#TO BE FAIR. henry DOES make me thirst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buckyownsmylife · 4 years

Text

off to the races - harry styles smut

the one where harry was your boss and now that he’s not...

Warnings: former work relationship, harry is known for sleeping around in this one, reader finds it hot and likes it rough, sir kink, smut in general

A/N: okay, so I ended up diverging from the original request because technically, she’s no longer his assistant... but the idea of hierachy is right there! Also, I ended up changing the requested daddy kink for a slight sir kink - not usually one I particularly enjoy, but for this one, it just seemed right 🤷‍♀️

Harry’s P.O.V.

Such a pretty little thing. Been trying to get her in my bed for months, ever since she joined the company, but she swears she could never “sleep her way to the top”. I promised I wouldn’t promote her, she still didn’t budge.

I wasn’t greedy enough to fire her just to have her.

That’s why when the holiday celebration rolled around, I made sure to take her as my plus one, introduce her to Henry, praise her and talk her up. I knew his competitive streak would make him offer her a job. I knew she’d take it.

Because as much as she tried to deny it, she felt it too. That undeniable pull. That attraction that ran deeper than the physical, but was definitely dominated by it. And God, what wouldn’t I give to dominate her.

“Mr. Styles?” The way she tilted her head as she found me on the other side of her front door was way too fucking endearing. I could just eat her up whole. She was wearing a robe, I noticed - I knew it was late, perhaps maybe too late for a social visit, definitely too late for a social visit to a former employee, but I had planned this carefully.

“Forgive me for the time, you know how difficult it is to pry me away from work… And with you no longer there, I think this is going to become more and more common for me.” She nodded, adjusting the light tissue to make sure that it wouldn’t show more than she wanted - more than what was proper, but she bit her lip at the same time, her eyes running me over until they found what I was holding.

“Ah, yes, this is why I came. I have something to give you in celebration for your first day in a new company. May I come in?”At my question, she startled, jumping away from the door and motioning me in despite playing with her fingers after I was already there. I raised an eyebrow as I patiently waited and that seemed to snap her out of her reverie.

“Would you like to sit? I-I’ll get us some glasses.” I looked at the sofa but turned my attention back to her, widening my stance as I stood blocking her from the rest of my apartment. I knew I stood towering over her, but that was precisely my intention. I wanted to make her feel small, at least in the physical sense. The difference in our heights had always been one of the things that attracted me to her.

“I’d rather have something else to quench my thirst.” She knew what I meant. It was obvious, but especially for someone who knew me as well as she did. But I could see that she still held some hesitation, some reminiscence of the time when she wouldn’t do this.

So I upped my game.

“I can smell you dripping all the way from here,” I noted, grasping her by the waist so I could have her body as close to mine as possible. “And you don’t work for me anymore. So can I please, *please taste your pussy?”

The question made her shiver, and although she couldn’t meet my eyes, there was a nod. That was more than enough for me. So I held her by the back of her neck and pulled her up to meet my lips, while I fumbled with the silk covering her body until I could press my hand on her navel, wiggle my way between her legs.

“Fuck, darlin,’” I whispered as she desperately tried to catch her breath. “Have I always made you this wet? Did you have to struggle with this all day during work? Answer me.” My grip on her jaw tightened as my voice lowered, and although she gasped, I knew she was pleased with my dominance.

“Y-Yes, you made me wet all the time.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“I fucking knew it,” he whispered just before he caught my lips with hers again, swallowing down my moans and whimpers with a far too talented tongue that so easily made my knees weak. “It’s only fair, sweetheart. I was always pretty fucking hard for you.”

It was that confession, paired with two fingers that parted my lower lips for a thumb to find, that had me finally breaking out of my control from the pure need to have the man that held me so easily in his arms.

“I know.” I watched his eyebrows shot up as he was faced with the realization that all of those times he thought he was being so inconspicuous, only to call one of the random girls in the department to help him sort his “problem”, I was fully aware of the entire situation.

“You do?” There was a smirk in his lips now, replacing the surprised expression. It was clear that he liked it, he liked knowing you were aware of everything, including how hard he fucked your coworkers, now conscious that he was thinking of you the entire time.

“Hmh.” He looked about ready to devour you now, but just before he could, something made the predatory expression in his face fall, replaced by something soft instead. It made my head tilt to the side in curiosity, but he didn’t leave me hanging for long.

“You have to tell me if something is too much, okay?” His tone was so soothing, it was the only thing that stopped me from laughing at the silly preoccupation that had clearly decided to burden him out of the blue.

“Mr. Styles…” I ran my fingers over the lapels of his suit, hoping to give him the best sultry gaze I could muster while I whispered the words I’d been waiting to say for so long. “Do it like you always do. I’ve heard the other women you’ve fucked around the building. I want you to treat me just the same.”

I could tell he had stopped breathing, and when my fingers slowly inched under his work shirt to find his abs tense to the touch, he actually shivered. “I may not work for you anymore…” I stood on my tiptoes to say the last part of the sentence, making sure he knew that I meant every part of what I said. “But you can boss me around as much as you like.”

Before I could even comprehend what had happened, Harry had taken off my robe, stripping me and revealing my naked body to his hungry gaze. Then, he had me on the sofa, surprisingly not securing a spot by my side, but instead opting to remain standing, still fully dressed, towering over me.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs.” Despite the overwhelming desire that I felt to be absolutely and completely *ruined by the man before me, I was still inexperienced enough to feel somewhat self-conscious about following his order without any sort of hesitation. Thankfully, he didn’t hurry or seemed impatient as I slowly opened my legs and jutted my hips up, offering my most private part to him.

But perhaps I’d been too quick to judge, because as soon as I’d obeyed him, he knelt before me and pulled me down towards himself with a particularly harsh grip on my hips, until they were completely out of the couch.

“Put your legs on my shoulders.” That was all the warning I got before he delved right in to lick me, warm tongue suddenly everywhere as I wiggled under his hold. Immediately, I understood why every single woman he ever slept with was desperate to have another chance with him.

Harry’s P.O.V.

She was delicious. Sweet and creamy and everything I’ve always imagined when I licked into all of those other employee’s peaches. And fuck, every single sound that fell from her lips was just music to my quickly hardening cock. I wanted to bury myself in her, but first I needed to have her cum dripping from my chin. I needed her to cum for me.

So I raised one of my hands that had been otherwise occupied with her fantastic ass and slowly dragged a finger through the same lips I was licking, making her gasp and whine, much to my delight. “Do you think I can fit two in here?” I asked, already forcing two of my digits in. The moan she let out was downright pornographic, better than anything I’d ever heard before, and I just had to tease her.

“What? Does that feel good?” Skipping slow and gentle altogether, I started forcefully plowing my fingers while curving them inside her tight channel, all the while still licking around them and sucking on her little clit. In seconds, I had her cumming already, and I hummed in delight at the wave of her sweetness that invaded my mouth. “Delicious,” I commented when she finally stopped squirming, letting me pull away to bite on the inside of her thigh. “Could eat you all day.”

A whine was my sign that she would oppose to that project, and I had to laugh when she begged, “Please, just fuck me, sir. I need your cock in me.” Hearing her address me the same was as she did during work fucking *wrecked me. Never before had anyone done something similar - always too eager to try to fabricate a connection that just wasn’t there. And while there definitely *was something between us, hearing her address me like this, especially now that she didn’t have to, only made me even harder.

“I need it too, kitten.” My hands roamed all over her body, stopping on her breasts for a while to pull on her nipples before I finally managed to force myself away to work on my pants. And then I was easing myself into her, mouth open to release out-of-breath pants as I struggled to keep some semblance of control.

Y/N had thrown her arms over her face, covering it from my eyes, and I knew it was because she was suffering as much as I was to keep still while we both adjusted. Smiling, I captured her wrists to pry them away so I could see her again, before mocking, “Don’t be shy. I know you can take it.”

She didn’t like that. She was determined to let me know just how eager she was to take every inch of me, and that much was obvious not only in the fire in the eyes, but also by the way she started to writhe underneath me.

Chuckling, I gave into what we both wanted, starting to fuck her roughly and curling my hand over her neck, cutting off the air just enough to get her complicit once more. “I know, I know, darlin’. I was only messing with ya.”

She clawed at my still clothed chest, holding onto my shirt as I filled her over and over again, paying attention to every little sound that escaped her beautiful lips. God, she was so fucking tight. And when I picked up the movements, fucking her rough and dirty, just like she told me she wanted, it didn’t take long at all to have her thrashing desperately, her orgasm reaching her like a freight train.

“You cummin’, sweetheart?” I asked, holding onto her neck a bit more tightly just to feel her pussy clench around me. At her answering groan, a stupidly satisfied smirk painted my lips, still incapable of believing this was actually happening. “Who’s fucking you this good? I’m gonna let you breathe, but only if you scream my name when I do. Do it. Fucking scream it.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I cried out his name as stars took over my sight. I had no doubt my neighbors heard it, but in that moment, it was impossible for me to care about anything other than the feeling of Harry’s cock as he brutally pounded me like he was trying to prove to himself that he hated me.

“Fuck, kitten. If you weren’t so adamant in keeping me away, I could have made you scream like that in the office, had everyone know you were milking my cock so good.” The thought of my coworkers hearing the sounds of our frantic fucking only served to leave me wetter, especially when his hand trailed down my body to find my clit engorged and throbbing for him.

“Just another one, darlin’,” he pleaded when I tried to wriggle away from him, too fucking overstimulated to take the added attention to my little bud. “Just wanna feel you cumming one last time, c’mon, milk my cum, cum with me.”

And so I did.

When his body fell down on the couch next to me, I looked down to see his cum dripping down my thighs, making me shiver as the realization of what we’d just done finally settled over me. I’d fucked my boss. I let Harry finally fuck me.

“Come here.” Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me on a warm lap before I could spiral even further down my madhouse of worries. “Just gimme a few minutes, huh?” My look of confusion must have been obvious, because upon looking at me he just chuckled, squeezing me tighter against his chest. “You didn’t seriously think I was done? I still want to fuck you, sweetheart. This hasn’t nearly helped fulfill my desire for you.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I resorted to remain cuddling my former boss, our legs entwined over my sofa as I listened to his heart beat right under my ear. I could get used to this.

#harry styles smut #smut #harry styles #my fics #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles insert #harry styles reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles reader insert

348 notes · View notes

bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

Text

“It was just an accident,” Henry tells himself at first, “it was just an accident, I shouldn’t hold it against him.”

That’s what he tells himself when he first began to follow his murderer. That’s what he told himself when he first began to process his death. But his body continues to rot and deteriorate in the tucked-away, dirty alleyway. No one is finding him, no one is searching for him, no one seems to have noticed that Henry slipped out of his office one evening and never returned. His servants at home aren’t worried, he is gone for weeks at a time. The Lodgers are not worried, they don’t care for him. They do not require his presence and they only wish him misfortune now. No one is noticing him, no one is suspicious, no one knows the tragic tale of his death, the days he has spent as the maggots eat his body from the inside and out. The murderer continues on with his life, but the guilt is still eating him up from the inside. Henry knows. Henry sees it, but the murderer is too scared of the consequences of the accident, what would happen if he cracked and confessed. Henry doesn’t let him go. He watches him, observes him, he takes in every detail of the appearance of the man that took his life. He watches him; when he is walking through the market for the week’s groceries, when he is aimlessly walking down the street, when he is sitting on the coach of the carriage he drives, when he is wandering through his tiny, unkept apartment. Henry is always there, attached, too obsessed. No one can see him, yet his accidental murder cannot shake off the overwhelming feeling of something always being there, breathing down his neck, staring at him when he isn’t looking.

And he is not wrong.

As Henry continues to observe, as he likes to call his undead pastime, his thirst for revenge only grows. It grows, it growls, it consumes him. Why does his murderer deserve to live on without consequences, when Henry lost his life? It’s not fair, his blood-thirst to correct the wrongdoing is pushing and pulling. Henry is alone. He is a specter in the world of the living. He gets no happily-ever-after, he gets no afterlife, he gets no heaven or hell, he gets no goodbyes, no parting ways, he gets no conclusion, no closure. He walks through the crowds, the people his spirit passes through feeling shivers down their spine as he walks straight through them, and his echoing footsteps continue to haunt the empty street. His corpse remains unfound, now the exquisite feast of diseased rats and stray dogs alike. Why should he not get revenge? It was just an accident, but why does his murderer get to continue the simple life he doesn’t deserve, having stolen Henry’s out of his weak hands?

He deserves revenge. He deserves closure.

He isn’t sure when his murderer first saw him. He wasn’t sure what his murderer saw when his eyes moved, darting to his side as he accepted the food from the market vendor. Henry was standing there, like always. He wasn’t sure what his murderer saw, if he merely saw someone he knew, or if he saw Henry’s rotten body in the alleyway. Henry watched as the murderer took his things and kept himself from running off, kept himself from causing a scene in the middle of the packed crowd. Henry watched, and he followed.

It was a game of cat and mouse, Henry was taking him up to the chase.

You are never alone in the overpopulated city of London. You are never alone on the dirty streets. He is camouflaged against the living, but he is always there. He is always watching. He follows his murderer through every street, through every detour, through every alleyway; a hallucination and a nightmare, a beast and a monster. There is no escape. He wanted to be benevolent, he wanted to be forgiving, but there is no forgiveness in death. There is no justice in a murder. He has to take the judge’s gavel and send the final strike himself, a nail in his not-yet-built coffin.

When they would find his murderer’s body, they would think it was an accident. When they would find his body, they would think it was a murder.

How mixed up it would be.

“It was just an accident,” Henry tells himself, watching his unsuspecting victim making a run for one of the many bridges over the Thames, no one is watching, he is alone, “it was just an accident, I shouldn’t hold it against him.”

But as Henry watches the man stop, and as he watches how he grabs the railing for support as he pants, he decides that he has had enough.

There is no justice in death, but he will strike the judge’s gavel.

You cannot repay a murder. It’s an eye for an eye. Mercy is not a word that Dr. Henry Jekyll remembers. Only vengeance, only revenge, only justice.

He holds his murderer accountable. He pushes his spine over the sharp stone railing, savoring the sound of crack as the murderer’s body bends.

“Show them my body,” he whispers, “show them my body or they will find yours. Explain to them why my corpse is in a rotten alleyway. Tell them why my bones are broken. Tell them how you found me. Tell them why no one else had found me. Tell them what you did, or pay with your life.”

Mercy is not a word Henry remembers. Mercy is not something he is going to show. He listens as the murderer begs, cries, pleads for forgiveness in absolute terror, but he doe not hear him. He lets him go, but he does not forgive. He watches, and he observes, and he follows.

The murderer does as he was told. He goes to the Scotland yard immediately. He begs the officers to come with him. He sees Henry behind him, he sees the ragged and bloodstained clothes and he sees the rotten patches of flesh upon the ghost’s face. He does as told, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

It’s an eye for an eye, after all.

There is no justice in a murder. There is no justice in death. Only vengeance.

#While I'm getting used to writing again pls enjoy this lil snippet i wrote in like 20 min <3 #the thought of Henry haunting and getting bloodthirst for his murderer is a thought i v much like so here u go <3<3 #banshees au #ghost au #tgs au #tgs ghost au #the glass scientists au #the glass scientists ghost au #tgs #the glass scientists #banshees writing #this is v casual so im not going to treat it like an actual oneshot but I hope y'all enjoy anyways <3

64 notes · View notes

walviemort · 3 years

Text

hidden blessing (7/?)

Summary: Killian thought the only thing he was left with after Milah’s death was a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. It’s not until he gets to Storybrooke, after so many years spent in stasis, that he discovers something else: he’s carrying her child. How does this new, tiny blessing change his path? (Canon-divergent from 2x12.)

a/n: Sorry for the long gap between chapters! Life and all that. But hopefully there will be less gap between this and the next ones, and hope it was worth the wait!

To Killian’s surprise, part of Emma’s plan of preparation was rest; she was pointedly looking at him when she made the suggestion, and honestly, he’d been too relieved at the idea to say anything against it. Even more shockingly, Regina agreed, and for the first time since they’d set foot in this accursed land, Killian finally felt rested; even the nausea had abated, though he was sure it wouldn’t last long.

What did concern him, however, was the sound of David struggling once they finally set off toward Pan’s camp. Snow teased him, but Killian was worried that his brush with the Lost One’s arrow had been far too close.

And then, of course, Pan moved the camp—in the opposite direction that they’d been moving. As usual, Regina was quick to blame him and call for the use of magic. Which was a terrible idea, and he told her so, but did give him another.

“How are we going to find it?” she sniped.

