teased a mischievous smile forming on her lips. She then pointed to his cigarette. “The smell of smoke is hard to get ride of you know.  We can always chat out here, but it’s much warmer inside plus I have cookies. It’s your call. I’m down for either.”

He rolled his eyes in response, taking a long final drag from his cigarette. “Jesus, Claire, what’s a little snow to a Davenport?” he muttered, though she was right, the cold was starting to get to him. He dropped the cigarette, stomping it out with a twist of his foot as he rubbed his numb hands together. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll go in. But only on account of the cookies.”