“By using someone he trusts,” he replied, patience waning.

“Who?” David challenged. “Because I guess he certainly doesn't trust you.”

He’d never gain ground with David, would he? “A fairy who lived here when I was about,” he explained, ignoring the jab. “She might still be on the island. She'd be an inside source, knows all about the camp, can get us in. She might even have some pixie dust left. Perhaps we could fly in.”

In the continuation of their hot-and-cold relationship, David supported the idea—and Emma apparently discovered another person she knew to be fictional was real. If he ended up raising this child in Storybrooke, he’d have to be sure to keep such tales far away from them.

They redirected, but David was flagging. And Killian hated that he knew why.

It took some prodding, but David eventually was convinced to show Killian his injury, lifting his shirt just enough to expose his lower abdomen. The more hormonal part of Killian was slightly jealous of the man’s not only flat, but incredibly well toned stomach, briefly mourning the loss of his own, but it gave way to dread: there was a long, shallow slice along David’s side, and black veins were already spreading from the cut.

And yet, David still tried to argue that “The arrow only nicked me.”

But Killian had seen enough brushes with the vile poison to know what lay ahead. The sight turned his stomach, dredging up painful memories. But the stubborn prince wouldn’t heed his advice to tell his family.

“Pixie dust,” David insisted was the answer. “You believe in this Tinker Bell's power? In her pixie dust?”

“Indeed, I do.” Tink had never given him reason not to. (Though, to be fair, most of their interactions were a bit more physical than verbal, and with the way the slightest thing had him aroused right now, he didn’t dare wander down that path of memory.)

“Then let's get her and that dust.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Her treehouse was still in the same spot; given his familiarity, he headed up first, only to find it empty. (Although still far too familiar; memories of one particular night spent in that hammock definitely stirred some things he hadn’t wanted stirred. Bloody hormones.)

Thankfully his pants were still loose enough to hide anything he didn’t want shown as the rest of the crew joined him in the treehouse, although their search came up empty.

Well, not entirely—while Emma and Snow were reminiscing on the hovel’s resemblance to some places they’d lived, David uncovered a handkerchief. Of Regina’s.

He should have known Tink would be steps ahead of them; she usually was.

Thankfully, she hadn’t caused Regina any harm—and Emma managed to convince her to join them. He wasn’t really surprised—Emma clearly had that way with lost souls such as themselves—though he had assumed his own rapport with the fairy would be required.

(He was pleased, however, that Tink was not averse to his flirtations, even if she was no longer the main object of them.)

Their shared history meant she could read him too well, though. On the trek back to their campsite, she sidled up to him. “So who knocked you up?” she bluntly whispered.

How the hell could she tell? Not that it really mattered, he supposed. “First time you’ve seen me in 30 years and that’s your first question?”

“Well, you weren’t the last time I saw you. Oh god—it wasn’t me, was it?”

He chuckled. “No, lass, it was not.” He had a keen memory for these things and he and Tink, despite the numerous positions they explored, never managed the specific one required for conception. “And actually, I was when you last saw me; I just didn’t know it yet.”

The moment of realization was visible on her face. “Oh my goodness. Then let me say congratulations.”

“Thanks, love.”

She then punched him in the shoulder. “You better be damn careful.”

“Bloody hell; that doesn’t exactly help.”

She helped them gather up some coconuts to share before settling in for the night (or whatever part of day it was; his circadian rhythm was definitely off, and his random bouts of fatigue didn’t help). After they’d passed them around, he sat down and was starting to notch a hole in one with his hook when Emma took a seat next to him.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” she asked quietly. “Stomach feeling alright and everything?”

He was speechless for a moment; despite her previous admission, he was surprised she cared. But her green eyes were staring him down, demanding an answer. “Aye; nothing too bad today; thank you for asking.” He broke through to the hollow core of the coconut and handed it to Emma. She took a sip and smiled.

“Damn, that’s good. I didn’t just take yours, did I?” He replied by grabbing another one and holding it aloft. “Good. You need to stay hydrated.”

“I’m aware, doctor.”

She snorted at that and took another sip, but then her smile drifted away as she swallowed. “So, uh, you seemed to know Tink pretty well.”

“Aye, you could say that; we go back quite far.”

“Were you two—is she—?” Emma stammered, then nodded toward his midsection. He had to bite back a laugh.

“Yes and no,” he answered. “We did know each other intimately, but not that intimately.”

She adorably scrunched her face in confusion, then shrugged. “Okay, I was just curious. You still need to explain all that to me, but not tonight.”

“No, not tonight; you better rest up.”

“You too, okay?”

“Aye, captain.”

She rolled her eyes, but stood and headed back toward where her parents sat. The longer he spent in her presence, the more he felt it when she left. This was definitely not the time or place to be warring with those feelings, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He was mature enough to set them aside and focus on the bigger picture—saving Henry and escaping this cursed realm—but bloody hell was it difficult.

The near-constant flutters within began their tiny dance again; he hoped the way his hand rested on his belly was perceived as casual. Feeling that was yet another reminder of his goals here: to make it out alive for the sake of the babe, and let no harm come to them.

He was allowed to have some fun along the way, though—right?

-------------------------------------------

Of course, those moments were few and far between. The next day brought Tink’s uncomfortable reminder that they’d yet to figure out a way out of Neverland, and led them chasing ghosts across the island as he brought them to Bae’s old hideaway.

He had never let the lad know that he was aware of its location. Or that he’d been keeping an eye on him ever since he left the Roger. That was still his greatest regret, and he hoped no one noticed the tears brimming at his eyes as he moved to uncover the entrance to Bae’s cave.

Deflection usually helped; he did find a brief moment to engage Emma, but David stepped in before she could reply. It was hard to tell if it was fatherly protection or pure stubbornness against his own fate that was the motivation. Of course, David didn’t want to hear another lecture about his situation as they opened the cave, but he got one anyway; perhaps this pregnancy was elevating Killian’s already intense protective instincts, but the man’s insistence on hiding his condition was infuriating and heartbreaking.

Honestly, the only thing that kept him back from really tearing into David was Emma calling out for him from the cave. His heart gave a leap at that, one that was clearly distinguishable from the rolling of his stomach that typically accompanied nausea, and he headed in with one last glance at David. He could deal with him later, but he’d not leave a lady waiting.

“What is this place? What are we doing here?” she demanded impatiently, trying to make out anything in the dark of the cave. Ever one for the dramatic reveal, Killian headed straight to a waiting torch on the back wall and quickly made to light it with his flint against his hook. At least, he had hoped it would be quickly, but the ever present humidity made that difficult; and then David was again pushing him aside with some firestarter from his realm. Bloody hell, was that man stubborn. But it had the desired effect, and Emma quickly realized where they were. “Neal,” she said on a breath, studying the chalk drawings that covered nearly every surface. “This is where he lived.”

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Baelfire spent some time in Neverland as a boy. This was his home.” His eyes were immediately drawn to a reproduction of the port and starboard coordinates that were still etched into the Jolly Roger’s helm, sending a wave of guilt and sadness through him.

The group wasted no time in beginning to search for a clue as to how Bae had left; clearly, it had been in a rush. And if Killian used it as an excuse to hover around Emma...well, that was his business.

“Anything important?” he asked as she inspected the wall.

“I can't tell yet. I didn't know he liked drawing.”

“He got it from his mother,” Killian found himself blurting out; it was also easy to see Milah’s influence in Bae’s style, and his hand immediately fluttered to his belly on instinct. Emma gave him a sympathetic half smile, but then turned her attention back to the task at hand—and in the process, discovered the way off...partly.

It was a rather ingenious device, he had to admit: a star map hidden in a coconut. Practical and creative; he couldn’t help the rush of pride he felt when he explained it to the group.

“Then you can read it,” Regina stated, uncharacteristically hopeful. Which made the next part all the harder.

“Sadly, no.” Because of course, Bae had made sure to encode the coordinates in a manner that only he could read.

“Which means the only person who can read it is dead,” Emma summarized, clearly upset. She tossed the map aside and hurried out of the cave in a fluster. Her parents tried to follow, but didn’t get far before she told them she needed space.

Kililan only waited a minute before following.

She was only a few yards outside the cave entrance, forearm pressed against a tree as she stared at the ground and, most likely, was trying not to express any undesired emotion.

“You alright, love?” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

She huffed. “No, not really. Just one step forward and three back, every fucking day.”

She continued to rant without any input from him—about the jungle, about Pan, about missing Henry, and her mixed feelings toward Bae. And it became abundantly clear to Killian that she needed a respite (he certainly could use one, too).

He knew just the place, too. “Swan, can I show you something?”

“Is it another way off the island?”

“Afraid not, but I think it’s what you need right now.”

She sighed, mildly defeated (which was still as much as he’d ever seen from her), but nodded.

It was a short walk to their destination—still within earshot of the Charmings if needed—but far enough to give them both some needed room to breathe. He brushed back a swag of foliage (after checking for dreamshade) and gestured for Emma to step through.

Years ago, he’d discovered the small spring here; one of the few parts of the island not bent on murdering its inhabitants. The water was fresh and cool, and various fruits and edible plants grew around the edge. Back then, he’d made a point to keep access to it open for Bae; he was relieved to see nothing had changed, save for the few vines grown over the entrance.

“It’s beautiful,” Emma sighed—a heavy thing of both awe and relief.

“Aye. Only a few places like it on the island.”

“Let me guess: the water is acid or something?”

He chuckled. “Blessedly, no. It’s one of the safest places here, actually. Bae would come here often—for water, and to bathe.”

She sighed. “Yeah, one of those sounds great right about now.”

“Go right ahead,” he said, gesturing to the spring. “I’ll keep a lookout for you.”

She arched an eyebrow and smirked. “How do I know this isn’t just a ploy to get me out of my clothes? Don’t forget: I know what pregnancy hormones are like.”

She wasn’t wrong, and he couldn’t help the rush of thrill when she flirted with him like that, sarcastic as it was—or the slight southern rush of blood. “Well, I had planned to do the same, if you’d offer me the same courtesy once you’re done.”

“Okay. But turn around,” she directed. He couldn’t say no to that.

He also wasn’t about to divulge the places his imagination wandered as he heard the gentle splashes of water as she cleaned herself.

She didn’t take long—he could tell she was used to being efficient when it came to hygiene, like he was—and was fully dressed by the time he turned around, though her wet hair was still dripping. And he was more relieved than he planned on that she was already facing away when it came time to remove his tunic; he was by no means ashamed of the curve of his belly, but showing off something that was apparently unnatural to the woman he fancied was suddenly a mortifying endeavor.

He was quick, too, in washing up, and in getting redressed—at least his tunic; he let his vest hang unbuttoned for a bit. It had also been a minor bit of relief to undo it, and he’d need a moment to subtly loosen the laces in order to make it both more comfortable and better disguise his slight bump.

He’d given Emma the all clear to turn around before he did that, though, lest she get suspicious. Although—she seemed mildly disappointed when she did.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing, just...you didn’t have to hide your bump, if that’s what you were doing,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“Bummed you couldn’t see me shirtless?” he quipped.

That drew a wry, side-eyed grin from her, before she sat down on a stone near the edge of the spring and took a long sip from her freshly filled jug. There was enough space on it next to her for another person to join, but he didn’t want to impose...at least, not until she called out, “Are you gonna join me or not?”

He picked up his vest and coat from where he’d left them in the sand of the small beach and made his way over, then settled next to her. She passed over the canteen; the water was cool and refreshing—and he nearly dropped it when the babe gave a strong kick. “I guess this one likes it too,” he said after he passed it back, and let his hand rest over his belly. It wasn’t often he felt strong movements like that, but each one was reassuring—that his babe was safe from all the dangers of this murderous island.

“Have they been doing that a lot?” Emma asked.

“Here and there; that’s one of the stronger ones I’ve felt.”

“I remember when Henry first did that,” she started. “I dropped my lunch tray, I was so startled. And they wouldn’t give me any more food. But it was...kind of incredible.”

He only understood half those words, but understood the sentiment. “I was still locked up in Tamara’s apartment when I felt the first one.”

“What a coincidence; I was in prison.”

He was growing to hate the number of parallels in their lives.

“Anyways—how’s everything else? Any nausea, cravings, anything?”

It was touching that she was so concerned, but he didn’t dare complain about anything other than the intermittent nausea. As she’d said, she knew about the hormones. “Although, my boots have been annoying tight,” he did add, “and I need to loosen my vest a bit.”

Her eyes had drifted to his midsection, but quickly glanced up. He couldn’t fault her for being curious, so he tugged the edge of his tunic up to reveal his stomach.

“Aww, that’s a cute bump,” she gushed; it was an odd thing to say, he thought, but she clearly meant it as a compliment. “You said sixteen weeks, right?”

“Aye,” he answered, impressed she remembered.

“Yeah, I think that’s where I was with Henry around then. I carried it all in front, apparently.” She quickly grew quiet, and he could tell that wasn’t the sort of thing she shared with too many people. But then her expression grew quizzical. “Can I ask...how, or where, exactly are you carrying?”

“I clearly have a womb,” he said, trying to make light of what was clearly going to be an awkward anatomical conversation.

“Well, yeah, but…you’re a guy. Also clearly,” she responded, eyes glancing at his groin.

“Yes; I have both, then, if that’s what you’re asking, but my womb is...I suppose less functional than yours.”

“So...what, you don’t get periods or something? How does this all work?”

He chuckled at her bluntness and explained—how his womb was something of a secondary characteristic, menstruation only occurred once a year or so, and conception was also only possible at a specific time and when the female partner was on top (a fact that made her blush). “Milah and I...our last joining before she died, it would have been the right circumstances, but given how slim the chances of conception were, it wasn’t something we were concerned with.”

“It only takes once,” she said knowingly.

“That it does,” he agreed.

They settled into an easy silence, and the baby started kicking again, even more once he put his palm over it.

“Do you...want to feel it?” he asked; no one but the doctor had thus far, but he knew women and their partners and friends usually shared those moments. They counted as friends, right?

He was worried she might think he was crossing a line, but she grinned. “Yeah!”

Gently, he took her hand and placed it over the spot just to the side of his navel where the babe was pressing. Hopefully, she didn’t notice his quick intake of breath at the feel of her warm palm on his skin.

If she did, it was quickly forgotten when the little one was kicking at her hand; her eyes lit up. “Hey there, kid,” she said softly. “Look at you, growing big and strong.”

She looked up at him, smiling—and very close to him, a fact she too seemed to suddenly realize, and she quickly moved away.

They lingered at the pond a while longer, enjoying the respite from the craziness of their journey.

But Killian couldn’t stop his heart from racing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from Emma’s proximity, or her interest in his babe, or both.

(Emma, she was surprised to find, was facing a similar predicament. She couldn’t linger on it, she knew, but maybe when they were done, she could try to figure out what that meant.)

But for one minute, they were just two friends enjoying a quiet moment.

————————————————–

thanks for reading! tagging @cocohook38 @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian jones ff #mpreg #killian mpreg #hidden blessing #My ff

40 notes · View notes

ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Fic: Popsicle (Henry x Reader)

Summary: Henry helps you to mown your lawn in a very hot day.

Author’s notes: I woke up with this idea in my head and I had to write it! I apologize in advance because this is so fucking cliché! LOL

Wordcount: 1519

Warnings: smut (oral; dirty talk D/S tones)

Part of Henry wondered if she was doing it on purpose. He didn’t think his girlfriend would be that devious. She always seemed such a sweet girl and even if they haven’t been together for that long, a little over a month really, he thought it was time enough to get to know her very well.

And it was, after all, a very hot day. The sun shining brightly; almost punishingly so. Not a single cloud to be seen in the cerulean blue sky to offer the brief comfort of shade. The air was dry and there was barely any breeze. Henry himself was dripping with sweat, skin flushed pink from exertion as he finished mowed the lawn. The whole reason why he came over this early on a Saturday.

She had asked him for help because her lawnmower kept giving her trouble and Henry just offered to do it himself. It was a pretty heavy machine and she was such a tiny woman. He really didn’t mind, and it could count as exercise for the day.

That was two hours ago. Now Henry’s light cotton shirt was soaked through. His shorts not fair behind. His damp curls were glued to his forehead as sweat trickled down his brow and temple, a couple of drops landing his eyes and making them stink. He knew he had green stains all over his legs and arms and the smell of cut grass, sharp and fresh clung to his skin and nostrils.

However, Henry was finally done and there she was, in the tiniest jeans shorts he had ever seen and a white tank top knotted to the side, showing a tantalizing stripe of her belly. The fabric revealed enough that he could she had foregone a bra and her nipples were hard and pressing against the shirt.

She sat on the steps of the porch, leaning back on her elbows. On the table behind her a pitcher of lemonade, the condensation gathering on the glass making his throat clench with thirst, while she made his cock harden at the very suggestive way, she had her mouth wrapped around that a popsicle.

Her lips were dyed red from the artificial color of the sweet and from what Henry could see, whenever she gave little licks around the length of the popsicle, gathering the melted drops, so was her tongue.

Henry sidestepped her to deal with the first of his body needs, pouring himself a glass of refreshment and downing in one go under her watchful eye, before cleaning his hands on a dishtowel on laying on the table.

She pulled the popsicle from her mouth with a little pop, licking her lips from the excess of juice, before flashing him a bright smile.

“Thank you for doing this. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

He kept his gaze locked on hers as she brought the sweet back to her mouth very deliberately, pushing almost all of it inside before hollowing her cheeks and now there was no question in Henry’s mind that she was doing it on purpose, being a damn tease.

“Give me that,” he all but growled, tugging on the stick of the popsicle until it left her mouth completely and she pouted at him, but there was a hint of mischievousness on her eyes. “I think this is a poor substitute for what you really should be sucking.”

Henry threw the popsicle away, before glancing around, making sure there wasn’t any nosy neighbor in sight. Fortunately, the hedge fence she kept was pretty tall and under the porch, they were mostly hidden from view.

He undid the laces of his shorts, pushing down mid-thigh, exposing his half-hard dick. She crawled closer on her hands and knees, watching him with hooded eyes before stroking his cock to full hardness. She watched him through her lashes, eyes full of desire.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” she whimpered moving forward, but he caught her by the hair, making her stop. “Hen, please…”

“Tell exactly what you want,” he ordered, forcing her head back so he could look into her eyes again.

“I want you in my mouth,” she started suddenly breathless as she stared up at him. “I want you to fuck my mouth until I can’t breathe. Until I’m gagging on your cock. I want you to cum on my tongue, making me swallow everything.”

It was almost as if every word that passed her lips sent sharp bolts of pleasure through his spine, making his cock twitch, precum leaking from his tip. Apparently, his sweet, naive girlfriend wasn’t so innocent after all.

Henry let go of her hair long enough to caress her jaw, one thumb pressing gently against her pouty lower lip and she immediately took into the warmth of her mouth, tongue swirling around it suggestively, before letting go with that same dirty little pop.

“Please, sir…” she whispered against the pad of his finger. “Let me suck you, please.”

He didn’t expect the word sir to have that big of an impact on him, but his cock throbbed with want and, before Henry could even register his actions, he was dragging her close, rubbing the head of his cock against her lips, just to hear the tiny little whimper of need she let out before he finally let her take him into her mouth.

Henry groaned softly at the delicious feel of her tongue circling his crown, exploring it slowly, the tip probing his slit and making pressure build on the small of his back. Soon, it wasn’t enough; he rocked his hips just a little and she took the hint, getting more of his cock in her mouth. The way her lips stretched over his thick length was right down indecent; just like the little mewls she was letting out.

Henry watched as she took him into her mouth as far as she could manage before pulled out completely and lavishing his cock with little sucking kisses and licks, exploring his shape and veins; coating him with saliva to smooth the movement of her hand as she jerked him off.

“Does this feel good, sir? Am I doing it right?”

“Yes,” Henry breathed out, lost in the sensations. “Feels perfect, baby. Keep going.”

She took him in his mouth again, sucking harder this time around, making Henry grunt, his hand tightening on her nape at the feel of the tight wet heat circling his hardness with the perfect pressure. Fuck! She was so good at this.

He forced his eyes open to watch as inch by inch his cock disappeared in her mouth. She fixed the angle slightly, to take even more and Henry groaned at the feel of the back of her throat working around his head. He held her still for a moment, admiring how absolutely filthy his pretty girl looked with her mouth full of his cock.

Henry could already feel the telltale’s signs of his climax, the pressure increasing, his balls drawing tight. He was too close, too fast, and all because she was completely at his mercy.

Pulling almost all the way out, until only his head remained, Henry started to thrust into the welcoming heat of her very willing mouth, fucking it just like she asked, shoving it just far enough to hear her gag and splutter; tears gathering in the corner of her eyes as she watched him, eyes begging him to keep going.

“Is this how you wanted, baby?” he asked, picking up speed and she hummed in agreement, hands digging on the back of his thighs. “Did you want me to use your mouth like a dirty little slut?”

Her keening whimper sent vibrations all over his length, making Henry grunt and miss his pace, shoving a little farther than planned and she choked, pulling back and coughing slightly. Before Henry could even apologize, she was taking him in her mouth again, desperate and greedy, bobbing her head.

“Fuck! That was exactly what you wanted…” he said in awe, rocking his hips to meet her pace. “You could have just asked, baby. I would’ve given to you. Anything you want. You know that.”

Once again, she just hummed, sending vibrations up his length. Henry groaned, letting her take control once again as she brought him as deep as she could and swallowed around him.

“Fuck!” Henry hissed, the pressure of pleasure becoming unbearable.

He pulled back only enough so he could see the ribbons of his release painting her pretty little mouth. Her lips swollen from her efforts, her tongue gathering all drops of his cum she could reach, and it had to be one of the hottest things Henry ever witnessed.

He took a moment to catch his breath, watching the way she grinned at him like the cat the got the cream and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Anything else you’d like to do and haven’t told me yet?”

“A couple of things,” she replied, getting to her feet and meeting his lips. “But for now, let’s just get you in the shower.”

xxx

Permanent Tag List (use the link on my bio to add or remove yourself)

@toomanystoriessolittletime @meetmeinthematinee @theolsdalova @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @alwaydreamingofu @eevee-of-rivia @reid-187 @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day @sallyp-53 @anxiteyfilledcupcake @pinkzsugar @angelic-kisses13 @futuristic-imbecile @wonderlandfandomkingdom @krazycags01 @beyond-antares @cumberbatchbaps @sgt-morgan @a-really-bi-girl @nonsensicalobsessions @poisonedjoinery @soarocks @partypoison00 @hnryycvll @keiva1000 @shellbilee @ivvitm1109 @mis-lil-red @babayagakeanu @trippedmetaldetector @missrandomista @stxphmxlls @geralt-yennefer-jaskier @jadore30 @savaneafricaine

Tag List for Henry fics

@i-cant-remember-my-old-login @agniavateira @nadia-rosea @mary-ann84 @littlefreya @cap-barnes @elisewithak @omgkatinka @dearlybelovedluke @jaskierhastwohands @hell1129-blog @rahdaleigh @peaceinourtime82 @shadesofarrogance @wednesdaybraids @thiccgeralt @iloveyouyen @geralt-of-baevia @dancingwendigo @mejana @obsessedwithcavill @watermeloncavill @celestial-vomit @lovethyauthors @henry-cavlll @thethirstyarchive @kittyslove @twlohasmp @lifeofrileyp @iamtheembodimentofhate @savaneafricaine @luclittlepond @heelsamizayn @radaofrivia

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill #fanfic

474 notes · View notes

superleeleehipster · 4 years

Text

Theories on Season 11

Hey! So, as I’m sure you all are very aware, Find Me is out, and I can honestly say that I’m somewhat relieved it did. I was tired of all the theories and anxieties I was feeling about it. At least now we know what we’re working with officially.

I don’t want to make a review, as most blogs have already done their own. For this post, I’m going to jot down some theories on what Leah’s role will be in Season 11. Some of these theories I’ve thought of and others I’ve seen from other bloggers, but I just wanted to get my thoughts down.

Of course, it’s just my opinion, and if you don’t agree, that’s perfectly fine.

Spoilers and theories under the cut...

So is everyone ok after 10x18? Yes? No? No worries on whatever your answer is; your emotions are valid.

Anyways, even though the episode was a bit painful to watch as Caryl shippers, I really don’t think it sunk the Caryl ship. If anything, the subtle (not really) parallels between Caryl and Daryl and Leah just showed that Caryl could very possibly happen despite all the naysayers saying they could never sleep together.

Also, can I say that the whole fish scene was freaking hilarious.

But I digress... I have a few predictions on how Leah’s going to fit into the storyline for season 11. I might hit the nail on the head, or I might be so off that I break my thumb instead, but that’s ok. It’s what makes it fun.

1) I’ve made this first part into a group of theories instead of just one. These are theories that I’ve heard about or read, but I really don’t think are going to happen. They’re just interesting enough for me to list them, but they’re unlikely in my opinion:

- Leah is in Season 11 but in flashbacks - I don’t think they would go this route, because it would be even lazier writing than what we’ve gotten, and it would be more interesting to have her in person instead of being in flashbacks. If they went that way, it would be incredibly obvious that she is a plotpoint for Daryl and that’s it, and that’s pretty crappy writing even for TWD.

- Leah is in Season 11 but she isn’t real - Now this one is an interesting concept admittedly. What if Daryl was in such a crappy mood in the woods, and is thirsting for companionship, so he makes someone up in his head that is pretty similar to Carol, but doesn’t look like her b/c he wouldn’t want to be that kind of creepy friend. Then in Season 11, the viewer realizes one way or another that she was made up, that he made her up in his head to help with his woes, but now that he’s better and with Carol he doesn’t need her anymore. Really neat theory from a mentality standpoint, but I highly doubt that’s where the writers would go.

- Leah is in Season 11, but she dies - I know some folks have said this before, and I get it. Some of us are so done with the drama, we’re just thinking the worst case scenario at this point. What if Leah comes back and Daryl’s all happy and thinks that he’ll spend the rest of his life with her but then Leah dies somehow and he decides to go on a roadtrip with Carol to help with his man pain. I know some peeps feel like that would happen, but in my opinion, I really don’t think so. Angela Kang does have a lot of respect for Daryl and Carol (I know we don’t feel that way right now b/c of 10x18 but bear with me), as she’s said that this is about their story and their journey I really don’t think she would have the story go as low and as misogynistic as that. I honestly don’t.

Now these next two theories are the ones that I believe have a much higher chance of happening in season 11:

2). Leah is in Season 11, and is a part of the new antagonist group (Reapers) - So it wouldn’t be a season of the walking dead without some sort of antagonist being around. The Reapers have already made their presence known with the first extra episode, and I’m sure is going to cause issues throughout the season. An interesting theory that I’m a fan of that people have thought up already is that Leah is part of the Reapers. Whether she’s the leader or one of the followers, it doesn’t really matter, for she’s still a plot device for Daryl.

The current fantasy I’m having is that Leah comes back and tries to get close to Daryl, which Daryl isn’t necessarily against but is still wary. But then Carol notices things about Leah and catches her doing stuff and she’s like “wtf?” and she tells Daryl her concerns but he brushes her off because he doesn’t trust her judgment very much right now. Most ASZ peeps think Leah is a good person but Carol’s like “mehhh something’s off”. Then the reveal happens where Leah is a double agent of sorts and betrays them all by having the Reapers infiltrating Alexandria or some crazy shit like that. Then it looks like she kills Carol in some way and Daryl’s absolutely gut wrenched because his Carol just died at the hands of his crazy ex girlfriend that he believed more than his best friend and what the fuck is wrong with him?? But then Carol comes back and butchers the Reapers cause she’s a goddamn queen and Daryl looks at her like she could fart fairy dust and gives the biggest smile we’ve ever seen him give on the show. Then he hugs her fiercely and starts sobbing, telling her how sorry he was and how relieved he was at her being alive and... same old story that’s happened on MULTIPLE occasions with other shows and books.

Now considering how Leah is made out to be in 10x18, I would say this theory is ‘less likely’ than what I thought it would be originally, but there’s still a decent chance. I don’t think Leah’s a cold blooded/narcissist, but it’s possible she could get roped up with the Reapers... and lets face it, Daryl isn’t the same person from who he was in the woods, so there’s a good chance she won’t be either when she comes back.

3). Leah is in Season 11, and pushes for a relationship with Daryl - Admittedly, this one would hurt to watch, but I think it’s a fair possibility we can’t rule out. Daryl is arguably at a better headspace now than he was way back when in the woods, and he knows he belongs with his family. But then Leah shows up and wants to start things over with him, and it could go multiple ways. He could realize right away that he doesn’t want that, and maybe he and Leah both get closer together. Or maybe he will give it a try for old times sake, but then he realizes that she’s not the person she was, or whom he thought she was, and they’re not actually a good pairing, and then he realizes “you know who I really want? That grey haired queen”... it would probably more emotional than that though.

I mean, we’ve all been there. We break up from a long term partner and it hurts like hell but we heal and we’re stronger for it. But then the ex comes back and is wanting to be with you again, and you’re at the very least tempted to give it a go b/c you were happy with them at one point. But then you’re with them and you realize that maybe this wasn’t a good idea, and maybe you should’ve listened to your goddamn gut all along b/c it was warning you that there’s a reason why it didn’t work out the first time.

Arguably, this theory would be more satisfying than the last one, because it would be Daryl who would choose who he would want to be with in the end. Think about it. We were initially bummed that Ezekiel wasn’t going to get his comic death in season 9 (and of course we were pissed about Henry), but then it turned out for the better because Carol willingly chose to leave him instead of being forced out of the relationship via death. So for Daryl to choose Carol over Leah in the end would be incredibly satisfying, albeit looooong overdue...

I still very much think Caryl is endgame despite the tough road we’re facing. I know folks are taking this last hurdle really hard because it’s been ingrained in our heads that Daryl is a “one woman kind of guy”, but... maybe that’s still the case. Maybe his heart is a “one woman kind of organ”, but Daryl’s been able to move past his traumas enough to be physical with more than one person. At least that’s how I’m seeing things at the moment. Obviously, it’s not good taste to go completely backwards on what is “known” about a character and assume that the audience would catch on as to why it would happen (like how Daryl reading the “children of abuse” book was never addressed in the show, but we’re having to assume he did b/c Norman said he did). Hoping the audience assumes the things that the writers are thinking of has always been an ongoing issue with TWD, so this whole shindig wasn’t necessarily surprising to me.

Anyways, that’s my two cents on things. I still think they’ll happen, and I still trust Kang. I’m just thinking of this as just the angsty part of a fanfic that I love and adore, and I just have to grit my teeth and wait for the author to finish writing the next chapter before hauling ass to my computer to see the update and breaking my desktop in the process. We’ll get to the healing part, I promise.

And if the spin is anything like the playful banter between them in this episode (albeit more mutual and fun), then sign me the fuck up and let me be a voyeur in their passionate travels.

Cheers my loves!

#caryl #caryl positivity #twd spoilers

30 notes · View notes

deathonyourtongue · 4 years

Note

HC for a jealous Henry Cavil of the male attention reader gets from one guy in particular. Henry keeps it classy though but he's stern about how he feels, what he wants, what he does about it

The press tour isn’t where he first caught feelings, but it’s where jealousy starts rearing its head. After all, it’s not every day the girl he likes has her pick of two tall, dark, and handsome men...

+ Vanity Fair rolls out the Fear Box for part of their press pack, and Henry sees an opportunity to one-up his co-star, not only by being braver when it’s his turn, but by not trying to psyche you out about what’s in the box when your turn rolls around. Your co-star takes the opposite approach, trying to scare you at every turn, even when it’s something as benign as a GI Joe action figure. You don’t catch Henry’s triumphant smirk to your co-star because you’re too busy being wrapped up in a comforting hug after having touched a tarantula.

+ There’s a bit of liquid courage when you all get to Buzzfeed for a quiz on Which Part of the Team Are You? Since the movie is of the action variety, both men peacock a bit more than normal, but Henry’s answers end up giving him the Leader answer, much to your other co-star’s dismay. You getting The Brains is no surprise and both men concede it’s the most kick-ass position on the team.

+ Buzzfeed follows it up with Thirst Tweets, with each of you reading each other’s tweets. Henry gets all of yours, while you get your co-star’s, and he gets Henry’s. Henry agrees with all the flattering tweets, but makes it clear he won’t stand for the ones that are the crasser side. Your co-star does his best to play down all of Henry’s ‘Daddy’ and ‘Break me in half’ tweets, but fails miserably.

+ During a rooftop interview, you’re feeling a little daring and playful, so you pretend like you’re going to walk along the edge of the building in your six inch heels. Henry notices and immediately grabs you around the waist, pulling you back. “Woman,” is all he says, his voice low and tinged with a father-like tone that doesn’t cause the same reaction in you as it does when coming from your own father. You can’t help but start to take true notice of Henry, even though you had been lusting over your co-star not even a day before.

+ By the time you reach Jimmy Fallon, it’s easy to see the rivalry between the two men you’ve spent months working with. If one does something, the other quietly outdoes him, Henry seeming to win a good 95% of the time. You’re paired with Henry for Charades, and as Higgins explains the game, Henry discreetly takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. When you look up, he’s got that oh-so-cool smile of his on, his eyes meeting yours with confidence. “We’re gonna beat ‘em.” You can’t formulate an answer, because the room is suddenly too hot and you’re sweating.

+ When the dust settles, you and Henry not only win, but shut out your co-star and Jimmy. The score doesn’t even matter however, because the only thing playing in your mind, on repeat, is Henry’s enthusiasm when you guess his final clue correctly, and his whispered “Atta girl,” in your ear during your celebratory hug.

#henry cavill #henry/reader #sorry nonny!#I apparently suck at writing jealousy #:(#deathonyourtongueoriginals #headcanons

171 notes · View notes

adrischrv · 4 years

Text

Regnum [L.H] - Introduction.

Author´s Note: Here´s the introduction for my King!Luke fanfic! Chapter One is out now as well. Gif made by sheisbea on wattpad!

One… Two… Three tones indicating the start of the call. He took the phone firmly, ready to make an offer that no one - not even her - could deny.

“Good night, Robert.”

“Sorry for being late, Liz. The Queen and I had to discuss the matter once more. You will understand that Henry’s sudden death took us by surprise.” He responded by looking at his wife on the seat in front of his desk, nodding.

“Absolutely, Henry’s death not only left our neighbor Lauxwell without a King, but it also left us without an important ally and friend.” She was silent for a moment. “Tell me, what do you have in mind?”

King Robert looked at Queen Susan. She reached out her hand and he took it, gathering the courage to spit out the deal.

“Our kingdom, Gardenstone, is going through a magnificent streak with young innovators and a thirst for work flourishing from all sides. Your potential is incredible, Liz …”

“Robert, I’m familiar with your people. Now that Lauxwell is weak the interest falls on us, how convenient…” Elizabeth interrupts, causing Robert to summarize her speech before ending it and dismissing the hostility in her comment.

“… We are ready to unite our kingdoms, Elizabeth. Our people want to grow - they need to grow. And I think the culture that the Maredale Kingdom offers is what we need. Your kingdom needs our innovators and our innovators of your discipline, it has always been this way.”

After silence on the line, Elizabeth’s direct and powerful voice returns. "Sounds great to me then. And it also seems that you and Susan have thought of everything so … Who will have the happiness to carry out this union? You know that I am a single Queen, I think that a fight for the crown sounds unnecessary before this decision.”

“That is precisely what we have discussed today. We believe that as we will unite two powerful kingdoms, it is not appropriate for you or us to be in command, but …”

Robert sighs in fear at the idea that is floating in the air, as does Elizabeth who seems to know the end of the sentence.

“Our children? Robert, we are not-”

“We are not in the past, we know. We know the struggle that the International Revolution involved and the ideas that we have perfected. It’s not fair that we unite our children with your only daughter, and yet at the same time it is.”

A peal of laughter without feeling comes out of Elizabeth’s mouth.

“Sure, it makes sense. Here in Maredale the people have always been and will be devoted to their queen.” Her voice sounds calmer. “And at Gardenstone they love your son. To Jake, of course, excuse me for not including Prince Luke but I know of his reputation and lack of dedication to the crown.”

Robert and Susan affirm to themselves. He continues.

“Then it’s ready, come with your family to Gardenstone as soon as possible.”

“It is for the record that I, Queen Elizabeth of Maredale, authorize-”

This time it is Robert who interrupts her.

“Not yet, let’s wait until the official ceremony.”

“Suitable. I look forward to the day.”

"So do we …” Susan looks at him, reminding him of an important part. “Elizabeth, not a word of this to Lauxwell.”

Chapter One.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #fanfic #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #calum hood #michael clifford #5sos fanfic #king!luke #prince!luke #luke hemmings fanfiction #readregnum

12 notes · View notes

justjessame · 4 years

Text

The Deal Chapter 70

It’s extremely difficult to get through to a child who has been beaten down, with fists AND words, to have a healthy understanding of how much worth they have in their family/community. That made the questions I had for Lydia about her mother and her mother’s role as Alpha damn near impossible to answer. Not that I stopped trying.

“Come on,” I took the keys down from the hook near the exit, unlocking Henry’s door first. “If you two so much as twitch and make me THINK you’re going to run, I’ll fucking make sure that running is the last thing either of you can do for the foreseeable future, understood?” I am forever shocked at how formidable I can sound standing at barely five foot tall, but watching Henry nod and swallow hard enough for me to hear it confirmed that he took my threat as seriously as I meant it.

Unlocking Lydia’s, I stood back and waited for her to exit. Before she could turn toward me, the main door opened and Daryl stood blocking the sunlight. Well played, I smiled up at him. “Taking ‘em for a walk?” I nodded and he stood back, waiting for our charges to join him outside.

This time, since he’d been listening to my issues with the current line of questioning, we worked in tandem. Trying to gather intelligence on how important Lydia was to her people, her mother, and their plans I let Daryl discuss it with her. Henry and I were, well Henry was moral support, I was a tagalong that wanted to tag my ass back home.

I should have known, as the day grew longer, that my visit wouldn’t end happily. There was never a day that ended away from the relative safety of my own four walls that didn’t end covered in horseshit and sadness. Eventually, anyway.

I was inside, sitting with Tara, listening to her telling me all the reasons she didn’t want to lead Hilltop and was ill equipped for it reminded me of how Dad had felt so many different times over the years.

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?” She was staring at me like I’d grown a third head. And my smile grew.

“People who want to lead are usually ill suited for it, Tara, it’s the people who are forced to lead and do it reluctantly that are best at it.” I shook my head and then my smile dropped when we heard a commotion start outside. “What was that?”

That, it turned out, was Lydia’s people. Her mother, actually, since Alpha was the one who actually spoke. I stood beside Tara, looking down at the crowd of people who looked far more like walkers than humans, staring up at us as this lump of a woman demanded her daughter be returned to them. That they have two of ours, a man named Luke and Alden the blacksmith apprentice. A baby cried, and I felt my heart stop beating in my chest as Alpha mentions that we are all animals, and animals have babies. As the child cries, she demands its mother leave it, since it will draw the walkers and danger. Without hesitation, the woman does. My heart stops, seeing this person sit this completely innocent and fragile infant down and walk away.

The tears fell quietly from my eyes, even as the tiny infant’s arms waved, as its pitiful screams grew, and I felt the breath leave my body. Chaos, the cries, the mass of Alpha’s people, Daryl, walkers, Lydia- If I was asked later, and Negan did, I couldn’t say how long it took. Hours, minutes, days? I had no idea. Forever. No time.

I know that Lydia was greeted with a sharp slap by her mother. I know that Alden and Luke were back among our people. The baby, the tiny infant that was left to die as a distraction for beasts, was saved by one of the people that Judith rescued. Connie, a deaf woman, a woman who offered this baby to me as a gift as though someone told her that I would want it, that I would welcome it. I look at it like someone would look at poison ivy or the plague. Or I did if the look she gave me was any indication.

“She meant no harm, Jessi.” Daryl offered, standing next to me as I was preparing to take my leave the next day. Danger or no, I wanted to be home. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t dare. “Everyone knows-”

“That I’m broken?” I snorted, shaking my head and tightening the saddle on my horse. “Giving me a random baby because its mother is a genetic fucking asshole isn’t going to fix my broken uterus, Daryl Dixon.” I checked and double checked the saddle, I wanted nothing to slow my trip. “Can you hand me that-” I pointed at my bag and my bow. “The quiver is leaning next to-”

“The table, I got it.” He handed me each in turn. “No one said she was gonna fix ya, Jess.” He was careful not to touch my skin, remembering at least that much about my twitchy little self. “Can’t help but see how much it hurt ya to see-”

I laughed hard then, without a fucking hint of humor. “What fucking asshole wasn’t hurt to see it?” My eyes met his then, hot and hard. “Seriously? They left a BABY to fucking die, Daryl. RIGHT fucking there, daring us to watch.” I pointed, like he hadn’t bore witness too. “I CRIED. So fucking what?” I shook my head and after securing my bags, hooking my bow over the saddle horn, and getting situated myself, I put my quiver within easy reach. “I’m going home. Where people don’t usually randomly hand me infants as parting gifts.” I waved and headed out. Hoping like fuck I was finished with my part in this madness for a long while.

I wasn’t home for more than a few hours, I fucking swear, when the entire bullshit showed up on my FUCKING doorstep. I wish I was joking. I truly do. I really truly do.

Teenagers. I swear, my dad got off so lucky with me. He might have teased that I had horrendous taste in the guys I dated, and I did, to be fair, but I wish he was around so I could point at Henry and go “REALLY?!”

First of all, he had ‘runaway’ with Lydia during her mother’s demands for her return at Hilltop. Then, once they were found, Lydia returned to her rightful place which I might remind everyone Daryl and I were NOT happy about, he decided to pretend that he was a knight in shining armor and go after her. I swear to GOD, someone (looking at you Carol) had better have a fucking conversation with Ezekiel about these grandiose ideas before they get someone fucking killed.

Which leads me to my doorstep. Or Alexandria’s gate. Daryl, Lydia, Connie (of the ‘here’s your new baby’ variety), and Henry (I came to rescue you m’lady, and oops I have a boo boo) all waiting at the gate. I was only excited to see Dog. And so was Mom.

I was with Negan, who was listening to me as I railed against the entire fucking last hours of my visit to Hilltop, when Judith came to let me know we had visitors-AGAIN. Ugh.

“Go see,” Negan said, kissing my temple through the bars. “I doubt they brought the baby all this way,” he was teasing, I hoped. “Come back, tell me what’s going on. I love you.”

And after sighing heavily, reminding him that I loved him right fucking back, off I went to see what the high holy hell had gone fucking wrong again.

The gist was our knight was wounded, our damsel was terrified and not sure she was worth it, and the adults were awkward (Daryl) and super unsure of me (Connie). But at least Dog was unscathed. While Henry got sutured in the infirmary, Connie and Mom bonded, Lydia kept her hero company and Judith got time with her uncle. That left me and my four legged pal, which I was pretty fucking pleased about.

I was playing with Dog, ignoring humans in general, when I overheard Mom giving Lydia a horrible nugget of advice that I felt the need to tell her my opinion on, since she insisted.

“Telling a young girl who is the victim of REPEATED extensive physical and emotional abuse that she should take her own safety into her own hands, is a pretty shitty way to lead, Mom.” I offered, keeping my eyes down as I ran my hands through Dog’s coat. “Don’t explain, you asked me to tell you my opinions, this is one.”

“She’s going to bring it down on our heads, Jessi.” Her voice was so low, I felt like her lips would barely be moving. “Can we afford more loss?”

I snorted. “Loss? Is that what we’re going to weigh now?” I shook my head and scratched Dog’s ears. “Humanity, Mom, count the humanity we cultivate.”

She came to me later, not much, just long enough that I’d seen Judith with Daryl and heard her asking him what our dad would do in Mom and the other leaders’ positions. Not a fair question, not really. She missed Daryl, I knew that, but I also knew that Daryl felt strained in Alexandria. Too cultured, which was hilarious since the first time it had been destroyed during the Savior War.

“Judith is-” She sighed, and I knew, I could feel it. The rebellion of my little sister. Her thirst for more understanding. To know more. “Negan thinks she’ll get it elsewhere if I don’t give it to her myself.”

“He’s not wrong.” I offered, handing her a drink. “I know you hate to hear that.”

“I do, but I want your honesty, and that’s what it is.” She smiled, and then sighed. “We’re going to The Kingdom. “Do you want to join us?” I shook my head. “Should I tell them to expect a long term visitor in his cell?” I laughed and asked if RJ was staying behind for me to take care of.

#The Walking Dead #negan x ofc #daryl dixon x ofc #mention of smut #OriginalGrimesDaughter #rick grimes daughter

5 notes · View notes

harry-leroy · 4 years

Note

🌻!

(I left most of this under a cut, because it’s long ahhhh - just me going on about Shakespeare headcanons for an AU I want to happen. Thank you for allowing me the space to ramble - I appreciate it)

My current brain project is figuring out how I would adapt a 1970s-2000s H6 Cycle, and yes - I won’t shut up about it on here because the Henry VI plays are my favorites for forever and all time (they were the reason I made this blog in the first place, so... you know).

I’ve thought to myself again and again... is this even worth thinking about? Trying to mesh the 1440s-70s with the 1970s-2000s might look incredibly messy in reality, which is fair. It might be information overload, also fair. But besides being aesthetically entertaining for me to think about (can you imagine the costumes? Like... I need someone with artistic ability to draw a 70s punk rock Joan of Arc), I feel like this production would raise questions about leadership and party in-fighting. Most of my research thus far (in this little project to keep my brain entertained in the times of furlough and productivity limbo) has been around the 1990s. “Weak” and “ineffective” are adjectives repeatedly thrown onto both Henry VI and John Major, and for pretty similar reasons: both were too nice, they couldn’t make decisions because they were trying to keep everyone in their respective governments happy. While the relationship between these two figures is not one for one, it does have me interested in the implications of indecisive leadership.

The English Shakespeare Company staged Henry VI Parts I and II in 1990, part one being a combination of Shakespeare’s 1H6 and 2H6, while part two was 3H6, which is how these plays are normally staged if not each done separately. They had somewhat of an Edwardian flavor to them, but the comparisons between Margaret of Anjou and Margaret Thatcher were there (played by the kickass June Watson). The comparisons are valid, and I feel like would color my production as well. Thatcher and Major were pretty well linked in the 80s, but the 90s saw a fizzling and estrangement to their relationship, just like Henry and Margaret by the end of 2H6 and start of 3H6, and I feel like I would want that to inform their characters in the adaptation. I highly recommend giving those ESC plays a watch if you haven’t yet - one of my favorite H6 productions, I won’t lie. (I linked them up at the top of the paragraph). I also think that these productions prove that a modern H6 Cycle can be done, and it can be done well.

I’ve also been watching a ridiculous amount of Spitting Image, which was a satire puppet show television series that aired from 1984 to 1996 in Britain. I originally found the show a little over a year ago while researching about British quiz culture (University Challenge’s host Jeremy Paxman was frequently featured on Spitting Image), but I recently rediscovered it while taking a class on modern Britain this semester. While watching some of the earlier clips I couldn’t help but feel that millionaire MP Michael Heseltine might be a good inspiration for Richard, Duke of York. Frequently shown as a suave, but manic politician thirsting for power, Heseltine and York seem to be pretty good fits for one another. It can also be said that how John Major was depicted on that show has many similarities to Henry VI - a bit clumsy (but in an endearing way), constantly stressed and overwhelmed, indecisive, one without much control over his party.

My brain has no idea what to do with the York brothers, but more research will hopefully get us there. My instinct is to connect them with the new Labour government of 1997, but I’m not sure if it’ll totally work. I’ll get back to you on that. There’s obviously still a lot to work out, but I would really like to see a production like this at some point. (Thank you for allowing me to ramble! ahhh)

#thank you!#i appreciate you #1980s h6 #heresy-in-fair #sunflower ask meme #shakespeare #shakespeare's histories #the histories #production ideas #theatre

12 notes · View notes

lucarioisinthevoid · 5 years

Note

okay i have consumed excess caffeine, and i have a theory: the true reason henry doesn't realize time passing in the workshop is because he is a cryptid. a cryptid who doesn't p e e. it's just not a thing he does. his body doesn't do that. if he did take bathroom breaks, he'd know that "ok, i've been here for like 3 hours now". that is the only possible conclusion and i stand by it until proven wrong.

Henry snorted at the ridiculous proposition. "Ah, yes, of course. That is what makes me a cryptid. Not the condition of my skin. Not my differently wired brain. Not those eyes that look like holes, yet still can see. No, it is the fact that I do not pee." Slowly distress seeped into him as he tried to somehow follow the rationalization. "It is obvious that I do not pee in here, as my body is non-existent. Why WOULD I need to use a toilet? That is literally not in any way evidence. Nat, go to a doctor, I think someone spiked your coffee-" No, no, that's normal. You should see me on excess sugar. "I would rather NOT." Fair point. Last time I made you into a goose. Shaking his head, he continued complaining about this totally realistic and serious theory. "Not to mention, peeing every three hours like a clockwork is the ACTUAL weird thing. Who would pee with such regularity? If you drink a lot, you have to use the toilet more often, if you drink nothing, you die. And do not have to use the toilet. So if I were drinking a cup of tea in fifteen minutes, chances are I will have to use the toilet twenty minutes later. If I do not drink at all, or at least very rarely during the day, I will probably only have to use it in the evening at most." For a moment he paused, irritation spreading."That... that is how it is, right? That is normal."You're worrying him here, Nat. Please stop, he can't afford another crisis."If you focus too much too, you simply do not realize the need, that is not too weird either. Like you do not realize hunger or thirst either. I am not a crytpid." Right?HENRY'S REALITY ACTUALLY A SIMULATION CONFIRMED, HENRY NEVER WAS ALIVE, BUT HE'S A HIGHLY COMPLEX AI FOOLED INTO THINKING HE'S A PERSON IN REALITY AND NOW HE NEEDS TO ESCAPE.JOIN HIM ON THE ADVENTURE OF A LIFETIME, JUST HERE IN THE NEW BOOK "AIs DON'T PEE”-I fucking hate myself and I yearn for the day I get taken off the internet.

#henry miller #save me

7 notes · View notes

walviemort · 4 years

Text

hidden blessing (5/?)

a/n: Hope I didn’t keep y’all waiting too long on this! Not sure when the next chapter will go up but hopefully not as long :) We’re into Neverland now! and, as always, dedicated to the darling @sherlockianwhovian

Splashing down in Neverland filled Killian with an array of emotions, few of them positive. They’d made it through the portal in one piece, thankfully, but just the sight of the cursed island looming on the horizon filled him with dread. Getting here had been the easy part; gods only knew what lay ahead.

“Is that it?” Emma called out once the ship had set itself to rights (Killian was mildly jealous of it; his stomach matched the churning sea below them).

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Neverland.”

He couldn’t see her face to read her expression, but the determined set of her shoulders told him everything: she was willing to risk all to save her son. He saw similar in the fierce expression Regina wore, even in the composed and precise manner of Snow and David. And yet again he wondered: was he really cut out for parenting?

His life was dangerous. Hell, he himself was known to be. Yet again, he’d dragged his child to this timeless realm; how long would the babe’s growth be stalled now? What if something happened to him? What if Pan found a way to use it against them?

As if to calm him down, he felt a few strong kicks just behind his navel. Well, that was a good sign, he supposed. He let out a quiet sigh of relief and set to the task of navigating them to the island.

“Why are you slowing down?” Regina snapped, suddenly at his side. “In case you didn't know, my son's life is in danger.”

He bit back a huff, only because he knew her anger was a mask for her fear. “Oh, I know, my hot-headed Queen. The plan is to bring us to the far side of the island, link up with the widest part of the river, and.. then we sail right through, take him by surprise,” he explained. “The irony…” he muttered under his breath.

“What irony?” she asked, much more calmly.

“Oh, I spent more time than I care to remember trying to leave this place to kill Rumplestiltskin. And here I am, sailing right back into its heart with him as my guest of honor.” The man in question had disappeared below deck nearly as soon as they landed. “It's not quite the happy ending I was hoping for.”

Regina seemed oddly thoughtful. “Greg Mendell said something funny to me. He said I'm a villain, and that villains don't get happy endings. You believe that?”

Weeks ago, he would have concurred; but now… “I hope not, or we've wasted our lives.”

“I thought Henry was going to be mine,” she admitted quietly. “Little did I know he’d just be the start of another adventure.” Then she smiled at him. “You’ll know what I’m talking about soon enough.”

“Assuming we all make it out of this alive,” he tossed back, expressing his own realism as he overheard a tense bit of conversation between the Charming family that seemed to revolve around the inherent optimism Emma had not inherited. “Though, I have been meaning to ask—how could you tell?”

“That you were knocked up? Please; I’m Cora’s daughter. She taught me long ago how to look for any signs of weakness. And Hook? You’re practically glowing,” she told him, smirking.

He couldn't hold back his own smile at that; while logically, he knew that put him at risk to other enemies knowing, it was also kind of nice to know his own newfound source of joy showed in his demeanor. It had been well over a century since he’d even really had anything to be happy about.

Their attention was drawn to the deck by Snow’s insistent promise to Emma of, “We'll find Henry.” Well, that was the point, wasn't it?

“No, you won't.” From nowhere, the Dark One had appeared on the quarterdeck, his earlier instruments put away and now in garb typical of the Enchanted Forest.

“Oh, that's a great use of our time—a wardrobe change,” Killian quipped, but if Gold heard, he didn’t acknowledge it—and instead went on to lecture the group on how they would not succeed in their endeavor.

“What makes you think I'm gonna fail?” Emma bit back, angry, and he didn’t blame her. (In fact, it was rather when he liked her best—passionate.)

“Well, how could you not?” Rumplestiltskin insisted. “You don't believe in your parents, or in magic, or even yourself.”

“I slayed a dragon. I think I believe.” Now that was a story Killian needed to hear.

“Only what was shown to you. When have you ever taken a real leap of faith? You know, the kind where there's absolutely no proof?” The Dark One continued his diatribe, but Killian’s gaze was fixed on Emma—and the way he could see the doubts and fear beginning to cloud her mind.

“I'll do whatever it takes,” she insisted, but he could tell she was trying to convince herself as much as Gold.

“Well, you just need someone to tell you what that is. Sorry, dearie, our foe is too fearsome for hand-holding.” That, unfortunately, was accurate. “Neverland is a place where imagination runs wild. And, sadly, yours doesn't.” And then the bastard disappeared. Alas, it was just as well. Plus, the man was starting to make Killian nauseous.

Or perhaps that was just the babe; he’d never been one to be seasick but considering everything, he was definitely feeling a bit green. He used the silence that followed the Dark One’s departure to make sure they were set on the right course, but once that was set, he asked the Charmings to hold the helm while he sought out the ginger drops he knew were hiding in his cabin.

He was only slightly surprised to find Emma had beaten him down there, and was practicing pullups on a bar in the room. She paused when she heard his footsteps.

“Oh, don't stop on my account,” he said, admiring the view as he walked past. Her form-fitting trousers were stirring other sorts of feelings in him; goodness, these hormones were going to give him whiplash.

“Wouldn't think of it,” she replied, pretending to ignore him, and went back to it.

He easily located the drops, sitting in a pouch on his desk. “What are you doing?” he had to ask.

“Getting ready for a fight,” she bit back, pulling herself up and then landing back on the platform.

“Well, I've never known you to need to get ready for a fight. I thought it was a natural state,” he teased as he grabbed the bag, then reapproached her. “Don't let Rumplestiltskin get you down, love.”

She jumped down from the ledge and leveled a glare at him. “Why did you come down here? What is that?” she demanded, nodding at the bag in his hand.

“Ginger drops,” he said, then quickly realized he wasn’t ready to divulge his need of them. “They help with seasickness; Her Highness was looking a bit green around the gills.”

That got a bit of a smile out of her, and thankfully she bought the lie. Although, when he glanced at the shelf to the left of them, he remembered something hidden inside—something that might boost her morale.

“Might you permit me to give you something?” he asked, not wanting to offend her. She nodded.

He pocketed the drops and fished out a key from another pocket. “You know, Baelfire and I once spent a lot of time together,” he started to explain as he unlocked a compartment built into the shelf.

“He was always Neal to me,” she replied, albeit morosely.

“Yeah. Right,” he acknowledged, then grabbed the object hidden behind the small door. “This was his.”

It was a sword—a small cutlass he had once used to teach the lad how to fight, and damn near took his own head off when things went sour. Gingerly, Emma took it from him with both hands.

“I didn't realize you were sentimental,” she said as she assessed it.

“I'm not,” he lied again, and saw another useful item sitting on the shelf. “I just thought you could use it where we're going. You know, to fight.” And then he handed her the shot glass.

“Thanks,” she said as he filled it with rum from his flask, which he then offered up in a toast.

“To Neal.” (He knew what all the books said about drinking during pregnancy, but given the current stasis, one shot likely couldn’t hurt.)

“To Neal,” she answered, and clinked the glass against the flask before downing the shot. (Guilt got the better of him, and he only had a small sip.)

After a brief, but not uncomfortable silence, Emma asked, “How long was he with you?”

“Long enough for me to know that I miss him, too,” he answered, this time truthfully. As surreptitiously as he could, he rested his hand on his belt—because he could feel the sudden intense flutters within, as if the child somehow knew they were talking about their sibling—or perhaps was encouraging him to do something else.

Emma had shown utmost trust in him in undertaking this journey. And if they were going to get through this and achieve their goal, then that was going to have to go all directions. It would be fair of him to show he trusted her by revealing his condition, wouldn’t it?

He swallowed and was about to tell her, but the small peace they’d had was interrupted by a loud bang against the hull and sudden groaning and creaking of the ship.

“What was that?” Emma blurted out, and they quickly dashed up to the deck to see what was amiss.

Emma’s parents were struggling to hold the wheel steady, and the waves were tossing the ship about like it was a toy. Only he quickly realized—this was no natural storm, and a glance over the railing confirmed his fears.

HIs nausea would have to wait, lest none of them survive. He made a mad dash for the helm to try to wrest control of it. “Prepare for attack!”

“Be more specific,” Regina demanded, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation.

“If you've got a weapon, then grab it,” he called out as he fought against the wheel.

“What's out there? A shark? A whale?” Emma guessed; if only she’d guessed right.

“A kraken?” her father added.

“Worse.” An unholy screeching filled the air. “Mermaids.”

The next—gods, he wasn’t even sure how long—fell into a blur of panic and anger as the vile creatures mounted their attack and his passengers made the idiotic mistake of not only bringing one on board, but angering her even more (and possibly killing her). Which of course brought on a violent storm and even more vicious emotions; it was all he could do to keep the prince’s fists away from Killian’s abdomen (again).

And then Emma leapt into the sea, taking his stomach with her. They managed to save her but it left him with an uncomfortable amount of adrenaline in his system, even if their cooperation ended up dissipating the storm. Bloody Neverland and its odd magic.

Despite a breach in the hull, he managed to get the Roger to land, although not where he had planned. And it would need repairs before they could attempt to leave the realm. But at least they’d made it this far.

And to think—this would likely be the easy part.

To his shock, Regina voiced her support of his original plan once they made landfall, but even he knew that a sneak attack was unlikely to happen at this point; there was no way Pan didn’t know they were there, not after what had just happened on the sea. There was an aggravating omniscience about that boy.

“It's time we stop running,” Emma lectured. “Gold was right. This land is run on belief. All of us have been too busy being at each other's throat to be believers. I was as wrong as anyone else. It's time for all of us to believe. Not in magic, but in each other.”

“You want to be friends? After everything that's happened between all of us?” As inclined as he was to agree with Emma, Regina had a point; he had not one but two sore spots on his face from David.

“I don't want or expect that. I know there's a lot of history here, a lot of hate,” Emma countered.

“Actually, I quite fancy you from time to time, when you're not yelling at me,” Killian quipped in a lame attempt to lighten the mood. And then immediately regretted it; gods, did pregnancy brain also mean he blurted out his every thought? He’d need to sharpen that, and quickly.

“We don't need to be friends. What we need now is the only way to get Henry back, which is cooperation.”

“With her? With him?” the prince protested, gesturing Killian’s way. “No, Emma. We have to do this the right way.” Killian did manage to bite back a comment on the prince’s self-righteousness.

“No, we don't. We just need to succeed. And the way we do that is by just being who we are—a hero, a villain, a pirate.” He had to admit the slight thrill it gave him when Emma’s gaze lingered on him. “It doesn't matter which, because we're going to need all those skills, whether we can stomach them or not.”

“And what's your skill, Savior?” Regina tossed back.

“I'm a mother. And now I'm also your leader. So either help me get my son back or get out of the way.” And without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and headed towards the jungle.

Gods, he loved it when she was fired up like that.

Snow was quick to follow Emma, as was David, who cast an oddly inviting look Killian’s way, as if challenging him to turn back now. Which, of course, he wouldn’t.

Killian didn’t hesitate to fall in line, but not before throwing a glance at Regina; she was still put out, it seemed, by Emma’s take charge attitude. Someone had to, though. And Henry was her son, too.

She wasn’t far behind him.

It quickly became apparent that, as the only one who had any idea where they were, Killian should lead; he knew there was a ridge not far up that would give them a decent view of the island and hopefully reveal Pan’s hiding spot. Regina balked at the idea of hiking, but was convinced otherwise when they reminded her of the dangers at every turn.

“He’s right,” Emma told her. “Hook's lived here before. If he says hiking up is the best way, then we listen.” He wasn’t expecting the vote of confidence, but it was nice to have; he wasn’t naive enough to think that perhaps his attraction was reciprocated, but it was an extra reminder that he had Emma’s trust—which wasn’t easy to come by.

But of course, the wriggling thing in his belly was a reminder that he needed to place equal trust in her.

At least—after he saved the idiot next to him from slashing his way to death.

He saw the vines before he saw David swing back to slice at them and was able to shout a warning and get his hook around the man’s bicep before he could make contact.

The prince shook him off angrily. “I can handle a couple of thorns.”

“That's dreamshade,” Killian explained, nodding toward the demonic plant. “It's not the thorns you have to worry about. It's the poison they inject you with. This plant is the source of the toxins I used on the Dark One.”

They were all familiar, it seemed, with his failed assassination attempt—but were aware of its potency, and seemed to take his message about its effects to heart. Killian wasn’t about to lose another ally to that venom, even if they weren’t exactly on friendly terms.

“I suggest we go this way,” he directed, nodding down the path to the right of the bush.

David glanced at it, then looked the other direction. “We'll go this way.” Bloody obstinate arse. But Snow followed him, and then it was Regina’s turn to throw a wry glance his way.

Emma came up behind her and he fell into step with her. “Your father's a distrustful fellow,” he observed.

“He's just not used to working with the bad guys.”

“I can assure you, on this island, I am not the bad guy.”

“Yeah, well, Pan's not supposed to be one either,” she countered.

“What possibly gave you that idea?” The concept of that demon be considered remotely good turned his stomach (unless that was just the usual nausea stirring up again).

“Every story I ever heard as a child,” she explained, oblivious to his discomfort.

“Well, they got it all wrong. Pan is the most treacherous villain I've ever faced.” He tried to swallow down the bile that was churning inside, and decided to change the subject slightly. “Tell me something, love. In these stories...what was I like? Other than a villain. Handsome, I gather?”

She smirked, but not necessarily in a good way. “If waxed mustaches and perms are your thing.”

Sometimes, it felt like they were speaking different languages. “I take it by your tone, perms are bad?”

She just laughed a bit as they continued on, but they didn’t get much farther before the contents of his stomach came up with little warning. He managed to bite out an “excuse me” before ducking alongside a tree and retching. Ugh, he’d hoped with things in stasis, this part of pregnancy would be on pause, too; apparently not.

“Woah, Hook—are you okay?” Emma asked, hovering near his side. “You’re not hungover or something, are you?”

It took a moment to catch his breath. “Far from it,” he replied.

“Did you catch some rare Neverland stomach bug or something? Is that something else we need to worry about?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “I suppose you could call it that, but it has nothing to do with Neverland.”

He straightened from his hunched-over position to find her staring at him with her brow furrowed, both assessing him and confused at the same time. “What is going on, then? It’s going to be hard for you to guide us if you’re not 100%.”

Well, it looked like she was going to force his hand. “If you must know,” he started, then leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

------------------------

thanks for reading! tagging @cocohook38 @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian jones ff #mpreg #hidden blessing #My ff

34 notes · View notes

parf-fan · 5 years

Text

Ask and ye shall fucking receive, bitches!!!

Oh yeah, that’s right, the cast lists have been posted! Moreover, posted IN FULL! Actors, character names, character professions, and chARACTER DESCRIPTIONS HOLY SHIT!!!!1!!

Once again, I have done my best to sort the Bacchanalians by track. It was much more challenging than last year (and took a good deal longer), where I only mixed up two. The music track is easy, of course, but combat and improv are another matter. In the end, I simply could not decide for a fair number, and these are listed in a separate section.

A small note, I had to copyedit the FUCK out of these descriptions. Man, I dunno, I think their apostrophe key was maybe busted? and there were loads of misspellings, a few missing spaces, and occasionally just the wrong word entirely. If anyone with any sort of influence on the Faire’s website happens to see this, PLEASE go back and fix these errors.

As always, check the Faire’s website for headshots. And also for the scenario, I guess, because I just realized I never got around to making a post about that.

Leads

Mary Huff : Queen Elizabeth I – Queen of England

Young and full of hope for the future of her country, Queen Elizabeth I is eager to take part in the day’s festivities and to learn more about the people she is meant to rule. Though she is youthful in appearance, she should not be underestimated. Queen Elizabeth I is intelligent, quick-witted and does not suffer fools lightly.

Joshua Kachnycz : Robert Dudley – Master of Horse

Wealthy and benevolent, this Englishman seeks to ensure everything is perfect for the Queen’s coronation day. Though he is a strong, independently wealthy, and capable man, he is not afraid to listen to and heed a woman’s opinion, which quickly makes him one of Queen Elizabeth I most trusted advisors and friends. [Listen I am so glad this man is returning, he is such a joy to watch act.] [Zis is pleasink to me!]

Alex Stompoly : Henry Carry – Nobleman

Cousin to Elizabeth I, Henry Carey has a claim to the English throne and is not likely to let you forget it. While he ultimately wants what is best for the country, he doesn't always have the hearts of the ordinary citizens he represents at the forefront of his political strategy. It may take him a while to believe that such a young Queen can be a strong leader. [OH FUCK YEAH ALEX IS THE VILLAIN THIS IS EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED]

Combat

Sunny Vinsavich : Bev Tanningrove – Tanningrove Family Muscle

When carousing with friends, she is playful and carefree; but this cousin to Jack Tanningrove is quick to anger if she suspects you of disrespecting the Tanningrove name. Bold and hot-blooded, it doesn't take much to convince her to enter into a brawl to defend her house.

Emily Wirthwein : Sylvia Forel – Sword Mistress

As lethal as she is lovely, this German Master Swordswoman is renowned throughout Europe. If you are lucky enough to have her in your employ, you can expect her complete loyalty and services as a sellsword – as long as you aren't outbid by a wealthier party. [Oh good, the German mercenaries are back.]

Mel Angelo : Mary McBride – Dance Mistress of the Shire

Best friend to Rose Hopfield, this dancing mistress makes a loyal, dependable, and energetic companion. Shire folk beware: don't call her a coward or insult the Hopfields, else you might find yourself face to face with the pointy end of her sword.

Ilana Lo : Fan Liu – Pirate

Running away from home at the age of thirteen, Fan Liu spent her formative years as a member of pirate crews in many different countries. Because of these varied experiences and her own innate charm, Fan Liu is a brilliant negotiator, easily able to talk people into doing just about anything she asks. And if they make the mistake of not doing as she asks, they will soon face her steel.

Leigh Loureiro : Bonnie Buchanna – Pirate

A formidable opponent who can fight, curse, and drink just as well if not better than her male counterparts. Nicknamed ‘Bloody Bonnie’ for her reputation of leaving no survivors, many would be surprised to learn that she secretly has a soft spot for soft and cuddly critters. But,please, don't tell her we told you!

Amanda Darrigo : Mistress Quickley – Tavern Keeper

Thrilled at finally fulfilling her dream of opening her own tavern, this little lady isn’t shy about inviting people in or delegating responsibilities to her subordinates. In fact, she loves being a boss so much she might try to hire you to manage the day-to-day operations so she can focus on big-picture items: like how to spend her hard earned ducats.

Sean Besecker : Captain James Thatch – Captain of The Queen's Vengeance

Thatch grew up on pirate ships watching and learning from the best sea-robbers in the business, so it is no surprise that he is one of the most ruthless and cutthroat pirates to sail the seven seas. While polite society would consider him uncivilized, he does live his life adhering closely to a very important set of rules: the Piratical Code. [pyrate ship count: 1]

Matthew Glen Clark : Bartholomew Wainwright – Yeoman

Dark and brooding, the mysterious Bartholomew Wainwright is often mistaken as cynical when a better term for him would be logical. He makes decisions using his brain and not his heard – the same cannot be said for some of his fellow Yeoman.

Austin James : Edward Mawson – First Mate

With knowledge of the civilized world, Edward Mawson, sometimes referred to as Maw, is the perfect First Mate to his unruly Captain. He is easily able to represent the Captain at important affairs and likes to mingle with the upper crust of society. In fact, he likes it so much that he dreams of bettering his own position so that he might one day join them.

Music

The Sirens

Sarah Bartley : Captain Sheena Daley O'Connell – Captain of The Unyeilding Tempest

The Leader. She is bold, brave, fearless and knows the world of piracy like the back of her well-worn hands. Sheena actively attempts to keep the peace in ORC but enjoys looting and pillaging as much as her fellow captains. Her deeds are heroic, but often tall in nature! Ask her to tell you all about when she saved her entire crew with a single plank of wood. She will regale you. [pyrate ship count: 2]

Leigh Anne Hamlin : Captain Scarlett Seymour – Captain of The Shadow of Prophecy

The Joker. She is laid back, extremely confident but relentlessly lazy. Scarlett always cracks jokes and makes light of difficult situations. She has been a pirate all her life and she is damn good at it! She is fond of long naps, drinking and gambling. Whats her secret? Good luck and tons of it! [Four things. First, pyrate ship count: 3. Second, presuming she named he ship herself, I guarantee that this character is queer, because that’s the most Extra ship name ever, and only us queer folk are that overdramatic. Three, prophesy? seymour? see-more? r u kidding me? Four: if you go look at her headshot, this actor bears an uncanny resemblance to Vanessa Sterling.]

Megan Jones : Captain Ruth "The Blade" Gibson – Captain of The Jolly Walrus

The Wild Card. She is tough, blunt, and has a wee bit of a rage problem. Although she loves piracy and has the scars to prove it, she melts at the sight of children and cuddly animals, who have the ability to soften her strong demeanor. Do not dare question her about the name of her ship! Shes sensitive about it. [Oh hell yeah, Megan Jones is a pyrate! I am very pleased about this. Also, pyrate ship count: 4.]

Sarah Williams : Captain Elanor Keetly – Captain of The Malevolence

The newly appointed Captain of The Malevolence. The innocent. She has inherited her newfound position of Captain after all the members of her crew mysteriously perished in a tragic maritime accident. She has a thirst for knowledge and craves to be the very best in her new career! Elanor is extremely enthusiastic, but a bit frightened of the weight of her new position. She has a malicious alter ego named Cookie. [Well, that certainly took at turn at the last line! Pyrate ship count: 5, and whomever named this vessel was definitely queer, too.]

The Irish Revels

Autumn Sheffy : Siobhán O'Sullivan – Royal Music Tutor

Having left the rest of her family behind to seek her fortune, this maestro has ascended to the ranks of the English court! Surely she wouldn't lord this success over the rest of her siblings...

Jordan Bell : Gilda O'Sullivan – Musician

Gilda is an optimistic and charismatic leader. She hasn't the time for negativity or ill will amongst her siblings, so she simply pushes through it with a bright smile. She is a perfectionist and an overachiever. She adores music and her siblings, despite their failings, and will do anything to make sure the festival day goes off without a hitch. She has the color-coded scrolls to prove it! because what are we, animals?

Morgan Harwood : Alannah O'Sullivan – Musician

Alannah is kind, carefree, and a bit odd. She is the youngest of the quintuplets and the most connected to the universe. She has the ability to see magic creatures and is often overtaken by her imagination. Her magic touch can calm her siblings when the time arises. The music she performs grounds her back in reality. She doesn’t walk, she floats. [Whelp, this character obviously has a connection to the fae, so she’s definitely Autistic.]

Jared Haverdink : Keagan O'Sullivan – Musician

Keagan is a realist, has an excellent sense of humor, and is endlessly sarcastic. He has a bit of the ol’ Irish temper that is easily set off by small things. The most talented musically of the O’Sullivan siblings, he was always very skilled, but has recently improved dramatically, almost overnight. His siblings are suspicious he has made a deal with a sea witch for his newfound shredding skills. [I’m so glad that last sentence exists.]

Joey Mudd : Deklyn O'Sullivan – Musician

Deklyn, like his sister Gilda, is a very friendly and charismatic young musician. He is full of life, energy, joy and is extremely earnest. However, he does tend to worry, and his imagination takes hold, extrapolating the smallest misstep that could lead to the doom of his family. Frequently stares into the middle distance, right between the crucial and the trivial, between existential dread and I’ll take the dressing on the side. [The Millennial™]

The Rakish Rogues

Christopher Burch : Sterling Armstrong – Highwayman, Leader of Group

The leader of this merry band of misfits. He is bold, ambitious, but a tad arrogant. Sterling fancies himself as a ladies’ man, but when approached by a woman, he can’t always follow through. His leadership style is that of blind intuition. His British dialect is very put-on and manly, but he often slips into Cockney, his real voice, when angered. Sterling doesn't walk, he glides. Is that his real name or did he make it up? [FUCK YEAH THEY DID THE THING THEY PUT HIM ON THE MUSIC TRACK YESSSSSS!]

Chase Brackett : Tucker Abbot – Highwayman, Sterling's Protégé

A former homeless orphan who was adopted by Sterling Armstrong as his younger brother and protégé . He absolutely worships the ground his brother walks on. Tucker is very bright, optimistic, and somewhat naïve. He is completely unaware when he says filthy and inappropriate things. Sterling said it so it must be fine! He loves the life of crime, but mostly he just wants to find a beautiful lady and sing songs to her pretty face forever. [This character description has newsie energy.]

Pete Hedberg : Jeremiah Slight – Highwayman, Sterling's Right-Hand Man

He is the muscle of the group, but secretly the brains. Jeremiah is the only person keeping this group afloat, but he would rather stick to the shadows than be in the limelight. He is excellent at thievery and a master of disguise. If you get close enough to find out how many accents he can do, you may not live to tell the tale! [*laughs in a decade of faire accents*] [also slight is the right hand man? slight of hand? fuck you.]

Ian Agnew : William "Bill" Crimson – Highwayman, former Benadictine Monk

A former Benedictine monk who was living a pious life in an abbey. He one day was hit in the head with a bible, decided to leave the cloth and turn to a more exciting life of crime. He adores his new lifestyle and lives it with absolutely no restraint or regret. Bill has a newfound love of drinking, women, and gambling. He may have a few loose screws, but he’s never been happier. [So there’s a good bit to unpack there. Kind of like a reverse Cadfael.]

Improv

Sheila Barton : Lady Delores Anne Penburthy – Lady Mayor of Mount Hope

Effervescent and vivacious, the Lady Mayor is sure to give Queen Elizabeth I the warm and generous welcome deserving a ruler of England. Having earned the love of the townspeople, the Lady Mayor could teach the young Queen a thing or two about earning the trust and loyalty of her people.

Adam Shepley : William Cecil – Advisor to the Queen

Her Majesty’s most stalwart advisor, and head of her privy council. Usually the smartest man in the room, and well aware of it, Cecil knows Elizabeth will be a good queen. Honestly after her sister Mary, things can only go up.

Joe Penn : Jacob Perry – Sheriff of Mount Hope

He loves putting away bad guys and solving mysteries. The only mystery he cant solve: how to grow up. [Oh. Hell. Yeah.]

Jonathan Handley : Sir William Pickering – Nobleman

Well educated, well bred, well connected. William Pickering has studied at the best schools, spent time among the French court, and is a good friend of Queen Elizabeth; but surely he would never let those things go to his head. He is still a man of the people, with his finger on the gilded pulse of the court.

Rob Condas : William Shakespeare – Apprentice Glover

Everyone needs gloves, and serving all levels of society has made young Bill a keen observer of the human condition. He has heard many stories, and feels that he has many stories to tell. He’d like to try his hand at playwrighting – maybe he can wrangle up some actors to try out a new play or two. [This is absolutely genius, because if we remain in the same universe for a couple years, we’ll get to see his transition to fully-fledged playwright!]

Adam Kampouris : Christopher "Kit" Marlowe – Playwright

Full of charm and swagger, this playwright can woo a hundred paramours without running out of pickup lines; finish several thousand tankards of ale without retiring for bed; and accomplish almost any task without exerting too much effort; but he cannot seem to finish a play. He is hoping Mount Hope Shire will provide him the inspiration he needs to pen his next masterpiece.

Kelsey Jefferies : Gretchen Froman – Heir to the Sausage Throne

Her parents have newly acquired a fortune from their successful Sausage empire, and they like to flaunt it! Fortunately for them, their daughter is responsible enough for both of them and makes sure they don’t blow it all in a single shopping trip. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy some of the perks – just that she is the only one of the three with some class about it. [For context, see the Blackfryars’ descriptions.]

Noelani Stevenson : Eskarina Nutter – Wise Woman

This cunning woman knows that there are things in this world that cannot be explained, and their solutions must be equally inexplicable. A mistress of folk medicine, herbal lore, and charms, she will heal you up quick or dispel the evil eye. Just remember that what she can cure, she can just as easily give back if you cross her. [hell yeah my pagan girl! Also if you look at her headshot, her design is literally Sabrina but a little paler and with blond hair, which is most amusing to me.] [but like,,, why is her last name nutter.]

Kira Gaudynski : Stella Hopfield – Bottler

Wife of John Hopfield. Though her title is Bottler, she does so much more – marketing, distribution, HR, pretty much everything that isn’t the actual brewing of the beer...and girl, is she good at it! She thrives under pressure, and fortunately for her, there is always pressure abounding.

Ryan Perry : John Hopfield – Brew Master

Patriarch of the Hopfield family. His brews are best. His ales are awesome. His stouts are stellar. His lagers are...really good too. Hes proud of the name he has made for his family, and knows that beer is the true heart of Mount Hope.

Katelyn Shreiner : Sherry Tanningrove – Mistress of the Cellars

Sister of Horice Tanningrove and his partner in the winery. Her mind is like the aging process of wine: calculating, patient, and meticulous. She has an eye for detail and rarely jumps to conclusions. She knows that trends come and go, but wine will be forever.

Michael Stahler : Horace Tanningrove – Vinter

Patriarch of the Tanningrove Family. Wine is what put the shire of Mount Hope on the map, and Horace is proud of that family tradition. He knows Queen Elizabeth will have a more refined palate than her late father and sister, and will help bring Mount Hope’s wines back to the top no matter what those uppity Hopfields say. [yeah okay so there’s definitely a family rivalry here]

Alright, You Stumped Me

Katie Burch : Theresa Ratchet – Rat Catcher

Sickness has begun blanketing the world. Some people blame it on bad smells, some people believe it to be God’s wrath due to the sinful ways of today’s culture. Theresa, however, believes it to be because of the rats. She can’t prove it, and no one else believes her, but she will do whatever it takes to rid Mount Hope of these verminous infestations and save the populous in the process. [Heck yeah, my science-based girl, go get it!]

George Hamilton : Douglas Johnson – Master Thief

He’s been arrested so many times by Sheriff Perry, they know practically everything about each other. One might even suspect they’ve become friends, but Douglas Johnson would never take advantage of his friendship....in any way that would be obvious to Sheriff Jacob. [I’m always a slut for this sort of dynamic!]

Shannon Holder : Rose Hopfield – Brew Master's Daughter

Impulsive, independent, and passionate, this young woman is exploring the world on her own and beginning to see things in a new light, not solely from the perspective of her brewmaster father. By the end of the festival day, she may even sip her first glass of wine!

Jesse Kortus : Jack Tanningrove – Vinter's Son

Idealistic, intelligent, and inquisitive, this young man is coming into his own and beginning to question the things he has grown up with as facts. For example: contrary to his father’s opinion, there seem to be a great deal of people upon the shire who prefer beer to wine. He intends to spend the day finding out just why that is. [....oh great we’re gonna have friggin’ het star-crossed lovers up in here, aren’t we.]

John Surgener : Charles Kent – Yeoman

Fiercely loyal to the Queen, Charles Kent is every bit the ideal hero. With a strong moral compass and an idyllic spirit, Kent is fast, powerful, and has quickly leapt to the top of the list of the Queens favorite Yeomen.

Haley Ward : Amy Cooper – Cooper

Who would have thought a business person could suffer from TOO MUCH demand? With the ongoing conflict between the Tanningroves and the Hopfields, Amy has been profiting, but at the cost of much sleep. Maybe today she’ll finally be able to enjoy a day off. [*sleep-deprived fistbump*]

My Reasoning

A section I include purely because I don’t like feeling stupid: therefore when I’m wrong, I prefer people to at least see the logic I followed to arrive at my conclusion.

Leads

Robert Dudley and Henry Carry are both mentioned by name in the scenario, so they’re obviously leads, and Queen Elizabeth is sort of, well, Queen Elizabeth.

Combat

Bev Tanningrove – Tanningrove Family Muscle: character description puts her pretty firmly in the combat territory; Sunny Vinsavich’s resume backs this up with necessary training/abilities.

Sylvia Forel – Sword Mistress: character description puts her pretty firmly in the combat territory; Emily Wirthwein’s resume backs this up with necessary training/abilities.

Mary McBride – Dance Mistress of the Shire: character description puts her pretty firmly in the combat territory; Mel Angelo’s resume seems to back this up with necessary training/abilities.

Fan Liu – Pirate: character description indicates combat as a definite possibility; Ilana Lo‘s resume backs this up with SO MUCH necessary training/abilities; character seems to fit better into the pattern of the combat track than the pattern of the improv track.

Bonnie Buchanna – Pirate: character description indicates combat as a definite possibility; Leigh Loureiro‘s resume indicates potential necessary physicality; character seems to fit better into the pattern of the combat track than the pattern of the improv track

Mistress Quickley – Tavern Keeper: can’t freaking find a resume for Amanda Darrigo, but in my PARF experience, tavern-keepers tend to be involved in brawls and melees, thus indicating combat track.

Captain James Thatch – Captain of The Queen's Vengeance: character description indicates combat as a definite option; can’t find a resume for Sean Besecker, but did find a facebook post mentioning his participation in leading a stage-combat workshop alongside Sam Little, thus implying the necessary training/abilities; character seems to fit better into the pattern of the combat track than the pattern of the improv track.

Bartholomew Wainwright – Yeoman: though character description does not necessarily indicate active combat role, one would imagine a yoeman to be involved in combat, and I know past casts have included combat-track yeomen; Matthew Glen Clark‘s resume backs this up with necessary training and physicality.

Edward Mawson – First Mate: character description does not necessarily indicate active combat role, and I was completely unable to find any sort of resume for Austin James, but the character seems to fit into the pattern of the combat track well enough, so it’s my best guess.

Music (hardly challenging, as I mentioned, yet shall display my reasoning anyway)

Captain Sheena Daley O'Connell – Captain of The Unyeilding Tempest: woman pyrate whose character description matches the format of the other Sirens’.

Captain Scarlett Seymour – Captain of The Shadow of Prophecy: woman pyrate whose character description matches the format of the other Sirens’.

Captain Ruth "The Blade" Gibson – Captain of The Jolly Walrus: woman pyrate whose character description matches the format of the other Sirens’, plus we already know Megan Jones is music-track certified, so to speak.

Captain Elanor Keetly – Captain of The Malevolence: woman pyrate whose character description matches the format of the other Sirens’, plus we already know Sarah Williams is both music-track certified and Siren certified.

Siobhán O'Sullivan – Royal Music Tutor: surname matches that of the four Irish characters listed as “musician”.

Gilda O'Sullivan – Musician: surname matches that of the other Irish characters listed as “musician” or similar; Jordan Bell is already both music-track certified and Revel certified.

Alannah O'Sullivan – Musician: surname matches that of the other Irish characters listed as “musician” or similar; Morgan Harwood is already music-track certified.

Keagan O'Sullivan – Musician: surname matches that of the other Irish characters listed as “musician” or similar; Jared Haverdink is already music-track certified.

Deklyn O'Sullivan – Musician: surname matches that of the other Irish characters listed as “musician” or similar.

Sterling Armstrong – Highwayman, Leader of Group: highwayman; we already knew Christoper Burch is music-track capable.

Tucker Abbot – Highwayman, Sterling's Protégé: highwayman; singing is specifically mentioned in description.

Jeremiah Slight – Highwayman, Sterling's Right-Hand Man: highwayman; we already knew Pete Hedberg is very very music-track certified and Rogue certified.

William "Bill" Crimson – Highwayman, former Benadictine Monk: highwayman; we already knew Ian Agnew is both music-track certified and Rogue certified.

Improv

Lady Delores Anne Penburthy – Lady Mayor of Mount Hope: Duh.

William Cecil – Advisor to the Queen: Adam Shepley is historically improv track.

Jacob Perry – Sheriff of Mount Hope: Joe Penn is historically improv track.

Sir William Pickering – Nobleman: Jonathan Handley is historically improv track.

William Shakespeare – Apprentice Glover: character description gives no indication of combat; Rob Condas‘s website extols his improv ability and love of the same.

Christopher "Kit" Marlowe – Playwright: if Shakespeare be improv track, it follows that Marlowe is, too; character description gives no indication of combat.

Gretchen Froman – Heir to the Sausage Throne: one parent is a Blackfryar and the other an improv director, so the statistical likelihood lies with improv; character description gives no indication of combat.

Eskarina Nutter – Wise Woman: character description gives no indication of combat; it makes more sense for a healer-witch-type character to not be combat-focused anyway (though that would make for a really cool character); I could not find any resume for Noelani Stevenson to verify anything one way or another, but I’m relatively confident in my verdict nonetheless.

Stella Hopfield – Bottler: character description gives no indication of combat; Kira Gaudynski’ resume seems to indicate greater improv strength than combat strength.

John Hopfield – Brew Master: character description gives no indication of combat; if the Hopfield matriarch indeed be on improv, it seems to heighten the likelyhood of the Hopfield patriarch being on the same; could not find Ryan Perry’s resume to check training/abilities one way or another.

Sherry Tanningrove – Mistress of the Cellars: character description gives no indication of combat; Katelyn Shreiner‘s resume seems to indicate stronger improv skills than combat skills; following my previous path of reason, if the head Hopfields be on the improv track, likely the head Tanningroves will, too.

Horace Tanningrove – Vinter: character description gives no indication of combat; Michael Stahler‘s resume seems to indicate average stage-combat abilities; once more following my path of reasoning through to the logical conclusion, this other head Tanningrove will likely be on the improv track.

Alright, you stumped me

Theresa Ratchet – Rat Catcher: while Katie Burch has historically been combat-track, the character description gives no indication of combat; moreover, her participation in Theatre in the Mansion indicates to me that she has the necessary abilities for the improv track; neither her website nor twitter reveals anything one way or another; finally, I have a unproven gut instinct that one is more likely to remain on cast more years running if one switches tracks. Verdict? could go either way.

Douglas Johnson – Master Thief: George Hamilton has been on both the music track and the combat track (though music is here ruled out), and his participation in Theatre in the Mansion indicates to me that he has the necessary abilities for the improv track; thieves of various sorts are often on the combat track, but it seems his main acting partner this year is on improv; I cannot find a website for further information, and his social media reveals nothing. Verdict? six of one, half-a-dozen of the other.

Rose Hopfield – Brewmaster's Daughter: character description indicates a divergence from her parents’ worldview, so while I have her parents under improv, it would make some degree of sense for her to be on a different track; only some degree, though, and character description does not indicate combat; Shannon Holder‘s resume seems to indicate possibility in either track. Verdict? honestly probably improv but there is wiggle-room.

Jack Tanningrove – Vinter's Son: character description indicates a divergence from his parents’ worldview, so while I have his parents under improv, it would make some degree of sense for him to be on a different track; only some degree, though, and character description does not indicate combat; I could not find a resume for Jesse Kortus to check training/abilities either way. Verdict? yeah prolly improv but who knows.

Charles Kent – Yeoman: though character description does not necessarily indicate active combat role, one would imagine a yoeman to be involved in combat, and I know past casts have included combat-track yeomen; however, John Surgener’s resume seems to me to lean more toward improv than combat, though he has some degree of experience in both. Verdict? heck if I know.

Amy Cooper – Cooper: character description does not indicate combat; Haley Ward’s resume indicates the necessary training/ability for combat; the character description gives me improv-track vibes somehow. Verdict? yeah at this point your guess is as good as mine.

Phew! That’s more than long enough for one day, so the Blackfryars shall get their own post on the morrow (maybe this evening if I’m responsible... haha...).

To the newcomers, welcome! To those returning, welcome back!

#if you'll excuse me i'll be over here being EXCITED as HECK #man this took me ages #they posted the cast while i was at work on tuesday #i couldn't look at it until 9pm-something #and despite working on this post until 3am-something i couldn't finish it at the time #so then i slept in on wednesday and only got a few hours of work in on it before my evening rehearsal #and i finally finished it a couple hours after rehearsal by which time it was 11pm #and i'd rather post it during the day since more people in the relivent timezone will see it then #so yeah. castlist released on tuesay; post up on thursday #i have many things to say -- even more than my little bracket asides have already said -- but that may be fodder for future posts #for my next trick i will reformat this post to work within the limitations of facebook #yikes #bacchanalians #cast list #casting #parf casting #parf cast 2019 #parf 2019 #parf #pa ren faire #pa renn faire #pa renaissance faire #pennsylvania renaissance faire #renaissance faire #renn faire #ren faire #faire #here's a health to the queuempany

1 note · View note

shadowdianne · 7 years

Note

SQ Prompt: After Emma sacrifices herself to save Regina from becoming the new Dark one, there all sent back to the enchanted forest. When Emma attacks some villagers they decide to lock her up in Rumplestiltskin's prison cell. Regina still at her castle tries to summon Emma, but nothing happens, Later she finds out that they locked Emma away, so she sneaks in to visit her and is shocked at what she finds. Vampire!DarkSwan

So… Thanks for this prompt! Iabsolutely adore writing fantasy and vampires is an aesthetic I always adorewriting and creating for. Also, I once wrote a similar idea -sans vampire- backwhen the DarkSwan arc was just a few pictures and a lot of hype that ended upbeing for nothing. The dynamic of Regina finding Emma in chains, she beinganything but the woman she knew, was something I was obsessed with for a whilethanks to that promo that never actually had any continuation on the show. I’llleave the link here in case you want to take a look! It has some years now so Iapologize if it isn’t properly edited. I still need to re-do a bunch of storiesfrom that time.

And… I’ll stop rambling now; I hopeyou like it!

[A03 VERSION]

The rubble beneath her boots rumbled slightlyas she took a step into what had been the main entrance to the cells, theplaces in where torches had once upon a time been nothing but darker patches ona completely crackered wall. Recoiling at the sudden stench of unspent, almostgurgling, magic that coated the very air that she tried to breath Reginaswallowed deeply while rotating her wrist slowly. Her magic, still alien to hereven after so many weeks after their re-apparition to their original places onthe enchanted forest, surge into the atmosphere, flames licking her fingertipsin almost painful way before she tried to move forward again.

The earthy, dusty interior of the complicatedpassage felt smaller than it had once, the ominous lack of light feeding theshadows that seemed to almost jump beneath her feet as she kept on moving;teeth trapping her tongue firmly while she battled the need to cry for thewoman she had come to visit.

It hadn’t been easy, Regina thought, graspingtightly the dark cloth she wore around her chest. The jewels she hadembroidered on the body of the dress, more practical than the ones she had hadback then when she had been the Queen but still speaking of a past shehalf-wished to have been able to leave behind, glowed against the fireballwhose magic kept on. A tiny source of light she felt like squashing at thethought of far too many nights roaming into what have been her war room, tryingto reach for a woman that simply wasn’t there.

She still infused enough fear for a knight fromSnow’s army to mumble the truth about the slaughtered villagers at the eastside of the forest, the bloody marks and magic scars they had had on theirchests and vacant eyes enough to cause nightmares to anyone who was crazyenough to believe that the woman safely trapped into the old castle could beanything but the woman she kept on trying to summon. But maybe she was thatcrazy.

Her magic had burnt on her chest, incineratingeverything on its wake as she had gone towards Snow and David. The two newlyre-established monarchs were mourning the loss of their daughter in a way thatmade Regina want to sneer at them, at their lack of actual fight. She hadscreamed that truth to them with enough force to drag some swords from the fewones that the now tired couple still kept around. Something Regina alsodespised. They were back in the forest, that much was true and no amount ofmagic seemed to make them able to cross back to Storybrooke but those old waysshould have been eradicated, erased by now. Or they should be.

She had told that much to Henry, when she hadstormed into her own castle, almost empty and far too still. The echo of her footstepshad drowned her words and Henry had sighed from his side of the room, fingerstwiddling the dagger with her mother’s name. Some of the few things that hadcrossed back with them. No one had asked for it and so there they laid, withEmma’s name as clear as if it had been freshly painted on the surface of theblade; the twirls of the letters ominous on their own as the magic thatpermeated the dagger kept on slicing the air around it, the dark energy callingfor its rightful owner.

Owner whose magic kept on biting Regina’s fleshas the woman approached the end of the passage, the curved ceiling above herseeming to keep coming closer to the crone of her head with each step she took.Something, the former queen thought, that she could have vowed that wasn’t thecase last time she had been there.

Rivulets of power splashed against her own, theacidic taste they left behind on the back of the brunette’s throat enough forher to gauge her options. There was something there; someone who was very stillif the lack of clanking from the chains she had been told they had put them on,was any clue. The idea of that someone actually being Emma seeming more andmore ludicrous as time passed.

Yet Regina felt like she needed to know, neededto know who was going to look back at her the moment she took a few more steps,the shape of the twisted bars that worked as the cell’s door visible now. Timeand weather had corroded them and their yellowish color made the former queenthink of the jaws of a beast, a writhing, alive beast that was waiting for herto make the wrong thing.

Squaring her shoulders and grasping into herown sizzling magic, Regina took those final few steps, eyes straining as shepeeked into the cells, through the bars in where nothing but a few moonlightrays speed through from a hole in the ceiling barely large enough for a fist toslip inside.

“You can put that out; I can see you withoutit.”

The words startled her, more than the seeminglyempty cell in where, suddenly, a figure rose from one of the darkest corners ofthe furthers wall. Each vowel was laced with dark amusement, every consonantdripping with a sexual undertone that made the former queen think back to herown times. Still, the pitch was recognizable enough for her to swallow down agasp as, finally, the creature moved in a way that the flames of her fireballsilluminated her features enough.

Green eyes sparkled, full of that magic Reginanow could feel reaching for her own, slow drops of power that oozed out andfrom between the bars in a way that made the woman think how achingly far shewas from them and how better it would be for her to open the door…. The hazewas short-lived, however, as her eyes traveled down to the fair skin, palerthan she remembered, and white-haired hair that framed those green eyes andruby-red lips.

It was Emma.

Or, her mind, a tiny part of it, muttered, itlooked like her.

“Or you can leave it.” The woman in front ofher purred, eyes narrowed and lips parting enough for Regina to see with astartle the beginning of what could only be slightly elongated fans. “I think Iprefer to look how you watch me.”

One hand curled itself around one of the bars,long fingers circling it slowly as, one by one, cinched their hold onto therusted metal. The black leather that could be seen now covering the upper torsoof the former blonde didn’t reflect any light despite Regina’s fireball and theformer queen found herself staring slightly at it, not entirely missing the wayEmma smiled lopsidedly at her, teeth gleaming from the moonlight above.

“What brings you here, Your Majesty? Have theydecided what they want to do with me?”

The murders; the blood, the raw power found inthe way every leave of the forest had trembled and quivered under Emma’s magic.Puzzle pieces that slowly found their place on Regina’s racing mind. Still witha hand grasping the cloth on her chest the brunette swallowed, feeling herpulse quickening on her neck as she stared at the woman who had interceded forher not so long ago.

“You know who I am?” She settled on asking, hervoice breaking enough for Emma’s smile widen slightly as she licked the undersideof her fangs, not seeming in the slightest like someone trapped. “Emma?”

The name made the white-haired woman hum, coldbreeze running through Regina’s back as she did so.

It was the power, she reasoned, the power, themagic that kept on feeding her with a kind of impulse, of want, that made herhead spin. Had she felt that way in front of Rumplestiskin? She knew that shehadn’t and still it was the same magic, the same Dark One’s power, what keptcalling for her, asking her to take a step closer, to open up the door of thecell, to embrace…

“Of course I remember you. Regina.” Emma’scackle rose to the ceiling in where mud itself seemed to dissolve. “So doesshe.”

The she wasnot difficult to dilucidated who it was. The dagger, the magic that she nowfelt creeping, crawling up her boots, her legs, like fingers prodding her,beckoning her closer. With a startle she realized that she had, indeed, take astep closer towards the cell. Breathing quicker, she willed her own magic toreact, shielding her from Emma’s.

“How…” She croaked before the white-hairedwoman shrugged.

“It seems that I needed to be… like this.”

It was intoxicating her, Regina realized with astartle, skin prickling. It wasn’t difficult to discern how easy had been forher to kill the village in one single night. Blood thirst and hunger waspresent on every inch of the younger woman’s face and still there was somethingelse, a calculated coldness, that wasn’t entirely Emma but not truly comingfrom the dagger either.

Letting the cloth go and taking another stepforwards Regina shuddered as the magic crept through her arm, strong enough nowfor her to lick her lips. She knew the risks, could see them on the way Emmalowered her forehead, eyes and teeth on display, taut leather clothing a shadowthe bars seemed to almost be painted on. She, however, couldn’t stop herself.

She had wondered what she was going to say tothe woman the moment she found her. “Why” felt like the question a part of herwhispered its answer each night she had tried to sleep. “Thanks” was the wordthat got stuck on her throat and chest as the first answer echoed on her mind;its possibility strong enough for her to feel paralyzed. She didn’t, however,halt herself until her skin touched the cold iron bars, one at Emma’s hand right.

With a smile the former blonde tilted her headcloser to the barrier -now almost nonexistent- between them.

I want you.

You should have nevergive yourself like you did.

Did you know?

Questions raced through Regina’s mind but shesaid nothing as Emma, slowly, far too slowly, moved her lips towards her wrist.The bars prevented her for doing anything but kiss once, twice, Regina’sknuckles, the edge of her teeth enough for the former queen to feel them butnot enough to break her skin.

“Don’t you like it?”

It was a whisper, lips against her skin, cheeksdevoid of any blush Regina stared at, trying not to swallow thickly at theimplications, at her own will.

“Do I?”

#swan queen #prompt #anon #darkswan

17 notes · View notes

unavenged-robin · 7 years

Note

I LOVE your batdictionary series on AOOO. I has promt for you! I would like to see Damian cuddle Jason! They have an odd understanding but I want to see Jason be the only one that can hold Damian after a fight with Dick.

Thank you! ♥ And you hit me in my weak spot, honestly. Especially because I think after Dick, Jason makes the most interesting sibling relationship with Damian. Anyway, here we go, I hope it was what you were looking for!

Read on AO3 if you prefer

Jason likes to think he moved on, that he’s, if not a better person, at least a different one. Less angry, less crazy, more in control of his emotions. It takes nights like this one to truly realize that he actually is better, because it’s on nights like this one that he remembers how it used to feel like. The fire in the stomach and the taste of blood on the lips, trembling hands and gritted teeth, every muscle of his body tensed in anger and itching for a violent release, the need to hurt surpassed only by the need of being hurt.

He hates it.

He hates that one fight with Bruce can still reduce him like this, break him and cut him as if he were still a child caught doing something wrong while knowing that it could cost him everything.

“But the little I have now he couldn’t take it away even if he wanted”, he says to the gargoyle next to him. “So joke’s on him, you know?”

If the gargoyle knows, he doesn’t tell, not to him and not to anyone else. Secrets between friends are important to him, Jason’s learned. It’s one of the reasons he likes this place so much. There are years worth of whispered secrets impressed into the ancient stones, scorch marks of old cigarettes and deep scratches from a lot of different knives, dark shadows that were once either bloodstains or spilled coke. And everything is covered in pigeon shit. It’s sad and hilarious at the same time.

He leans back against the statue, hands crossed behind his head, feet resting against the railing, comfortable enough to close his eyes, uncomfortable enough to not fall asleep and towards a very ridiculous death.

And Gotham’s nights are never silent, or even quiet, but the noise of the streets it’s familiar, if not even welcomed to his ears, like a childhood lullaby. It happens every time he comes back, yet he’s still surprised at how it feels weird to call this city his home and at how it’s even weirder not to call it so. It’s one of those things he’ll probably never understand.

Like he doesn’t understand what tips him off a hour or so later, when he opens his eyes to find himself almost face to face with his littlest brother dangling upside down from one of the gargoyle’s horns, cape fluttering around his head in the night’s breeze and a little smirk on his face.

Jason blinks one, two, three times, and a few heartbeats go by before he reacts.

“You know you’re not a real bat, right? Despite the fact you do look like one”, he says, because if he starts yelling at him then Damian will know that he actually succeeded in startling him, and Jason’s not going to give him that satisfaction on his life.

Beside, he’s kinda impressed by how the kid managed to sneak on him like that.

Damian tries to look down on him but being on the wrong side of the up and down thing, he only manage to glower at him, and it’s not even as threatening as it usually is.

“Father is angry with you”, the kid says, still scowling.

“Get down from there”, Jason retorts. “And tell me what else is new under the sun.”

“It’s night”, Damian points out, because he likes to be irritating like that. “And because of you he’s now crossed with me too.”

“Well, shit”, Jason answers. “Now get down from there.”

Damian glances at him for a bit more, just to spite him, then he does this weird and almost painful to look backflip thing that has Nightwing’s trademark all over it. Jason watches the kid as he spins in the air for a moment, and then his feet land far too close to the edge, in what he knows it’s a perfect balance, and still it’s so unnerving to see him playing, if not with death, at least with some serious injury in such a careless way, so as soon as Robin comes in his reach he grabs him by his utility belt and pulls him down to sit next to him.

Structurally speaking, gargoyle statues are not designed for people to sit on them, but with a little of motivation Jason makes it work anyway. Damian being tiny helps a lot, still the kid is not that happy to end up squished against Jason’s side.

“Todd, I hope you are aware that your fatness is highly inconvenient both for your choice of lifestyle and for my person”, he complains, pushing not so lightly at him, and Jason elbows him in the ribs.

“First, keep your jealousy for my muscle mass in check, kid”, he retorts. “Second, this is my spot and you’re already occupying it illegally, so don’t be rude or I’ll push you down the fucking tower.”

“We both know you wouldn’t”, Damian chirps, definitely unimpressed by the threat. “And this is not your spot, it’s a public building.”

“The hell it is”, Jason answers. “This is Henry.”

Damian looks up at him in confusion.

“Henry?”

Jason points at Henry, Damian cranes his neck back to look at the gargoyle and then turns again towards him. He blinks, opens his mouth to say something - something nasty, knowing him - but then he seems to rethink it and he closes it again.

“You are a weird individual, Todd”, he states matter-of-factly after a moment, but he leaves it at that.

“Pot, meet kettle”, Jason snorts, then he looks him over from the corner of his eye. “You wanna tell me what are you doing here?”

“I told you, Father is angry at me because of you”, the kid answers, but if that was true by now he’d have come at Jason with a knife and a thirst for revenge and he wouldn’t be sitting quietly next to him.

“I suppose you mean that he came home angry because of our fight and then yelled at you for no reason?”, he translates.

“He kind of had a reason”, Damian admits reluctantly. “Tonight I was supposed to be working on my moral qualities instead of my physical ones.”

“You were grounded”, Jason corrects with half a smile.

A grunt.

“If you prefer.”

“I still don’t see how it is my fault, brat.”

Damian glowers again and doesn’t answer, so Jason dramatically throws his hands in the air.

“Fine, fine, my apologies for having indisposed your dad so much that he actually forgot to spoil you as he usually does”, he scoffs, earning himself a pointy little elbows in a painful place between his ribs. He shoves at the kid’s head in retaliation, and blocks another punch aimed at his torso before they both give up.

Jason looks over at the kid again and sighs. When he speaks again he’s pretty sure that Henry’s going to laugh at him forever because of this.

“You know you didn’t exactly made things better between the both of you by sneaking off again after he already scolded you for it, right?”, he says anyway because somehow, somewhen and somewhere, without meaning it and definitely without wanting it, he discovered that he didn’t entire loath the idea of being an older brother to Bruce’s kids. And sometimes that meant saying hypocritical shits like this. He wonders how Dick pulls it off so neatly.

Damian gives him the universal I don’t care one bit about that sign, also known as a shrug. Which is kind of fair, since he’s, like, thirteen. Jason doesn’t know what the hell he was expecting, to be honest.

“Look, kid, you know how Bruce is”, he tries again.

Damian nods.

“Yes, I know. Father”, he starts slowly, measuring the words with great care. “Can be a fucking asshole sometimes.”

He lands it there just like this, and again, the only reaction Jason’s capable of having right away is to blink. One, two, three times. He didn’t misheard. A fucking asshole, that’s what the kid said. And it’s not even the words themselves - because god bless Alfred who keeps trying his best to educate all of them, but the kid has a foul mouth almost as bad as Jason’s - no, it’s the words and the combination of voice and accent, with all the right pauses and the syllables stretched out in all the right places.

He didn’t copy Jason’s voice - something he knows from Tim that he’s well capable of doing - yet it’s still very clear that Damian’s imitating him and that’s not one bit funny. Already in mild panic he picks up the kid and sits him down on his lap without even thinking about the likely violent physical repercussions of his act.

“Please, please, please”, he begs, grabbing him by his arms. “Tell me you never said that in front of Alfred.”

Damian clicks his tongue at him and there’s a spark of malevolent fun in his eyes while he drags the silence between them just to keep him on his toes.

“Damian”, Jason growls in a warning tone.

“Jason”, he mocks him.

A little shake, a little digging of big fingers into little shoulders.

“I’m not suicidal, Todd”, Damian finally capitulates with a scoff.

Jason finally exhales.

“Good. Because that would be a murder–suicide, you know? No way Alfred would let me live if he thinks that I’ve taught you to speak like that about your father”, he pauses. “Which I definitely didn’t. Right?”

Damian shakes his head no but his lips curl in a smile that promises future blackmailing and the opening of a brand new category of annoying mockeries.

“You are a little shit”, Jason sighs dramatically, but he can’t deny to be a little amused by the whole thing. He’s even more amused when Damian squirms over his lap, trying to regain his sitting spot between Henry’s stone paws.

He stops him more to annoy him than anything else, locking his arms around his waist to make him stay in place. Damian punches and wriggles around, pushing at every bit of Jason he can reach, but once established that he’s not letting go without a serious fight Damian does the same thing he uses to do with Dick: he huffs and theatrically leans in his older brother’s embrace, making a show of humoring him out of the graciousness of his heart. Jason laughs and rubs his stubbly cheek against Damian’s forehead, causing a new wave of protests and escape attempts.

“What were you and Father arguing about?”, Damian asks softly a few minutes later, once he quietens again.

He doesn’t look at him and Jason doesn’t know if he really wants an answer to his question or if he’s only asking him out of some sense of balance, since he’s not really grasped yet the concept of getting something without necessarily having to give something else back. Whatever his reasons are, Jason doesn’t really want to go there again.

“It doesn’t matter, kid”, which is kinda the truth. The subject of the argument is not the point, it’s the argument itself the problem. Raised voices and clenched fists, and a burning anger that should be long gone flaring back between them at the first spark. He’s supposed to be better than this.

“He told me about… Henry. Father, I mean”, Damian says, his voice still low and thoughtful. “Not tonight, of course. And he didn’t know you named it Henry, or he would’ve sent you to Arkham a lot sooner”, he teases, earning himself a painful pinch on his thigh. “But he told me that this was your favorite place back when- when you were-”

“Yeah, it was”, Jason deadpans, cutting him off just a little bit too abruptly, then he shoots his little brother a confused look. “Why did you two even had a conversation about this place anyway? Have you been here before?”

He feels more than he sees Damian shrugging against him.

“I used it as an observation post a while back, during a case. It has a good visual on the city”, he explains. “Father looked… uncomfortable with my choice, so I inquired for details.”

“Oh”, Jason answers. And he leaves it at that because honest to god, he doesn’t want to know anything else about Bruce and his weird, sudden attacks of feelings. Also he’s not a total idiot and Damian’s not as sneaky as he thinks he is.

He’s wondering about calling the kid out on his failed attempt to play peacemaker (and for what reason he’d try to do something like that Jason can’t even begin to imagine), but then something in one of Robin’s utility belt’s pockets pings and Damian wrestles again with Jason’s hold to pull out his phone.

Jason’s expecting angry voicemails or peremptory orders to come back home sent via text, instead the kid opens up a game and starts playing with some weirdly yellow viking midgets.

“Someone’s trying to attack my village and steal its resources”, Damian explains while he quickly taps on the screen. “Unworthy fools.”

Jason blinks. Tonight Damian is full of surprises, apparently.

“Uh-uh.”

“It’s good practice for strategy training and studying attack patterns.”

A light scoff.

“Sure.”

Since Damian can’t spare a hand to swat him with, he hits him in the shoulder with the back of his head.

“Shut up, Hood.”

Jason grins and complies for all of two minutes.

“You plan to spend the entire night up here playing video games?”, he asks then, eyes still focussed on the phone screen.

Again, Damian’s only answer is a shrug.

And, well. It’s not like Jason had better things to do tonight, and he doesn’t really mind the company. Henry doesn’t either, probably. Beside, Damian is a warm and weirdly soft weight against him, and he smells like kevlar and children shampoo, just like home used to, long, long time ago. So he sighs and rests his chin on the top of Damian’s head.

“Okay then.”

Sitting between the huge gargoyle’s paws, holding his knees close to his chest and wrapped in the black Robin’s cape, Damian looks every bit like a little bird kicked out of the nest way too soon.

Jason wonders if that’s how he looked like too, all those years ago, when Bruce came looking for him. He doesn’t remember feeling that tiny, but he’s pretty sure Damian doesn’t think as himself as tiny either, so it’s probably all adulthood wisdom.

He climbs up the old stones without having to pay too much attention to it, hands and feet automatically finding support points a little consumed by the years, but still as solid and reliable as ever.

He doesn’t pauses until he reaches Damian, and even then he doesn’t allow any silence wall between them. He scratches his knuckles against the kid’s head as a greeting, then gently pulls down the hood.

“So, baby D, what did your dad do this time?”, he singsongs cheerfully, sitting down next to him. Again, not the simplest of the tasks, but Jason’s getting the handle of it.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that there’s been a fight. You find a moping Robin perched on a roof and you can be sure as hell there’s an angry Batman somewhere else. It’s some kind of unwritten natural law.

Damian doesn’t answer right away, but he reaches back and pulls the hood over his head again. Jason has to poke him a few times to irritate him enough to make him snap.

“He’s a fucking asshole”, the kid snarls, and this time he’s not imitating Jason, he says it in his own voice, and Jason smiles because he can’t help it more than Damian can: it sounds so freaking cute.

“And what else is new under the sun”, he agrees anyway. “And don’t say “it’s night” because I’ll punch you.”

Damian doesn’t take the bait, just burrows his head further into his shoulders.

“C’mon kid, I’ll throw in an ice cream if it’s something that he’s never done before”, Jason tries again.

Still no answer.

“Fine, okay. Whatever it is we’ll just drop Henry over his head when he comes look for you. I’m positive he deserves it anyway.”

“He won’t look for me here”, Damian finally replies, bitter and angry. “He won’t look for me anywhere. He’s got better things to do now.”

“That’s not true, kid”, Jason offers weakly. “Beside, you said it yourself that Bruce knows about-”, he starts, and that’s when it clicks. Damian didn’t correct him when he said your dad but they were never talking about Bruce. And, well, shit.

It’s not like he doesn’t understand, because when it comes to love, Jason actually understands blurred lines more than anyone else. Fathers and brothers, children and partners, friends and lovers, it’s actually all very simple, just in a complicated kind of way.

He looks at Damian and thinks about Scarlet and Lian and Bizzarro and he decides that next time he sees him, Nightwing’s going to catch the hard part of Jason’s helmet with his forehead. He’s not gonna say anything, but he’ll take a photo and send it to Damian, and that will probably be enough for both of them, since as vengeance go, bats and little bats are always down for it.

But that’s for later. Right now he just pulls out his phone, unlocks it and taps on a little yellow icon.

And Damian must recognize the cheery jingle of the game right away, because he raises his head enough to peek out from under his hood almost immediately.

“I’m stuck at level four”, Jason explains, holding the phone for Damian to see. It’s not the complete truth because he’s not stuck, he just didn’t have the time to play it for a while, but Damian really doesn’t need to know that. “Wanna help?”

The kid considers the offer for a few seconds, then he makes grabby hands for the phone and Jason promptly pulls it out of his reach.

“Yeah, sure, I’m gonna leave my phone into my kid brother’s unsupervised hands, that’s totally gonna happen”, he scoffs. “Look, kid, I may not be Oracle but I know a few things about data protection and how memes are born.”

That at least earns him a sideways impish grin.

“Come here”, Jason says, smiling back.

This time it’s a offer, pure and simple. One that Damian knows he can refuse without hurting anyone’s feelings. One that he partially accepts anyway by leaning against Jason’s side and not rejecting the arm promptly wrapped around his shoulder.

Jason lets him take his phone then, and watches as he expertly starts to move around the little vikings, practically destroying everything Jason’s builded to remade the village according to his own schemes, loudly and quite rudely insulting his poor strategy skills in the meanwhile.

He buries his hand into Damian’s short hair and watches him play, throwing a few creative insults himself just to maintain the status quo and not to disappoint the kid, who clearly likes him better as a bad influence. And maybe it’s not much, but at least it’s something. Something little, but nice and honest, something that one day may become a cherished memory. Or not. Right now, Jason doesn’t really care.

#Anonymous #jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #jaydami #my fic #request #batdictionary #shari writes

263 notes · View notes